“Sure,” I said.
She seemed puzzled. “You do?”
“Sure,” I repeated.
What started as an attempt to buy a cigar turned into me agreeing to attend a wine tasting.
Clearly, the young salesgirl had been instructed to ask customers coming into the store if they wanted to join the event.
Dutifully, after selling me some cigars, she asked me if I wanted to attend. She just didn’t think I would agree.
But agree I did.
The next thing I know, I am listening to a Sommelier speak to a small crowd of men about his amazing brand of wine. . . in Portuguese. Needless to say, I was the only one in attendance who spoke English as a first language.
It didn’t bother me not knowing what the Sommelier was saying because most of the time, I don’t know what they are talking about when they speak English.
Something about tannins, floral bouquets, and a hint of nutmeg, etcetera ad nauseum.
I like it cold and I like it sweet unless I am eating steak then I like it to slap my mouth around while telling me it’s from Argentina, dammit.
During the course of the evening, many folks approached me and offered to translate, asked me where I was from, asked me how I ended up at this event, asked me what I thought of Lisbon and Portugal, and asked me how I liked the wine (I loved it btw). No one, I should mention, asked me what I did for a living.
Towards the end, everyone pulled out cigars and began smoking, including me (remember the beginning of this post).
They filled my wine glass numerous times, and I learned about Portuguese history and politics.
What a night.
All I did was say, “Sure.”
Good times with good people speaking a language that is clearly not English.
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