a brave guy... - a Blog Post by toothysmile

Blogs > toothysmile > the bright side of the moon

9181 posts
12/3/2011 8:48 pm

Last Read:
2/3/2012 3:33 pm

a brave guy...

a brave guy...

I met her on a ship. On a typical Greek hot summer day. One of those long summers of our youth... We were both on our way to Athens from Sifnos, an island in the Aegean Sea. I was 17. She was 22. Danish. Not very tall. Nor too blond for that matter. After a month of sunbathing, I think my hair was in fact lighter than hers. But she had the wicked grin that totally caught my eye. We will call her Sunny. Sunny Feelgoodjanssen.

I just saw her sipping a drink. I smiled. I said "Hi". Very original, I know... But she smiled back. "Hi", she answered back. So I approached. Sat near her at the bar. We started talking about everything. Well, almost everything. But we talked about all the things we liked. Music. Movies. Traveling. Swiming, sunbathing, dancing. And by the end of the trip we were friends. Even though she was 5 years older. And for my part, I was determined to show her that I was more than what I really was: a high school . No. I was a man. And I could do what any 22-year-old could do!... Yep. I would hold my own.

She was going to spend a week in Athens. Alone. Which was music in my ears. Athens was my home town. I could show her around. All the cool places. All the sights. All the night life.

"Do you have a place to stay?", I asked casually as we were getting off the ship.
"No", she answered. "Why? Do you have any suggestions?"
"As a matter of fact I do", I said trying to act as cool as possible. "There is a small hotel not far from my home".
"Perfect, let's check it out", she replied.

During the next few days we became inseparable. She was of course far more experienced. Yet she always made me feel at ease. Perhaps because she appreciated my effort to step up my 'game'. To be mature. Which I probably was. Perhaps because she liked all the attention I was paying her. Perhaps because she enjoyed looking at herself through my eyes... Eyes admiring this exotic creature who had fallen from the skies to brighten my summer vacation. Perhaps because she was growing fond of this suntanned Greek who was trying to act her age, not his. Perhaps because even though I couldn't offer her all the luxuries that older men could give her, I was so enthusiastic about whatever little I could give her.

Halfway through her stay she looked at me with 'that' look. The look she always gave me when she didn't know how I would react to her suggestion. "You know, I like Greek food", she started, "but I've had as much moussaka and stuffed tomatoes as a girl can". "OK", I said cautiously. She continued,"There is this little Japanese restaurant around the corner. I just saw it".
"If that's what you want, then that's what we will do", I announced. A phrase that I used quite often when with her, as it turned out. And then it hit me. I had never been to any Japanese restaurants. Ever. In fact I knew very little about Japan, let alone japanese food. What did these people eat? I had no idea. But of course, I couldn't admit to that. I had risen to every challenge she presented me with, I wasn't going to fall short on that one. I was young, yes, but cosmopolitan!

A few minutes later we were entering the garden of the Japanese restaurant. It was a nice enough place. Quiet. With polite waiters. In fact polite enough to ask whether we want chopsticks or forks. Sunny looked at me. And gave me a break. "Forks", she said. Had she gone the other way, my entire facade would have collapsed.

The menus were just as polite as the waiters. They were not only written in English but they offered an explanation of each item. I ordered a dish that had chicken and rice and corn and a raw egg. Then the waiter asked whether we wanted some sake to go with our food. "Yes". He produced that wonderful china with the alcoholic beverage. As he served us the sake, he made a small noise and asked, "Would you care for some catsoup before your meal?"...

"Of course", Sunny replied and looked at me. I smiled. Then panicked...

What??... Catsoup?... Surely, they didn't mean...

Anyone who has ever been to Athens knows that there are a lot of stray little kittens... some of them were even running around the garden of the Japanese restaurant. In my horrified eyes I could see a Japanese cook chasing them with a long japanese sword. I took a big gulp of sake. The shock of the drink to my throat did me good. I was as determined as ever to maintain my composure.

I smiled again. And continued the conversation with Sunny as if I hadn't noticed the last words exchanged between her and Mr. Polite Japanese Waiter. Who soon after returned with two bowls of soup. Oh boy... I took one more big gulp of sake... hoping it would give me courage. It did.

The soup was clear but yellowish in color... somewhat greasy... with some tiny pieces of meat floating in it. I stalled. Watched Sunny as she slowly brought the spoon to her mouth. "Aren't you going to eat your soup?", she asked me, the faintest grin noticeable on her lips. "It's still a little too hot", I explained as I stirred it with my spoon. Partly in an effort to discover what was in it! I just stirred and stirred. Finally I took a deep breath and rationalised. I had no idea what the Japanese did... what their food habits were... and whether these included small furry pets. But I knew Sunny. And if this wonderful woman was eating catsoup then I would trust her and eat it too.

I took a spoonful under her watchful eye. It had a vaguely familiar taste. I took a second spponful, then a third. Halfway through my bowl I decided it was enough. "Aren't you going to finish your soup?", she asked almost teasingly. I grinned. "I am saving my apetite for later", I said and winked at her. She burst out laughing.

Sunny was still laughing when Mr. Polite Waiter came to us with the main course. Never have I been so relieved at the sight of a chicken dish! I buried my fork in it with the happiness of a person who finally knows what he is eating. The rest of the meal was filled with more pleasant conversation, more laughs, more good times.

(Many weeks later I figured out that what I had just had was soup made from catfish. And a huge burden was lifted from within me. But at the time I was still living with the agony.)

As we were exiting the restaurant Sunny squeezed my hand. "Hey", she said and gave me a little kiss. "You are a pretty brave guy", she whispered in my ear. I just lowered my head and looked towards the ground. And blushed a very deep shade of red.
.
.
.

.
.
.

Opus_of_a_liar 47F