My neighbors across the hall are students from Saudi Arabia. Siblings, in fact, I learned on chatting with the brother one morning having stopped while walking in different directions to acknowledge each other's existence. The sister and I had bumped into each other repeatedly in the morning, as her commute schedule matched up with Ryu's early walk. They both were students but not at Loyola. I asked both - at different times, as I rarely saw them together - about coming over to my side of the hallway for tea. Both said yes.
They turned out to be really lovely young people. The sister is in an advanced program studying respiratory therapist. The brother is studying English at an immersion academy. Both were/are fans of Japanese animation. This fun bit of personal trivia came out of the brother noticing the Sailor Moon art books on my bookshelf. I admitted to them that anime fans from Saudi Arabia had never occurred to me given the kingdom's, uh -- distinct, perspective on foreign culture. They didn't seem surprised by the comment, explaining the prevalence of satellite TV service which most people access. Yes they watched foreign cartoons but no they didn't carry Voltron lunchboxes to school.
Our conversation lasted about an hour. I knew soon into it that they would be welcome again and hoped that they felt the same.
About three weeks later, I received a text message from the brother asking if I had eaten dinner. I responded that I was at the moment eating dinner at an Indian restaurant. It seems that he and his sister had made a traditional Saudi dinner and had a lot left over, so wanted to share it with me. Charmed, I said that I would knock on their door later that night. And so I did; though, I didn't open the container until the following day.
It was beef and rice.
The siblings didn't know that I was vegetarian. I hadn't come up in conversation. Throwing out the food was out of the question. Returning it even less acceptable. What to do with a gift that cannot be returned or destroyed yet has a ticking time limit? The Germans must have a word that describes the feeling of being flattered by an offer yet unable to participate in it. It's awkwardness sprinkled with a challenge.
Later that day, I was walking Ryu when another neighbor walking with her dog. She and her husband are pretty cool people. We chat a lot. We've visited each other's apartments. Ryu ignores their dog. Here was an opportunity: I explained the situation to her and she laughed, empathizing with my dilemma. She knew exactly the beef and rice dish. She - while not from Saudi Arabia but indeed Muslim - also knew the cultural importance of giving food to others. The brother had even told me how much they enjoyed making the food. I asked if she and her husband would be willing to take the food? Yes, definitely. Whew.
I returned the Tupperware to the siblings while giving them the explanation that I had practiced a few times. They seemed genuinely mortified by their oversight. The conversation ended up going really well. I suggested that all of us -- them, the other neighbors, and I -- get together. They seemed pretty happy with that idea.
They turned out to be really lovely young people. The sister is in an advanced program studying respiratory therapist. The brother is studying English at an immersion academy. Both were/are fans of Japanese animation. This fun bit of personal trivia came out of the brother noticing the Sailor Moon art books on my bookshelf. I admitted to them that anime fans from Saudi Arabia had never occurred to me given the kingdom's, uh -- distinct, perspective on foreign culture. They didn't seem surprised by the comment, explaining the prevalence of satellite TV service which most people access. Yes they watched foreign cartoons but no they didn't carry Voltron lunchboxes to school.
Our conversation lasted about an hour. I knew soon into it that they would be welcome again and hoped that they felt the same.
About three weeks later, I received a text message from the brother asking if I had eaten dinner. I responded that I was at the moment eating dinner at an Indian restaurant. It seems that he and his sister had made a traditional Saudi dinner and had a lot left over, so wanted to share it with me. Charmed, I said that I would knock on their door later that night. And so I did; though, I didn't open the container until the following day.
It was beef and rice.
The siblings didn't know that I was vegetarian. I hadn't come up in conversation. Throwing out the food was out of the question. Returning it even less acceptable. What to do with a gift that cannot be returned or destroyed yet has a ticking time limit? The Germans must have a word that describes the feeling of being flattered by an offer yet unable to participate in it. It's awkwardness sprinkled with a challenge.
Later that day, I was walking Ryu when another neighbor walking with her dog. She and her husband are pretty cool people. We chat a lot. We've visited each other's apartments. Ryu ignores their dog. Here was an opportunity: I explained the situation to her and she laughed, empathizing with my dilemma. She knew exactly the beef and rice dish. She - while not from Saudi Arabia but indeed Muslim - also knew the cultural importance of giving food to others. The brother had even told me how much they enjoyed making the food. I asked if she and her husband would be willing to take the food? Yes, definitely. Whew.
I returned the Tupperware to the siblings while giving them the explanation that I had practiced a few times. They seemed genuinely mortified by their oversight. The conversation ended up going really well. I suggested that all of us -- them, the other neighbors, and I -- get together. They seemed pretty happy with that idea.