Small Victories

Special Agent K, who is much more observant than I am, said something that I often forget to mention about living abroad. That the sense of accomplishment that can be had from figuring out how to do stuff, especially in another language or culture, is like proof that your brain still works. Despite some out of date directions, I was able to successfully get to the right office, fill out the right papers and get a re-entry permit. That really felt good. It was like winning a sports match and figuring out a puzzle at the same time.

Riding high on that mark in the win column, I decided to look up a guy I met who said his shop sold big and tall suits. (That's another nice thing about living here. There are people who are willing to be civil, or even kind, just for the sake of being friendly to a foreigner. I'll have to remember to try and be good to other people someday...) So I went to his shop, and found they did have big and tall suits. Suits for people with up to a 130cm waist and 185 cm height.

Have I told you yet that I'm about 190 cm tall?

That was kind of a come down: to be reminded that, even by extra-normal standards, you don't fit.

Then again, no one leaves their home country to live abroad with an realistic goal of "fitting in." Mostly I was cheesed off because I really wanted a new suit. And really, the guy from the store seemed geniunely disappointed that they didn't have anything that would fit me.

So let's score the day a win by split decision. 'Cause in the end, I did figure out how to do some stuff. And I was never able to buy suits easily in the US anyway.