My grandparents are visiting. They traveled by ferry over an ocean from a little country more south than mine, but yet not that south, the Netherlands. They arrived the other day, worn out from the long and shaky night spent on German ferry. They told me, they hadn't slept at all, that the food was crap and they didn’t even win anything on the slot machines. My grandparents are old but not too old, they have just reach the high peek where complaining is a vivid part of daily life. My grandfather brought his own potatoes from home. Look at this he said, this is quality, he took one chubby potato in his wrinkly hand and smiled. They don't make them like this anywhere else. The Dutch potato is the best and that’s that. He told me that he even brought a sac with him, when traveling to Canada some years ago. Staying away
from home, for more than a week needs a certain amount of secured potatoes. For the Canada trip he stuffed a potato in every empty space, counting pockets and hand luggage. When asking what the customs must have said, spotting all those potatoes everywhere, he answers with a smug face... they didn’t say anything…they understood..
When going to a restaurant with my grandfather his little peculiarities can be a problem. He often wrinkles his nose to all dishes put in front of him, shaking his head, looking disappointed. He simply doesn’t understand why he can't bring his own got damn potatoes to the restaurant. Growing up in a village with only 115people, life outside the village borders gets to him as somewhat strange and sci-fi. Like paying for stuff... when the situation occur he just shakes his head in a no- comprende style, holding out his hands, looking surprised. The best thing about the old man though is the way he giggles, he huffs, puffs and snorts like a volcano ready to burst, shaking in his hole body finally letting it out in one long, spasmodic, hysterical giggle. ..
