Desde la tierra de Persia hasta la tierra Azteca, un saludo de amor y lealtad para la cultura más bella y ancestral. ¡Viva México y viva su gran gente! 🇲🇽✨
¡Hola México! desde el corazón de Irán, abrimos esta página para demostrar nuestro amor y apoyo incondicional a su gran pueblo, cultura y al Tri. ¡Mismos colores, misma pasión! 🟢⬜🔴
#Irán#México#VivaMéxico#IránConMéxico
@000GTAL No todos. He visto mucho apoyo de chilenos, colombianos, salvadoreños, guatemaltecos, etc. que están felices por el triunfo, y se les agradece el apoyo en esos posts que promueven el hate hacia México. Por unos cuantos ardidos no metamos a todos en el mismo saco.
The love and support that Iran and Team Melli received from Mexico is beyond words. It truly feels like Tehran for us. A special thanks to Mexico! 🇮🇷❤️🇲🇽
مکزیکیها در میزبانی فوقالعادهاند. هرچی آمریکاییها عوضی و بی خاصیتند این مکزیکیها مهربون، خونگرم و انسانند. از الطاف خدا به ما این بود که کمپ تیم ملی به مکزیک رفت. قدر این مکزیک شریف را باید بدونیم و برای گسترش رابطه تجاری، سیاسی، توریستی و … با اونها برنامه داشته باشیم.
USA. A Mexican restaurant. We had not yet ordered anything, and the food was already arriving.
Chips. Salsa. Unrequested. Free.
I stopped the waiter. "We have not earned these."
"They just come with the table, man."
They come with the TABLE. In my land, hospitality is a debt. Every gift creates an obligation, weighed carefully, returned in the proper season with interest of feeling. Here, the gift arrives before you have even proven you can pay for dinner.
This is not an appetizer. This is a declaration: we trust you. Eat.
I ate with the gravity the moment deserved. And then — I must report this calmly — the basket emptied, and a new one appeared.
"Did we…?"
"Refill," the waiter said. "It's bottomless."
Bottomless. They have wells of salsa. The supply lines of this nation are beyond anything my ancestors imagined.
My friend warned me. "Don't fill up on chips, dude."
Too late. I had accepted three baskets. Honor demanded each one be finished — an unfinished gift is an insult. By the time my actual food arrived, I was a ruined man.
I was not hungry. I was not comfortable. I had been defeated by a courtesy.
Generosity that arrives before the request cannot be repaid. It can only be survived.
I know the rule now. I have made my peace with the basket. One basket. Two at the most.
Who am I deceiving. There is no number of baskets I would refuse. The trust of a nation is in that salsa, and I intend to honor all of it.