Maybe blunt.” I think for a moment, then backtrack. “No, not blunt. But the others.”
Matt is looking more and more wary.
“I guess,” he says at last.
“OK. So, here’s the thing. It’s been six weeks, give or take.”
“What has?” Matt looks blank and I feel a tiny spurt of impatience, which I try to suppress. But honestly. What does he think I’m talking about?
“Us,” I say patiently. “Us.”
“Right.” Matt thinks about this for a moment, then ventures, “I would have said longer.”
“Well, it’s six weeks. We’ve had six weeks so far for me to get used to Matt-land and you to get used to Ava-land. And I think you’d agree that our progress has been…” I pause, to pick the right word. “Patchy.”
Matt breathes out, as though he was expecting something quite a lot worse than “patchy.”
“That’s fair.” He nods.
“Sometimes everything is wonderful between us. Whereas other times…” I pause again, not wanting to dig up old, painful stuff. “But you know what? That’s no surprise, because six weeks is nothing! I understand everything now! I’ve been reading this brilliant book.”
From my bag I pull the paperback I’ve been studying for the last few days. I ordered it after doing a quick google, and honestly, it makes everything clear! It’s littered with highlighter and Post-its where I found useful tips, and I can’t wait for Matt to read it.
“ ‘In a Strange Land,’ ” Matt reads off the front cover. “ ‘How to Acclimatize to a New Country.’ ”
“Look!” I say, flicking through it with enthusiasm and showing Matt chapter headings. “ ‘Chapter One: So You’re in Love with a New Country! Chapter Two: The Shock of the First Few Days. Chapter Three: Getting Used to Strange New Customs.’ See? It could be about us!”
“Right.” Matt seems confused. “But it’s not a book about relationships.”
“It’s about being expats in a foreign country,” I explain. “Well, we are expats in foreign countries. Matt-land and Ava-land! It’s the same!”
As I flick farther on, I come to “Chapter 7: When the Charm Wears Off.” But hastily I turn the page, because that’s not relevant to us.
“Anyway,” I continue firmly, “everything in this book spoke to me. And what we’re in right now is called ‘culture shock.’ We need to adjust. And maybe we’re underestimating how hard a job that is. Listen to this….” I riffle through the pages till I find the right Post-it, then read aloud: “ ‘Even small differences between cultures can be disconcerting, from body language to food choices. You may often find yourself thinking, “Why?” ’ ”
“One beer…” A waiter interrupts us. “And one kombucha-fermented cocktail with extra wheatgrass shot?”
“Fab!” I smile up at him. “Thank you!”
As the waiter departs, Matt looks silently from his bottle of Budweiser to my green, foamy drink garnished with a bean sprout.
“Yes,” he says at last. “I think I can relate to this.”
“Well, what the book says is, don’t expect instant results. It takes six months to acclimatize, minimum. Cheers.” I lift my drink to his.
“Cheers. Six months?” he adds, after sipping.
“Minimum.” I nod. “It also says you have to be open-minded, curious, embrace the quirks of your new adopted nation….What else…” I open the book again and flip through. “ ‘Research your new country carefully beforehand…’ No, that wasn’t it….”
“Bit late for that!” says Matt with a short laugh.
“Here we are.” I read aloud again: “ ‘The more you explore and immerse in your new culture, the more quickly you will adapt.’ You see?” I lean forward with animation. “Explore and immerse.”
“Right.” Again, Matt looks wary. “What exactly does that mean?”
“You know! Explore aspects of each other’s lives. I’ll explore your area of London; you explore mine. I’ll explore golf; you explore…er…astrology, maybe.”
Matt’s face ripples with something unreadable.
“OK,” he says, and swigs his Bud again.
“But the point is, we need to be nonjudgmental,” I add earnestly. “Listen: ‘You may find elements of your new culture unfamiliar. Perhaps even unpalatable. But try not to cling to your biases and prejudices. Widen your compassion and empathy.’ ” I look up, glowing. “Isn’t that inspiring? Compassion and empathy.”
“Mr. Warwick?” Our waiter approaches the table hesitantly. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but you have a phone call on our landline.”
“A phone call?” Matt looks startled.
“A Mr. Warwick Sr.”
“My dad?” Matt seems baffled. “He must have asked my assistant where I was eating and got the number.”
“Maybe it’s an emergency,” I say in sudden fear. “Maybe something’s happened to your grandpa.”
“OK, I’d better find out. Sorry.” Matt pushes back his chair and throws down his napkin.