What is it with uniform caps, helmets, bonnets, covers? I understand the purpose of shielding the eyes from glare and sun by flat caps (nope, am not going to write flat cops!), and also helmets of course in case of riots, though it would seem to me that cops and militia might be more prone to die of a heat stroke than anything a head cover might shield them from, at least these days. Thing is, the caps worn in Russia are enormous! OK, I once was told that hats in general are supposed to make you look or seem taller - fair enough. However, if the men underneath actually look like underage, skinny, pimply boys, the effect is possibly rather different. This is as far as I'll go here - better keep it general - though there are some pretty caustic thoughts under my helmet just aching to burst and make themselves known. Devil - BE GONE! And just in case I might have stepped on some virtual feet here - the same goes, in variants, for cops and militia all over the world. Still, under the circumstances - sorry guys, no funny pictures here.
Now of course this whole hat,cap topic makes remember this time a friend and I - once upon a time - whilst visiting Munich, cracked up something awful (somebody also just might have spiked our drinks with psychedelics) because of all the funny hats with feathers, which always seemed to live a life of their own, the feathers shaking hysterically in symphony with their hilarious Bavarian wearers. Hat-wearers of the world beware: Have a good look in the mirror and try to imagine how your hat might mis-behave under certain circumstances.
I might have mentioned previously (and then deleted that specific strain of thought accidentally), that one of the first questions here at school is of course "why are YOU learning Russian?" So, after dreaming of strange gifts of fish and live squid - which actually screamed when you intended to cook them, bees purposefully injected with deadly venom so that they may sting people and kill them (another very discreet way of getting rid of people?) - I really MUST get exorcised some time - where was I? Yep, after highly explosive Jungian dreaming (no wonder I look drop-dead awful in the morning!) - I lay in bed realizing that after learning numerous languages, I still don't really communicate all that well when push comes to shove. Maybe my old friend C. is right by saying that I have autistic tendencies? That might explain a lot, actually. I remember so well a holiday (which ended quite prematurely) in Bergamo, Italy, where I was staying on a farm at friend's family, visiting one of his countless aunts, whilst finishing off the xth coffee and grappa, I broke one thing or another. Not a Ming Vase as far as I can remember, but confused as I was at the moment the words "mi dispiace" or "scusa" or similar just evaded me, so I just kept looking at the shards on the floor, willing them to re-glue themselves together. That did not work, and later in the evening my friend gave me a lecture on "how can you, pretending to speak so many languages, not even say I'm sorry"?!! Yeah well, go ask Elton John about that. Which sort of was the beginning of events which made this a very short holiday. And they made me hitchhike to Milan!
Getting ready for the day. Must go and register, which is compulsory on the first working day upon arriving in Russia. Yesterday having been a national holiday, this would be today, and I have classes at noon. Considering my proclivity for behaving oddly and conspicuously, I better not be illegal in any way.
Now of course this whole hat,cap topic makes remember this time a friend and I - once upon a time - whilst visiting Munich, cracked up something awful (somebody also just might have spiked our drinks with psychedelics) because of all the funny hats with feathers, which always seemed to live a life of their own, the feathers shaking hysterically in symphony with their hilarious Bavarian wearers. Hat-wearers of the world beware: Have a good look in the mirror and try to imagine how your hat might mis-behave under certain circumstances.
I might have mentioned previously (and then deleted that specific strain of thought accidentally), that one of the first questions here at school is of course "why are YOU learning Russian?" So, after dreaming of strange gifts of fish and live squid - which actually screamed when you intended to cook them, bees purposefully injected with deadly venom so that they may sting people and kill them (another very discreet way of getting rid of people?) - I really MUST get exorcised some time - where was I? Yep, after highly explosive Jungian dreaming (no wonder I look drop-dead awful in the morning!) - I lay in bed realizing that after learning numerous languages, I still don't really communicate all that well when push comes to shove. Maybe my old friend C. is right by saying that I have autistic tendencies? That might explain a lot, actually. I remember so well a holiday (which ended quite prematurely) in Bergamo, Italy, where I was staying on a farm at friend's family, visiting one of his countless aunts, whilst finishing off the xth coffee and grappa, I broke one thing or another. Not a Ming Vase as far as I can remember, but confused as I was at the moment the words "mi dispiace" or "scusa" or similar just evaded me, so I just kept looking at the shards on the floor, willing them to re-glue themselves together. That did not work, and later in the evening my friend gave me a lecture on "how can you, pretending to speak so many languages, not even say I'm sorry"?!! Yeah well, go ask Elton John about that. Which sort of was the beginning of events which made this a very short holiday. And they made me hitchhike to Milan!
Getting ready for the day. Must go and register, which is compulsory on the first working day upon arriving in Russia. Yesterday having been a national holiday, this would be today, and I have classes at noon. Considering my proclivity for behaving oddly and conspicuously, I better not be illegal in any way.
You? At a loss for words? It must have been the grappa.
AntwortenLöschenMight have been Pat, though it also happens too often when no grappa has been involved, alas. Usually there is a whole movie including too many options in my head, which then makes it impossible to say the simplest thing. That's where I think something is different in my head than in most other people's. Maybe I should tell people that more often, as of course they usually have no access to the movie theater in my head, so they must think I am not interested, or just plain boring.
AntwortenLöschen