Flights

COMPATRIOTS

The woman had finished the practical component of her lecture, meanwhile, and travellers were starting to pose timid questions, though they weren’t asking what they should have been. At least that’s how it felt to me. I didn’t have the courage to say anything myself, though, so I went over to a nearby restaurant to have some coffee. Congregated at its entrance was a group of people who turned out to be talking to one another in my language. I looked them up and down suspiciously – they looked so like me. Yes, those women could have been my sisters. So I found myself a seat that was as far away from them as possible, then ordered coffee.

I was far from pleased to be encountering compatriots in foreign lands. I pretended not to understand the sounds of my own language. I preferred to be anonymous. I watched them out of the corner of my eye and relished their unawareness of being understood. I observed them furtively, then disappeared.

A tired British man wistfully confessed to me he felt the same (‘I’m far from pleased when I encounter my compatriots in foreign lands’) as he drank yet another beer, watching clientele coming into the restaurant. I chatted with him for a bit, but we didn’t really have that much to say to another.

I finished my coffee and returned to where the lecture was, pretending I had to go soon, which I didn’t. I arrived in time for the last few discussions, as the determined lecturer woman was explaining something to the three listeners, those most enduring, gathered around her.