Hello Bob,   
      
   BK>Over the last couple weeks I had encounters with an American   
   BK>living in South Africa, an Australian, and an Egyptian. All in   
   BK>one group.   
      
   On a regualr basis I meet folks from all over the world, at the   
   same time, in the French Quarter.  But then, New Orleans has always   
   been known as an international city.  Maybe not so much Toledo.  :)   
      
   BK>The Egyptian is a grad student here at the University of Toledo.   
      
   Even small universities all across America have a large number   
   of foreign students.  I find that a good thing, as Americans have   
   an opportunity to meet others from around the world they would   
   otherwise would not have that chance.  Misunderstandings are often   
   the cause of war, or a cause that leads to war.  The way to peace   
   is through dialogue, open dialogue in an bonest manner, where   
   conflicts or misunderstandings can be addressed.   
      
   BK>He talked of how every year he went back to Egypt for the summer   
   BK>break, and things were peaceful, then he came back here and all   
   BK>hell broke out over there. This year he decided to stay here to   
   BK>try to move up his degree completion, so naturally things went   
   BK>to hell there early.   
      
   A few years back, in the 90s, I met a cab driver from Libya.   
   He was not here legally, his visa having been expired.  As such,   
   he was an undocumented worker.  He longed for his country, but   
   was scared beyond belief to return because of what Col. Qaddafi   
   had done to his family.   
      
   He asked me what to do, not knowing where to turn.  I encouraged   
   him to apply for political asylum, which is later did.  At the time   
   he applied for asylum, Bill Clinton was in office.  However, the   
   Clinton administration dragged its feet to the point that nothing   
   was done.  George W. Bush then took office, and his request for   
   asylum was turned down.  What were the grounds?  Oh, Bush had made   
   friends with Qaddafi, and Libya was no longer a terrorist state.   
   Therefore, the cabbie had no choice but to return home to Libya.   
      
   I do not know if the cabbie is dead of alive, as he arrived back   
   in Libya long before Qaddafi was overthrown.  What I mean to say is,   
   Libya is a very rough neighborhood.  Rougher than the 9th Ward in   
   New Orleans at night.  Libyans armed with guns, following directions   
   from nobody, is total mayhem.  It is a wonder anybody can survive   
   in that wild place.   
      
   If he is alive, he is probably part of the government.  If he is   
   not alive, his body is likely never to be found.  And whose fault   
   is it if he is dead?  Both Clinton and Bush, if you ask me.  It   
   does not take a rocket scientist to know Qaddafi is not our friend.   
   Or in this case, was ever our friend.   
      
   BK>The American was asked if Americans were liked in South Africa.   
   BK>She said they were fairly well, because the US didn't colonize   
   BK>South Africa or the neighbors. All we did was send teachers and   
   BK>missionaries. Those missionaries were not backed by guns.   
      
   I played a wedding for an American and South African.  The   
   American was a journalist from the New York Times.  The South   
   African owned a gold mining company.  The two resided in South   
   Africa.   
      
   BK>The Australian is an executive with a statistical research firm.   
   BK>He paid for lunch. Nice guy.   
      
   Back in the early 1980s I met two Australian women, the two being   
   twins.  I had a really nice time with them, and made a nice seafood   
   dinner they would be sure to remember.  As a parting gift, I gave   
   them some (uncooked) soft-shelled crabs, which are considered a   
   delicacy in South Louisiana.   
      
   A few days later they came over, and I asked them if they enjoyed   
   their crabs.  They kind of looked at me a weird way, and said they   
   were "Okay."  I could tell something was not quite right, so I asked   
   them how they cooked the crabs.  And then they told me they boiled   
   them.  What they could not figure out was why the crabs remained   
   soft, their shells never hardening.  Since after boiling they did   
   not look edible, the twins tossed them in the garbage can.   
      
   It was all my fault.  Being from South Louisiana, I had assumed that   
   everybody (including Australians) knew how to cook soft-shelled crabs.   
   I had already cleaned them, making it easier for the twins to cook.   
   All they had to do was to beat an egg, roll them in fish fry, and deep   
   fry to golden brown.  They should not be blamed for ruining a perfectly   
   good meal.   
      
   This food post is getting me hungry for a grilled cheese sandwich.   
   Better yet, a grilled dark chocolate and parmesan cheese sandwich.   
   Already had a ham and jam sandwich earlier (ham, strawberry jam,   
   red wine, on bread slices).   
      
   --Lee   
      
   --- MesNews/1.06.00.00-gb   
    * Origin: news://felten.yi.org (2:203/2)