A school friend’s mama to our son (11):
She: ‘And Walter, where were you born?’
Walter: ‘In Hungary.’
She: ‘Which part?’
Walter: ‘My whole body.’
A school friend’s mama to our son (11):
She: ‘And Walter, where were you born?’
Walter: ‘In Hungary.’
She: ‘Which part?’
Walter: ‘My whole body.’
I adore challenges, I simply do.
At this moment I’ve been talking to an acquaintance for 20 minutes, waiting for boarding at Budapest airport. We have talked about different things so far, and I carefully analyse everything he tells me, including indefinite articles, in order to
– not show I have no idea who he is
– try to change the above, preferably asap.
We speak English which means he is not a previous Hungarian classmate or colleague.
At this point he mentions that after landing in Brussels he also takes the train to Antwerp just like me.
OK, so that narrows down the search in my mind: he must be a papa from the children’s school or a neighbour from our street maybe.
Then he adds: upon arriving home he just drops his luggage, and heads immediately to the same place where my husband.
Of course!! He is a colleague of my husband! We met at the family day of their company, now I know his name, too: Olivier, and he is a really nice guy.
It’s a pity at this point I’ve lost all interest in our conversation: to participate in a discussion where I know both who the parties are AND what the topic is about, well, anybody can do that, this doesn’t require any special skills..
I just love multiculturalism.
On Sunday I had a discussion with a papa, whose daughter goes for chess in the same club with my son. The man is originating from India, and we often see each other in the cafeteria.
He: ‘Are you Flemish? I can’t tell – you look like one, but you speak English here..’
Me: ‘I am Hungarian. ..Were you already born in Belgium?’
He: ‘No, still back in India. So, Hungary…well, sorry, all I know of the country is that it has its own unique language, and used to belong to the communist block…’
Me: ‘No worries. In exchange, all we know about India is that it is 1 country…a nice big country, though..’
He: ‘That’s right. The size of Europe. I, for example, have never been in our capital.. I see you are also a fan of clichés.. ‘
Me: ‘Absolutely. Anyway, what do you work in Belgium?’
He: ‘I am a space engineer, working for the European Space Agency.’
Me: ‘Oh, you must then be frequently visiting the Mars.’
He: ‘Not so often any more, I don’t have much free time, so only at the weekends. Where do you work?’
Me: ‘At a bankinsurer.’
He: ‘Then you must be terribly rich!’
Me: ‘ Oh, don’t even mention. We’ve just recently changed at home our gas heating for burning paper – in order to get rid of the piles of banknotes.’
He: ‘Okay, I see chess has finished, the children are returning. Continue next Sunday?’
Me: ‘Fine, see you next Sunday.’
Hungarian grandma calling her grandson in Belgium:
‘What would you like for Christmas?’
He (10): ‘A Monopoly!’
Grandma: ‘But I remember you have already such a board game at home..’
He: ‘The Hungarian version is much better.’
Grandma (touched by this 2nd generation nationalism): ‘Better, right? You also prefer the things which are from your motherland..’
He: ‘Yes! In the Hungarian Monopoly we don’t pay tax..’
The definition of a ‘nice afternoon’ for me is definitely reading together with my son back to back – he his Dutch contemporary literature, and I, mine.
Ps: let me call attention on the fact that I dressed to the front colour of the book.
Men should have s-o-m-e style after all – for God’s sake..
My son, Walter (10) – we moved to Belgium when he was 2 – informed me today that he thinks I do not pronounce his first name correctly.
I honestly apologized him saying I only gave birth to him – producing Dutch ‘w’ apparently takes a more qualified person.
He reassured me it was not a breaking point in our relation.
Recently at Eindhoven airport my son’s (9) transparent blue pistol – that shoots out pingpong balls – got confiscated (together with ammunition) as ‘object prone for threats’.
The attached photo demonstrates the incriminated weapon, together with the utmost radical and violent (now however a little droopy) underaged international terrorist.
For me, a lawyer, it is also a heartwarming experience whenever we obey not only the letter, but also the spirit of the law, as I am convinced that thanks to the vigilance of the security personnel, after these measures all passengers could proceed to their destinations with a considerably higher level of safety.
_______________
But hey, 1-2 chopped-off fingers, what’s that? A very tiny sacrifice – health is more important.
Today on business trip in Hungary.
The Committee meeting is to begin, approx. 90% of the attendees are male around the table, a big minority being Belgian.
The other female member, apart from me, calls attention on the fact that it is International Women’s Day today. The Chairman apparently hadn’t been aware of this famous calendar event, so he asks back in an ironic tone:
Chairman: ‘Ah, so today is International Women’s Day. And when do we celebrate International Men’s Day?’
Me (not even looking up from my papers): ‘On the rest 364 days of the year, Mr Chairman.’