Well, I made an impression today, no doubt. Tonight the new staff members of the school met to have dinner with the school director and the high school principal at the Greek place Bethany and I muddled through. Well, I knew that the souflaki wasn’t exactly for me based on the time I ate it last time so I decided to try something new. When I examined the menu (with the school director across from me), I noticed a meal with only a few words and I knew most of them. Victory, I thought. Mushrooms, rice, salad, french fries and then a few other smaller words less important words. I figured I could eat this without any major issues. I was SO wrong. About 25 minutes later the waiter appeared and began calling out food words and people chose plates. My mushroom dish had yet to arrive when he asked who ordered the liver.
The new PE teacher next to me nudged me and said, “Here. She ordered it.” Crapcrapcrapcrap. Apparently I didn’t hide my facial expression because ( I thought I would die) the school director offered to trade meals repeatedly. I’m a big girl, however, and decided to try it. I couldn’t bring myself to place a single bite in my mouth. Each time I got that piece of meat near my mouth I had to put it down as I thought of how disgusting and rubbery it felt and smelled. After several attempts, I was trying to hide the fact that I wasn’t eating it by cutting it and stuffing pieces underneath other pieces and hiding it under the extra dish. I also attempted to routinely change dinner conversation partners so no one got a complete picture of my abhorrence of the meal. Eventually, I ate enough rice and French fries so that the waiter took my plate along with the majority of the tables dishes. At last. I was free from the shackles of liver consumption and managed fairly gracefully, I thought. Then, the waiter returned to the table and interrupted a conversation I was having with several people to ask why I didn’t eat my meal. Stupid. I forgot that the German waiters have a different set of manners. Didn’t he know that this was a hush-hush, just between the two of us exchange? I said liver simply wasn’t to my taste. I felt like an imbecile. It would have been different, funny even, with a group of friends or family. You know, one of those classic tales you tell everyone about when you return home to discuss your travels. Now, however, I’m simply the girl who wasn’t thorough enough to choose a meal.
On the bright side, at least I learned a new German word. Leber=liver.
(Afterword: Bethany told me at breakfast this morning that Joost, the PE teacher, now believes I'm a vegetarian. I tried to explain my Lenten decision while eating last night. Come on now, I was born in the Bratwurst capital of the US.)
The new PE teacher next to me nudged me and said, “Here. She ordered it.” Crapcrapcrapcrap. Apparently I didn’t hide my facial expression because ( I thought I would die) the school director offered to trade meals repeatedly. I’m a big girl, however, and decided to try it. I couldn’t bring myself to place a single bite in my mouth. Each time I got that piece of meat near my mouth I had to put it down as I thought of how disgusting and rubbery it felt and smelled. After several attempts, I was trying to hide the fact that I wasn’t eating it by cutting it and stuffing pieces underneath other pieces and hiding it under the extra dish. I also attempted to routinely change dinner conversation partners so no one got a complete picture of my abhorrence of the meal. Eventually, I ate enough rice and French fries so that the waiter took my plate along with the majority of the tables dishes. At last. I was free from the shackles of liver consumption and managed fairly gracefully, I thought. Then, the waiter returned to the table and interrupted a conversation I was having with several people to ask why I didn’t eat my meal. Stupid. I forgot that the German waiters have a different set of manners. Didn’t he know that this was a hush-hush, just between the two of us exchange? I said liver simply wasn’t to my taste. I felt like an imbecile. It would have been different, funny even, with a group of friends or family. You know, one of those classic tales you tell everyone about when you return home to discuss your travels. Now, however, I’m simply the girl who wasn’t thorough enough to choose a meal.
On the bright side, at least I learned a new German word. Leber=liver.
(Afterword: Bethany told me at breakfast this morning that Joost, the PE teacher, now believes I'm a vegetarian. I tried to explain my Lenten decision while eating last night. Come on now, I was born in the Bratwurst capital of the US.)
I saw this darling t-shirt in a children's store. It says, "Berlin is big, and I am small." I totally want one in my size!
Bethany regularly compares my German abilities to that of Duston Hoffman's character in Rainman. Randomly, the Deutsch burbles out of me in somewhat coherent sentences and I often read signs aloud. This ability, naturally, failed me while reading the Greek/German menu. Stupid leber.
2 comments:
Ashley,
This story you are weaving just keeps getting better. Why don't you ask for help when ordering? I would have thrown up if I had seen the liver!! Look forward to reading about your adventures!!
Aunt Joni
I have to ask for help for everything and I thought I could manage this. I understand why toddlers through tantrums now. No one understands them!! (I considered stomping my foot yesterday at the Rathaus...)
-Ashley
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