Even though I’m here with my vast knowledge of business and western ways, I can’t even get Taco to listen to me.

After moving into my house and found it in disarray and dirty, I pretty much took everything that I didn’t want and put it on the patio to get thrown out. When I asked Taco to throw it out, he wrinkled his eyes as if he didn’t understand me. I thought it was my crappy French. So I repeated what I wanted. He walked over to the box I had designated as garbage and started rummaging thru it. Satisfied that he was going to throw it out and was maybe just looking for treasures, I went back inside and worked on writing another brilliant blog about silly cultural differences between us.

He came inside with some stuff and said this isn’t garbage. I said it was. He looked at me, repeated that it wasn’t, gave it to me and walked back outside. A few minutes later he called me outside and asked me if I wanted to clean a large pot I had asked him to throw out. I said no, it’s garbage, just throw it out. He said no, he’ll just clean it later.

Two days later I used the stuff he didn’t throw out to assemble my stove and boiled water in the large pot he had cleaned for me. This little kid and works on my ‘garden’ saved me another uncomfortable trip to the city and about 15 bux (which is quite a bit on our salary).

The lesson here is never throw out anything without asking Taco first.taco