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bianca

art of accentuation (but is it art?)

me: can i please have a plastic bag?

french-speaker: ?

me: plastic.

french-speaker: ?

me: *french accent* plastique?

french-speaker: oh! plastic!

me: you're so adorable!

french-kid: ?

me: adorable!

french-kid: ?

me: *french accent* adorable?

french-kid: oh! thank you very much.

friend: hot chocolate please.

waiter-san: ?

friend: hot chocolate.

waiter-san: ?

friend: *japanese accent* hotto-chocoreto?

waiter-san: oh! hot chocolate!

friend: something with hazelnut.

bartender-san: ?

friend: hazelnut.

bartender-san: ?

friend: how do you say hazelnut in japanese?

me: i think i got this, *japanese accent* hazeru-natsu?

bartender-san: oh! hazelnut!

and remember when the waiter told me there was no cheese but 'jisu' in my hamburger?

cla$$

i figured out the other day why i'm immediately drawn to people who speak multiple languages. their world — who they can communicate with, who they can share secrets with, who they can experience life together with — is much bigger, much grander. 

imagine all the stories you can hear first hand if you spoke another language. you speak arabic? that's an extra 300 million people who can now hear you out. you speak mandarin? literally, another billion people can now understand you. (!!)

just the thought makes my heart soar.

can you please tell me what you speak?

neighbourhood watch

last weekend i walked past a dude walking his tortoise in sheung wan, (not shek o, not sai kung, not life aquatic)—and it reminded me of my neighbours last year:

yeah... nothing says these will be used as ingredients for guilingao like three tortoises stacked in the corner of your neighbour's rooftop (which you accidentally entered, once, to make this, and another time, to not spill taro ice cream and honey everywhere on purpose).