I bet on bosuffle

In a world that is too much in question, people still ride. I do it too, if possible. This month I arrived in Cyprus, after I ran out of money at the beginning of the year. Yes, I know, a very smart way to schedule travel. In order not to provoke unnecessary curiosities or acid jokes, the other options were Malta and Sardinia (Italy). I will give the money next winter as well.

I landed in Paphos, a town with a gorgeous seafront, and as my body and age blocked certain pleasures (I mean eating what I want, drinking nothing but water and exercising) I decided to take advantage of walking , as long as it is accessible to me. So I took the city in stride, far and wide and interacted with a lot of people. I knew that a considerable number of Romanians live and work in the area and a lot of Brits hang out wherever they can.

A reliable source warned me from the start: don't mention football to the British, you might not win their favorite team (theirs) and it's not a good idea to spoil your mood; don't ask someone who serves you if they're Romanian in Romanian, they won't be, but if you say different things, they generally don't hold back and start talking in their native language. Warned, I proceeded as such. I didn't brag that I "like" Tottenham to the English and I didn't directly mention FC Arges to the Romanians. After two days, I started to take pride in the fact that I immediately recognize Romanians, who sell at a store or serve in a restaurant. If I saw someone trailing a herd of black clouds, I could bet on their country of origin. I got 96.98%.

I won the bets... without winning anything.

I've only seen such anger on a waiter at Eforie Nord before, and I've been served more rudely at the store only in Drumul Taberei (Bucharest - Romania). I mean strictly the cases where I won the bet, otherwise, Cypriots are very kind. The climax in a restaurant where I entered twice, due to food compatibility, after the first contact I directly told the waiter that he was so angry and bored that he could only be Romanian (he confirmed), the second this day he overwhelmed me with such ill-played gaiety that I told him I preferred him sullenly.

Of course, far from the thought of generalizing, it would be stupid, but it is increasingly clear to me that the story that we are poorly served because those who do it are poorly paid does not really hold up. In the middle there is something else, which is related to a way of being of everyone and a defective work culture.