The Family Clown

I think my host father thinks I’m some kind of clown. He is always laughing at me, and I can’t figure out why. I’m used to being laughed at in America, but I always know why; I said something without thinking or was clumsy or something like that. But I never really know with my host father. Last night, we were drinking together and he would point to my sweatshirt and laugh. And then today, when I was leaving to go for a walk, he saw me all bundled up to go outside and laughed again. Sometimes, just randomly, he will look at me and laugh. My only response is usually just shrugging my shoulders. Oh well, I guess I’m just meant to be someone who people from all cultures laugh at.


And I was looking through some of pictures from last night and found a group of pictures of Roman and me talking together. These pretty much describe our conversations perfectly.