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Transcriptions from hell - part 2
Mar. 19th, 2006 12:25 pmExcept I'm now posting from my laptop, because I got mad computer skillz.
“You’ll have to excuse me, I’m terribly happy.” *
Written March 16, 2006
Today was an ass-kicking day: I was happy. It was new and exciting. I should do this more often.
Said day started the Good off by having me listen to my German song collection ( which includes )
French class was alright because we chatted about the book and I felt more relaxed knowing that I don’t suck so much. That’s because I did my presentation yesterday and got an “excellent” for phonetics and “tres bien” in general. Glad to know I left her shocked. People were interested in my Montreal chat, particularly about the maple syrup (and how can I live in a place where people don’t know what that is?).
Today, before class, I chatted with a class-member from Chiapas, Mexico (and no, I couldn’t remember where my paternal grandparents were from; one’s from Aguas Calientes, the other from Chihuahua**?). He’d lived in Vancouver, and his sister lived in Ottawa, I think, so we got to chatting about how crazy Quebec is.
Then I wandered around the old “gothic” neighbourhood by the port, checked out a café my mom read about in the newspaper as a Erasmus*** hotspot. It was down a creepy little alley and somewhat small and empty and expensive-ish (but it had a Thai dish that sounded so delish!). So I didn’t eat there, but instead had a “plato combinado” which is to say one plate with two or three servings of stuff, like meat+fries+pepper. The annoying thing is that while it sounded cheep (5.30) it ended up being more expensive that a menu (which is two dishes, drink and coffee included) because I had to drink something.
The final cost was 9.97 and I slipped a 10 bill. Now, I understand that the change is minimal, and most people don’t bother with those cents, either charging them or getting them back. However, I don’t think it’s up to the waiter to decide whether I want my 3 cents back or not. Since I didn’t tell him, “keep the change”, he shouldn’t. But he did.
So because the three cents were owed me, I went to the waiter and told him he’d forgotten to give me my change. He looked all “?” at me and said, “the three cents?” and I said, “yup, the three”.
And yea, I did get my three cents back. Because I don’t think it should be up to the waiter to decide what is petty cash.
Then I walked up the Rambla, which is a really long pedestrian street absolutely lined with street vendors and performers. At the foot of the Rambla (the bit nearest the port), I came across a large crowd. Human nature compelled me to weasel in and see what the fuss was about. There in the middle stood a bare-chested skinny blond man, with heavy-looking nipple rings on both nip’s. I gathered he’d just squirmed his way through the toilet-seat cover lying on the floor.
Then he swallowed a sword.
Holy fig yeah.
My day was now officially cool.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen sword-swallowing before, but this is some random adorable Dutch guy with a British accent in the middle of the street doing it. It was just so random and unexpected and cool that I just had to smile.
The Rambla also has people spray-painted to look like statues (and they, duh, don’t move), artists and caricaturists. Then there’s the plant-section of the walk, which smells wonderfull because there’s nothing but flowers for blocks. Then there’s the best bit, the pet venders. You can buy anything from doves and chickens to turtles, bunnies and hamsters. (There’s swarms of hamsters in cages, teeny-tiny miniature ones looking so adorable, especially when they’re pressed up against the plastic side of their cage.)
There was thus much wandering about then until the Belgian chocolate store opened. (I highly recommend this store. There’s one in Montreal, smack downtown. Go, guzzle.) The chocolate vendor was really sweet and even offered me a free sample chocolate. (Sooo good.)
The reason for this is that yesterday, after watching a godawful German silent movie, mom’s friend Maria called me and invited me for dinner. I hardly remember this woman (though apparently what I do remember is from when I was six, so go figure) but I think it’ll be cool. She’s really level-headed and may help me figure stuff out.
( Now, about the free German movie at the Goethe institute: )
By this time I was tired and walked a half-hour up-hill home. I rested a bit, watched some “Firefly” (because I am so unpredictable) then headed out to the neighbourhood’s municipal library, where I easily became a member. They have WIFI internet, so I might head out there with my trusty laptop-with-no-name.
Mom just called and told me that Maria’s just told her she hates chocolate, so I get my wish of buying an assorted-box of chocolate for meself.
Joy!
Now I’ve watched a German movie from 2002 called “Bungalow” which I can only describe as quiet. It’s very much like spying in on people, because the camera isn’t intrusive at all with close-ups. Refreshing, in fact.
Tomorrow watching “Capitain Conan” with my French class and hunting some tea biscuits or a fruit cake. (Edit: It was bloody hard to follow and a tad long.)
I’ve also chosen an interview-scene in “Trainspotting” for my English Conversation. Not because I think the guy’ll be able to decipher high-on-drugs Scottsman slang, but because it seems like a bizarre interview situation and might get some talk going. (Edit: Except now I’ve found my clip of “Looking for a Job in Quebe” by the Radio Free Vestibule and it seems so much better, so I’ve whipped up a transcript and wham-bam, there it is.)
Still putting the Session clip, because it’s just a minute or two, is a school-interview and has clear English.
But now, bed, because it’s 12:41 in the freakin’ a.m.
* Douglas Adams’ So Long, and Thanks for all the Fish
** Thou shalt not mock. Much.
“You’ll have to excuse me, I’m terribly happy.” *
Written March 16, 2006
Today was an ass-kicking day: I was happy. It was new and exciting. I should do this more often.
Said day started the Good off by having me listen to my German song collection ( which includes )
French class was alright because we chatted about the book and I felt more relaxed knowing that I don’t suck so much. That’s because I did my presentation yesterday and got an “excellent” for phonetics and “tres bien” in general. Glad to know I left her shocked. People were interested in my Montreal chat, particularly about the maple syrup (and how can I live in a place where people don’t know what that is?).
Today, before class, I chatted with a class-member from Chiapas, Mexico (and no, I couldn’t remember where my paternal grandparents were from; one’s from Aguas Calientes, the other from Chihuahua**?). He’d lived in Vancouver, and his sister lived in Ottawa, I think, so we got to chatting about how crazy Quebec is.
Then I wandered around the old “gothic” neighbourhood by the port, checked out a café my mom read about in the newspaper as a Erasmus*** hotspot. It was down a creepy little alley and somewhat small and empty and expensive-ish (but it had a Thai dish that sounded so delish!). So I didn’t eat there, but instead had a “plato combinado” which is to say one plate with two or three servings of stuff, like meat+fries+pepper. The annoying thing is that while it sounded cheep (5.30) it ended up being more expensive that a menu (which is two dishes, drink and coffee included) because I had to drink something.
The final cost was 9.97 and I slipped a 10 bill. Now, I understand that the change is minimal, and most people don’t bother with those cents, either charging them or getting them back. However, I don’t think it’s up to the waiter to decide whether I want my 3 cents back or not. Since I didn’t tell him, “keep the change”, he shouldn’t. But he did.
So because the three cents were owed me, I went to the waiter and told him he’d forgotten to give me my change. He looked all “?” at me and said, “the three cents?” and I said, “yup, the three”.
And yea, I did get my three cents back. Because I don’t think it should be up to the waiter to decide what is petty cash.
Then I walked up the Rambla, which is a really long pedestrian street absolutely lined with street vendors and performers. At the foot of the Rambla (the bit nearest the port), I came across a large crowd. Human nature compelled me to weasel in and see what the fuss was about. There in the middle stood a bare-chested skinny blond man, with heavy-looking nipple rings on both nip’s. I gathered he’d just squirmed his way through the toilet-seat cover lying on the floor.
Then he swallowed a sword.
Holy fig yeah.
My day was now officially cool.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen sword-swallowing before, but this is some random adorable Dutch guy with a British accent in the middle of the street doing it. It was just so random and unexpected and cool that I just had to smile.
The Rambla also has people spray-painted to look like statues (and they, duh, don’t move), artists and caricaturists. Then there’s the plant-section of the walk, which smells wonderfull because there’s nothing but flowers for blocks. Then there’s the best bit, the pet venders. You can buy anything from doves and chickens to turtles, bunnies and hamsters. (There’s swarms of hamsters in cages, teeny-tiny miniature ones looking so adorable, especially when they’re pressed up against the plastic side of their cage.)
There was thus much wandering about then until the Belgian chocolate store opened. (I highly recommend this store. There’s one in Montreal, smack downtown. Go, guzzle.) The chocolate vendor was really sweet and even offered me a free sample chocolate. (Sooo good.)
The reason for this is that yesterday, after watching a godawful German silent movie, mom’s friend Maria called me and invited me for dinner. I hardly remember this woman (though apparently what I do remember is from when I was six, so go figure) but I think it’ll be cool. She’s really level-headed and may help me figure stuff out.
( Now, about the free German movie at the Goethe institute: )
By this time I was tired and walked a half-hour up-hill home. I rested a bit, watched some “Firefly” (because I am so unpredictable) then headed out to the neighbourhood’s municipal library, where I easily became a member. They have WIFI internet, so I might head out there with my trusty laptop-with-no-name.
Mom just called and told me that Maria’s just told her she hates chocolate, so I get my wish of buying an assorted-box of chocolate for meself.
Joy!
Now I’ve watched a German movie from 2002 called “Bungalow” which I can only describe as quiet. It’s very much like spying in on people, because the camera isn’t intrusive at all with close-ups. Refreshing, in fact.
Tomorrow watching “Capitain Conan” with my French class and hunting some tea biscuits or a fruit cake. (Edit: It was bloody hard to follow and a tad long.)
I’ve also chosen an interview-scene in “Trainspotting” for my English Conversation. Not because I think the guy’ll be able to decipher high-on-drugs Scottsman slang, but because it seems like a bizarre interview situation and might get some talk going. (Edit: Except now I’ve found my clip of “Looking for a Job in Quebe” by the Radio Free Vestibule and it seems so much better, so I’ve whipped up a transcript and wham-bam, there it is.)
Still putting the Session clip, because it’s just a minute or two, is a school-interview and has clear English.
But now, bed, because it’s 12:41 in the freakin’ a.m.
* Douglas Adams’ So Long, and Thanks for all the Fish
** Thou shalt not mock. Much.
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