Alex is abroad in Munich, Germany, until August 2009.

One of the most unexpectedly difficult things about my Euopean experience so far has been trying to figure out how to cook for myself. Ok, so this is something that would have happened whenever I got my own place, but it just so happens that I not only have to learn how to cook, but I also have to learn how to cook in German. On the positive side, the times when I am fumbling around the kitchen are the times when I meet the most people from my dorm.

My neighbor across the hall, Zied, who has been particularly nice to me from the start, is always cooking, and I’m not talking Easy Mac, or even spaghetti. When you walk into the kitchen and he is cooking, there are usually three to four pots dominating the stove top, vegetables and spices scattered across the counters, and without fail he is standing in the middle of the chaos, calmly stirring one of the pots. I can smell his meals from down the hall, and usually jealously eye the soup de jour while throwing together a salami sandwich and retreating to my room.

Last week, when I was making my first attempt at steaming vegetables in the microwave (yes, I am that new to cooking), and staring into the microwave, Zied was cooking a particularly delicious looking dinner. We started talking, and he asked me why I don’t cook very often, to which the answer was simple: because I don’t really know how. But then, rather than laughing or joking, he said plainly, “I could cook for you sometime.” Yes! I excitedly discussed my schedule for the next week with him, and we decided that Thursday would be the day. Over the course of the week when we would pass each other in the kitchen he would ask me things like if I like sea food, or what kind of wine was my favorite.

Thursday night rolled around, and my stomach was rumbling after a day of sparse eating in anticipation for the feast that awaited. I went into the kitchen, only to find Zied cutting up a variety of different kinds of sea food. Amongst them I noted an octopus tentacle, a squid and something that looked like oversized shrimp. This was going to be an adventure. We chatted as he cooked, and I got out the dictionary, in an attempt to both teach him the English words for the fish he was cooking, and figure out what exactly they were. He is from Tunisia, and can speak French, Arabic, German, and a tiny bit of English, so we always speak in German, because it is the easiest common ground. While the fish in some sort of spicy smelling red sauce was bubbling on the stove, we had an appetizer of parmesan, tomato, and fresh basil (he pulled it off of a plant, seriously), and some wine. When the main course was ready, he dished me up a huge plate of spaghetti noodles, with the fish sauce. It was absolutely delicious.

Alright, so the food really isn’t the most interesting part of the dinner, the conversation was. When I asked him how he learned how to cook fish this well, Zied told me that when he was younger he would go to an island with his cousin for a few weeks. To save money, they would go catch their own fish and then find new ways to cook it. That included catching octopuses, and immediately after biting their necks, because otherwise the tentacles would wrap around his arm. He explained that you learn to do that from an early age, because he lives on a small island, and would see all of the adults catching them that way. I didn’t even have a good story about catching regular fish to counter that tall tale.

When clips of the most recent U.S. presidential debate flashed across the TV, we of course started talking about politics. Bear in mind this is the neighbor that watches more of the debates than the Americans that I know. For the first time in this discussion, though, he pointed out another layer of American global influence. He said, “Something that you probably don’t even realize is that who is president in your country has a huge impact on the world, especially small countries.” Coming from Tunisia, he has seen firsthand how a change in the president of the US can hurt or help a country. The way he explained it is that when there is a president in office who is more concerned with humanity, the small countries do well, but if it is someone that cares more about money, then all the small countries feel a strain in their budget. That was the first time that I have felt absolutely humbled by someone else’s political experience, since I got to Europe.

The conversation shifted back to a lighter topic when Zied piled another huge helping of his delicious fish pasta onto my plate, despite my protesting. I haven’t been that full in a long time.

Read Alex’s previous post | Meet the rest of our abroad bloggers