OUR WAITRESS: Thanks for meeting me for a drink, babe. Wow, do I need it after the crazy time I had at the restaurant tonight.
OUR WAITRESS’S BOYFRIEND: What happened?
WAITRESS: These two American women came in to be seated. Mother and daughter, they looked like. I tried to seat them in the nice part of the restaurant, but a guy was smoking a cigarette at the table next to them, so they flat-out refused.
BOYFRIEND: That’s dumb. It’s not like they were going to get lung cancer over the course of dinner.
WAITRESS: I know! But I didn’t want to say anything because I was hoping they’d tip me if I was polite. You know how Americans love to tip. Anyway, I finally get them seated, and then the daughter has a million questions about every item on the menu. Like, what kind of vegetables are in the vegetable soup? Is the chicken dark meat or light meat? Is the rice brown or white?
BOYFRIEND: Why does she need to know any of that?
WAITRESS: I have no earthly idea. After I answer all her questions, she proceeds to order the one menu item that she didn’t ask anything about. Her mom orders the California rolls, only—get this—without the shrimp.
BOYFRIEND: That is crazy! The shrimp is the best part.
WAITRESS: Totally. So I bring over the daughter’s order, which she immediately tries to send back, claiming it’s not what she ordered.
BOYFRIEND: Was it what she ordered?
WAITRESS: Of course. And I bring the mother’s shrimp-free California rolls. When I come back, she has systematically picked out all the raw salmon from them.
BOYFRIEND: No shrimp or raw salmon? What the heck was left in the California rolls?
WAITRESS: Rice. And mango. I would almost think they don’t have California rolls in America, but of course that is silly, because California is in America.
BOYFRIEND: Was that the end of it, at least?
WAITRESS: Yes. Oh, except for one other thing: they kept pouring out their water glasses into these plastic bottles that they were carrying in their bags.
BOYFRIEND: Wait. What?
WAITRESS: Like, multiple times. When they thought I wasn’t looking, they actually grabbed the big water bottle from my station and emptied it into their bottles. I was totally looking, though.
BOYFRIEND: You can’t be serious.
WAITRESS: Oh, and then they tipped me three euros.
HUSBAND: That wouldn’t even cover the cost of the stolen water!
WAITRESS: I know. Ugh. Let’s do another round of shots.
***
OUR WAITER: What do you know about Americans?
OUR WAITER’S WIFE: They often seem to wear gym shoes, even when they are not going to the gym. Why?
WAITER: I had a baffling experience with those two American women who just left the restaurant. They ordered the bacalhau.
WIFE: Ah, yes. Bacahlau, the traditional Portuguese salted codfish that our people have been cooking for generations, since the days of Vasco de Gama. The fish which I myself have been making for our customers for nearly my entire life, using the recipe passed down to me by my mother, God rest her soul.
WAITER: Yes, that bacahlau. The Americans ordered it all confident-like, like some seafood experts. But after I brought it over to her, they tried to send it back!
WIFE: My codfish?
WAITER: They said they couldn’t swallow it! The younger woman pointed to all these masticated white chunks that she’d hidden under the rim of her plate, like as “proof” that the fish was unchewable.
WIFE: My codfish?!
WAITER: Don’t worry, honey. I ate a bite of it myself, in front of her, to prove that it was edible.
WIFE: You are truly a supportive husband.
WAITER: And then I brought out all the frozen cod from our fridge so she could understand our process.
WIFE: I bet that showed her.
WAITER: It should have. But even then she didn’t eat another bite of the bacalhau, no matter how long I stood over her, chanting, “Eat, eat.”
WIFE: Do you think she will write a bad TripAdvisor review of our restaurant? I live in fear of that.
WAITER: I don’t think so. She seemed to really like our bottled water, so I’m sure that made up for her lack of chewing skills.
***
OUR WAITRESS: Seeing that homeless man outside the train station just now reminds me of these two American ladies who ordered the chocolate bread at the café today.
OUR WAITRESS’S GIRLFRIEND: The chocolate bread is AMAZING!
WAITRESS: I know, but somehow they couldn’t finish it, even though there were two of them. They only had a little bit left, but they spent ten minutes trying to figure out how to take it away with them. The younger one went through like fifteen paper napkins, trying to wrap it up. The older one tried shoving it inside an umbrella bag.
GIRLFRIEND: Whoa.
WAITRESS: Eventually I offered them a paper bag. They were super-grateful. It was weird, because the whole piece of chocolate bread only costs seventy-five cents. It’s like they didn’t know where their next meal was coming from.
GIRLFRIEND: That is so sad.
***
OUR WAITER: What do you think of those roasted red peppers I make?
OUR WAITER’S BOYFRIEND: I don’t know, they’re pretty good. Nothing like your bacalhau, of course, but yeah. Why?
WAITER: At the restaurant these two American chicks were almost crying over how good my roasted red peppers were. It was as if they had won the lottery. “These are the first vegetables we have had in a week,” they said to me. (In English, of course.) “We had nearly forgotten what vegetables taste like. You have saved us.”
BOYFRIEND: Oh, come on. They did not say all that. You are such an exaggerator.
WAITER: They did!
BOYFRIEND: Bullshit.
***
OUR WAITRESS’S HUSBAND: Hey, hon, how was work today?
WAITRESS: Seriously fucked-up. The women staying in Room 242 kept going back to the breakfast buffet.
HUSBAND: So? It’s an all-you-can-eat buffet; everyone goes back multiple times.
WAITRESS: But they weren’t going back for more of those mini-sausages, like everyone else does. They kept going up and refilling their glasses with water. Then they’d return to their table, empty their glasses into bottles from their purses, and then they’d go back up to refill their glasses again.
HUSBAND: What?
WAITRESS: They did this four times in a row.
HUSBAND: I suddenly don’t understand how their nation holds such a strong geopolitical position. They’re on the U.N. Security Council and everything.
WAITRESS: It’s all so hard to wrap my head around. I feel like I have watched a great deal of American TV in my life, but somehow two hundred episodes of Friends did nothing to prepare me for the encounter I had today.
HUSBAND: I hope they made it back to their home country without dying of dehydration.
WAITRESS: I guess we will never know.
Tags: food, leila and her mother are monsters, leila sales, the waiters in big night are italian not portuguese but the sentiment is universal, the waiting game, travel
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Highly relatable. I took a risk and ordered Spanish “bacalao” in Barcelona and almost died it was so salty. My sister ordered scallops in Venice and was presented with veal scallopini. There were so many instances of eating food we did not want while pouting on that trip. Where ARE all the vegetables???
In Spain, I mustered up my best Spanish and ordered a bocadillo. The waiter said, “ok.” and then walked _out_ of the restaurant. Later, I was served a hamburger made from nearly raw meat. My sister and I still don’t know what went wrong.
Do we seriously just butcher the pronunciation that much? Did we misread all the guidebooks? Did the waiters assume something about us?
Honestly, when I’m on vacation I almost never want any vegetables. I’m on vacation! I want a vacation from eating sensibly!
I was in Montreal earlier this month and for two days straight I only ate various bread and cheese products. I regret nothing.
Speaking as a former waitress, I am conflicted over this piece. CONFLICTED.
Yeah I was kind of expecting the culprit to be mostly her mother, but now I am kind of baffled that anyone would be this self-aware and almost proud of being terrible at restaurants?
Yeah, I can’t really tell who is supposed to be the butt of the joke.
Same. I do not understand this piece. I also would hate for this to actually encourage anyone to be shitty to waiting staff so they can write a funny article about it afterwards. Please tip guys! Especially when you’ve insulted people’s food and decanted bottled water.
I would like so much to meet the kind of person who read this article and was like, “At last, the permission I needed to be shitty to waitstaff,” i have a lot of questions for them
The ancient rites have been spoken, my wards have been unlocked, I’m tipping you all with those little Jesus pamphlets designed to look like $20s and you can’t stop me
I actually got one of those in a tip jar once, except it was a fake $5. That was an upsetting moment.
I legit wanna hear one of the sermons from the Church of Asshole Christ
I am similarly confused about the tone…
Being self-deprecating about your edging-into-absurd questions about the menu, your mom’s weirdness about sushi, okay.
But treating totally bad behavior like bad tipping and decanting bottled water as…a joke? Despite repeating the behavior? Makes no sense to me. You’re aware of your asshole-ness! Stop being an asshole!
As someone who is always confused about whether or not to tip while traveling, I thought the joke there was that they tried to split the difference between doing what they’d been told was culturally appropriate (no tip) and American habits (tipping), and ended up leaving what was probably a baffling tip to the waitress and feeling guilty later. Having been guilty of leaving a similarly weird tip tonight in the new country I just moved to, where tipping is Not A Thing, I hope this doesn’t come across as shitty!
eh, i know that some confusion is probably inevitable, but you know what is super easy to google before traveling? “should i tip in portugal”
also, less embarrassing than being a bad customer: asking. even in a country with traditions you’re accustomed to. a while ago i went to a flower shop and the florist put together a beautiful bouquet on the spot for me. paying was cash only and i didn’t see a tip jar, so i just said, “thank you so much for helping me. do you guys have a tip jar?” and the florist just laughed a little and said, “oh, no, we don’t accept tips!” and that was that.
also, unrelated to tipping, but NOTHING excuses shoving half chewed food beneath the lip of a plate. i can’t even approach that one yet.
Yeah, that last one…is not a choice I would ever make.
And I get what you mean, but you can get conflicting advice, even on the internet. Other times (aka most of my life), you may just be so off balance that you start questioning everything you’ve ever read/everything you thought you knew about anything. Or, as I’m guessing was the case here, know you were blatantly strange and want to leave some kind of tip, even when it’s not the cultural norm.
Asking is always a good policy, if you are in a place where you can make yourself understood!
You know I’m just super lazy so I always just roll with the assumption that nobody in the world has ever objected to free money
I thought the joke was that they were served a California roll that had shrimp, salmon, and mango in it? When California rolls, to my knowledge, generally consists of crab (or “crab”), cucumber, and avocado? Why am I uptalking? Uptyping? Sorry about the uptyping.
THIS. Thank you for putting it into words.
Reading this stressed me out so much. I once waited on a woman who told me that her dish was not chicken. And I had no idea what to do. It was chicken. What else was there to say??
I had a lady like this who insisted our bread was not the same as the week before. It was. She wanted to fight about it (let’s be real, she wanted to not pay after eating 3/4 of a sandwich) so I brought my manager over and she made my manager cry.
hahaha wha? What did say what she thought it was? I know people say that snake tastes a lot like chicken but it seems so unlikely that someone would swap them
been there. i’ve had someone ask for vanilla ice cream and then insist that what they received was not vanilla. what do you do? you gently insist that, yes, that is our vanilla option, would you like to have another sample to compare the two? no? okay, you just want a new scoop? okay. here is a vanilla scoop? oh, it’s totally different? of course, have a nice daaaaay bye now.
When I was a barista, I had a lady complain that her mocha tasted like it had coffee in it. I tried to explain that a mocha is in fact a espresso drink, but she insisted it was supposed to just taste like chocolate. I asked her if she wanted a hot chocolate instead and she said no, she wanted a mocha made the right way.
You might have been serving my mother, I’m sorry to report.
I once overheard a woman say to her friends, “I’m going to complain about my <meal> to see if I can get some money off the bill. I always do this, and they always give me a discount.”
So, I got up and told the manager about the conversation, because I loved the restaurant, I loved the servers, I loved the food, and fuck mean lying liars people.
I guess I have an opinion about this. *wide eyes*
I got Vietnamese take-out the other day and while I was waiting to pay the girl in front of me complained that the food had made her boyfriend sick. They comped her his meal, she only paid for hers, and then went back to sit at the table with her boyfriend, who continued to eat and finished the meal that apparently made him sick.
Same! I’m amused but also stressed out by memories of nonsensical customer request. And customers who expect you to bend over backwards and rewrite the dish to fit their very very important and unique needs.
Then again, after traveling internationally, I’ve experienced the california roll issue myself. Usually it is really funny but sometimes it is annoying.
I’m confused about who we’re supposed to be making fun of, and what the author’s stance on all of this is.
I’m pretty sure the author is making fun of herself, primarily. Sometimes you try to like foreign food, but it doesn’t work out for you. And I know how tourists are in desperate need of water.
As I was reading this, I thought to myself, “I bet she lives in… hm, I’m going to guess Brooklyn.” AND I WAS MF’ING RIGHT.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
I am sure this is a conversation at least 100 servers have had after serving me and my grandfather:
Server: This guy ordered eggs and went on a giant rant about how the eggs had to be SOFT.
Server’s spouse: So did you make him the soft eggs?
Server: We made him the softest eggs we could possibly have made without handing him a raw egg. He still sent them back.
Server’s spouse: Oh, geez. Did he at least tip?
Server: He tipped 10%, but his mortified-looking granddaughter snuck back and added a few bucks while he was in the bathroom.
I am also very confused about taking water from a restaurant. Am I a Portuguese server?
Yes, I do not understand why anyone would do this? Maybe I have not traveled in Europe enough.
I would bet a lot of money that the only reason was to save money on buying bottle water while they walked around town.
Sure, but… why fill the bottles from glasses? Why not just fill them from whatever the water was in in the first place?
Whyyy?
But was the table water even bottled water? In fact I have not traveled much in Europe, but I would expect that they have either a) filtered water available freely at fountains and such (at their hotel, surely?), or b) drinkable tap water?
Pretty much, yes. And unless you order mineral water, you just get some (perfectly fine and drinkable) tap water.
Generally, tap water isn’t offered with the same frequency, and often if you ask for water you’ll get mineral water in a bottle (which you then pay for), but if there’s a waiter station with water on it that they can *grab* then this probably isn’t the case. Just go to the bathroom. It’s the same water.
Fountains? Hmm. Maybe in Rome, where the water does seem fresh and cold. But I wouldn’t drink from a public fountain, even in Toronto.
Fountains being drinking fountains, or electric water coolers, or bubblers – push a button and a small stream of drinkable water comes out, not like a big scuplture with water pouring down it.
The water from public drinking fountains in Rome remains some of the most delicious water I have ever tasted.
The decorative fountains usually have a sign saying that the water is not drinkable.
My impression was that they wanted to save money/be green by not buying several water bottles per day. Probably if they were traveling they didn’t have a reliable place to refill their water bottles, so they used the restaurants for that. But, in my experience often in Europe they don’t serve tap water in restaurants unless you request it, so the water was probably not free.
I did a short study abroad trip in New Zealand and some of the people on my trip would stock up on extra food from the complimentary hotel breakfasts to have for lunch so they didn’t have to buy lunch.
Stocking up on free food makes sense to me, if you’re on a tight budget. But I’d probably just fill my water bottles at a regular tap, or water fountain, unless I was in a place where the tap water was questionable (not Portugal?), so maybe I don’t have the motivation in the first place.
At least in London, water fountains are not so much a thing. I would periodically ask if the staff at various tourist attractions if they had water fountains, and the staff would give me this look of SUCH pity, like, “Can you believe this crazy American? She thinks we have drinking water spurting out of fountains willy-nilly.”
Yep, drinking fountains are really not common in the UK (in schools and workplaces, maybe, but you’re not likely to see many just for members of the public to use). So I completely sympathise with the water thing – I feel really uncomfortable when I don’t know if I’ll find somewhere to fill my water bottle up.
QUERY: do they do the same thing when at home in the US, or was this a newly formed Euro-survival tactic?
Yeah I mentioned that story because it’s kind of a grey area, like obviously the food costs the hotel something but at the same time it’s so insignificant that it probably makes no difference (I have no idea if this is true). It’s similar to the water, because they might look weird and possibly irritate some people but then they have water for the rest of the day so it’s worth it.
Water fountains are really not a thing in lots of places. We have fountains in parks in Toronto, but uh … yeah. I wouldn’t drink from them, ever. They probably won’t kill you, but they’re not appetizing.
I come from New York City, land of plentiful public water fountains, but someone recently took and published a picture of a woman using a public water fountain as a BIDET for her DOG, and our collective denial imploded. I can ignore and handwave a lot of things, but.
Taking extra food at hotel breakfasts and eating it for lunch was what my parents strongly encouraged us all to do on family holidays when I was younger. (Why pay extra for food when you can eat a bread roll and an apple from the bottom of your rucksack?)
me tooooo – I spent a lot of my childhood (and, who am I kidding, recent travels) with toast and apples in my pockets.
What is with the water? I poked around on the internet and saw no travel advisories not to drink Portuguese tap water…?
I suspect they are doing it because public drinking fountains can be difficult to find in some areas of southern Europe. And free public bathrooms are often not a thing, meaning you would have to pay to go find a bathroom sink to fill up your bottle with. So they needed to stock up when water was offered to them.
But if they’re drinking that much water, surely they’ll be paying for bathrooms anyways.
It’s a vicious cycle.
In the UK, at least, lots of public toilets have signs saying that the water from the sinks is non-potable, and public drinking fountains are pretty rare. I seize the opportunity to fill my water bottle up when I can, and would probably do the hotel buffet thing if necessary.
Is the tap water in the area non-potable, or is there something particular about the bathroom sinks, or do they just want to discourage people from filling water bottles?
I visited London last week, and I stayed in an apartment-style university dorm, and there was a sign by the kitchen tap stating specifically that the water was potable. I thought that was weird, but the info about the bathroom sinks makes it make more sense. There were no signs either way in the bathroom, but they put a standard plastic hotel cup in there, so I assumed the water was ok to drink. I did only see one drinking fountain, which was broken.
Normal tap water from kitchen sinks should be fine. I assume the sign where you were staying was because it was a communal/institutional setting, rather than a private home – my workplace has a similar sign by the staffroom sink saying that the water is potable, and another by a sink in the office saying that it isn’t. Bathrooms are a bit of a grey area, though – some bathroom cold taps are supplied by a water tank in the loft, which may not be suitable for drinking. Many, however, are just supplied from the same source as the kitchen sink, so they’re fine, but there is a bit of a weird cultural reluctance to drink water from the bathroom. http://www.diynot.com/forums/plumbing/is-upstairs… If you’re staying in a hotel, also, the only water you’re likely to have access to is in the ensuite bathroom, and the above considerations might put you off; you therefore have to find somewhere else to fill your water bottles, and public drinking fountains are rare.
I also find hotel bathroom sinks a bit weird for using for drinking water. The taps are almost invariably mixer taps, and the water never gets properly cold – it seems like it’s being partially fed by the hot tap, which isn’t generally considered drinkable. (A water safety leaflet from scotland.gov.uk says “Never use water from a hot tap for drinking or cooking, even if the water has been boiled. Water from a hot tap anywhere in the house has been standing in a storage tank. That means there could be a higher risk of it containing lead or bacteria”. However, it also says you should be really careful not to let young children swallow water from the bathroom tap, so maybe they’re just hyper-cautious.)
Sorry for the massive comment about water supplies! But basically, if the only supply of water you have ready access to is the hotel bathroom, I can understand not wanting to use it as drinking water, and thus trying to top up elsewhere when you have access to more.
Oh, that makes sense! I remember having learned at some point that hot water heaters in the UK are generally of a different type than in North America, but I hadn’t considered how many things might be affected by different types of plumbing. Thank you for explaining it!
This is why I don’t travel internationally (apart from the fact that I am still recovering from the trauma of being detained in Zurich because they said my passport was invalid). I have a hard enough time here ordering food that meets my weirdo dietary restrictions. I can’t imagine doing it somewhere I don’t speak the language. Well, I can imagine it, but it’s a nightmare scenario that can induce preemptive stomach pain from just thinking about eating something I shouldn’t/can’t. Ugh. UGH.
It’s probably a lot easier if you don’t try to communicate them using your half-chewed regurgitated bolus of food as a live demonstration
‘Bolus’ is a really underused word.
I am that person who reads the menu intently, asks too many questions, and then ends up just asking the server what they recommend and ordering whatever they say anyway.
wait, why — why did you not eat all of the chocolate bread? the place to store extra chocolate bread is in your gullet. that is how you can be sure not to lose it in your travels. I am sure this is as true in Portugal as here. Is the answer to be found elsewhere in the piece, are there clues? is it an acrostic? I am worried and confused.
I agree! Concerning and confusing.
I think the lesson to be taken from this piece is that traveling with your mother turns you both into crazy people. My mother and I sometimes terrorize the waitstaff of Brooklyn, though I try very hard to keep it under control; in a foreign country I fear all would be lost.
Mothers.
Last time I was suckered into traveling with my mother, we went to Victoria and I took her to tea at some tourist trap and ate every tiny sandwich they had, because every moment spent eating is a moment not spent saying unforgivable things. there is not enough chocolate bread in the world to make me take her to Portugal, but if there were I would certainly leave none of it unconsumed.
Oh God, that last bite would be hard to finish if you did not know where your next chocolate bread would come from. I can see, under those circumstances, wrapping it in seventeen layers of protective napkin like the precious horcrux of maternal dysfunction that it is.
Replying super late to say that “precious horcrux of maternal dysfunction” is perhaps the best phrase I have ever heard.
This is five days old so you’ll never see this but if your high tea was at the Empress, eating to avoid talking to your relatives (and/or stabbing them) is partof the grand tradition.
“the place to store extra chocolate bread is in your gullet.”
Absolutely. This is the Earth version of the Fremen axiom “The best place to conserve water is in your body.”
I’m confused. What *was* wrong with the bacahlau? Why *did* you push it UNDER the edge of your plate (another question: are you eight? If so, a lot in this story makes more sense) and then gesture to the waiter about it, as though its deficits were self-evident? Why *were* you so weird about taking water? And is there more to this piece that I’m not understanding, beyond simply “teehee traveling in foreign lands is sooooo weeeeiiiiiiiird!!1! they eat weird things and don’t speak English!!”?
My best guess is, they found the bacalhau too salty, but didn’t want to insult the waiter (or appear clueless and touristy) by asking for more water (thus suggesting that there was something wrong with the fish).
But then, why try to send it back, and point at the chewed up chunks…?
’tis a mystery.
But…if they had asked for more water then they would have more water to pour into their purse bottles.
Or maybe the too-salty bacalhau is the reason they needed so much purse water in the fist place???
So you are out for dinner in a foreign country, you think “hey I’ll try this bacahlau thing”, and then it turns out you don’t like it? Then you don’t eat it (but you do NOT spit it out and leave the masticated pieces under your plate because that’s just gross for the waitstaff, at least put them ON your plate so they can clean without touching it), you pay and tip normally, leave politely, and go buy a familiar-looking sandwich at a deli or something. EVERYONE IS HAPPY
NB I am Canadian, whatever that counts for. We are not necessarily kind, but we are nice.
I am also Canadian and I’m almost electrically offended by this piece, so you know.
I am also Canadian and this is totally sound advice to me
I think this applies even in your own country! If you really dislike the speciality of the house, you chalk it up to experience and go get food you know you like. I realize that if you are on a budget that is often easier said than done, but there are also ways to express “I’m so sorry, I was so looking forward to this dish but unfortunately it isn’t to my taste. Can you bring me something else?”
If there is a Portuguese waiter who has a story about me (which sounds like an ill omen or curse of some sort; ‘may there be a Portuguese waiter story about you’), it’s probably about the time I ordered a whole crab without knowing, then in my ill-advised attempts to look sophisticated and worldly, left bits of shell strewn in a several-foot radius around my chair.
Of course, I actually was eight at the time, so.
Agreed. I’ve learned that bacahlau is not my thing, but I don’t shove it under my plate. I’ve been to a restaurant before.
I thought the joke was that they were served bacalhau made from frozen cod, when it should be made from dried cod and ideally not frozen at any point in the process.
Once in Portugal my group and I ordered way too many little snails. Apparently they were meant to be bar snacks and not an actual thing to have for lunch. They were salty. We tried, though. (And just left the snails we didn’t eat. I’m assuming the guy laughed at us when we left, but at least we didn’t shove half-chewed snails under the plate.)
Why are they taking water? I don’t understand some people.
I am so glad I am not the only one who did not understand this piece! So many questions, least of all why the author and her mother would refill their water bottles from the server station (from your glasses is weird enough, but hey, and also, how many water bottles were they carrying that they KEPT refilling it!!??). It just overall feels like there was little to no effort made to understand the culture of the country they were visiting. Or they’re extremely weird about food, which isn’t really acceptable in public at all, even in one’s home country.
WAIT. Is this a Hey Ladies lady, reliving her SoPu bachelorette party glory days, but with her mother?
Suddenly everything makes sense.
I agree with other commenters in that I need more back story if I am to properly understand what is going on, although this did make me laugh a bunch. do I need to properly understand what is going on? maybe not.
I haven’t Traveled Internationally,* so maybe I just don’t understand the water thing. But… why not just ask for water? OR purchase it if you are in a country where water costs more than $0?
*Well, yes, there was that one trip to Langley, British Columbia. But it just looked like suburban Seattle… with Tim Hortons. I refuse to count it.
U ARE AN INTERNATIONAL TRAVELLER CANADA IS ANOTHER NATION
TECHNICALLY YES but to be fair Langley does look almost exactly like suburban Seattle.
Ok but in addition to the Tim Hortons I’m sure they must have a bunch of Second Cups and maybe a Swiss Chalet.
I’m proud to say that I just googled both, and it turns out the Langley Swiss Chalet has permanently closed down. Which changes nothing, of course, other than reducing the options of Langleyites who are looking for a pseudo-fancy family-style franchise dining experience.
It’s true though that a certain subset of Americans seem not to realize that they have arrived in a different country when visiting Canada.
Pseudo-fancy might be overselling it. There’s a Swiss Chalet Express drive-through in my city. And a combo Swiss Chalet/Harvey’s food court kiosk.
(Harvey’s is a burger place. Their main selling point is that they top your burger with only the toppings you ask for, in front of you. Kind of like how Subway makes sandwiches, sort of. Wikipedia has a picture.)
It turns out Langley does have two White Spots, which gives them an option that the eastern parts of the country don’t have, so they’ll probably be ok. Better than ok, even, because Swiss Chalet kids’ meals don’t come in cardboard pirate ships.
Oh, I am very familiar with the Pirate Pack, they were/are the best 🙂 It was pointed out to me recently that anyone who is not from western Canada finds the name “White Spot” pretty funny. Normally I am all about juvenile humour, but I had never thought about it that way!
Also, I have never seen a Harvey’s that was not part of a Home Depot. Because I guess shopping for tools and plywood makes you hungry, and then since you are obviously of the DIY persuasion, then you must want control over your burger toppings too?
Your Harvey’s theory makes sense to me. Sadly, my local Home Depot closed their Harvey’s a couple years ago.
Then there are the Americans who live in a part that is very close to the Canadian border and make a big deal about how they have travelled internationally when they’ve been…50 miles over the border. See also: half the kids I went to high school with.
I live in Seattle and have been to Canada a handful of times, but really, it’s like Seattle with wonky measurements and the forbidden lure of Kindereggs, I can’t call that international travel. Even Mexico for my senior trip was so American-friendly (love U Cabo) that calling it international travel almost feels like cheating.
I went to the World’s Fair in Vancouver in 1986 so I too, can claim to be an international traveller!
Plus all the times I went to Mexico since I lived in San Diego for 8 years.
I WAS ALSO AT THAT WORLD’S FAIR. Maybe you remember me? I was the 9-year-old child who got separated from her parents by the automatic door of the tram, but very bravely did not cry and just got off at the next stop and waited for them. I’m pretty sure it was probably in the papers; it was *extremely* brave.
Also there was a 3-D movie about lumberjacking where the log came straight out at you, and something about Native Americans where ghostly mask-heads floated around just like the Obi-Wan Kenobi hologram. Those were the best parts, right? I know!
You were very brave, and so beautiful. I bet they named the stop after you.
Wait, I’ve just read this again, could it be a murder mystery?
Bacalhau is people!
Maybe they were trying to drown someone.
Very, very slowly.
?
In response to this article, I think I shall make bacalhau this weekend and enjoy the hell out of it. And maybe drink a few bottles of vinho verde, because it is awesome and like 5 dollars a bottle at my local stores.
VINHO VERDE
::goes for a high-five::
::misses, possibly because of the vinho verde::
I’ve never heard of vinho verde before so I looked it up and now I really want to try it!
It’s about halfway between white wine and prosecco.
I LIKE BOTH OF THOSE THINGS
TO THE LIQUOR STORE I GO
Best summer drinking around, as far as I’m concerned. We lay in a supply when the hot weather hits in these parts. Good stuff.
Inspired by this comment, I just went back to the website of my favorite restaurant where I used to live, as they had an amazing vinho verde on the wine list…only to find the menu had changed. I knew I should’ve written down the name of the wine when I had the chance!
$5 vinho, though–the one you’re talking about isn’t Gazela, is it?
I am not sure I’ve had Gazela. I’ve definitely had Pavao, but I think the 5 dollar one I’ve had is Tres Marias.
GAZELA IS $11 WHERE I LIVE. NO FAIIIIIIIIR
I have a friend who is the most amazing bat-shit crazy magic person alive (all his stories sound completely unbelievable until proof that they are totally true pops up) and another thing about him is that he drinks 2-4 bottles of Gazela a day.
And now I have the song “Vinho Verde” going through my head. “Vamos cantaaaaaar….”
The appropriate response to this piece is definitely to judge the author negatively, because it is quite clear that she has no idea that her and her mother’s behavior was borderline insane, and anyway definitely the only appropriate reaction to realizing that you have acted in a borderline-insane fashion is to hide yourself away forever, probably after donning a hair shirt, and never to humorously reflect upon how borderline insanely you behaved, because this is grave stuff — just imagine, complaining in a restaurant and taking water, the scars, the scars — and boy if the internet does not set these ne’er-do-wells straight, PUTIN WINS.
I think most people (me included) aren’t really disapproving so much as nonplussed. Those actions, in that order, in that context… they don’t make sense together.
I feel like it is pretty clear that what the author wants to convey is that their actions did not make sense! Even if she didn’t quite realize that until later on, after they had come home and collected themselves. I think the takeaway is supposed to be more “We were being kind of insane, even though I normally think of myself as a sane person, that ever happen to you?” than “I hope you comprehend exactly what our thought processes were re: the water.” But then I also think “So did Tony Soprano die or not?” is a question no thoughtful person should pose in anything resembling a sincere, earnest fashion, so maybe it’s just me, I dunno.
There’s an unspoken line of plausible sanity that is not ordinarily crossed there. “Ha ha I was so bad at Portuguese I tried to order the squid and instead asked for a plate of condoms!” is a funny embarrassing travel story, “ha ha we went out and tried to eat vegan at a place where vegetables are at most a garnish!” is a funny travel story, “ha ha I’m so crazy, I was waving around the food I spit up and mushed under my plate to show I didn’t like it!” invites slowly backing away before the speaker pulls out a little baggie of scabs they’ve been saving and invites you to share.
Uh huh, yes, please go on.
Care for a scab?
Not sure if being nonplussed is appropriate, must refer back to official Toast rules of propriety.
Are we using the real definition of nonplussed, or the incorrect-but-commonly-accepted definition?
We are, irregardless, literally nonplussed
I literally-literally (not figuratively-literally) just logged into Tumblr and changed my bio to say, simply, “We are, irregardless, literally nonplussed”.
I certainly wouldn’t dream of using anything but the correct definition.
Because I’m a sad, sad person.
Judge everyone as harshly as possible
Especially when they are making fun of themselves and no one got hurt
Speaking as someone who has, in the past, possibly unknowingly acted in a borderline-insane manner on what may or may not be a regular basis, I wholeheartedly agree. I flog myself twice a day , but I don’t even know if it’s to atone for past sins or to preemptively excuse them. Being a slightly idiosyncratic traveler is the worst sin of all.
HUMOR IS INSUFFICIENT PENANCE.
Apparently unpopular opinion: I liked this. I thought it was funny, and I’m glad the author shared her story with us. It seems clear to me that she gets that she was in the wrong, and probably wouldn’t pull these stunts again.
Everyone in this piece feels very…human. It’s hilarious.
However, I cannot empathize with the “not finishing your chocolate bread” bit. How?? I need to read the empathy v sympathy article from yesterday, don’t I?
I recently stayed at a hotel where the reception area had a shelving unit full of water bottles (and fancy glass ones too, not even plastic!). I went back for so many (they were free, I checked). It was amazing. Otherwise, this would have been me. I spend so much time on holiday agonising over where I am going to get water from and whether the stuff from the bathroom taps is technically potable.
My husband and I recently stayed in a Very Nice hotel we did not pay for, and of all the ridiculous amenities, being handed free, cold bottles of water every time we left was by FAR our favorite perk.
I was surprised because the hotel was not a particularly nice one (I mean, it was fine, but not fancy). I had to ask the staff several times if it was okay, because I felt sure there was a catch.
Is the water thing a combination of nowhere in Europe having public water fountains + restaurants putting out the teensiest decanters of water on the table which your sweaty, dehydrated companions then fight over to the death? Because that’s been my problem every time I’ve been to Europe. America’s a weird and troubled place, but we seem to have the market on public water fountains and free public restrooms CORNERED.
And as a former waitress, my best horrible customer story is the sixty-year-old white man who did not order chips (out loud, where humans can here), then decided he was entitled to chips, and when he was informed chips would be extra, his response was to scream at his (sixteen-year-old, 5’0″) waitress and then throw the bag of chips as hard as he could into my face. There he stood, quivering with rage, for a moment before turning tail and fleeing the restaurant, his totally unhelpful wife trailing behind. In contrast, I lived for loveable weirdoes.
WTF? into your FACE? Jesus. Like wow. How did he even get the idea to do that? Many people would not even throw chips into a face in their wildest dreams.
I once had an empty coke can hurled at me because I would not take it through the drive-thru window and throw it away. People.
I’m sorry that happened to you. At least the chips didn’t hurt me, I was just stunned.
My best loveable weirdo customer story is the guy (who looked eerily like Stephen King) who came for lunch every single day and ordered the exact same thing. So one day when he came in, I chirped, “The usual?” His mouth dropped open in horror, and then he kept asking me what did I mean by that. Dude. Calm down. I remembered your face, I don’t work for the CIA.
That’s funny, I LOVE it when servers remember me/my regular order well enough that I don’t even need to tell them! It makes me feel special 🙂
Our public water and public bathrooms are the best thing about America, as evidenced by how dearly I missed them the only time I went to Europe.
When I was in Spain and trying to simultaneously try new things and get over my inexplicable aversion to seafood, I ordered a menu item that was “[insert the diminutive for octopus, which I no longer remember]” and was quite alarmed when I was presented with a huge plate of whole baby octopuses, each about the size of my palm. You could still see the little suction cup things! I ate about two before I just couldn’t anymore — this probably has more to do with the aforementioned weirdness about seafood than any weirdness I perceived in Spanish tapas culture.
(I didn’t fully understand this piece, but that’s not the point — mostly, I wanted to share my story about the odd little octopodes.)
I love eating tiny octopi, suckers and all, but I don’t think I could eat a whole plate of them myself.
I ate so many things in Spain that I didn’t necessarily know what they were due to not knowing the Spanish words for many sea creatures, but it was all delicious! Also my host mom made us a meal that she called “black spaghetti with little fishes” and it was SO good. I have yet to figure out what it actually is called (anyone have any ideas?).
I like this puzzle! What was the dish like? If it was really truly black, there was probably squid ink involved …
It was indeed squid ink pasta! It had olive oil and garlic sauce and then had what my roommates and I initially thought was salty white noodles mixed in but that was actually the fish part.
I bet it was elvers! AKA angulas in Spanish. Currently often made with surimi (same stuff as artificial krab). I learned things from Kurlansky’s The Basque History of the World!
… unless it was just the squid itself chopped up.
Yes that must have been it, thanks! Also I’m sure it was the imitation one based on the price listed in that first link.
Ahhh! OMG, so good.
The first time that I ate a plateful of little octopoggles, I dreamed that night of being slain by the Kraken.
That seems fair.
My mom and her sisters grew up during the Depression. Those little wrapped pats of butter or half-and-half single servings you can find on the table at some diners? Into the oversize purses they all went, meeting my aunts’ dairy needs for a few weeks after that. I think I was mildly embarrassed by this when I was a teenager but it turned into a family joke.
My grandmother carried plastic baggies in her purse, so she could take bread, sugar and items from an all-you-can-eat-here-but-don’t-take-it-home buffets. “They’re just gonna throw it away anyways”, she said, “so we might as well take it.” After I grew up, when I was in my 30’s, I finally resigned myself to playing lookout. “Okay, now! They’re looking away!” And of course, purloined goods taste so much better.
But, when I was young, I had nightmares about my grandmother being dragged away to jail because she took stuff home in her purse. In my dream, she stares defiantly at the judge, then crosses and uncrosses her legs: “What are you gonna charge me with? Theft of a chicken wing?” She takes a drag of her cigarette and …
I wake up in terror. To this day, I can’t buy plastic baggies.
I have an aunt who did not grow up during the Depression but would grab handfuls of extra plastic forks, knives, and spoons at cheap restaurants – especially if they were in individual wrappers – and take them to work with her. My mother (this was her sister-in-law) called her out once, and my aunt shrugged and said, “They’re there to be taken!”
Between that and her obnoxious habit of yelling, “YUM-O!” à la Rachael Ray when she liked her meal, we don’t go to lunch with her anymore.
I feel like that first situation was legitimately shitty? Why would you try to send back something you ordered when nothing was wrong with it? Why did you give such a terrible tip?
The other ones I can almost sort of understand, but the first story just seemed flat-out awful to do to a server.
Is that a terrible tip? When I was in Portugal we ate frequently with a Portuguese friend, who told us the custom was to just round up to the nearest Euro. He’d leave euro cent tips on small meals and coffees when he would pay, and teased us for trying to leave more. I think that is also what the Lonely Planet suggested…
Yeah, I am from the UK and it sounds reasonable to me. (I don’t understand tipping, though.)
The first story was the one where I thought I knew what was going on here. 1.) She thinks she’s ordering something, the waiter thinks she’s ordering something else, hence the sending back. 2.) The Portuguese idea of a California roll (salmon+shrimp+mango?) is clearly not quite the same thing as the American version. I relate to the idea of responding to the foreignness of a place by trying to fake one’s way through and but also starting to feel less accountable to social norms because what the heck, you’re probably going to screw them up anyway. And I thought the waiter narration thing was a clever trick that emphasized that feeling one has in unfamiliar environs that everyone is staring and judging, when usually they couldn’t care less.
But then I got to the water thing and I got really confused.
Also this entire post reminded me that I want Portuguese food, which I am now able to eat frequently because my cousin married an awesome Portuguese lady who introduced me to the wonders of chorizo.
Chourico. The z is spanish sausage. I dunno about your cousin-in-law, but in my family using a z gets you a strong lecture, so just in case you text her or something…be safe! The other one, which is sort of the same sausage or definitely distinct, depending who you ask, is spelled linguica.
Ahh, thank you! I have luckily never texted the word to her but now I know for future. What is this other sausage you speak of?
OH BOY, that’s when you are really in the thick of the nomenclature. So depending who I ask in my family or on professor google, Linguica is either definitely the spicy one, or the less spicy one or it’s the thicker one or the skinnier one or the fresher or older. There’s no consensus! But it is another name for the thing you are going to like just as much.
Well now I have no idea what I ate! I definitely remember it was spicy, but not the spiciest, and was pretty skinny. I ate it in some sort of delicious rice and now I want it again, all of it, forever
http://amarals.mivamerchant.net/
Sounds like linguica to me (had a Portuguese stepmom). 🙂
My only question is: did the server get married in the middle of the first conversation? Or is she having drinks with her boyfriend and her husband? (In either case: I relate.)
Nothing like traveling with family to make you make a lot of then-completely defensible but completely insane in hindsight choices.
I don’t know whether or not Leila Sales has been a server, but I’d prefer to read stories about bizarre customers by individuals who are or have been servers, writing as themselves. (I appreciate the ones in the comments.)
I am sitting here thinking that some of the jokes are that they are served “California rolls” that have oddball ingredients like shrimp, salmon, and mango in them and bacalhau made from frozen cod instead of dried cod which would probably be pretty weird and gross and oh god am I the only one?
OHHHHH. I was wondering about the California Rolls!! I was like, “I thought California Rolls had cucumbers in them? I hate cucumbers so I’ve never tried them so….”
I dunno the difference between the cods though.
I feel like bacalhau made from frozen cod (instead of dried cod) would be SUPER mushy and totally the wrong taste/texture.
One might say… unchewable?
Also: cucumbers seem so inoffensive!
Wait, but that’s what everyone always tells me about watermelon, which I hate. So never mind. Keep on hatin’
CUCUMBERS ARE THE BASTION OF SATAN AND NO ONE CAN TELL ME DIFFERENTLY.
UNTIL THEY ARE TURNED TO PICKLES. YOU ARE CORRECT.
I’m so not highbrow enough to get these jokes. I have a bunch of salt fish in the freezer right now.
Confused about these comments. Did this get linked on xoJane or something?
Also, when I was reading this I thought it must have been written by a genius because what a creative approach to a travelogue! I did not think there was a lot to get. They were being weirdos about water. That’s it. That’s the joke. You got it.
I feel like an alien right now because I got the jokes about the California roll and the cod.
This was a riot, particularly insofar as the usual Toastie comment tone has taken leave of its senses. Is it Opposite Comments Day? Jeez. But really, I just thought it was very funny. I say this as someone who has added to tips for servers and tried to shut down nasty behavior on the part of fellow diners, but who recognizes that in life, sometimes shit happens. If you can laugh about it later you’re the richer for it.
This was a riot, particularly insofar as the usual Toastie comment tone has taken leave of its senses. Is it Opposite Comments Day? Jeez. But really, I just thought it was very funny. I say this as someone who has added to tips for servers and tried to shut down nasty behavior on the part of fellow diners, but who recognizes that in life, sometimes shit happens. If you can laugh about it later you're the richer for it.
In re: the water situation, I do the same thing everywhere I go. Sweden, Russia, Tokyo, Dubai, Australia — it doesn’t matter I’m always 14 times as thirsty as the locals. I consumed an amount of water that I thought was reasonable considering the summer heat, but the Japanese clearly thought I had some kind of tape worm. They basically kept refilling my water glass with an eye dropper and looking at me sideways. All I want is to facilitate well-functioning kidneys through proper hydration. THAT’S ALL I WANT! It’s amazing to me how yellow the pee must be in the rest of the world.
When we went to New York last summer, they gave us a bottle of water each every day … it was appreciated.
Even in America I apparently drink an appalling amount of water. Servers just leave a pitcher on table after a while.
I’m convinced that Europeans are dehydrated by North American standards, by my travels to many different European countries. I was in Poland recently, and everyone laughed at me when I requested (and proceeded to guzzle) flat water instead of drinking coffee in 35oC weather or drinking gaseous water.
I responded by blowing the mind of my hostess when I told her that in North America, restaurants automatically bring pitchers of cold water for free, and that you can get a cup of tap water from a fast-food place without even buying anything. There are perks to having widespread potable water sources…
Just want to recommend bacalhau com broa: baked bacalhau,potatoes, veggies, cream, cheese with a crust of cornbread and chorizo.
I did enjoy this — I took the author’s tone to be one of mortified embarrassment, looking back at her behavior on this trip. Also I took some of it to be a parody, not to be taken literally. And as I recently took a two-week trip abroad, I understand the need to take as much water as you can, whenever you can.
As a non-North American I loved this. The awareness of behaving like an American abroad but still being helpless to not be an American abroad had me snuffling and snorting like a badger. Leila I am off to buy your novels now. And the bewilderment and nonplussedness of the comments from North Americans just corroborates the entire point of the piece. Stunning.
My comments on this so far seem to have been ramblings on the subject of public drinking fountains, so just wanted to add that I really enjoyed this piece and found it hilarious.
Despite being Canadian and mortified by the actions in this piece, however funny, and generally mortified at all times by social niceties:
A friend of mine has launched a complaint with the EU ombudsperson over the paid bathroom thing, because she feels this is sexist, as men are terrible, can and will pee anywhere.
Yes! I really do believe paid bathrooms are wrong, whether they’re sexist or not. It’s not about the money–having a safe place to use the restroom should be universal.
OMG Leila Sales! I used to read your articles for the Chicago Maroon (I have no idea how I found them since I don’t live in the US and I wasn’t university-aged when I read them c.2005). I too wish I could wear my hair perfectly curly and perfectly straight at the same time like the Olsen twins.
I just got back from a European vacation with my partner and teenage daughter, and to me this piece was hilarious and familiar! Especially the abject gratitude for vegetables and perpetual requesting, poaching, and hoarding of water!
And we did not even order anything brave like salted cod.
I love this so much.
Also, the comments are utterly bizarre and hilarious on an entirely different level.
I am from Buffalo and I have ridden my bike to Canada many times. You can tell it is a different country because the money is different and there are separate taps for hot and cold water, because Canadians don't mess around with warm water.
You might have been serving my mother, I'm sorry to report.
I am from just outside Rochester and for the most part cashiers don't even notice if there's a Canadian coin tossed in with the change. Growing up, I had friends who made a big deal about going to the Canadian side of the Falls as if this were somewhere truly exotic and difficult to get to.
I'm convinced that Europeans are dehydrated by North American standards, by my travels to many different European countries. I was in Poland recently, and everyone laughed at me when I requested (and proceeded to guzzle) flat water instead of drinking coffee in 35oC weather or drinking gaseous water.
I responded by blowing the mind of my hostess when I told her that in North America, restaurants automatically bring pitchers of cold water for free, and that you can get a cup of tap water from a fast-food place without even buying anything. There are perks to having widespread potable water sources…
Oh, Americans. You make me want to laugh and cry at the same time.