Idiotic behaviour (Singapore)

When I eventually got a word in, I said to the man from Mauritius, “You still haven’t answered my question about how you met Doreen Yip.  What’s the relevance of her being an insurance broker to how you met?”

It turned out that they were both standing in the queue for the cable car to go over to Sentosa Island.  He was feeling very nervous.  Doreen Yip said, “You look very tense.”  He said, “Yes, I’m very nervous about going on the cable car.”  She said, “There was one incident* when the cable broke, the car dropped into the water, and some people died.”

*Sentosa Cable Car Accident, 29 January 1983

(Singapore) 

NB: Doreen Yip is not her real name

Sanity-challenging conversations: 6 (London)

I asked the man from Mauritius how he’d met Doreen Yip.  

His answer: “She is an insurance broker.  She took me around Singapore, showed me all the sights.  XX Hotel.  Orchard Road.  Even invited me home to meet her family.  They were really nice to me.”

How does that explain how he'd met her??

(London, 2018)

NB: Doreen Yip is not her real name

Sanity-challenging conversations: 5 (London)

The Indian man in the library turned out to be from Mauritius.

He asked me where I was from.  When told “Singapore”, he broke into a smile and said he’d been to Singapore a number of times and loved the place.

I asked him if he had any friends in Singapore, he said, “Yes.  A lady called Doreen Yip.”  I nodded in acknowledgement.  He repeated the name, as if I hadn’t heard.  I nodded again, saying, “Yes, I heard you the first time.”  He said it a third time, spelling it out this time, as if I needed it spelt out as well.

It later occurred to me that Indians shake their heads when they mean “Yes”, so perhaps that’s why my nodding my head did not get interpreted correctly.

NB:  Doreen Yip is not her real name.

(London, 2018)

Sanity-challenging conversations: 4 (London)

As I stood up to leave the library, an Indian man at the same table commented on how cold it was in the library.  (It was one of the coldest days for the last decade, with the cold front — nicknamed The Beast from the East — descending on the UK, apparently triggered by a heatwave in the Arctic area.)  I said I agreed with him, adding that I was surprised that with so many people in the library, their body warmth wasn’t generating more heat.  He repeated his statement, as if he hadn’t heard.  Huh??  I’d already agreed with him, and he couldn’t not have heard, as I’d said a whole lot of sounds, not just a one-word “Yes”.  Anyway, I repeated my comment, but he carried on saying how cold it was in the library, as if I didn’t see his point and he wanted to convince me that it was indeed the case.

(London, 2018)

Sanity-challenging conversations: 3 (London)

While I was cooking for Mrs Ting, she took a call.  It was from a prospective part-time carer, from Singapore, recommended by a friend of hers.  I heard Mrs Ting giving her directions to get to her place:  go to XX Tube station on the Northern line.  

Mrs Ting’s English is extremely rudimentary (even after 50 years in London), and her pronunciation of English words/names doesn’t always match the original.   Her Chinese (be it Mandarin, Cantonese, or the Teochew dialect) is also not always comprehensible, being a mixture of all three at times.  

After saying it over and over again to the caller, Mrs Ting passed the phone to me, for me to tell the caller.

This is the exchange that took place.

Me:  Take the Tube to XX station on the Northern line.  Turn right when you leave the station, and walk towards …

Caller:  What’s her house number?

Me:  Let me finish the directions first.  Turn right when you leave XX station, walk about 100 metres down the road towards YY supermarket.  She lives in a block opposite the supermarket.  The block is called ZZ Court.  (I then spelt out ZZ Court slowly for her.)  Her flat number is AA.

Caller:  Her flat number is AA.

Me:  That’s right, flat number AA.

Caller:  What’s her flat number?

Me:  I’ve already told you, you’ve read it back to me, and I’ve confirmed that it’s correct.

Caller:  Oh, the phone line is not very clear.

Me:  But you did hear it correctly, because you repeated it back to me correctly, and I’d also said it was correct.

I passed the phone back to Mrs Ting, who then went on to arrange a time for the caller to come along for the interview, and I went back to my cooking.

A minute later, the phone rang again.  This time, it was the friend who’d recommended the prospective carer.  The friend asked for the flat number again, with the same reason: the prospective carer’s phone line wasn’t clear.

(London, 2018)

Sanity-challenging conversations: 2 (London)

Mrs Ting (88 years old), whom I hadn’t seen for four years, suddenly rang me on Saturday to wish me a Happy Chinese New Year, then proceeded to tell me she’d been in pain from her crooked back and the resultant imbalance of body weight placed on her legs.  I immediately said I’d go the following Wednesday and give her a massage, and cook lunch for her.

I’d met Mrs Ting about six years ago, through a Malaysian woman, Mei Ling, who lives down the road from her.  I’d been giving Mei Ling back massages on and off, as well as doing her gardening — all for free.  Mei Ling then asked if I could do Mrs Ting’s bad back as well.

As I was preparing lunch for Mrs Ting, she asked if she could tell Mei Ling that I was visiting her.  This is the exchange:

Me:  Why not?

Mrs Ting:  I wasn't sure if I should.

Me:  Why do you feel you shouldn’t tell Mei Ling?  What’s wrong with my visiting you?

Mrs Ting:  I don’t know if it’ll be right to tell her.

Me:  Why should you think it might not be right to tell her?

Mrs Ting:  I don’t know if I should tell her, that’s why I’m asking you.

Me:  Yes, you’ve already said that bit.  What I’m asking is the “why”: why should you worry about telling her?

Mrs Ting:  That’s why I’m asking you if it’ll be all right.

Me:  I’ve understood that bit.  I just want to know why you should think it might not be right to tell her, that’s all.

Mrs Ting:  I don’t know if it’ll be right to, so I thought I should ask you first.

At that point, I just gave up.

PS: “Mrs Ting” and “Mei Ling” are not their real names.

(London, 2018)

Marital bliss: 5 (London)

One of my Japanese conversation teachers at SOAS used to tell us, “This general impression of Japanese women being subservient to — and walking three paces behind — their husbands is a myth.  On pay day, after removing his shoes in the genkan, the Japanese man will go on his knees and shuffle towards his wife, pay packet held above his head with both hands.  Every morning, she will dole out what he needs for the day, which is usually his train/bus fare, and lunch if she doesn’t make him a lunchbox.  If he wants to go out drinking with his colleagues or mates after work, he’ll have to ask her for the extra money, so there’s no room for last-minute impulses.”

*genkan (玄関): traditional Japanese entryway areas for a house, apartment, or building—something of a combination of a porch and a doormat.

(London, 1978)

Marital bliss: 4 (London)

One day, I ran into Roy, someone who was on a different course at SOAS when I was there in the late 70s.  After reminiscing about the good old days, I asked about his ex-classmate and ex-flatmate, Mark.  Roy said Mark was now on his second wife, from China, who was very strict about Mark going anywhere.  I decided not to email Mark to say hello, so as not to get him into any trouble.

Fast forward another six or seven years.  Chris, who knew Roy and Mark, organised a get-together, so I saw Mark for the first time since 1983.  After the meal, Mark said we should get together again, adding, “Use my mobile number.  Don’t email me.”  He then muttered, “Some people just have no respect for other people’s privacy.”

*Roy and Mark: not their real names.

(London, 2017)

Marital bliss: 3 (London)

One of my evening class students, whom I shall call John Smith, used to come to the pub with the class after the lesson, and to the annual meal outings at Christmas and Chinese New Year.

He’d been corresponding with a woman in China, as a pen friend, for years until his wife died, after which he married this pen pal.  She soon got her son over.  Within no time at all, he stopped turning up for these gatherings.  Each time he was invited, he said his new wife didn’t approve.  Perhaps his work pension didn’t stretch to feeding him, her and her family as well as allowing him little treats outside.

(London, 1980s/1990s)

Marital bliss: 2 (London)

The pub customer with the Japanese wife reminds me of an engineer who came to repair the photocopying machine at SOAS in the 80s when I was working there.  I was in the equipment room at the time, using the only Mac computer around at the time.  He started asking me where I was from, then proceeded to tell me his wife was from Thailand, adding that as soon as they got married, he was not allowed to go out with his mates to the pub or the restaurants.

(London, late 1980s)

Marital bliss: 1 (London)

On my pub shift last Saturday, a white British customer in his 70s asked me where I was from.  (I get asked that a lot, with some amazing/outlandish guesses, like some country in Africa.)  

He said he had a Japanese wife, and had lived in Japan for a while.  I asked him if he spoke any Japanese.  He said, “Shut up.  Stupid.  Go away.  They’re the only Japanese I know, from what my wife said to me over the years.”

(London, 2018)

Update 050318:  Just gave this blog to an English student (who has a Chinese wife) to translate into Chinese, and he came up with the Chinese versions for "shut up", "stupid" and "go away" without any hesitation.  Wonder how he knows the Chinese for these terms so well...