"Do you speak German?"
Startled, I looked for the source of the voice. I was on my way home from my regular walk. It was a vintage-white-dude with a pooch.
"No, I don't." Not sure what the antique soul wanted from this brown-mature woman! Was it his conversation-pick-up line?
"I am Larry Lorenzo," he smiled.
"And I am Nuzhat," I smiled back. I doubt he got it right. We began talking. The advantage of retirement is––"veterans" like us have plenty of time to kill as we please, mostly.
"I was in Germany . . . I was with the CIA but I used to say I worked with the State Department," he chuckled. I smelt pride in his words.
"I have been to Germany several times . . . I have friends who live in Tubingen––a German guy married to a Peruvian woman. . . been to Black Forest, Frankfurt . . ."
Sim, a neighbor across from us, had also worked with the CIA, I heard. In our neighborhood, most folks are employed by the State Department, Treasury, Pentagon––educated, well-travelled. Some are in the software sector.
In my past duty stations, in addition to work relationships I also had regular social interactions with the diplomatic corps. I heard stories . . . A diplomat's spouse once revealed her encounters with a person who she believed was a spy. She was rattled and wanted to talk to someone who she could trust. I assured her that her secret was safe with me.
I came across a person in one country whose presence there was puzzling. Looking back, I believe he fitted the bill of a spy. Such American/Russian undercover operatives blend with the local cultures, live as a part of the milieu carrying on with their work in camouflaged existences.
One day I intend to write more on this . . .
Startled, I looked for the source of the voice. I was on my way home from my regular walk. It was a vintage-white-dude with a pooch.
"No, I don't." Not sure what the antique soul wanted from this brown-mature woman! Was it his conversation-pick-up line?
"I am Larry Lorenzo," he smiled.
"And I am Nuzhat," I smiled back. I doubt he got it right. We began talking. The advantage of retirement is––"veterans" like us have plenty of time to kill as we please, mostly.
"I was in Germany . . . I was with the CIA but I used to say I worked with the State Department," he chuckled. I smelt pride in his words.
"I have been to Germany several times . . . I have friends who live in Tubingen––a German guy married to a Peruvian woman. . . been to Black Forest, Frankfurt . . ."
Sim, a neighbor across from us, had also worked with the CIA, I heard. In our neighborhood, most folks are employed by the State Department, Treasury, Pentagon––educated, well-travelled. Some are in the software sector.
In my past duty stations, in addition to work relationships I also had regular social interactions with the diplomatic corps. I heard stories . . . A diplomat's spouse once revealed her encounters with a person who she believed was a spy. She was rattled and wanted to talk to someone who she could trust. I assured her that her secret was safe with me.
I came across a person in one country whose presence there was puzzling. Looking back, I believe he fitted the bill of a spy. Such American/Russian undercover operatives blend with the local cultures, live as a part of the milieu carrying on with their work in camouflaged existences.
One day I intend to write more on this . . .
Please continue. Guy
ReplyDeleteYes, Nuzhat, please write more about it.
ReplyDelete