Franco-German Anita

Do Germans or New Yorkers speak better French in general?
I'm trying to decide if I've made progress or if I'm hopeless at French.

Anita: Je déteste la culture populaire américaine...

Marie-Claude: Oh?

Marie-Claude: You speak just like Carrie Bradshaw!

Anita: Who?

Marie-Claude: Carrie, from Sex and the City.

Anita: Why? Pourquoi?

Marie-Claude: You sound like a New Yorker when you speak French.

Anita: What's that supposed to mean?

Marie-Claude: You know, someone that does not know French but tries to speak it very well.

Marie-Claude: And you don't sound like you're from Germany anymore when you speak French.

what to blog about a blogger

What sort of person do you think I am, from reading my blog?

There seem to be so many layers and facets about knowing a person - There is knowing him in a social setting, there is knowing him on a 1:1 basis, there is him showing you the whole of him according to his reality, there are his fantasies and dreams and it's up to you whether you will help him achieve or turn your back on in disdain.

There are also his blogs.

Someone that I had considered to be a thoughtful and free-spirited person I later realized to be narrow-minded and judgemental. If it were for the blogs I wouldn't have known...

I'm not sure what point of reference I should use when I interact with this person in the future - from our past conversations or from the blog?

adagio assai

I was upset and devastated, sitting at the back of the taxi chain smoking on my way home. When I ran out of cigarettes I played Ravel's adagio assai.

The piano solo hits B, I found tears trickling down my cheeks.

The cor anglais starts, I had to stop the taxi so that I could find an empty spot to weep... I cannot remember the last time I wept.

Do you prefer your music uninhibited, full of emotions and sentiments, one that gives you energy, and sometimes suck you dry? Do you prefer your music poignant beauty that is at times morbid?

I prefer the latter, where all the notes seem to belong where they are because they are meant to be. Where when it reaches its peak you cannot help but sigh and yearn for more. Where you forget to breathe and you wonder if you feel light-headed because you are out of breath or because it is too beautiful. Where you find yourself in tears.

Everything beautiful is a bit sad... yet I am hopelessly drawn to it.

Sometimes when I listen to a beautiful piece... for a brief moment I am willing to believe there is god.

boundaries

Someone once told me that there are always boundaries you draw with people you're connected with on different levels. What he did not tell me is whether you draw boundaries for what you're willing to do and how much you're willing to care for them, or you draw boundaries for how much they can affect you, how far they can take you, and what they can do to you.

What do you do if someone does not cross the line by staying really, really close to the line?

If someone decides to cross the boundary how do you fend for yourself?

How do you stand by the line you've drawn, push him back, and still feel at ease about the relationship knowing his intentions?

Is the trust shattered to pieces, leaving you confused and helpless? You realize your perception of this relationship is just a fragment of a larger work that is not as perfect as you thought.

Will you be sad? The boundary broken and the magic lost. Irreversible. The relationship changed if not gone.

I'm sad. I feel violated.

I wish I can put what we had in a metal box. I will seal it while it was perfect so that it can always remain so.

I am really sad.

new arrival

Yesterday morning Marie-Claude hopped her way to my seat with a suspiciously big black bag-

Marie-Claude: "Anita! Voila!"
-Anita gasps- "Goodness! You got it!"

After a lot of oohs and aahs we dragged this big black thing into an empty meeting room so that I could have some private time bonding... with my new accordion. I decided to call it Blam.

Blam is black, sleek and sexy. Blam has 80 bass (Stradella) 37 treble (f-f'''), 3 sets of reeds and he weighs a ton. I have to re-adjust myself from playing a 32 bass to my new 80 bass.

So many more buttons... so confusing yet so much more freedom!

how're you today?

How often do you ask people how they're doing?

I don't ask this question as a routine way to greet, but just because I want to know how someone's doing. But me being my usual oddball, I often find myself at a lost of words when people ask me the simplest questions:

Our cleaner showed up at 8 this morning, as she entered the study she went "How're you doing today?"
-Erm yesterday I jokingly challenged Nic to climb up a stone wall but unfortunately he accepted the challenge so I ended up banging my left knee against a protuding rock followed by landing hard on my left foot. I have been limping if you haven't noticed. Afterwards I practiced a bit too much and my left arm is now hurting like hell. This is Monday so I won't be able to get a taxi to go in for work today, which means I'll have to walk... I mean limp to work in this dreadful pollution. I'm not doing that well but there's nothing you can do about it."-
Despite all these I said "I'm tired, got up late this morning so I haven't taken Brinjal out yet, can you take her out soon?"
----
People that I barely know, and probably won't see again for the rest of my life, asks me "Where're you from?"
-If you mean where I was born then Seattle,
if you mean where I was before I came to China then Seattle,
if you mean where I'm staying now then China,
if you mean where I grew up then Taiwan and Singapore,
if you mean where my parents are from then it could be Malaysia, Singapore, Vietnam, or Thailand,
if you mean my ancestrial heritage then from 3 generations before we've been overseas Chinese,

if you mean the one place I identify myself with then I really haven't thought about it yet.-
"Erm, I've lived in a few places, Seattle, Taiwan, China... Singapore..."
----
"Can I have your number?"
-you can but I'm not sure I want you to have it because you're not really going to call. You're asking for it as a gesture. If you call I don't think I'll really enjoy the conversation.-
"I forget what my number is (which is really the case). Why don't you give me yours and I'll call when I'm free to hang out."

i've got the bug

4 days before I left for my trip to the US my coworker Marie-Claude and I went to dinner at a French brasserie. By the end of the dinner, as a result of too much wine, chimay, pastis, and steaks close to perfection, we decided that we will perform an accordion duo at that restaurant in 3 months.

4 days later I took off for my month-long trip. I only practiced once before I left. That was the first time I played the accordion.

Now that I'm back there're only 2 months.

I practiced very hard for 3 hours yesterday... this morning I had to use my right hand to hold the cup while having tea because my left hand wouldn't stop shaking when I lift it.

But I'm so hooked - playing is too addictive. Now I can't get the tune out of my head, and I want to play on my cello desperately. I've got the bug. My left hand is still shaking as I type now but in a bit I'm going to practice, practice, practice.

"Survival" French

3 of my 5 favorite French people are leaving Beijing in 2 months. Tragic!

Last night we went out for sashimi, sushi, sake, and a lot of explicit language -
Seungmee knows of 5 french catch phrases/words, and decided to teach me how to say "cute ass" because you never know when you should say this to someone, right?


Seungmee gave Arnaud a friendly nudge and said in French
"Arnaud, you've a cute ass!"

Arnaud "...hmm?"

Anita: (in French) "You've a cute ass, sir."

Nic: "What does it mean?"

Seungmee: "It means you got cute ass."

Arnaud: "No! It means I have asscrack."
-----------
A lot of sake and beer later, Seungmee designed a dialogue that she insists is the key to survival should you ever find yourself at a butcher's in France -

"Hello Ma'am, sausage?"
"No thanks."
"Cute ass?"
"Later, yes!"

But what came out of her mouth really meant the following
"Hello Ma'am, sausage?"
"No thanks."
"Asscrack?"
"Fuck, yes!" (confused "plus tard" with "putain")

I also learned that "you are good" in French really means "you're a dumbass"

If I talk like Seungmee when I visit France I may not have very long to live.