silly quotedump
Prompted by grav_ity's Korea anecdotes: some random funny exchanges and sign sightings. Mostly transport or food related, since this is the type of information you kinda have to get straight. Confusion and/or hilarity inevitably ensues. *g*
Do you eat food?
(Apparently some Mizo people think we Europeans survive on mere air, heh.)
Are you migrating?
(Question posed to me in Ethiopia. Wildebeest!me, perhaps?)
~~
Dude: Tea, black or milk?
Me: Milk tea, doh (two) please.
Dude: (after some time) Sorry madam, no coffee. Would you like tea?
Me: Er, yes please.
Dude: Black or milk?
Me: Milk.
Dude: Black?
Me: Milllllk.
Dude: Sugar?
Me: Yes, donobad (thank you).
Dude: *returns with tea, black and unsweetened*
Me: *contemplates going over the doh thing again, discards idea, waits til dude leaves, slinks behind desk for the sugar*
~~
Me, approaching tea stall: Chai?
Chai wallah: Samosa?
Me: No, chai. Tea.
CW: Pepsi?
Me: *blinks*
CW: No *headwiggle*
Me: TEA.
CW: Oh. Yes? *different headwiggle*
~~
(Fish is popular in Assam, due to the Brahmaputra river (mmm polluted), but it usually comes whole with a million tiny bones in it. As such, I avoided mentioning the f-i-s-h word in case it prompted the local culinary pride to serve me some. This is harder than it sounds:)
Me: Rice comes with other dishes?
Over-keen old man: Fishes? Yes!
Me: *facepalm*
~~
(Rule of thumb: if they don't know the answer, they will tell you what they think you want to hear. And beware how you phrase the question; they answer literally.)
Me: This bus go to Kaziranga?
Guy next to me in queue: Yes.
Me: *reaches out to tap on side of bus, insistent* Kaziranga?
Guy: Yes.
(no, it didn't)
Me: This bus go to Lumding?
Station dude: No.
(yes, it did)
Me, at midday: Bus to Guwahati today?
Ticket dude: Yes.
Me: What time?
Ticket dude: 6am.
Me: Bus to Tezpur tomorrow?
Another ticket dude: Yes.
Me: But, the bandh (general strike)?
Ticket dude: Tomorrow.
Me: So, bus to Tezpur tomorrow?
Ticket dude: No.
Me: *further facepalming*
~~
Proud young man: We have few visitors, but from verrr' many country - like London and Manchester United.
~~
Man, apropos of nothing: I have two children.
Me: Oh. Sons?
Man: No.
Me: Daughters?
Man: No.
Me: Okaaaay.
~~
Computer shop guy: No internet connection, maybe later.
Me: Ok, thanks. When? *indicates watch*
Shop guy: September or November.
Me: *nonplussed* It is March now.
Shop guy: *headwiggle*
~~
(Zova, a guy who befriended me and Oli - my permit-necessary travel buddy from Belgium - kindly invited us to stay with his family for a few days. He and his brother, Shoiah, provided plenty of *blink* moments.)
Zova: *indicates out of stationary bus window* Do you need to pass urine?
Me: Er, no thanks.
Oli: *mishears, starts making eating/drinking hand gestures*
Me: o_O
Zova: Answer the call of nature?
Oli: *catches on*
Me: *falls off seat laughing*
Me and Shoiah: *ride our motorcycle past Oli and Zova*
Shoiah: *yells into the wind and also my ear* OLI, DO YOU VOMIT?
(Oli is also dyslexic. Zova taught us some Mizo. Fanoo = daughter, fapa = son.)
Us: *approaching family with small androgynous baby*
Oli: *brightly, pointing* Fapoo?
Me: *hopes that doesn't translate as cockroach*
~~
Oli and I walk down the road after shaking hands with, seemingly, everyone in the village. (We later learned that it was the way we were greeting people: "ida mem?" [how are you?] is the casual way; "chi bai" [hello, please shake my hand!] is something more formal. We chi bai-ed our way round the state for a whole month. Naturally, it prompted every person we met to drop what they were doing and shake our hands. Most of the world doesn't use toilet paper; that's what the left hand is for! I probably don't need to tell you we used a lot of antibacterial hand gel in Mizoram:)
Oli: That man only had one hand.
Me: Oh, really? *is sad, then devious* In that case, by default, we just shook his bum-hand.
Oli: *confused look* No, we shook his right hand.
Me: Exactly!
Oli: Oh! *laughs* I do research at the Max Planck Institute, you know!
Me: *dubious eyebrow*
~~
Me: *offers fruit* Would you like a pear?
Anele-the-teacher: *taken aback* A pair of what?
~~
(And it works the other way too:)
South African supermarket lady: Would you like me to heat that for you?
Me: *mishearing "heat" as "eat"* Er, no!
SA lady: *gives a 'suit-yourself!' look*
~~
Written on signs/notices:
Ladies and Gents Only.
Bird Watching Tower cum Library. (talk about multi-purpose building!)
Editting Service here.
Do not spit indiscriminately. (Yes, aim at least!)
Store Cunti (ok, so I'm 15 years old. *g*)
For treatment of white veg. discharge. (notice outside medical store)
And finally, a plaque spotted on a decorative temple gate:
Gate donated by.
Do you eat food?
(Apparently some Mizo people think we Europeans survive on mere air, heh.)
Are you migrating?
(Question posed to me in Ethiopia. Wildebeest!me, perhaps?)
~~
Dude: Tea, black or milk?
Me: Milk tea, doh (two) please.
Dude: (after some time) Sorry madam, no coffee. Would you like tea?
Me: Er, yes please.
Dude: Black or milk?
Me: Milk.
Dude: Black?
Me: Milllllk.
Dude: Sugar?
Me: Yes, donobad (thank you).
Dude: *returns with tea, black and unsweetened*
Me: *contemplates going over the doh thing again, discards idea, waits til dude leaves, slinks behind desk for the sugar*
~~
Me, approaching tea stall: Chai?
Chai wallah: Samosa?
Me: No, chai. Tea.
CW: Pepsi?
Me: *blinks*
CW: No *headwiggle*
Me: TEA.
CW: Oh. Yes? *different headwiggle*
~~
(Fish is popular in Assam, due to the Brahmaputra river (mmm polluted), but it usually comes whole with a million tiny bones in it. As such, I avoided mentioning the f-i-s-h word in case it prompted the local culinary pride to serve me some. This is harder than it sounds:)
Me: Rice comes with other dishes?
Over-keen old man: Fishes? Yes!
Me: *facepalm*
~~
(Rule of thumb: if they don't know the answer, they will tell you what they think you want to hear. And beware how you phrase the question; they answer literally.)
Me: This bus go to Kaziranga?
Guy next to me in queue: Yes.
Me: *reaches out to tap on side of bus, insistent* Kaziranga?
Guy: Yes.
(no, it didn't)
Me: This bus go to Lumding?
Station dude: No.
(yes, it did)
Me, at midday: Bus to Guwahati today?
Ticket dude: Yes.
Me: What time?
Ticket dude: 6am.
Me: Bus to Tezpur tomorrow?
Another ticket dude: Yes.
Me: But, the bandh (general strike)?
Ticket dude: Tomorrow.
Me: So, bus to Tezpur tomorrow?
Ticket dude: No.
Me: *further facepalming*
~~
Proud young man: We have few visitors, but from verrr' many country - like London and Manchester United.
~~
Man, apropos of nothing: I have two children.
Me: Oh. Sons?
Man: No.
Me: Daughters?
Man: No.
Me: Okaaaay.
~~
Computer shop guy: No internet connection, maybe later.
Me: Ok, thanks. When? *indicates watch*
Shop guy: September or November.
Me: *nonplussed* It is March now.
Shop guy: *headwiggle*
~~
(Zova, a guy who befriended me and Oli - my permit-necessary travel buddy from Belgium - kindly invited us to stay with his family for a few days. He and his brother, Shoiah, provided plenty of *blink* moments.)
Zova: *indicates out of stationary bus window* Do you need to pass urine?
Me: Er, no thanks.
Oli: *mishears, starts making eating/drinking hand gestures*
Me: o_O
Zova: Answer the call of nature?
Oli: *catches on*
Me: *falls off seat laughing*
Me and Shoiah: *ride our motorcycle past Oli and Zova*
Shoiah: *yells into the wind and also my ear* OLI, DO YOU VOMIT?
(Oli is also dyslexic. Zova taught us some Mizo. Fanoo = daughter, fapa = son.)
Us: *approaching family with small androgynous baby*
Oli: *brightly, pointing* Fapoo?
Me: *hopes that doesn't translate as cockroach*
~~
Oli and I walk down the road after shaking hands with, seemingly, everyone in the village. (We later learned that it was the way we were greeting people: "ida mem?" [how are you?] is the casual way; "chi bai" [hello, please shake my hand!] is something more formal. We chi bai-ed our way round the state for a whole month. Naturally, it prompted every person we met to drop what they were doing and shake our hands. Most of the world doesn't use toilet paper; that's what the left hand is for! I probably don't need to tell you we used a lot of antibacterial hand gel in Mizoram:)
Oli: That man only had one hand.
Me: Oh, really? *is sad, then devious* In that case, by default, we just shook his bum-hand.
Oli: *confused look* No, we shook his right hand.
Me: Exactly!
Oli: Oh! *laughs* I do research at the Max Planck Institute, you know!
Me: *dubious eyebrow*
~~
Me: *offers fruit* Would you like a pear?
Anele-the-teacher: *taken aback* A pair of what?
~~
(And it works the other way too:)
South African supermarket lady: Would you like me to heat that for you?
Me: *mishearing "heat" as "eat"* Er, no!
SA lady: *gives a 'suit-yourself!' look*
~~
Written on signs/notices:
Ladies and Gents Only.
Bird Watching Tower cum Library. (talk about multi-purpose building!)
Editting Service here.
Do not spit indiscriminately. (Yes, aim at least!)
Store Cunti (ok, so I'm 15 years old. *g*)
For treatment of white veg. discharge. (notice outside medical store)
And finally, a plaque spotted on a decorative temple gate:
Gate donated by.