In Chile, we ate following very clear guidelines.
“First the meat and then the vegetables,” we were told, in broken English.
Never together. There was an order to it. I rather liked it.
While the restaurants held together the threads of civility, the city of Santiago itself was frenetic and bedraggled, pulling itself from the aftermath of Augusto Pinochet’s despotic rule. The capital was full of cratered buildings, sadly polka-dotted with the signs of battle.
I knew nothing really of the conflicts, but I could imagine them nonetheless.
What is war in the end anyway? To my mind at least, every war ever fought has been the result of someone at the top, with too much power, using the people beneath as animal fodder for their own gain. It is a catastrophic waste of life waged by fools. We are simply human. All of us. When we meet one another, we realize we have virtually everything in common, and just the smallest, tiny idiosyncrasies. The Chileans may eat their meat first, but are they so different from you? It is these small differences that make the world interesting in the first place.
I am glad of them.
On the winding, narrow Chilean trails, we built a wonderful friendship. Harold and I met a Scottish doctor, Jimmy Lawrence, and his wife Margaret. They were fun-loving and light and I knew immediately that we would build a lasting friendship. We explored extinct volcanoes together and observed icebergs in the ocean that were coloured a fluorescent blue for which there is no adequate description. There are a few people you will meet in this world that you will have an instant rapport with, but the Lawrences were such people. Jimmy was adamant that an adult needed just three things for a life of good health;
“Salad, Scotch, and the one other “S” word,” he would declare confidently, much to Harold’s delight. They were simply fascinated by life and the world that they inhabited. I have kept in touch with them to this day.
I was asked recently by my grandson why I have been able to form so many close friendships.
“You have so many people in your life who care about you and stay in contact with you Gran?” he said. “Why do you think that is?”
I am not entirely sure, quite honestly, but I said the following.
“There are really only two rules to being a good friend. Firstly, you need to be a good listener. People like to talk about themselves and their lives. You must give people space to speak.”
“And the second rule?” he asked.
“Be like your mother Sue,” I replied. “She never spoke ill of anyone, and when you don’t do that. Word gets around.”
Lesson 35: Show them how something works, Friday, October 27
I just love your Gran. I would keep in touch with her too if I met her a long the way.
So apposite at this time especially.
Hope you’re feeling better Robin