5.5.99
Cinco de Mayo
Would somebody PLEEZE explain to me why we celebrate the day of Mexican Independence? We don't celebrate Bastille Day, or Canada Day, so why Cinco de Mayo?
¿Que?
No doubt you have noticed that I am not any closer to putting up my "new and improved" webpage. It's mildly frustrating. End of news update. Honestly, I'm not quite ready for what I've set out doing, so the process of learning HTML is somewhat hampered by that fact. Still, I persevere. Hang tight, dears.
I want to tell a little story about something that happened to me today. It will segue into another thing that happened 2 years ago, so you will find yet another entry that says absolutely nothing. You may wish to fast-forward to the bottom of this entry for an important request….
I like taking the bus. Some think that I ought to be institutionalized for my views in this matter, but I don’t think that I could exist in a city that did not have adequate public transportation. Funny, no?
Anyway, a fellow who obviously isn't all the way there upstairs comes up to me and asks for a cigarette. What pops into my mind? Ich rauche nicht (I don't smoke.) Huh? Deutsche?
Why, in the middle of Kalihi Valley, several thousand miles from Germany, do I pop up with a common phrase in that native tongue?
I speak no language fluently (English being a possible exception) and certainly, I don’t claim to be a speaker of German. Sure, I studied it in High School, with a semester of French, so I can muster needed phrases like "I can't see a movie this afternoon. Franz, I have to mow the lawn." I'm puzzled why it comes up so.
Then again, the persistence of memory is a marvelous thing. My memory of using a phrase in German reminded me of a trip that I took to Montréal a couple of years ago. The purpose of the trip was to attend the annual conclave of the Theatre Historical Society, who every year bounces around to see a dozen or so old theatres in cities around the country. (BTW, the Conclave this year is in Upstate New York. I would love to attend, but the finances see otherwise.)
I felt a need to separate from the camaraderie for a crawl through some of the museums of the city, so pressed on by my love of the macabre, I piled up the hill to Les Museé des Hôpitialieres (blah blah) de Hôtel Dieu. (Got that? Apologies for incorrect spelling and missing accent grave.) For those who cannot understand my botched French, this was a museum telling the story of the religious order that founded the first hospital in Montréal, the Hôtel Dieu.
It was also my first realization that everyone in North America does not speak English. Indeed, the very nice lady at the counter whose job it was to explain why the ugly heavy wooden circular staircase was so lovingly preserved in the foyer was not able to assist me, for she spoke no English.
…nor did anyone else in the building.
Cruising around on the busses through Montreal, I espied a bit of graffiti that kept showing up over and over again, "en Français, svp," reminding us that the Quebecois preferred to hear things in French rather than English. I took it as a symbol of bilinguistic ability, not as an indicator that there were some people who sincerely could not converse in my native tongue.
The story has a happy ending, though. The lady did speak a smidgen of German (see? I came back to it after all!) and was thus able to somewhat explain the hows any whys of this ugly stairwell (it was from the original hospital building, and apparently the lone survivor.)
Aah, the persistence of memory. A delightful thing, one that took me from Ich rauchen nicht to recollections of pub crawls through Ste-Catherine, and the lovely boys waving their heavy, uncircumcised dicks through the air in the strip bars.
If you should find yourself stuffing $5 notes into the socks of one of the lads there, do me a great favour and order a Manhattan. I took it upon myself to teach all of the bartenders how to toss a proper one. A pleasant and necessary duty.
*sigh.*
Speaking of disease transmission, do me a favour and help your fellow man out with a survey about Hepatitis B/C transmission. This questionnaire is completely anonymous and will only take a few minutes of your time. These things are very necessary if we are ever to try to discover where diseases are moving next. Thanks for your help.
Would somebody PLEEZE explain to me why we celebrate the day of Mexican Independence? We don't celebrate Bastille Day, or Canada Day, so why Cinco de Mayo?
¿Que?
No doubt you have noticed that I am not any closer to putting up my "new and improved" webpage. It's mildly frustrating. End of news update. Honestly, I'm not quite ready for what I've set out doing, so the process of learning HTML is somewhat hampered by that fact. Still, I persevere. Hang tight, dears.
I want to tell a little story about something that happened to me today. It will segue into another thing that happened 2 years ago, so you will find yet another entry that says absolutely nothing. You may wish to fast-forward to the bottom of this entry for an important request….
I like taking the bus. Some think that I ought to be institutionalized for my views in this matter, but I don’t think that I could exist in a city that did not have adequate public transportation. Funny, no?
Anyway, a fellow who obviously isn't all the way there upstairs comes up to me and asks for a cigarette. What pops into my mind? Ich rauche nicht (I don't smoke.) Huh? Deutsche?
Why, in the middle of Kalihi Valley, several thousand miles from Germany, do I pop up with a common phrase in that native tongue?
I speak no language fluently (English being a possible exception) and certainly, I don’t claim to be a speaker of German. Sure, I studied it in High School, with a semester of French, so I can muster needed phrases like "I can't see a movie this afternoon. Franz, I have to mow the lawn." I'm puzzled why it comes up so.
Then again, the persistence of memory is a marvelous thing. My memory of using a phrase in German reminded me of a trip that I took to Montréal a couple of years ago. The purpose of the trip was to attend the annual conclave of the Theatre Historical Society, who every year bounces around to see a dozen or so old theatres in cities around the country. (BTW, the Conclave this year is in Upstate New York. I would love to attend, but the finances see otherwise.)
I felt a need to separate from the camaraderie for a crawl through some of the museums of the city, so pressed on by my love of the macabre, I piled up the hill to Les Museé des Hôpitialieres (blah blah) de Hôtel Dieu. (Got that? Apologies for incorrect spelling and missing accent grave.) For those who cannot understand my botched French, this was a museum telling the story of the religious order that founded the first hospital in Montréal, the Hôtel Dieu.
It was also my first realization that everyone in North America does not speak English. Indeed, the very nice lady at the counter whose job it was to explain why the ugly heavy wooden circular staircase was so lovingly preserved in the foyer was not able to assist me, for she spoke no English.
…nor did anyone else in the building.
Cruising around on the busses through Montreal, I espied a bit of graffiti that kept showing up over and over again, "en Français, svp," reminding us that the Quebecois preferred to hear things in French rather than English. I took it as a symbol of bilinguistic ability, not as an indicator that there were some people who sincerely could not converse in my native tongue.
The story has a happy ending, though. The lady did speak a smidgen of German (see? I came back to it after all!) and was thus able to somewhat explain the hows any whys of this ugly stairwell (it was from the original hospital building, and apparently the lone survivor.)
Aah, the persistence of memory. A delightful thing, one that took me from Ich rauchen nicht to recollections of pub crawls through Ste-Catherine, and the lovely boys waving their heavy, uncircumcised dicks through the air in the strip bars.
If you should find yourself stuffing $5 notes into the socks of one of the lads there, do me a great favour and order a Manhattan. I took it upon myself to teach all of the bartenders how to toss a proper one. A pleasant and necessary duty.
*sigh.*
Speaking of disease transmission, do me a favour and help your fellow man out with a survey about Hepatitis B/C transmission. This questionnaire is completely anonymous and will only take a few minutes of your time. These things are very necessary if we are ever to try to discover where diseases are moving next. Thanks for your help.
<< Home