Tuesday, November 09, 2010

what was the name again?

Mustering up the appetite to post...

This has been a bit manic. Actually, that's an understatement. The task of writing for someone else, which (after a few years' practice here) is tricky as I'm so used to writing on my own behalf. I'd rather edit a non-pedant's work than do it from scratch myself. Not least the onerous task of sampling, sourcing, cutting, making and promoting the stuff in order to SELL it. Oh yes, we've got a sales manager...

And, because of #1, this has taken a back seat....... ummm that's not a commendable habit dearie.

There is such a thing as interning after graduation...

...and to add to the roster, my little claim to good exercise habit (aside from mad nighttime cycling to collect receipts) is furthered by the fact. That. I'm. Learning to skate. Again. When I started 13 years ago, I wasn't anywhere as naturally good as Rez. Time will tell whether all those tambourine- and ballroom Latin dancing pays off in some form of grace, torque or gravity-defying leverage. Last weekend's new lessons were gliding backwards and stopping. Well, I'm still learning to stop 13 years on (the lady instructor pulled out a trick that incited a scream, but still I glided a few further metres before stopping. Trick FAIL.) The helpful thing is I learnt to fall safely and get up this time around, instead of hurtling down and scraping my shins on ice the way I used to do towards the end of a session. Serious stuff.

There is such a thing as forgetting a word in one's native tongue.
Chef: "Western tourists really tried all the normal stuff natives do"
Me: "Like what?"
Chef: "Like, not be fussy and eat local food."
Me: "Well yeah. And they need carbon tablets afterwards."
Chef: "Each part of the country has its own specialties, like in Sumatra..."
Me: "Like beras (rice) in Berastagi? And in Prapat, that fruit...?"
Chef: "Yeah, that fruit."
Me: "The one that's black outside and yellow inside?"
Chef: "Yeah, that one."
Me: "It's not passionfruit, is it..."
Chef: "No, it's not."
Chef: "I forgot the word for it."
Me: "I know what you mean, it's the one made into syrup?"
Chef: "That's the one, what's the name?"
Me: "Dunno. I can't remember too."
The following morning, at shower-time, only did I remember the fruit we were talking about was markisa. Ouch.

Anyway. Off to bed. Interning tomorrow.

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