Blundering, indirectly

Sometimes you blunder, and it is all your fault, but sometimes you also indirectly blunder. And you still must suffer the consequences.

I went to a small restaurant with my traveling companion, who does not wish to be mentioned, so I will simply call this person JH. It was a typical social situation that, in a foreign land, becomes a little more difficult to grasp at a glance. There are practices and procedures that the residents just seem to know by birthright, or they at least have had years perfecting their behaviors. Just figuring out where to order at a counter and in which direction to go can be complicated -- besides what you need to pick up and what you wait to be handed. But I successfully navigated the counter situation and ordered the meals, along with a coffee for JH and a hot tea for me. We were given a small block of wood with a thin wire sticking out of it, and on top was a little number on a piece of paper. The halting but still excellent English skills of the woman behind the counter, along with my experience at Culvers in the US, convinced me that we were supposed to go sit somewhere, display our number, and wait for the meal. Excellent. The meal came, but yet no drinks. I told my traveling companion that we were probably supposed to go get our own because I spotted what looked like coffee contraptions somewhere next to the counter. And where there is coffee, there must also be tea, I reasoned. I convinced JH that my theory was correct. And that is where I indirectly blundered. My generous traveling companion then offered to go get my tea along with the coffee.

A few minutes later, JH returned to our table with a very large cup and a perplexed look. JH said: "I thought I was making some instant coffee, dissolving the crystals in hot water…but I was actually putting your tea leaves into the cup. I realized that when those things didn't dissolve." Well, here I am with a steaming cup of hot water into which has been shoveled who knows how many spoonfuls of tea leaves, which were visibly floating all around, some sticking to the inside of the cup, with a few on the saucer for good measure. Understand that, as a visitor to a foreign land, I try to leave a good impression wherever I go, as if I were some sort of good-will ambassador. I would not hesitate to dump this drink out at Culvers, but here there were no convenient dumping places, and the honor of the United States was once again at stake. JH added: " Try to drink as much of the tea as possible, after the tea leaves settle." Well, tea leaves seem to settle in geological time, not human time; in fact, more tea leaves were floating to the surface the longer I waited. So I gripped the cup and attempted to drink as much of the tea as I could stand. Which was unfortunately not much. Imagine if you cut open about five tea bags and dumped them into a cup of hot water, and let them brew for 10 minutes. It would be the most powerful cup of tea you ever sipped. The caffeine dose would not be recommended by the American Medical Association, and the taste would be somewhat overwhelming. I tried my best, but I had to end up leaving the strange-looking cup of tea at my table. The Finnish servers who would later pick up the dishes probably wondered about the odd tea habits of that American who did not seem to understand proper tea-making procedures. What was he thinking? Maybe he had never had tea before? Anyway, I feel I let down my country a bit. Perhaps I was once again just silently pitied by the Finns.

I did not actually make that cup of tea myself (which probably stained the ceramic tea cup before it was cleaned), but I indirectly caused it to be made for me. And the consequences were that my stomach did feel a bit odd for hours afterward.