In touch with Culture

The first few months in a place, there is the rush to boast to the fellow stay-at-home natives, the inquisitive relatives and long distant letter receivers that in-between the fag-end cardboard boxes and insurance claims that one has touched base as a Tourist in residence. I am not only a survivor of the cardboard boxes, but I have now to have an in depth knowledge of local culture and monuments to history.

Now months later the agenda has changed, I am a resident with my picture on an ID card, that I may not have voted 'for' in the Homeland security debate as it was an invasion of my privacy. I am a turncoat radical persuaded by "they" - the local bureaucracy ~ that may be looking for an excuse to send me home - they do not understand my objections to infringements of civil liberty and I think by sign language they do not care. They want me to have an ID card. I want an ID card.

Now we have the plans at the ready to receive Visitors , the tour is reduced to a fast turnaround of local antiquities or theme parks of what looks like old antiquities.....we are hosting visitors. There is an expectation of the holidayers, they want a rush to visit the local visit places that one as a resident should now know the best back-alley snack bar like the back of my hand. Visitors knowing that I will give the Visitor a true taste of foreign lands. And By schucks McDonaldini's not going to cut the ice.

The back of my hand is gloved.