My aunt (quoting someone else) once said: to know one culture, you have to know two. Too true. Every now and then I get a great look at things I'd never otherwise consider.
Some of Sabine's friends were on vacation in San Francisco. One super hot day it was announced that they would be walking to the best Mexican restaurant in town. So they all started walking from about Golden Gate State Park. It was hot and Sabine's friends aren't big walkers. They crossed into Castro, and Sabine's friends, though not homophobic, aren't big into tolerance. It was hot and they finally made it to the Mission.
Sabine's friends were looking forward to a really great restaurant and suddenly they were ushered into a snack bar where no one spoke anything but Spanish. They were supposed to pick from a menu more foreign to them than a vegetarian bratwurst. Rather than white tablecloths, they were treated to white paper in red plastic baskets.
They definitely differed on the definition of "best".
A colleague at Bloomberg once told me about his first trip to the States. He went into the first Burger King he could find and ordered a value meal for, like, $4.95.
"That'll be $5.45," the cashier told him.
"The sign says it's $4.95."
Although the woman explained sales tax to him he never believed her. He left mad and hungry. The inability of price tags to match up with the final price soured his whole experience. I don't think he even believed me when I tried to explain it.
More recently, another friend from London made his first trip to the states: "I loved it," he said. He went on about the service and the friendliness. "Then we went to this restaurant in Brooklyn. Great place. Right after they sat us, they brought us the menus and a glass of water!"
He paused to savor the memory of that glass of water. "It was nice. It was like, 'Here's some water, now take your time perusing the menu.' What service!"
I didn't have the heart to tell him about water and American restaurants.
