Modern couple

Martin and I are what you could call a cosmopolite couple. We have no other choice, really! It is almost impossible to live in a country different than yours and still behave like a narrow minded redneck. To do so, you would need to make a conscious effort for talking only to other immigrants from your country, whining and swearing every time your Spanish ham stash is over, and being for all practical purposes deaf and blind. In the other hand (and in the other extreme) the natural habitat of a modern couple of "freemovers" like us is a social event in which:

-At least two languages are spoken at the table. Also, languages are a topic of conversation.

-There is at least one exotic guest. This could be an Asian, a guy with five passports, a professional diver, a vegan, or somebody who does not know who Mary Poppins is.

-Somebody will complain about not being able to find decent Spanish ham, which starts a conversation about how weird the people from this country are (notice it is ok for a cosmopolite couple to trash locals, but it is not ok from your cousins visiting you to do the same)

-Most people talk while holding a glass of wine in the hand

-You could play Scattergories with the names of countries that comes up in conversation

-Someone says something plain racist (this is also ok for cosmopolites)

Martin and I feel really comfortable in these events. As hosts we are a bit of a disaster, but we know very well when to serve a bit of ham or slivovice and steer the conversation towards Slavonic drinks and far from a barely eatable cuscus. As any other cosmopolite, we believe our two weeks’ vacation in Bolivia qualifies us to speak about the mining problem in Potosi, even if our opinions may embarrass a person that actually knows something about the topic. And of course, we are ready to save the world after the meal, when faced with a homemade panna cotta is more likely that people will feel comfortable enough to talk about the Catalonian problem and wealth distribution.

Lately, of course, we are cosmopolites with a kid. This means we need to limit our talk related to the future of the European Union to make space for our chat on multilingual schools and recyclable diapers. However, other than that very little has changed since a modern cosmopolite couple is allowed to drag their kid to events in which Aperol Spritz is drank and the sentence "in my country..." is pronounced more than once, without major variations in the agenda.

That was more or less our plan for last Saturday. Glass of Syrah in hand, exotic guests in the kitchen. At some point in time Martin was cooking pasta, I talked about North Korea and Daniel in pajamas shouted "Teta, auto!" and got toy cars in my cleavage. Not sure if he was eager to make a point about out consumerist, sex-centered society or it was purely a rebel act, but when he lifted my shirt to look for the cars we decided it was maybe a bit too modern to show my breasts to our guests and it was possibly time for mummy to stop talking bullshit and for small trilingual kids to go to bed.