I hate cigarettes. I hate what they do to health. I hate
that they are so addictive. And I hate the smell. But were it not for cigarettes, I perhaps would not have become friends with Ana Maria, the dear friend
I mentioned last month (see here).
I honestly do not remember our first-time-meeting very
well (or at all), but Ana Maria reminded me of the event when I recently saw her. We were
next-door neighbors in the small, shoe box graduate dorms at
the University of Connecticut. I was working on a Master’s degree, and Ana
Maria was a student from Venezuela studying English at the UConn American English Language Institute (UCAELI).
Upon moving in, I was trying to get used to being back
in school after a few years since undergrad, and getting accustomed to life in such
small quarters. Evidently, one evening I smelled cigarette smoke, and since we were in a non-smoking dorm, went next
door to confront the smoker. The smoker was Ana Maria and this was apparently
our first meeting. As I said, I do not remember that, although it sounds
feasible because I do hate smoke and I’m not afraid to bitch about it. Needless
to say, neither one of us had a shining first impression of the other, she the
inconsiderate smoker, me the inconsiderate complainer. But first impressions be
damned!
After that, Ana Maria and I would run into each other in the
bath/shower room in the evening. We washed our faces and brushed our teeth, and with
the smoking confrontation over with, would chat. I always like meeting people
from other countries (as I have mentioned in other posts – see here, here and here)
and was intrigued that she was from South America and learning English. I would
sometimes help with her homework and she would help me with my Spanish. I met
her friends from the language program, I attended some of their events and
parties, and she went with me to New Hampshire to visit my parents. I learned
about Venezuela from her. She learned more about the nonsensical English
language (e.g. there, their, they’re) and the U.S. from me. We had become
great friends that semester, and when it was over, and I moved out of the dorm and Ana Maria prepared to return to Venezuela,
we were big babies and cried as we said our good-byes.
But we had plans to see
each other soon. Very soon.
To be continued ...
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