A man next to me is yelling at his girlfriend, wife, it could even be his mother. I can’t figure it out. Opposite of me, a girl is talking in sign language to the screen of her computer. I am talking to my sister in the Netherlands. I am sure we all three have completely different conversations, but there is one thing that the man, the girl and I have in common: friends, family or lovers on different continents than ours. So what do you do? The answer is skype.
I go to this Internet café at least once a week. I’ll talk to a friend or to a family member. My sister and I just found out we can even turn on a webcam. The man next to me keeps on screaming and the girl opposite of me continues her silent conversation, whilst my sister and I can’t stop laughing. It’s quite bizarre seeing each other like this after almost four months of no see:
"You’re wearing your funny yellow raincoat!”
“What time is it for you guys? Is it really dad dark outside? Your hair looks different.”
When I end the conversation, the man next to me is STILL screaming (at least one hour has passed). I try to type up some emails but I can’t help listening to what he has to say. I still don’t completely get it. But it’s serious business. Girls, just make sure if you ever cheat on someone, run away. Men get upset.
It’s not what the man has to say but more the fact that I can understand his whole conversation that makes me think. Once you get hold of that person on the other side of the globe, you seem to forget the world that you are actually in at that moment. What’s more, you forget about the other people around you. And that’s embarrassing because they can hear everything.
So does the whole café know about my ins and outs now as well? What did I tell my family again? Anything personal? Anything secret? About to get really embarrassed, I suddenly realize that I spoke Dutch to my sister. That’s probably why the Chinese owners of the place always send me to the computer the furthest away from them and the rest of their customers.
They either don’t like the harsh sounds of the Dutch “g” or they know they won’t be getting any juicy stories from me.