Je ne parle pas ALLEMAND!!!

Trauma? Hatred? Shock? Whatever... the fact is that I cannot speak German anymore! After my meeting with Frau Kartoffel and all of this week's events the traces of all teutonic words in my brain have been wiped out! It could also be too much flying...

On the flight back from Manchester I met a girl from Portugal and while talking about Lisbon and all the nice places in the city I could not remember a single name of restaurant or bar or attraction... the conversation was more or less like this:

- I love that restaurant near that area. What's the name? Hmmm... You know, that red restaurant near the river, close to the bridge.

- Which bridge?

- That one, the long one. What's its name? Hmmm... Can't remember.

- Is the restaurant serving typical Portuguese food?

- Yes. I love that dish with that fish. What's it called? Hmmmm... That pink fish with potatoes, in that red restaurant!!! I love it. The name is...Hmmm...

So it goes... The same happens when a passenger asked me for a coffee:

- Excuse me, I would like a coffee!
- Of course, Sir. How would you like your coffee?
- White, two sugars.
- So one coffee with milk and sugar. I will bring it shortly.

... Vicente walks away from the cabin, into the galley. Start looking for a cup, a saucer and for the coffee powder to brew. Heat the cup, get a tea spoon and look for the sugar. All of this takes around 3 to 4 minutes and opening several carts and containers...

Than the big questions... did he want milk? Or was it tea? Green tea? No, it was coffee, I think with milk, no sugar. But will put a little sugar sachet just in case and will take the milk on the side, in case he did not want any...

So I walk into the cabin, with a cup filled with black coffee, one sugar on the side and a small pot of milk.

- Here is your coffee, sir. Did you want any milk?

The passenger looks at me as if I were a moron.

- Yes please. And can I have another sugar please? (with another you-moron-look)

- Of course sir. Will be right back.

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Tonight I have a flight to Mauritius, the island in the southern Indian Ocean. It is a nice flight because it is during the night and most of the passengers will be alseep, too tired to be pressing the call bells. However we stay there only 12 hours. It is time enough to get to the hotel, stay at the beach for a while and collapse in bed until the wake up call, at around 20:00 hours, to fly back to Dubai, during the night. With a schedule like this it is normal that my brain starts to falter.