I was in the Post- office for most of the afternoon yesterday. It was a little frenzied but the magazine is at the printer and will exist in a physical way tomorrow, so all of that is quite exciting.
Sam: Did you know that they call this room the library?
Me: Really? Weird. Why?
Sam: I think it's all the books.
Regardless of all the books, our office is our office. The Herald should just accept that. They should also buy us a new computer, and pizza, and maybe a pony. That would be pretty cool.
Yesterday I managed to sound racist in Italian class, because my only Turkish friends in Switzerland were the guys down the street who worked at the kabob stand.
We really did have a great rapport, myself and the kabob stand guys. My german was just getting conversational, and they would make fun of my inability to differentiate "tisch" from "tasche" and they learned that I don't like peppers. We were friends, kind of!
That wasn't supposed to imply that I only talk to Turkish folks who make me kabobs - it's more indicative of the fact that I had like, five friends when I lived in Switzerland, and I think most of them were embassy brats in some way shape or form. I didn't even have any Swiss friends! Much less Turkish friends!
Anyway, all of these subtleties are pretty hard to convey in a foreign language.
Me: Avevo.... i kabob amici.
Katerina: Conosci i loro nomi?
Me: ... no.
Note to self: Learn future kabob-friends' names. Seriously. That would have helped a lot.
Love always,
Clara
Sam: Did you know that they call this room the library?
Me: Really? Weird. Why?
Sam: I think it's all the books.
Regardless of all the books, our office is our office. The Herald should just accept that. They should also buy us a new computer, and pizza, and maybe a pony. That would be pretty cool.
Yesterday I managed to sound racist in Italian class, because my only Turkish friends in Switzerland were the guys down the street who worked at the kabob stand.
We really did have a great rapport, myself and the kabob stand guys. My german was just getting conversational, and they would make fun of my inability to differentiate "tisch" from "tasche" and they learned that I don't like peppers. We were friends, kind of!
That wasn't supposed to imply that I only talk to Turkish folks who make me kabobs - it's more indicative of the fact that I had like, five friends when I lived in Switzerland, and I think most of them were embassy brats in some way shape or form. I didn't even have any Swiss friends! Much less Turkish friends!
Anyway, all of these subtleties are pretty hard to convey in a foreign language.
Me: Avevo.... i kabob amici.
Katerina: Conosci i loro nomi?
Me: ... no.
Note to self: Learn future kabob-friends' names. Seriously. That would have helped a lot.
Love always,
Clara
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