The Guich

The Guich is the guy who works in our apartment building. James didn't understand his name the first two times that he asked, and now we are past the point of asking again. Now, we just call him "the Guich," but not to his face, of course.

We cook a grand total of two different types of dinners here. (It's difficult with a lack of spices and unfamiliar items in the grocery, not to mention we aren't world class chefs in the U.S.). One dinner we make is raviolis that just need boiling with boxed pasta sauce and salad. Our other dinner is hamburgers and salad.

One day, we were walking back with our hamburger meat and I decided we should invite the Guich to dinner. He accepted, and came over to the apartment at dinner time. James asked the questions he was able to, such as age, work, school, and other things like this. I was left to translate the rest and it was pretty ugly. He was very nice and patient and I really appreciated being able to practice.

The problem was the hamburgers. They were American style. The hamburgers here are thin and remind me of something cooked in school cafeterias. It is difficult to describe, but suffice it to say, we do not eat them. We didn't really think through the reverse effect. The Guich was disturbed by the thickness. He did not say anything bad and even claimed they were good but actions speak louder than words in any language. It took him at least an hour and a half to choke it down. He did not even attempt the salad. I felt bad for the Guich. He said he would make something next time, probably so he wouldn't have to eat any more of our food.