Out comes the man who served us yesterday, lean, somewhere in his sixties, with a lazy, rather shuffling, but very graceful shuffling walk, as though he is dancing the cumbia. I know now why he didn't seem Chinese to me. He may be Chinese, genetically, but this man is Latin American to the core. He is Venezuelan He is wearing a ballcap and a light red and yellow plaid shirt underneath his stained white apron.
"Hello. I am Carlos.", he says smiling broadly.
We each name ourselves, then Carlos focusses on Jesús. "Así, tu eres colombiano". "so, you're Colombian."
"Y tu eres venezolano", dice Jesús, smiling broadly, or "and you are Venezuelan."
"También soy chinito"
"What did he just say?" asks Sarah.
Carlos directs on Sarah his smiling eyes. "I said I am also Chinaman."
"You mean to say you are Chinese Venezuelan", she corrects.
"No", says Carlos, giggling impishly, "I am a Chinaman. I hate political correctness. You know, you Guailo are so sensitive about everything. You only have to smile and you guys get offended!"
"Yes", Sarah says, "But to many Asians that is offensive."
"Especially when they´re Korean or Japanese", says Carlos, laughing out loud. Then he straightens up, as though standing to attention, the laughter and the smile quickly fading away. "Very nice to meet you people. I have to get back to work. Come again, and maybe we can visit longer."
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