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Your thread has reminded me how much I liked Lanzarote. Think it might be back on the holiday list very soon as there is little enthusiasm chez mudskipper for more exotic adventures.
Of course, you dont have to go abroad to have problems with language.
I was brought up in the North West and when we said 'Next Monday', we meant the one in three days time. (i.e. it was always an integer <=7)
Imagine my Chagrin when I joined the army and met some woolly-backs who meant the monday after next in ten days time. (i.e. it was always an integer >7)
I never did find out what they made of 'the monday after next'
woollies eh ?
We had similar confusion with the phrase "See you later" when we opened up an office darn sarf.
To us in Yorkshire it was simply an English version of "au revoir".
Your thread has reminded me how much I liked Lanzarote. Think it might be back on the holiday list very soon as there is little enthusiasm chez mudskipper for more exotic adventures.
I always find it rather rude when I make the effort to speak the lingo and they reply in English. Because I enjoy learning languages, I actually find this business of English being the innernational language rather tiresome.
It can be a pain, but if you get fluent enough this won't happen so often.
To compel a man to furnish contributions of money for the propagation of opinions which he disbelieves and abhors is sinful and tyrannical
Thomas Jefferson, 1779
So, as I gaze out across this incredible, alien landscape, occasionally punctuated with white stuccoed buildlngs festooned with the most vibrantly coloured bougainvillea, I find myself hoping that this will be the beginning of a lasting relationship.
You seem to be having a fine time out there GG! I could do with a steak after reading that!
In the style of the Sausage Sandwich Game, are you away with girl friends, or with Gittins, or with someone else?
Well, DS, read on and all will be revealed for today is my final day and within moments of typing this I shall be en route to the airport.
So, as I gaze out across this incredible, alien landscape, occasionally punctuated with white stuccoed buildlngs festooned with the most vibrantly coloured bougainvillea, I find myself hoping that this will be the beginning of a lasting relationship.
For what started out when three IT contracting gals from Southampton jumped onto a plane to get a bit of winner sinshine has now become something less fickle and I feel a bond has been developed between myself, this island and its peoples and I can totally see why thousands of people leave the gloomy climes of northern Europe to make Lanzarote their home.
But one must never forget the other side of the coin and the devastating impact that the events of 2008 had on this region. Wherever I went I saw evidence of past hopes being dashed; networks of unsurfaced roads with rusting lamposts but no houses; a vast tract of wasteland with only the sign announcing "Se vende parcela deportiva" indicating that this was once destined to become a huge golf course. All very sad.
As the little chap who came to clean our villa everyday said while throwing his arms up in the air "¡No vinieron los turistas!". The tourists never came, and that says it all really.
It leaves one hoping that the very fragile recovery that is now in place in this region and, indeed, the Iberian Peninsula, will go from strength to strength and will not get derailed by geopolitical events going on elsewhere in the world.
Inneresting little fact I learned tonight when we went out for dinner.
I don't know if any of you have ever come across the chimichurrya saue before.
I'm sure I've seen it in various establishments across the metropolis but it was on the menu tonight.
As an accompaniment to a steak.
Now, our charming waiter (from Asturias) told us that it was invented in Argentina by a gentleman called James (Jimmy) Curry but the locals couldn't pronounce his name properly so his eponymouse sauce became Chimichurry.
Yes I got a few holes in, but the crazy variety. It's good fun isn't it, getting your angles right, putting it in the right tunnel, that kind of thing.
I had a go at the water sports as well. Wow, some of those rides can be hairy! Have you had a go at that?
I'm with the Wooly Backs on this one, whoever they may be.
The Welsh?
no no no.
They are Welsh What-Old-Greg-Saids.
A woolly-back is a personage from outside Liverpool but who aspires to be a scouser. Like close, but no cigar. like
Of course, you dont have to go abroad to have problems with language.
I was brought up in the North West and when we said 'Next Monday', we meant the one in three days time. (i.e. it was always an integer <=7)
Imagine my Chagrin when I joined the army and met some woolly-backs who meant the monday after next in ten days time. (i.e. it was always an integer >7)
I never did find out what they made of 'the monday after next'
woollies eh ?
I'm with the Wooly Backs on this one, whoever they may be.
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