There I was, with two other naked blokes, talking about eggs.No, really. If you're Finnish or if you've spent any significant time in Finland, the situation seems less foreign. It's a sauna thing, see. People discard their clothes to sit and sweat together, and pass the time in either perspiration-soaked silence or small talk.
This time it was small talk. Which meandered in the direction of intercultural diversity.
At this point, I should explain that I've just returned to Finland after a bout of globetrotting to and from the two Uniteds: Kingdom and States. The Kingdom is much as it ever was, and maybe much as it ever shall be. The States, on the other hand, is still an object of some cultural puzzlement.
Or to put it another way, the States makes me feel like an object of some cultural puzzlement.
An infamous misquotation hangs in the air, with the two same nations still divided by the same common language, and the authorship (Shaw or Wilde, both Irish) still unresolved. But at this moment, the pith seems to be epitomised by eggs.
Actually, I'm spreading the yolk somewhat. It's not an Anglo thing, it's European-North American intercultural diversity hanging like an improperly punched chad in the frontal lobe of my mind.
One much-regurgitated personal tale from the Bulgaria of old concerns my favourite menu item of the times: Хемъндекс без Яйце (that is, 'ham and eggs without egg').
The lack of said breakfast item in the immediate aftermath of the fall of the Berlin Wall is neatly juxtaposed by the market saturation on the other side of the pond in the immediate aftermath of the fall of Lehman Brothers.
There still, the unwary European traveller can be befuddled by waitresses who, intent on earning their 20% tip, want to know whether the eggs are to be 'over easy' or 'sunny side up' (and whether the sausages are to be 'patty' or 'string'; and which of any number of variants of milk/cream/milk-cream mix is to be preferred).
And hence it strikes me, with not a little irony, that in Europe I may not understand what is said, but I do most often get the meaning. In America, where we have that common tongue, I can mostly tune in to what people say. The puzzle more often is what they mean.
3 comments:
Funny - I'm American and I suppose I take our breakfast lingo for granted. If you think that's tricky, try ordering a drink at a bar here. :)
I actually never understood the UK version of breakfast, which I've seen served throughout Europe. I'm not complaining - I actually like it - but wtf is up with baked beans and grilled tomatoes in the AM? I understand from your post that you are not British, but maybe you know something about this?
Breakfast can truly be a cultural experience :)
So can lunch foods, for that matter - I wrote a short post about it earlier tonight on my own blog @
theysaywritingaboutithelps.blogspot.com
Feel free to check it out.
Thanks for the informative. Fantastic blog. Congratulations!!!
Hi Nadya and zonacitas. Thanks for stopping by and commenting.
Nadya, I am actually British, although not totally at ease with baked beans for breakfast. My accent alone has made some service situations in the USA a little tricky, as some people don't seem to understand what I say =)
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