A few odds and ends

A couple of bits and bobs that have been relevant to my world recently...

- why is it that if you don't concentrate on the words and ignore any possibility of a vague comprehension, French, Italian and Spanish people sound as if they're forever discussing the wonder of leaping into bed with somebody, yet German, Russian and Chinese people always sound as if they're conversing about the best method to clean a drain? I like being on buses in Argentina, surrounded by voices I can't understand and I can pretend they're contemplating the finer points of philosophy and love and life; I hate being on buses in Hong Kong, surrounded by voices I can't understand but are almost certainly - I'm sure of it - arguing about, well, the best method of cleaning drains... This, along with the fact the majority of HK people seem incapable of closing their mouths when eating, is something that seriously gets on my nerves over here.

- I really want to know what was so funny in the apartment below two nights ago. I was awake most of the night, inelegantly dispensing the contents of my stomach over the entire bathroom, and all I could hear (apart from my retching) was the cackles of the chick who lives downstairs from me. Now, I know I did have to leave a bedroom once because the guy was just so impossibly serious about himself and what he was doing and with so little result, the situation struck me as hilarious and I sprinted out on some bathroom-related pretext to have a damn good snigger to myself. Even I have the grace not to laugh outrageously for hours on end. The mind, in this instance, boggles.

- as I cast my eyes around the ferry this morning, doing a spot of people-watching, I observed a middle-aged western male using a teaspoon to a) stir his coffee, b) give his ear a thorughly good cleaning-out and c) relieve an itch on his back. Am I alone in finding this repulsive, or does everyone else view this as a resourceful use of a teaspoon??

- a student of mine had to write an essay that included an analysis of a poem by Chinua Achebe, 'Refugee Mother and Child'. The opening line of this incorporates the image of the Madonna and Child. While reviewing the essay for this student, who had notably ignored every single word of advice I'd given her and clearly either lost or abandoned the essay plan we'd created, I realised why I couldn't understand what on earth she was on about at one point: she'd been referring to the Madonna as the pop singer as oppose to... well, if you don't know who then please go shoot yourself. You'll be doing yourself and the rest of the world a favour. If a sixteen year old doesn't understand the most basic of Biblical references, how am I to be expected to teach them how to analyse even a Blake poem? Until now, I'd thought Blake was open and easy to interpret. Now, I'm terrified to think what she'll do with lines such as, 'the mind-forg'd manacles I hear' ('London'). I anticipate her analysis suggesting that 'mind' has forever been misspelled and it actually should be 'mine' which makes much more sense because they were mining for tin or whatever to make manacles. Mock not, I believe this is a distinct possibility she'll come up with.

- for nine days at the beginning of February, I'm hopping over to Thailand. Yes, I know I've always cackled at those who have been there, it being tourist-trap central. Hopefully, for the second part at least, I'll manage to find a place that even Lonely Planet writers haven't stumbled across yet; for the first few days, though, I get to be an uber-tourist and go play around with elephants. I can't wait. I get to wash baby elephants in a river - for me, this is something approximating a dream coming true. Even I need to employ the word 'cute' when talking about baby elephants, and that means they really must be cute, what with their hairiness and enormous eyes... everyone together now: awwwww! (I got so excited I even used an exclamation mark, you see).

- not much has been going on in my world, as is fairly evident by this post. When something happens, be assured you'll be the first to know. I've been feeling distinctly Grr of late about certain things - hence my last soewhat downbeat epic - and have spent far too much time in contemplative mode. I need to get back in touch with the world before it rushes past and forgets all about me; for some reason, it seems like a bad thing that it is Friday evening and I'm sat at home, alone, blogging about nothing. Back in the UK, I wouldn't have batted an eyelid if this were the case. What has happened to me since coming out here?? Oh dear. 'The L-Shaped Room' (Lynne Reid Banks), a slab of mozzarella, and Yann Tiersen it is. And - just to see out of curiosity if somebody in particular reads this witterage - this is VS009, over and out.