AGUSTIN Y AVELINO

En mi época estudiantil canadiense conocí a algunos españoles que estaban exiliados o haciendo un postgrado en la Universidad de Toronto. Dos de ellos fueron mis muy queridos Agustín y Avelino. El primero era de Villafranca del Bierzo y el segundo de La Coruña (creo recordar, de todas formas era gallego). Agustín era ingeniero naval (creo que exiliado) y Avelino estudiaba ingeniería metalúrgica (doctorado) en U of T (como llamamos a la Universidad de Toronto). En la universidad (estudié lenguas románicas, bueno solo un año porque luego tuve que volver a Europa), cuando conocí a Avelino se llevó una gran sorpresa al saber que yo era española (pensó, no sé porque, que era húngara...). Quedamos para comer un dia, vino a buscarme a la entrada de Hart House (centro lúdico de la Universidad). En cuánto le vi, le dije: "Evaristo, ¿estás listo?" (otra frasecita incrustada en mi subconsciente...). Pobre, no me corrigió, y yo durante toda la comida llamándole Evaristo... Hice muchísima amistad con ellos. Hasta que un dia me dijeron que un alto personaje de la política sumergida española estaba en Toronto. Les dije que vinieran a casa que les haría una cena; bueno, una tortilla de patatas con ensalada (que era lo único que podía cocinar en la época). Llegó el gran dia, me quedé sin aceite e hice la tortilla con mantequilla... salió fatal, por supuesto. El pobre gran político (igual era Felipe González...) se quedó no-sé-cómo, a cuadros. (Continuará)

During my student days in Canada I met a few Spaniards that were either exiled or doing a Ph.D at the University of Toronto. Two of them were my dear friends, Agustín and Avelino. Agustín was, I believe, an exiled Naval Engineer and Avelino was doing his Ph.D. in Metallurgical Engineering. The former was from Villafranca del Bierzo and the latter from La Coruña (I'm not too sure but, nevertheless, he was Galician). At U of T I was studying Romance Languages (well, I only did one year because I had to return to Europe). When I met Avelino he was very surprised to know that I was Spanish (he thought, I don't know why, that I was Hungarian...). One day, he invited me to lunch and we agreed to meet at the entrance to Hart House (the university's cultural hangout). When I saw him, I said "Evaristo, ¿estás listo?" (Spanish phrase that was in the subconscious part of my brain and which doesn't have an English translation. Sorry.) The poor guy, the whole lunch hour I called him "Evaristo", didn't say anything... We became great friends. One day they told me that a very important, underground, political Spanish figure was in Toronto. I said to them, great! I'll make a dinner for him; well, a potato omelette with salad (the only things I could cook at the time). The great day arrived. I ran out of olive oil and I cooked the omelette with butter....it came out horrible, to say the least. The great Spanish politician (maybe it was Felipe González....) was, I-don't-know-how-to-say-it...surprised? (It will continue).