He does not get me

He does not get me
I can see by the way he relates to children that Baptiste is a good person. He knows how to play with them, he talks to them. He is good at relating to them and I can see that they like him, they trust him. He has a good heart.
He has much more difficulty relating to me, understanding me. Sharing the house with him is a very intere3sting and worthwhile experience – a situation which I did not choose, but since it is our reality now, I have to deal with it. Everyday there is a little interaction which points to the same conclusion: ‘he does NOT get me...
This Sunday morning, 6:15 AM, he gets up and, for some reason has his radio on very loud. I am still in bed, reading a deep Buddhist psychology book (I recommend it ‘The myth of freedom and the way to meditate, by Chogyam Trungpa) – a book you don’t read with loud African music in the background. After some hesitation, I decide to get up and ask Baptiste to kindly turn the volume down a little. I say it in pidgin English, in monosyllabic French, I do the sign language of turning he sound knob to reduce the decibels. He looks at me with is big eyes, says ‘YES’ and then turns it loud, very loud, assuming that I want to listen to his music on a Sunday morning while reading ‘the myth of freedom’... He did not get me. Myth of freedom indeed, I am in the grips of serious intercultural dialogue complexity! Thanks Baptiste, you are teaching me detachment...
A couple of other things Baptiste doesn’t get about me: * what on earth is he doing at 6:00AM standing on his head, or lying in some strange postures on his blue mat? * What is he doing at that school every day, can’t he finish his primary education in Australia? * Why isa he taking so many photos of sunrises, of people and even of single flowers? * Why doesn’t he ever drink beer? What kind of a man is this? Why is he eating his meals outside, sitting on an armchair, always looking at the same tree?
IOf he thinks all European are like me, he must be very happy that I am not African...
Things I don‘t understand about Baptiste: * Why does it take him about one hour and a half to prepare breakfast (two boiled eggs and some porridge? * Why does he still get the words ‘you’ and ‘me’ mixed up in spite of my many attempts to explain the difference to him? * Why does he hang up the laundry completely soaking and dripping? Why does he clean the inside of his mobile phone with a toothbrush?
We don’t always ‘get’ each other but we live under the same roof and sometimes we have some good laughs together. They say laughter is universal and is specific to the human species...