I think I’ve come to realise how much better the Chinese language is than English. Today, I was eating lunch at this kind of weird place – I think I only go there to visit the man who owns it (who is a replica of that little angry chef in Ratatouille) and his little cat who is just the cutest thing I’ve ever seen – and I translated the word 土豆 (potato) and it literally means “earth bean”. That is honestly the most accurate description of a potato I have ever heard in my life. Somehow all my writing is involved with food, but anyway… So outside Family Mart (I had to mention it once), we have these cute ladies and one guy making skewers – you pick your vegetables and unidentifiable meat and they cook it for you on a mini barbeque thing and it’s really good. The word for these skewers is 串. That literally looks like meat on skewers. I don’t know about any of you, but the word skewer seems really dumb to me now. As does the word potato.
Although I’m struggling through Chinese, my brain is constantly attempting to reply in Chinese without even realising it. It’s also really bizarre switching from my Chinese workbook homework to a philosophical essay about morality – I’d pick my workbook word over other work everyday. And I’m definitely learning to love the conversations I have with people where I respond in Chinese and they talk back at me in English and things mould in one universally understood mush of language – don’t get me wrong, my Chinese still isn’t good. It’s getting there. I just want to be fluent in the next ten seconds, that’d be kind of nice.
Besides that, I’m craving vegemite on toast and it’s getting to the point where I’m weirded out by blue sky. The days where I can’t taste pollution, there’s something seriously wrong.
Here’s a picture of the cute cat – 可爱的小猫