Making friends everywhere I go [The director’s cut]

[I originally pulled this post because I broke my cardinal rule: No posting under the influence. I got up the next morning and pulled it immediately. After reading I decided to let it stand as is. But, I have to admit, certain liberties with the facts were taken. Some people mentioned are composites, and some of the comments come from different events. Some are made up out of whole cloth. Enjoy 🙂 ]

We belong to the BCA. It is the British Community Association here in
Cairo. Any non-Egyptian can join, though only citizens of the Realm have
full voting rights.

We joined because the booze is cheap, the food is good (with lots of
pork choices and REALLY good curries.) and the company is usually
extremely witty.

Recently they had “British Pub Night.” They had imported some actual
British beer (a couple of bitters, Guinness, and a Boddington’s cream
ale”). The flyer said “dress in costume for the empire’s greatest moment
and win a prize!” Kaddee suggested dressing as Revolutionary fighters,
but we were unable to find the appropriate flint-locks.

Anyway,,,,

One night I was in there (the good Dr. was at Arabic classes at an
Arabic language school nearby) when the topic of conversation turned to
lineage etc. One particularly loud individual was talking about tracing
his roots back many years to the first person in his family to “learn a
trade”. He could “measure things”. So he became a blacksmith.

It was ok when the fellow Brits laughed at this. So I laughed, good
naturedly.

He looked at me and said, “You can bloody well laugh, you didn’t even
have a country then.”

Now, this bloke is one of those people that asks “Haven’t seen you in a
while, where have you been”. If you were so foolish as to reply, “Well,
we were in Belgium for 2 weeks”, he would reply “Why the fuck would you
go there?”.

The kind of guy who, when you would say, “we just got back from Italy”
would say, “ah I remember when Italy was WORTH going to, not like now.
It is all crap”.

The kind of guy who, when you would say, “we just spent a few days in
Luxor” would say, “Ah, I remember when a RESPECTABLE person could go
there and LEARN something”.

I, unwittingly, earned his undying hatred the first time he did this to
me. He asked where we had been, and I replied “We just got back from [i
can’t remember where] ” and he did his usual, “Why the hell would you go
there.”

The first thing that came to mind was “Well, at least it wasn’t
Ireland.”. His mate, who was sitting at his table burst into laughter.
The asshat, who I shall call “the asshat” said “I’m from Ireland.”.

To which I replied: “Well you know what I mean then.”

His mate nearly fell off his chair.

Fast forward to this evening.

When the asshat said “You can bloody well laugh, you didn’t even have a
country then” I replied:

Right. I am 100% Portuguese. I can trace my family back 600 years on the same island. You can trace your people back to, oh I don’t know,when the Romans ruled? Or the Normans, or was it the Saxons? Or when the Danes rules? Or was it William of Orange (the dutchman)? Or perhaps the”House of Windsor”, the germans? We colonial peasants have trouble keeping track of all the invaders of our oppressors.”

The silence was amusing. Except for “his mate” who respects us, I think, because we can “take the piss” and dish it out.

He laughed. As well as the Rhodesian.

I didn’t even mention the whole Stuarts and Roundheads.

Ah, the life on an ex-pat.