American Hospitality

I'd heard about Southern hospitality but since I wasn't headed to the South I didn't know what to expect. Apparantly, massive burgers, cold beer and honest jokes.

 Around-There-Somewhere-If-You-Look-at-the-Map-Close-Enough, Oregon.


The first time I went to an American family in Around-There-Somewhere, OR, I made a mistake. After shaking hands, I mentioned that I was starving. You should never say that to an American family, not that they'll get angry or anything, but since they will stuff you with burgers with half-a-pound patties and countless fries (yummmmm, burgers). After my body survived from the shock I noticed that I was already sitting on the couch, watching (American) football, drinking beer and listening to stories. And there were plenty. It took no time for the people to feel like good friends or relatives that I just hadn't met in a long time. They didn't feel like strangers at all even though the stories and jokes were a bit weird - in a good way. "...and then she was dancing on the table. In the gradution party. And she's fifty and you could see her..." I have probably never felt so much at home after such a short time.

Once in a lifetime, I though. Not going to happen again.

Wrong.

Last weekend it happened again. I went to an American friend's parents' house. Burgers, beer and ice-breaking stories in the darkening evening accompanied by a firepit, s'mores (cracker + chocolate + toasted marshmallow) and laughter. It really seems that Americans really are friendly, really. Maybe I was wrong but atleast I did not whine about being hungry this time.

Chilling outside in the warm October night. (Which part of that sentence didn't make any sense?)