It was years ago, in early spring down in New Mexico.

I had stopped for the night in a hostel in Santa Fe. After battling headwinds and freezing temperatures and a cold night under my tarp, I was ready for a warm bed and a night on the town.

Try as I might I can't get all the faces together in my mind on who I ended up accompanying to the pub. First I settled in at the hostel, threw my bag on a bed, locked my bike to a post on the back porch, and away we went. There were a couple British guys, another young American wanderer like me, a few other foreigners, and this Italian guy with a huge handlebar moustache.

Things were going along just ducky until I attempted to compliment my new good friend from Italy on his wonderful, hairy, facial accessory. I think I may have said something, in my typically odd, makes no sense to anyone humor, how it reminded me of the handlebars on my bicycle.

I remember watching him begin to smolder. I remember thinking about what I had heard about hot-blooded Italians. I remember thinking I was about to get in a fistfight without really knowing why. I remember not understanding a lick of what he was saying.

Just then somebody from the group told me he thought I had insulted him.

Whew! I quickly apologized for the misunderstanding, and, in the way of bar patrons everywhere, bought him another beer.

We got along just fine after that and as it turned out he was actually a very funny guy, but sometimes when I read about strained relations between peoples, or countries for that matter, I think about that night.

I haven't traveled as extensively as some of you, but I have traveled enough abroad to know that the good ol' US of A is not as universally admired and loved as some might suggest we are, or at least in their eyes, should be.

There are as many theories as there are people divided on the issue as to why that is, so I'm not going to bore you here with any new ones.

I will say that the average, educated foreigner seems much more current on issues of a worldwide nature than does the typical American. I have discussed America's foreign policy with Kiwis in the pubs of New Zealand that know much more about it than the typical Joe holding up a barstool here would.

Americans don't really care. We're just too big. Most of us here haven't even visited the East Coast, let alone other countries.

Keep the King Soopers and Home Depot and Wal-Mart full of things we need, keep the gas flowing, and other than the prices, who really cares where it comes from, or from whom we take it?

Who really cares that some see us as the big bully of the neighborhood, pushing our way to the ice cream cart first and demanding most of the goodies?

Who really cares that we pay less for gasoline than most of the world?

I am not going to change anyone's viewpoint here, I know that, so I won't really try.

I will say, however, that until we as a nation learn to understand the how, what and why of others who might be a little ticked off at us, we'll face that same impasse I faced for a few moments long ago in that pub in Santa Fe. The difference is that we as a country, and especially our leaders in Washington, need to listen to the explanations from others.

Communication is a two way street, something this country seems to have forgotten, in my opinion.