garten

The other day I had my first conversation with a gringo in Mexico, a German man.

A couple nights earlier I had lost two friends in the span of 10 minutes. Even though I only had one. So I went to a bar, then the garten, and sat alone at a table in some very loud music. A Mexican woman approached and asked if I was German. She said her husband suggested I was probably German because I had sandals and socks on. I said no, I’m from America. She invited me over to their table, where they sat with other people who brew beer. That was the common interest at the table. I had forgotten that groups of people I see in public places are sometimes intentional communities. To some degree it puts you on equal terms, because everyone there met in adulthood, I mean, they aren’t family or childhood friends of one another.

I now remember she spoke to me in Spanish at first, not assuming I spoke English. I barely remembered that Alemán means German. That’s pretty good that I heard that in a very noisy place. On the second try. Thereafter was much humiliation and defeat with regard to my Spanish speaking/comprehension. But it was very loud there.