Killing (or at least annoying!) with Kindness
Je suis dans la Belgique. I am being billeted and the family is very nice; Thery are two elderly people who live in the suburbs outside this little town. I was supposed to stay in a hotel last night, but when I arrived at the station there was an organizer meeting a girl from Brazil (no-one even bothered to confirm that I was registered, much less meet me anywhere!) and they called my host family, and I saved the cost of a night in a hotel.
Belgium is lovely. This town is adorable, and even has an H&M! Alas, free billeted lodging means that my independance has been abruptly curtailed. And I don't like it one bit!
I know, that makes me ungrateful, but in the last 15 hours I have had to listen to conversations such as (translated for your reading convenience):
"Look at this area. This is where the Africans live. Do you have any of them in your town?"
"Two years ago we billited a girl from Mongolia; you know what they are like there, from the East. She could not even talk French!"
"This is where you will catch the bus"
"See the yellow sign? The one that says bus? That is where it will stop."
"When you want to get off the bus you have to pull the cord."
"Here (gesturing to tree) is where you could pull it."
"Or here (gesturing to other - and rather similar - tree)"
"Here is not a good place to pull the chord. See, then he will stop at THIS bus stop;"
"See the yellow sign? For bus stop? That is where you will be if you pull the chord too early"
"Well (listening to CD) we think it is quite good but who knows what the judges will be looking for"
"Here are some hangers. Do you knoa how to use them?"
"Well, as you suggested, you can probably buy bus tickets at the Tabac (you can) but you had better lean out the window and call to the bus driver to ask him"
"...car in park; window closed; getting out... can you open your door alright?"
And the BEST comment was:
"C'est vraimant MARRON que quelqu'un qui vient do Canada a un accent comme ca!"
Sigh. Racists who are obsessive. Help mee!
The pianist is his son, and he sat in on our rehearsal and smoked. The bedroom I am staying in smelly strongly of paint and needs a fan and when I opened the window all sorts of beasts came in; the pillows are 2cm thick, that is all, and there are no sheets, just futons; I got bitten in the middme of the night all over my arms and legs and face; All they seem to eat is stale bread and cherry jam. Help!
I put my foot down and said FIRMLY that I was staying in la village and not to expect me until... (12:00, he interjetcted) AT LEAST 15:00. I have dealt with this situation before. If I do not assert independance now I will be in the paint room all week. I can barely sing, but I do not compete until Sat.
Belgium is lovely. This town is adorable, and even has an H&M! Alas, free billeted lodging means that my independance has been abruptly curtailed. And I don't like it one bit!
I know, that makes me ungrateful, but in the last 15 hours I have had to listen to conversations such as (translated for your reading convenience):
"Look at this area. This is where the Africans live. Do you have any of them in your town?"
"Two years ago we billited a girl from Mongolia; you know what they are like there, from the East. She could not even talk French!"
"This is where you will catch the bus"
"See the yellow sign? The one that says bus? That is where it will stop."
"When you want to get off the bus you have to pull the cord."
"Here (gesturing to tree) is where you could pull it."
"Or here (gesturing to other - and rather similar - tree)"
"Here is not a good place to pull the chord. See, then he will stop at THIS bus stop;"
"See the yellow sign? For bus stop? That is where you will be if you pull the chord too early"
"Well (listening to CD) we think it is quite good but who knows what the judges will be looking for"
"Here are some hangers. Do you knoa how to use them?"
"Well, as you suggested, you can probably buy bus tickets at the Tabac (you can) but you had better lean out the window and call to the bus driver to ask him"
"...car in park; window closed; getting out... can you open your door alright?"
And the BEST comment was:
"C'est vraimant MARRON que quelqu'un qui vient do Canada a un accent comme ca!"
Sigh. Racists who are obsessive. Help mee!
The pianist is his son, and he sat in on our rehearsal and smoked. The bedroom I am staying in smelly strongly of paint and needs a fan and when I opened the window all sorts of beasts came in; the pillows are 2cm thick, that is all, and there are no sheets, just futons; I got bitten in the middme of the night all over my arms and legs and face; All they seem to eat is stale bread and cherry jam. Help!
I put my foot down and said FIRMLY that I was staying in la village and not to expect me until... (12:00, he interjetcted) AT LEAST 15:00. I have dealt with this situation before. If I do not assert independance now I will be in the paint room all week. I can barely sing, but I do not compete until Sat.
posted by Melamondiale @ 3:47 AM
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