I thought I'd better check I had got on the right bus, as it's not my usual going home one. I asked the bus driver if he went to the bus station downtown, and on hearing me speak he said "Wait; do you have an accent?" Curious question this, as don't we ALL have an accent? Some are just different to others, that's all. Anyway, I explained that I was British, to which he exclaimed "Cool" and I must say I am inclined to agree with him......
It also seemed to be the opinion of a lot of the shop assistants, who mostly seemed to be very pretty, well dressed, exceedingly camp young Asian men with spikey hair who were enamoured with my accent. This seems to be a common theme here, if I am shopping without Perfect Husband I am always mistaken for a tourist and am complemented on my accent; doesn't get me a discount though, sadly!!
After I had bought a few goodies and wandered around I decided it was time to go home and enjoy the glass of wine that was calling my name so loudly I heard it echoing around the shopping mall.
This meant one thing: the Bus Station On My Own.
The Bus Station is a somewhat scary place at the best of times; there are often several dodgy characters round there, but it was still daylight and plenty of people around so I felt ok. The presence of Mr and Mrs American Tourist reassured me too. You can always spot these people a mile off because they look rather out of place and are always dressed in identical tourist garb; matching jackets/fleeces and sensible walking shoes, often with an umbrella and a map tucked under the arm, and a bag of mementoes printed with the name of one of the many tourist souvenir shops here ( Do read the labels though if you venture into one; you may otherwise very well be taking home a "Genuine Alaskan" item that is in fact made in China....).
An Eskimo man walked by with a rucksack with a fishing rod poking out of the top and a checked shirt and jeans on, a cheerful smile on his face. He explained to anyone who would listen that he had caught two big fish and they were in his backpack (not sure he will ever get the smell out, so I made a mental note not to ask to borrow said backpack) Mr American Tourist asked him in a most knowledgeable way if the thing sticking out of the pack was a ------ (can't remember the word he used but it seemed to be a Native word for a hunting/fishing type of tool) whereupon the Eskimo asked him to repeat himself because he hadn't heard properly. Mr American Tourist tried a different tack and asked what the thing sticking out of the pack was called, to which the Eskimo replied "Oh this? This is called a Fishing Rod!!" and there you have it.....try and be all patronizing to the locals and you will be put in your place!!
I have to admit I stifled a small grin at that one.......
When it was time for my stop I pressed the button which the driver firmly ignored and coasted straight past my stop. Another passenger wanted to get off too, so he finally realized his mistake and stopped, about 200 yards past the stop. My fellow passenger was a tiny wrinkled old lady, so I helped her off the bus, and across the road. She offered to share her umbrella and we walked down the road a while, chatting companionably. She is called Nida and is from the Philippines. Both she and I are a long way from home and have no other family here, our respective children being thousands of miles away. I mentioned that it was hard wasn't it, being so far away from home with nobody else here to speak to, and she replied "Not anymore, now I have you to talk to."
How sweet this was I thought, a small connection made, a friend discovered, a smile shared.
And for today's photo I am choosing this one: Me and Bindi out on a walk and discovering some moose poo. I think the smile on Bindi's face says it all.
No comments:
Post a Comment