The first American in Buzet, Croatia

When I was young, I would get on a train and just go. I didn’t care where really, but I would just buy a ticket to the end of the line, and go.
One time I did this in Croatia.
After many stops and several bribes to continue going to the next station, a group of teenagers got on. I liked them, they liked me. So, they invited me to their village.
It was a beer making village, they said, and I would like it.
Sure enough, that village made beer, but they also had one discotheque.
They invited me out that night, after finding a place near the castle with an old man and his daughter, where I could stay, “for as long as you want!”
I met the old man and his daughter, both erudite, having studied in Zagreb.
They were also happy I was there: “You are the first American in our village, so to us you are exotic.”
I had never been called exotic anywhere, so thought I should play this out.
At the discotheque that night, a group had gathered out front. The lights were typical Eastern European dance club neon blue and red. Something like a brothel, but with strobes and of course disco balls.
The first question they asked me: “Are you more like Tom Cruise or John Travolta?”
Quickly, I responded, “Travolta, but with a bit of Al Pacino and Deniro mixed in; and also Daniel Day Lewis, although of course, he is not American—but no cowboys (even though I was from Texas, I had no cowboy in me at all. I wanted to be real with them.)
After many questions, we drank their local beer-a simple clean slightly citrus pilsner style- and danced, until I was tired and went to my temporary home to sleep the day off.
The next day, they all came to the house and asked if I wanted to help them clean up trash around town? They said the whole community does it each Saturday, are you jewish?
“Not technically.” I responded.
“Ok then you are catholic, let’s get to work!”
Little did I know that the old man’s daughter had alerted the Zagreb press that an American was in town helping pick up trash.
When we started, roaming around the village and the especially the old castle’s grounds, I had the feeling of being part of an extended family, cleaning up a house on a weekend, but then we got into a large open truck and hauled all the trash to this great heap on the edge of town. There, the press had gathered, and my friends said, they want to take a few photos of your hurling trash into our collective heap.
I had never felt so glamorous and yet for hauling trash with new friends.
Sure, so I threw trash off the truck in the direction of the cameras.
The next day, the old man handed me the paper. I was on the front page with a banana peel flung in the air, seeming to be sweating with my bandana on.
American cleans up Croatia.
After translating it to me,his tall dark haired daughter, asked me if I liked the article?
I like the photo, but it makes me a bit too Tom Cruise.
I didn’t really come here to clean things up, but more to dance with you all like John Travolta.
“I thought all Americans were or wanted to be famous.” She said.
“No, some of us just want to wander making new friends on the frontier, or buy train tickets to anywhere just for the adventure along the way.”
“Oh, so you are more like John Wayne, I see-but you also like to dance.”