Slovenia was anything but slow. Peter zipped his Kia SUV from Wiener Neustadt to our home base in Croatia, Porec (pronounced “poor wretch”), in a matter of hours.
All we managed to do was to scarf down the largest hot dog we had ever seen, a krofi (stuffed Slovenia donut), and some super strong coffee, the cup of which we still have and was, when I come to think of it, our very first European souvenir.
With Yolanda Be Cool’s “We No Speak Americano” playing in the background for the umpteenth time, I came to an envious realization as we sat idling in the car, waiting to cross the border into Croatia from Slovenia. On a quick bullet train ride or a short jaunt on a plane, in one long weekend (or even just for a day), we could be in a country where the people spoke a different language, ate different things, listened to a different kind of music. So unfair!
Post Script. Just discovered that the background Italian lyrics on “We No Speak Americano” was sampled from a much older song. Not a surprise there is it!
More importantly, I realized why Peter and Traude had played the song almost ad nauseum. They had found something in common with these two young Americans; it crossed both a cultural and generational divide. Every time it played, I believe it brought two different worlds just a little bit closer. I get a little Verklempt thinking that it is these subtle, not immediately recognizable, acts of kindness between strangers that is sorely missing in our world.
