Sunday, May 15, 2011

Life's a Circus.

Ok - time for another boring catch up blog. I feel like I have been very neglectful in my writing here. My only excuse is that my life is so awesomely amazing that I find it hard to find ways to talk about what has happened without making you guys jealous :P - and I just haven't had the time to put in that amount of effort over the last few weeks. Hence the short, boring, pictureless posts.
Today's post has the potential to be very similar. It's 7pm on a Sunday night and I'm ready to hit the hay. I may have spent a fair amount of time last night doing circus tricks. Or maybe that is the alcohol clouding my memory. Regardless - I am quite tired, and sore in spots I can't quite understand. Surely I wasn't doing headstands - it's been well over 20 years since I watched telly from the comfort of the couch, up-side-down. None-the-less, my memory of last night looks something like this:



Any explanation of that picture might have to be decoded at a later date.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Happy Mother's Day

Just a VERY quick post. Had a lovely day hanging with my Mummy watching movies and eating junk food. Then out for dinner and a lot of wine. Couldn't really ask for more really.

On the flip side however - Google's lovely flowery Happy Mother's Day = much more sincere than my own daughter's "happy Mum's day" and fall back to sleep on the couch.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Quick Read

I have a confession to make. It has been over three years since I have read a book. How do I, a person who has to write a blog to remember what happened yesterday, know this? I only own and read a very select range of books. Bryce Courtenay books to be exact. These books are a tradition gift. A birthday present every year from a person who is very special to me. I know it's been three years since reading my last book because I have a bookmark about one chapter in to the book with the writing in the front "Happy 27th birthday xoxoxo". I'm a little ashamed to admit it. Both for the reason that as a professional I am assumed to be well read. However, apart from emails, blogs and the 400 Facebook status updates I read a day, I am a very uncultured, non-ready type person. And the other reason to be ashamed - these gifts, which I cherish, are just that - gifts. And I should appreciate the thought with atleast one reading of the book... surely?

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Tongue Thai`ed

I got Thai takeaway for dinner on the way home from work tonight. Yup - 4 days in to my fitness fad and I'm buying takeaway for dinner. But I figure they're a generally healthy, skinny looking people. Right? Anyway - it reminded me of my theory that the people that run stores of a different ethnicity to the country they are in kinda put on their accents a little to make their product more appealing / authentic. That's right. I said it. My last two dealings with this particular Thai restaurant have consolidated this theory.

Let me explain this cute little cafe looking takeaway store. It has room to seat about 6 people in the summer and 5 people waiting for food in the winter. The kitchen is quite possibly smaller than my own - about the size of a disabled toilet. There is often laughter and lots of words that aren't English coming from within this kitchen. A 3 year old child runs around the waiting room most nights and watches television at the counter. She obviously belongs to one of the ladies in the kitchen as the girl on the counter is only about 14 years old. She speaks English like an Aussie, but is obviously a relative of one of the ladies in the kitchen. I'm sucked in to the authenticity of the food and culture by the cook's obvious lack of English as she now recognises me but never serves me - indicating that I should wait until the English speaking relative comes to take my order.

This was the first place I had ever ordered Thai from. I had no idea what I should eat, but everyone was raving about Thai food so I figured it must be done. I reckon the girl would have been about 12 years old then, and as far as customer service went, she was a breath of fresh air in this town full of smarmy arrogant teenagers. She kindly ran me through the whole menu - explaining what I might like if I were the kind of person who liked sweet food, or spicy food etc. I walked out with Pad Thai with chicken that day. I was in heaven! By my third visit - she would have the girls cooking my Pad Thai before I made it from my car to the counter - and with her guidance I began trying things, and loving everything I tried.

Two visits ago I was greeted yai in the doorway to the kitchen with her cheeky little giggle and a hand telling me to wait. But where was my gorgeous little helper? She did not appear. Instead a man in his late 20s / early 30s with a slightly thicker accent greeted me. I figured. This is no time to order anything crazy - I'll just go for my usual - Pad Thai with chicken and those veggies, oh shit, what are they called? Fried veggies - with a batter? I'm fumbling and looking like an idiot - flicking through the menu trying to find them... He's looking at me blankly. "Vegetables? We no fry vegetables." Phew. I find it. I point dubiously to the Pak Tod. "A serve of this, the number 16, please." He writes it down. I hide in the car until my order is ready.

Tonight I was determined to be confident and just order what I knew and loved, and not let this imaginary language barrier hinder me. I walked in. Was faced with the same guy. I walked to the counter. And clearly said: "Pad Thai with chicken, and a serve of Pak Tod please." Simple I thought. "What's that?" he asks, "Pack Todd?" My face goes bright red. Have I said it wrong? What's it called then? Have I sworn at him? I fumble around in the menu looking for it. Ah, there it is: Pak Tod, just as I said. I point to him. "Pak Tod please." He acknowledges what I'm pointing at. "Oh, Pak Tod - Tod means fried." Remembering the last time I saw him I thought - well fucking dahhh! That's why I asked for fried vegetables last time.

My conclusion is this: maybe generalising for all take away food workers is a little too close to racist, but, at least for this situation, it would appear that either I knew more Thai than the Thai guy in the Thai shop or he was using the imaginary language barrier (which is most obviously imaginary - as we both speak ONLY English) to cover up for the fact that he had no idea of what the shop sells, let alone how to pronounce any of the dishes. The upside? My yummy Thai style fried noodles and chicken, and fried vegetables with sweet chili sauce.