What follows is an article written some years ago about an experience which for me encapsulated the bemusement of an English person when confronted by cultural differences… I suppose there is randomness in any culture, and the impression is heightened when it is not your own. One can also witness quirky behaviour regardless of country or culture. That’s just humanity. But it is joyous.
Hope you enjoy.
In a place near Madrid, whose name I do not care to remember.
Saturday 13,45 h. Beautiful sunny day. Meeting a friend for a drink and a tapa.
We order drinks and receive a small plate of pork cubes as an aperitif. We manage to find a table amidst the Saturday morning revellers, and stand in the sun. Ideal. Apart from the cubes. Not being a meat-eater myself, friend has struck gold. She dips into the tapa, but being on a health kick, she bites into the cube, taking care to eat only the meat, and abandon the fatty corner. Repeats with all cubes, resulting in a plate full of half-eaten, licked and sad-looking pork cubes. We continue our conversation.
About 3 metres away is a group of three or four people of varying ages. One, maybe between 40 and 50, passes by our table to get to the bar. He orders. On his way back past us he swipes a pork cube. Without acknowledging us verbally or with even a glance. He returns to his group. Friend and I exchange a surprised look. Friend says, “Does he realise I’ve licked everything on the plate?” We chuckle and continue our conversation. Ten minutes later, man breaks away from his group once more and approaches. However, this time, he does not veer towards the bar, but makes a bee-line for our table. Again with no acknowledgement of human beings accompanying the plate on the table, he pops another single, licked half-cube into his mouth and returns directly to his group. We chuckle more incredulously at this point and watch his departing back with open mouths. Don’t get me wrong, we don’t begrudge him the food, far from it, it is more the manner in which this strange man chooses to operate that tickles us, plus he appears to be with a group of relatively normal people.
To cut a long story short, over the period of about an hour he returns and repeats, maybe up to six times, the exact same action. Was this some kind of invisible theatre performance? Or a hidden camera jape, trying to provoke a reaction? We wonder.
As we are making to leave, friend says “Wait a mo, I’m going to go over and offer him what’s left”. I don’t believe she will. And although it would make a much better ending for this story, she doesn’t. As we look over our shoulders, checking we haven’t left anything behind, we see a wistful face looking towards the abandoned table. He doesn’t approach. It seems the game is no longer fun. Or he’s full.
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