I see London, I see France...

Brushing your teeth with someone is an intimate experience.  Usually you're married to the person, you're best friends, or you're dating. Tonight I brushed my teeth with a lady who doesn't speak much English.  I don't know where she's from because when I was going to ask her, she had a mouth full of foam.  She didn't say anything to me because after she spit the foam out, I was flossing my molars.  As I flossed, she put a heavy cream on her face, smiled at me, and left the bathroom.  While I finished up with the floss, a German guy who was maybe in his 60's walked in and began to brush.  We stood there, comrades in personal hygiene. He said nothing when I pulled out my zit cream, and I said nothing when he picked his nose with toilet paper.  

I have experienced more intimate, personal things with these "strangers" than I have with some of my closest friends and family members.  I can't even remember the last time I saw my dad brush his teeth (I promise he does, though!).  The other morning there were seven middle-aged French men in nothing but their tighty-whities walking around the room.  The scariest part was that I didn't even really notice...

 

This morning when I was stretching and yawning, trying to convince myself to sit up, I rolled over and came face to face with a 70 year old Spanish gentleman who had his chin on my mattress, waiting for me to notice he was there.  "Está lloviendo," he told me with a grin.  I knew it was raining, because my face was right next to the open window and I had also looked at the weather the night before, but he was so excited to talk to me that I couldn't help but smile back.  We had had a conversation the night before about his previous hiking experiences in the rain and this week's rainy forecast.  He patted me on the cheek and headed off to the bathroom with his toothbrush, wearing absolutely nothing but his underpants.

K

Boadilla del Camino, Spain