A Cultural Incident

We've a lovely en-suite room at the Guest House including a patio and, about 10 metres away, a terraced garden with a large area of grass.

Yesterday evening we had a special treat – a wedding reception in the garden. Adorned with an amazing array of flowers which would have been the envy of any wedding I’ve taken, the reception was a real spectacle. Whilst some ceremony was unfamiliar to us, it also included the usual beautifully dressed guests, food, speeches, cake and............music. The bass response of the speakers was exceptional, and much of the music hit the resonant frequency of our doorframe perfectly! Surprisingly it was a good experience and by 11.00 pm the clearing-up was completed. And so to bed.

In addition to the wonderful view, our room (44) also has a connecting door to the adjacent room (43). On several occasions this week new occupants of Room 43 have tried with some determination to get into our room, but fortunately the bolt is on our side! But the door is not the most substantial, which ensures that, with a little imagination, the occupants of both rooms can be fully conversant with what’s going on next door.

Having dropped off to sleep after the wedding, we were both awoken around 1.45 am by the sound of zips being zipped, locks being unlocked and then locked again, doors opening and closing. It was a bit like the arrival of Marley’s Ghost, but the coughing and the dim sound of a TV assured us that this was not so. It was our neighbour arriving in rather late. By about 2.45 am things had fallen quiet again, save for the continuing sound of the TV and a semi-rhythmic, mezzo-forte, snoring. Allan reached for his ear-plugs - and so to sleep, again.

Around 5.30 am, before the call to prayer from the local mosque, Anne (who had no ear-plugs) started awake with the loud blowing of a nose next door, followed by animated African conversation between a group of men who seemed to have no conception of what sotto voce might mean. By 6.00 am – even with ear-plugs, Allan too had woken up. Finally, our neighbour’s visitors left, and the TV (tuned to a Christian channel) was turned up forte, presumably to enable our neighbour to hear it whilst continuing to blow his nose at regular intervals. One of the songs being sung was ‘Thank you Jesus’, which wasn’t entirely the sentiment Anne and I were feeling. Complete silence descended some half-hour later as our neighbour left his room.

Blessed sleep embraced us both again, until at 7.30, we were both woken up again with a loud knocking on our patio door – our laundry was being returned.

A few hours earlier we had been reading Craig Storti’s book The Art of Crossing Cultures. In it he talks about ‘cultural incidents’ arising out of the fact that we expect other people to behave like we do, but they don’t. Our conclusion? Last night was a gift from God and a ‘cultural incident’ to reflect on. But we’re still tired.