World Cup Connections

It was just another normal day at work where I ride down the hill on the tram to spend 20 to 30 minutes waiting at the research pharmacy to pick up medication for a patient. This time, however, Germany was playing Portugal and the score was already ridiculous - 3-0 Germany. I checked the score, since I had nothing else to do, and was shocked to see that Germany had scored again. My surprised intake of breath caught the attention of the man also waiting and playing with his phone.

Now, normally I would have exchanged a polite smile and returned to my private bubble. I'm not that great with small talk and I work under the all encompassing HIPPA regulations; it's just easier to politely keep to yourself.

"Germany just scored again." I blurted out instead and his eyebrows rose in surprise.
"You're watching the World Cup?" I don't really look like a soccer/futbol fan I guess.

And then we started chatting like old friends with different accents, comparing notes on teams and commiserating on our countries', Mexico and the USA, poor chances for making it past the first round. I told him that we're watching all the games on Univision and working on our Spanish and he directed me to the Univision app so that I could watch the games on my phone (which is what he'd been doing).

It was a connection that wouldn't have been made except for the world-wide excitement about The Cup.

I've thought of him while cheering Mexico on in each of their games (even though a win over the Netherlands would have completely broken my bracket!) and wondered if he remembered me when the US played each of their heart attack inducing games.

I don't think the game can save the world. But, oh does it open doors for some human interaction. And the bridging of different worlds, that is a small step in the right direction.

Abandoned

I love this photo. I took it on our drive home from Las Vegas. That long, derelict, beyond remote drive. Nevada is a weird, strange place.

Santa Barbara

I got a notice the other day "SB on DVD" started following me on Twitter. That would be the soap opera Santa Barbara, from the 1980's. This triggers many questions... The primary one being how did I get on THAT "friend/follow" list? I think Santa Barbara was off the air before I even knew what a soap opera was. So, you'd think that there is no connection whatsoever.

But, SB on DVD must have some powerful marketing researchers because they found a connection I'd long forgotten.

image source: wikipedia.org

Part of my college education was a semester spent in Ivory Coast, West Africa. I was part of a group of about 20 students living with African families in various neighborhoods of the capital Abidjan while taking language and culture classes for six weeks before being relocated to various communities throughout the country to live with African families and participate in daily life - farming, working in local clinics, teaching in local schools, working with refugees... (this story could get long so I'll leave it there... Suffice to say I'm not going to run out of stories anytime soon!)

A huge part of living with families was learning the language, French. (Another story - Ivory Coast was a colony which means French was the "trading" language, not the language spoken at home when tribal languages worked just as well with a longer history and grasp...) Each day we'd take classes and struggle our way through the intricacies of trying to learn a language that was interspersed with multiple tribal languages, up to 2 or 3 additional ones spoken in the homes we were staying in. Then we discovered one common learning tool.

At 7pm each night, regardless of the neighborhood, rich or poor, the world stopped for 30 minutes and everyone tuned in to the national past time (or so it seemed to us as we compared notes each day in class.) The melodramatic strains of the Santa Barbara theme music would play and it was time to catch up on the latest antics in Hollywood (no need to worry that the episodes were 15 years old...just the fashion stereotypes being solidified is staggering!) The love of this show was so universal that you could hear the music from anywhere in my neighborhood. Open the windows and the show was broadcast in stereo, emanating from every house and corner store. We were late coming home one night from the tailor but we didn't miss a second of the show as we passed one house after another playing it full blast.

Each morning we students would gather to piece together the plot from the dubbed show none of us had ever seen in its original form but was adding to our eclectic french vocabulary. 1980's Hollywood glamour, intrigue, and scandal, translated into french for African families with tribal connections 100s of years old.

Dinner Possibilities

The first two years in Kenya we lived in a small apartment with a tropical paradise jungle garden in the back. When you're a child many of the cultural divides don't matter and, in our little world, we had formed a rag-tag playgroup. There were the three white American kids, off to school each morning, the little East Indian girl named Jennypet (named after her parents Jenny and Peter), a princess in her parents' eyes, and the gardner's son, Otiano, who helped with work around the apartment building. We were friends but, in our naive and innocent American minds, we didn't register the vast differences in our lives.

One day Jennypet excitedly invited us to see her new pet goat, tethered in her portion of the shared backyard. A goat! As a pet! We spent the week fawning over our new friend. Then, an invitation came to celebrate Jennypet's birthday. A grand party with guests, presents and, oh yeah, food. Specifically, a goat feast.

Innocent blonde kids while the two others regard the dinner possibilities.

The pet goat was also the guest of honor in the birthday curry. Our first, but certainly not the last, introduction to the practical reality of where food actually comes from.

Goat: not my favorite meat.