I've discussed here before how some foreign words just don't work in English. The offenders du jour are menu items.
We're fickle creatures when it comes to food. No matter how tasty and satisfying, if a dish isn't named well we're considerably less tempted by it. Just a minute ago I had cause to read the following words off a fax:
1. Goulash
2. Stroganoff
Do these terms sound descriptive of vomit to anyone else? As I read them, their straining heave-iness and splatteriness just struck me. I'm happy enough to eat these meals, but please, if my name is on your guest list, humour me and call them casserole.
27 February 2006
20 February 2006
The Moggy and The Foggy
The weather is still rather hot. Perishables spoil when left out of the fridge for even short periods, let alone being left to bake in the sun by the side of the road for a few days. Consequently, whoever left the dead cat at my bus stop is going to be very upset when they come back to get it.
Man! Usually when I step off the bus of an afternoon my nostrils are caressed by the fragrant tang of Toohey Forest, but today they were whalloped by funky kitty simmering on the footpath. And the damn thing's going to be humming for a while yet. I'm going to have to get off at another stop for a few days, there's no question. It was way too far gone to fling it into the forest or some other tactic that would see me arriving home with my lunch intact for the rest of the week; I don't know that the cat would actually have held together. Why don't people teach their pets road sense?
The worst thing (actually, the stench was the worst thing, but we'll just run with the concept for convenience) was that it was obviously a cared-for pet, with its glossy white coat and little belled collar. How hideous to be out searching for Tinkerbell and find the festive little fly community I was greeted with. MegaKitty got some extra attention when I arrived home.
In news slightly less distressing to the nose, today was Brendan day. As with all such events, I was disproportionally anxious prior to the rendezvous. Can't quite explain that, but there you go.
In short, the meeting was a very fine way to spend a morning indeed. News was caught up on, gossip about people not seen for decades exchanged, thoughts bounced about. The odd crime raised to atone for. Lots of laughing. Even a couple of hugs. It all kept me buoyantly distracted right through until the perfumed bus stop, and then a bit.
I don't think of my school days with misty-eyed sentimentality, but I'm starting to realise just how strong the bond can be with those we endured it with. Like all adversity, it's a very bonding thing. Adolesence is a Very Big Time, so some of our most formative and trying times -- certainly some of our most shameful and humiliating -- happen in front of these people. But the thing is you've seen their laughable fashions, hormone-driven outburts and angsty teen tragedies, too, so we all hold a very privileged place in each others' histories. We're privy to some of each other's classified information.
I will note that Brendan had no hesitation in reminding me of some of the above, and I was pleased that he did, despite my shrieking and squirming. Several high school musical predilections of mine (among other things) came down with no softening whatsoever; most ungentelmanly, I might say.
In chewing it all over, my memories of various times were reinforced, details corrected, dormant information reactivated, adolescent prejudices dropped. As time rolls on and our memories become less reliable, this is one of the reasons it's so valuable to catch up with those from the long-distant past: if we don't it fades and fades until it's gone forever.
Man! Usually when I step off the bus of an afternoon my nostrils are caressed by the fragrant tang of Toohey Forest, but today they were whalloped by funky kitty simmering on the footpath. And the damn thing's going to be humming for a while yet. I'm going to have to get off at another stop for a few days, there's no question. It was way too far gone to fling it into the forest or some other tactic that would see me arriving home with my lunch intact for the rest of the week; I don't know that the cat would actually have held together. Why don't people teach their pets road sense?
The worst thing (actually, the stench was the worst thing, but we'll just run with the concept for convenience) was that it was obviously a cared-for pet, with its glossy white coat and little belled collar. How hideous to be out searching for Tinkerbell and find the festive little fly community I was greeted with. MegaKitty got some extra attention when I arrived home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In news slightly less distressing to the nose, today was Brendan day. As with all such events, I was disproportionally anxious prior to the rendezvous. Can't quite explain that, but there you go.
In short, the meeting was a very fine way to spend a morning indeed. News was caught up on, gossip about people not seen for decades exchanged, thoughts bounced about. The odd crime raised to atone for. Lots of laughing. Even a couple of hugs. It all kept me buoyantly distracted right through until the perfumed bus stop, and then a bit.
I don't think of my school days with misty-eyed sentimentality, but I'm starting to realise just how strong the bond can be with those we endured it with. Like all adversity, it's a very bonding thing. Adolesence is a Very Big Time, so some of our most formative and trying times -- certainly some of our most shameful and humiliating -- happen in front of these people. But the thing is you've seen their laughable fashions, hormone-driven outburts and angsty teen tragedies, too, so we all hold a very privileged place in each others' histories. We're privy to some of each other's classified information.
I will note that Brendan had no hesitation in reminding me of some of the above, and I was pleased that he did, despite my shrieking and squirming. Several high school musical predilections of mine (among other things) came down with no softening whatsoever; most ungentelmanly, I might say.
In chewing it all over, my memories of various times were reinforced, details corrected, dormant information reactivated, adolescent prejudices dropped. As time rolls on and our memories become less reliable, this is one of the reasons it's so valuable to catch up with those from the long-distant past: if we don't it fades and fades until it's gone forever.
13 February 2006
Saudara Saudara...
Hari ini saya akan menulis di dalam bahasa Indonesia. Mengapa? Karena saya masih bisa. Tetapi tidak untuk panjang.
Saya mulai belajar bahasa Prancis segera, dan saya mencurigai saya akan lupa semua bahasa Indonesia. Sudah lama saya tidak berlatih. Ini membuat saya sedih, karena saya bekerja dengan keras untuk memperlajarinya. Sangat keras memang. Tapi saya mungkin tidak akan kembali ke Indonesia lagi, jadi mungkin tidak apa-apa. Tetapi seluruh kerga itu!! Apa pemborosan! *sigh*
Saya mulai belajar bahasa Prancis segera, dan saya mencurigai saya akan lupa semua bahasa Indonesia. Sudah lama saya tidak berlatih. Ini membuat saya sedih, karena saya bekerja dengan keras untuk memperlajarinya. Sangat keras memang. Tapi saya mungkin tidak akan kembali ke Indonesia lagi, jadi mungkin tidak apa-apa. Tetapi seluruh kerga itu!! Apa pemborosan! *sigh*
Good Godot!
Apropos of nothing in particular, I have been gathering all my textbooks for university over the past couple of weeks and was intrigued to note the first literary text we'll be studying for French. A primary-school-aged reader, the Gallic answer to Dick and Jane? Non. A classic work by a revered French figure, like, say, Victor Hugo or Marcel Proust? Non. Would your eyebrows raise if I told you that the first work of literature I'll be dissecting this semester will be En Attendant Godot, the original version of Samuel Beckett's best-known work? If you're anything like me, your answer will be yes. Waiting for Freakin' Godot? Really?! I don't know. It was the last thing I was expecting, that's all. And I'd forgotten that it was originally written in French.
I'm a big fan of Monsieur Beckett, so it's not that I'm bitching about it. I mean, the language is pretty simple, which is perfect for novice Francophones. Let's face it, it could have been a French translation of anything by Bryce Courtenay, so this little Vegemite's not complaining.
He was an interesting figure, Samuel Beckett. Lectured in French at Trinity College, was stabbed in the street by a stranger, then went on to work for the French Resistance, managing to escape the Gestapo along the way. As if that didn't make for a colourful enough existance, he worked for the Red Cross for a couple of years as the war ended. Then he was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in the late Sixties. Then finished his life at 83 not only still producing art of the highest quality, but with one of the most interesting faces you're likely to see anywhere.
Incidentally, if the devil ever offers you a chance to own the Beckett on Film series in exchange for your mortal soul, my advice would be to consider taking it. It's jaw-droppingly, life-changingly superb.
I'm a big fan of Monsieur Beckett, so it's not that I'm bitching about it. I mean, the language is pretty simple, which is perfect for novice Francophones. Let's face it, it could have been a French translation of anything by Bryce Courtenay, so this little Vegemite's not complaining.
He was an interesting figure, Samuel Beckett. Lectured in French at Trinity College, was stabbed in the street by a stranger, then went on to work for the French Resistance, managing to escape the Gestapo along the way. As if that didn't make for a colourful enough existance, he worked for the Red Cross for a couple of years as the war ended. Then he was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in the late Sixties. Then finished his life at 83 not only still producing art of the highest quality, but with one of the most interesting faces you're likely to see anywhere.
Incidentally, if the devil ever offers you a chance to own the Beckett on Film series in exchange for your mortal soul, my advice would be to consider taking it. It's jaw-droppingly, life-changingly superb.
4 February 2006
New World Order
Having been raised in a democracy I had long been of the unshakeable belief that it was The Only Way. The Right Way. This conviction has been substantially eroded over recent years and so now, if it's all the same to you, I've overthrown the goverment and installed myself as benevolent dictator. I'm sure you'll be much happier for it.
There will, of course, be a few minor adjustments to be made. You should receive in the mail a handy fridge magnet outlining the changes within the next week. Please keep your magnet in a prominent place where all members of your household can see it -- ignorance of the new laws will not protect you from prosecution, I'm afraid.
Below is the first section of new laws, with more to follow.
1. Anyone using powertools on weekends will have one digit sawn off for each hour before 10am that noise commenced. Should powertools cause dust to blow across a neighbouring yard, particularly if that neighbour has washing on the line, the perpetrator shall be required to injest one cup of dust. No drinks shall be issued.
2. Anyone found in possession of a leafblower shall be shot on site. No discussion shall be entered into on this matter.
3. If a person has a door held open for them, or an elevator held, and they fail to acknowledge or thank the person affording them this courtesy, the perpetrator shall be required to present themselves for tattooing. The words RUDE IGNORANT BASTARD shall be tattooed on their forehead with the compasses from a Kent set and a biro ink/vinegar mix. Their head shall then be shaved.
4. Ambient music in public places such as shopping centres or outdoor malls is as banned as banned can be. Playing of music by a list of proscribed "artists" shall be punished by removal of teeth by pliers. This list is available upon application. In addition, any establishment playing music at a volume prohibiting conversation at a normal level shall be required to issue their patrons with unlimited food and drinks, free of charge. The manager shall then be forced to listen to 8 hours of loud polka music, with hourly flogging with electrical cables for the duration.
5. Any passengers left waiting for a bus for more than ten minutes past the timetabled arrival shall be issued with a voucher for lunch to the value of $25, redeemable at the venue of their choosing. The driver shall apologise to each passenger for the inconvenience as they board.
6. Any shoe designer producing footwear that is painful, uncomfortable, dangerous or in any other way decreed by me to be silly shall have emotionally disturbed dogs set upon them. The perpetrator shall have the opportunity to evade these dogs, but must do so in the offending shoes on a slippery sloping surface whilst wearing a tight knee-length skirt.
7. Atmospheric temperatures exceeding 30'C shall no longer be permitted.
There will, of course, be a few minor adjustments to be made. You should receive in the mail a handy fridge magnet outlining the changes within the next week. Please keep your magnet in a prominent place where all members of your household can see it -- ignorance of the new laws will not protect you from prosecution, I'm afraid.
Below is the first section of new laws, with more to follow.
1. Anyone using powertools on weekends will have one digit sawn off for each hour before 10am that noise commenced. Should powertools cause dust to blow across a neighbouring yard, particularly if that neighbour has washing on the line, the perpetrator shall be required to injest one cup of dust. No drinks shall be issued.
2. Anyone found in possession of a leafblower shall be shot on site. No discussion shall be entered into on this matter.
3. If a person has a door held open for them, or an elevator held, and they fail to acknowledge or thank the person affording them this courtesy, the perpetrator shall be required to present themselves for tattooing. The words RUDE IGNORANT BASTARD shall be tattooed on their forehead with the compasses from a Kent set and a biro ink/vinegar mix. Their head shall then be shaved.
4. Ambient music in public places such as shopping centres or outdoor malls is as banned as banned can be. Playing of music by a list of proscribed "artists" shall be punished by removal of teeth by pliers. This list is available upon application. In addition, any establishment playing music at a volume prohibiting conversation at a normal level shall be required to issue their patrons with unlimited food and drinks, free of charge. The manager shall then be forced to listen to 8 hours of loud polka music, with hourly flogging with electrical cables for the duration.
5. Any passengers left waiting for a bus for more than ten minutes past the timetabled arrival shall be issued with a voucher for lunch to the value of $25, redeemable at the venue of their choosing. The driver shall apologise to each passenger for the inconvenience as they board.
6. Any shoe designer producing footwear that is painful, uncomfortable, dangerous or in any other way decreed by me to be silly shall have emotionally disturbed dogs set upon them. The perpetrator shall have the opportunity to evade these dogs, but must do so in the offending shoes on a slippery sloping surface whilst wearing a tight knee-length skirt.
7. Atmospheric temperatures exceeding 30'C shall no longer be permitted.
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