a night in the Middle East

This is my friend Andrew, the fastest man I know ever to be discouraged from running track. He and I went to college together in Minnesota, and I was a leader on his dorm floor. He came all the way to Barbados this week for what is perhaps the easiest intern assignment in all of school: 5 days. He is doing some research with his congressional Barbadoan tribal leader, and in the span of 5 days he is earning two college credits. Man, my internship was 10 months.

Tonight we decided to try Lebanese food for his special visit, and I believe he had a difficult time shifting cultures. He just sat at the table for the first 10 minutes, reading and re-reading the menu, trying to find something in English that he recognized and was willing to try. It was funny. He looked so lost. In the end, I ordered salmon meshwi and makdous, which is advertised as "spicy baby eggplant filled with the chef's own creation of crushed pine nuts, garlic, herbs, lemon, olive oil, and pomegranate seeds." Andrew chose the shifa, which was described as "open pie topped with ground beef and lamb mixed with pine nuts, onions and herbs, served with yogurt sauce." It looked like a pizza.

Our conversation ran the gamut of masculinity: cars, women, football, pink suit jackets, building construction, politics, flirting, entertainment systems that are way too expensive yet still somehow enticing, earning respect, the Civil War, old men who bypass the traditional "sir" for the greeting "saint," higher education, Jumanji, our life calling, etc. It was a solid chat.

Everyone needs a friend they can talk to, especially people who are disconnected from our situations (so we don't have to worry about what they think). I'm thankful that God has blessed me with restaurants that serve salmon meshwi and solid guys who I can connect with whatever the day.