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remember, it's a foreign land

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-seven years and one million words

Today I had a real reminder -- as if being illiterate and unable to speak wasn't enough -- that I'm in a foreign land.

I went to the Tully's to buy some coffee beans and as always asked for them to be ground. While I waited they kept bringing me small drinks, which was nice (and unlike my homeland in of itself) but it was maybe fifteen minutes of this before I realized that I wasn't hearing any grinding sounds.

I approached the counter and noticed two of the staffers were struggling with the manual for the coffee grinder, which they had partially disassembled. Apparently the machine was not functioning properly.

And rather than simply tell me so from the outset (and losing a sale and perhaps pissing off a customer) as any coffee shop staff in Canada would have done, they tried to keep everyone happy by attempting to fix the coffee grinder while I waited. Definitely a different mentality!

I was reminded of the time that a barbershop in Gotanda left me to sit in a chair for 45 minutes until I figured out that they weren't going to serve me. Happily, that long-ago situation wouldn't repeat itself because I can no understand and speak enough of the language to prevent it.