Continued from yesterday...
You sometimes hear Americans complain about the unfriendliness of the French -or the Italians or some other nationality - towards Americans. Having lived for a year in Paris 43 years ago I must concede that at that time there was some validity to that assessment of the French. (Of course I haven't been back to France in almost 40 years, so maybe attitudes have changed since then). But anyway, what I learned at that time about the French and about the people in every country I've since visited is that if, as a foreigner, you try to communicate with the local people and let them know that you're interested in learning their language, culture and customs then they'll open up and blossom with friendliness.
Except it seems to me that the the opposite is true of the Amish; that if you attempt any kind of exchange with them except for one of a monetary nature, they'll respond by adding another layer of permafrost, as did the pretty Amish teenager with the stoney expression who waited on us at Grandma's, the plain but homey little restaurant outside Berlin where, at the recommendation of our tour guide, we had lunch.
I'm guessing that at the beginning of each new shift the manger of Grandma's must line up the waitresses to remind each of them to straighten their bonnet and skirt, put on a clean apron, give quick and efficient service, don't greet the customers or say hello or tell them your name or ask them how they're doing today, don't say one more word to the customer than is absolutely necessary for the exchange of the business at hand, do not exhibit the least suggestion of friendliness in either word or gesture, and any waitress caught smiling will be immediately fired.
The food we had at Grandma's was really good, delicious and plentiful, and we enjoyed it as much as one can enjoy a meal generously seasoned with loathing. We left our hostile little Amish waitress a decent tip anyway.
It was the opinion of our ex-Amish guide that if the Amish allowed their members to drive cars then their way of life would be extinct in one generation. I'd add that the unfriendliness of the Amish to outsiders is likewise a defense against extinction. Because a smile can lead to a friendship and a friendship can lead to love and, as the song says, love changes everything.
And there would go all the Amish stuff.
But don't worry, I don't think there's much danger of that happening any time soon.
You sometimes hear Americans complain about the unfriendliness of the French -or the Italians or some other nationality - towards Americans. Having lived for a year in Paris 43 years ago I must concede that at that time there was some validity to that assessment of the French. (Of course I haven't been back to France in almost 40 years, so maybe attitudes have changed since then). But anyway, what I learned at that time about the French and about the people in every country I've since visited is that if, as a foreigner, you try to communicate with the local people and let them know that you're interested in learning their language, culture and customs then they'll open up and blossom with friendliness.
Except it seems to me that the the opposite is true of the Amish; that if you attempt any kind of exchange with them except for one of a monetary nature, they'll respond by adding another layer of permafrost, as did the pretty Amish teenager with the stoney expression who waited on us at Grandma's, the plain but homey little restaurant outside Berlin where, at the recommendation of our tour guide, we had lunch.
I'm guessing that at the beginning of each new shift the manger of Grandma's must line up the waitresses to remind each of them to straighten their bonnet and skirt, put on a clean apron, give quick and efficient service, don't greet the customers or say hello or tell them your name or ask them how they're doing today, don't say one more word to the customer than is absolutely necessary for the exchange of the business at hand, do not exhibit the least suggestion of friendliness in either word or gesture, and any waitress caught smiling will be immediately fired.
The food we had at Grandma's was really good, delicious and plentiful, and we enjoyed it as much as one can enjoy a meal generously seasoned with loathing. We left our hostile little Amish waitress a decent tip anyway.
It was the opinion of our ex-Amish guide that if the Amish allowed their members to drive cars then their way of life would be extinct in one generation. I'd add that the unfriendliness of the Amish to outsiders is likewise a defense against extinction. Because a smile can lead to a friendship and a friendship can lead to love and, as the song says, love changes everything.
And there would go all the Amish stuff.
But don't worry, I don't think there's much danger of that happening any time soon.
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