Discussion on the bus returning home from late lunch in Chinatown. A woman passenger had gotten into a conversation with a gentleman who had lived in London, and she mentioned that she was in Spain for a few years. Yes, she had visited Barcelona, but it didn't really feel like a Spanish city because of the Catalan separatist strömung. When you spoke to people in Spanish, they would respond in English.
Which reminded me of Amsterdam. Similar but different. When Americans try to speak Dutch (thanks, Berlitz), the inevitable response is "that's okay, we speak English". Das ist okay, wir sprechen Englisch / dat is oké, wij spreken Engels.
Which is not because of any separatist or irredentist tendencies, but because when native speakers of English attempt our language it sounds almighty painful to the ears.
Sometimes it's hard to believe that the two languages are relatives.
Although some dialects of Yorkshire are almost Flemish.
Albeit it considerably more gibberant.
For most of the bus ride I was reminded of the warning on my pills that they might affect my coordination and balance, but that was mostly because I had refused offered seats and the driver was in a hurry to bomb the Germans and return to the safety of British skies. Either that or clenching because the toilets at the beginning of the line were uncivilized.
Bomb the continent, then pee over England.
Valuable but useless advice.
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