Malifact

I went to a French meetup last Saturday for the first time. Before I could RSVP “Yes” I had to pay £10 by Paypal (it’s an annual fee). The meetup itself took place in a pub in central London. I wasn’t very impressed, as it was just people sitting around two tables speaking in French. Which begs the question what is the £10 for exactly? There were also hardly any native speakers. I wasn’t surprised as London has a fairly big French community and so there are plenty of opportunities for Frenchies to hang out with their countrymen. I ended up on a table mostly chatting with this woman who is training to be a languages teacher and this Greek girl who spoke excellent French.

I say there weren’t a lot of native speakers, but there was one obnoxious guy who turned up later. He had a shaved head, really bad teeth and an air of arrogance about him. He mostly spoke to the Greek girl (she’s very pretty), though he chatted to me a bit. He mentioned that he could speak Spanish. I asked him if he was fluent and he looked at me like it was a stupid question. I commented that French and Spanish have some similarities, particularly in grammar and he retorted not really and that Spanish was a more “simplistic” language. Now I don’t claim to be proficient at Spanish, but I wouldn’t say it’s a simplistic language. It’s just that French has lots of annoying exceptions!

Anyway, what really annoyed me about this guy was he kept on correcting people. Of course, if I say something stupid in French I would like a native speaker to point it out. However, this guy would interrupt people and correct them in a condescending and smug way. Also, it was supposed to be a social event not a French class. He actually didn’t say anything to me, but the poor wannabe languages teacher couldn’t complete a sentence without him mercilessly pointing out her mistakes. In the end I’d had enough. I knew this guy had worked at the French Institute, but only in the office. So the next time he corrected the trainee languages teacher I interjected,

“So are you a French teacher by any chance?”
“No, I’m not,” he said, glaring at me.
“Oh, okay…”
“Why do you think I’m a teacher?”
“I just thought…”
“What did you think?”
“Well, I used to be an English teacher and…”
“So what?”
“Well, it’s just you’re correcting people’s French a lot and this is meant to be a social event.”
“I’m not a teacher. I used to work at the French Institute, but I was NOT a teacher.”
“Okay, fine. I guess a teacher wouldn’t correct people like that anyway.”

At this point the Greek girl was trying not to laugh. The guy got up and flounced outside saying he needed a cigarette. I stayed a bit longer and then made my excuses and left. I don’t think I’ll be going to that particular meetup again.

When I went to Japan on the JET Programme my Mum gave me a picture of her favourite saint, Thérèse of Lisieux to take with me. Catholics often carry or give to others icons like this. Despite going to Catholic schools from the age of 5-18 I knew virtually nothing about Saint Thérèse. Anyway, we were watching TV the other week and it turned out that the relics of Saint Thérèse were being brought to the UK as part of a world tour. My Mum said she would have loved to have gone to see the relics. I checked on the Internet and found out they would be in London for another two days at Westminster Cathedral. So I told her if she met me after work the next day I would take her. At first she made excuses, but I knew she really wanted to go and would regret it if she didn’t.

I have to say making the pilgrimage was an interesting experience. I was surprised how many people turned out, especially since the U.K. is not a Catholic country. If I compare the pilgrimage to when I visited the Vatican it was a much more profound and dare I say spiritual experience. While we were queuing up outside there was a big screen with various people talking about Saint Thérèse’s life. What was so interesting is that she died at only 24 and on the surface she did nothing remarkable in her short life. In particular, she had wanted to travel and never got the chance. However, she’s famous for her memoirs and her philosophy of the “Little Way” – that you don’t need to do “great deeds” for your life to have meaning.

Since I left Japan (due to my neurotic nature I’m sure) I’ve been worried that I’ve made “mistakes” in my life and this is my only chance to do something significant or worthwhile. Especially when I had health problems earlier this year I realised how precious life is. I know it’s a simplistic idea, but for some reason I found the philosophy of Saint Thérèse reassuring. The timing was perfect and it reminded me I have to stop worrying about those things I can’t change, which I know I do a lot. Finally, my Mum was really glad that she got to venerate the relics and that’s something I will always remember in the future.

A friend introduced me to the website Meetup.com a while back and I finally got around to joining a few groups. The first one was a badminton meet up and I went for the first time last Saturday. I really enjoy playing badminton and it was good to play again after so long. The only problem is I kind of overdid it and the next day my arm, neck and other body parts were aching. I still have some pain now! We played for two hours straight and I’d wanted to take breaks between games. However, I’d been forced to soldier on, as someone always needed a partner for doubles and the organiser kept on saying,
“Damien, you can’t take a break now!”

I have to say I’m not so keen on this guy who organises the group. He’s very friendly and made me feel welcome, but he’s one of those people who has to make a comment about everything. After the meet up we went to the local pub for lunch and it was there that he became annoying. He kept making stupid comments about my job (“You’re one of those guys who do those weird experiments on people!”) and to a lesser extent about Japan. I realised to tolerate him my best tactic is to talk about non-personal neutral topics.

Then yesterday I went to a board games meet up. I first got into playing board games when I was living in Japan. In fact, some of my best memories are meeting to play games with my close friends. Anyway, this group meets in a flash pub in the financial/legal district in central London. A lot of people turned up and there were loads of games that I’d never heard of before, let alone played. I ended up playing this racing game called “Winner’s Circle” with four other guys. It’s a betting game and very easy to play. I had a good time, but the thing that disappointed me is most of the group’s members are a lot older than me. However, everyone was quite friendly and the atmosphere was more social than competitive. So my next question is do I dare attending the Japanese Language Meetup Group?

P.S. Homodachi you were right. Going to meetups is like dating!

I’ve always been a really big Michael Jackson fan and defended him through the child abuse allegations, baby dangling etc. I grew up listening to his music and my Dad was also playing the Thriller and Bad albums in his car. And if a Michael Jackson video was being premiered on TV our whole family would gather round to watch it. So understandably I was upset about his untimely demise. One of my close friends who’s the biggest MJ fan I know told me about an event being organised through Facebook. The idea was that MJ fans would congregate at the O2 Centre in London on the day he was supposed to start his series of concerts there.

I met my friend, her brother, sister and her sister’s friend after work and we headed for the O2. Her Dad even joined us later! The organisers of the event had set up a stage underneath a giant screen outside the centre that showed images from MJ’s life. There was also a wall to write messages and leave flowers etc. Despite the sombre reason for the gathering the atmosphere was really positive. There was a big turnout and apart from various events on the main stage fans gathered together in small groups to sing and dance to MJ songs. A few people broke down or cried during the songs like “Gone Too Soon”, but generally people were upbeat. The only disappointing thing was the sound on the main stage was too low. The MCs didn’t have proper microphones and just these tiny speakers to play the music. One surprise was that Britain’s Got Talent’s finalists Signature http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x4sGmnKuIjU turned up and performed on the stage.

The funniest event of the evening occurred towards the start. We were just hanging around outside when suddenly a Michael Jackson look-alike came walking towards us. He was surrounded by a small crowd that continued to grow, as more people saw him and someone was even holding an umbrella over him. Of course everyone knew it wasn’t Michael Jackson, but the resemblance was really scary. As he entered the centre we all continued to follow him inside. I don’t know why and it sounds crazy, but we were all caught up in the moment. MJ headed for the Starbuck’s at the end of the centre (despite there being one near the entrance) while we gave chase with our cameras flashing. We only realised after a few minutes that we’d lost my friend’s brother and called him to let him know what was going on.

Finally, MJ got to Starbuck’s and reluctantly posed for a few photos while we milled around outside. He then sat down with some friends and a woman came out and politely told everyone to leave. Then two police officers arrived! They spoke to MJ for a few minutes before leaving. We only found out later when he took to the stage outside that the man was a professional MJ impersonator. I had thought he was just one of the many fans who had dressed up for the occasion. Anyway, despite being really tired I had a really good time and I’m glad that I went along.

I went to Rome two weeks ago for four days with my Mum. We had a really good time and managed to do and see most of the things we wanted to. The trip was uneventful in a good way (apart from my mobile phone going “missing” from my hotel room). We had no real communication problems, as I had tried to learn Italian pronunciation before we left and had a phrasebook to hand. If I was really stuck I tried to visualise the French or Spanish word and say it as an Italian would say it! I found Italians generally friendlier than people in Barcelona and France. Also, it’s true that coffee, pasta, pizza and ice cream does taste better in Italy.

The first day we arrived pretty late and so we didn’t start sightseeing until the next day. We got up early and climbed up Capitoline Hill (we kind of took the long route) and saw Michelangelo’s Piazza. We also looked around the museums there, which were a bit too much and would have been more enjoyable with an audio guide. Then we went to look at the ruins at the Palatine tagging along with a free tour group and saw the view overlooking the Roman Forum. Finally, we went to the Colosseum, but only got to see the outside as it was closed. Apart from the sightseeing I tried to help a group of Japanese girls who were having problems using the ticket machine.

On the second day we went to Vatican City (my Mum’s main reason for going to Rome) and looked around the Vatican museums, which were really extensive, but very interesting. We also saw the Sistine Chapel and fortunately it wasn’t very crowded so we could take our time appreciating it. Then we went to St Peter’s Basilica, which is supposed to be one of the holiest Christian sites. I must confess I didn’t feel anymore spiritual as I do in any church, but I think it’s because I was too busy looking at the artwork. I also dragged my poor Mum up to the top of the church’s dome (we took the elevator part of the way). I also lent my camera’s battery to an American girl, as hers had run out.

For the final day we went to the Villa Borghese Gardens. It’s actually just a nice park, but after all the sightseeing it was nice to stroll around and relax a bit. We had intended to visit the Galleria Borghese, but there were no tickets available until 5pm that evening. We then rode the bus for the first time (the bus drivers are crazy in Rome) and after lunch went to the Piazza Navona and looked around while trying to avoid people selling stuff. We then went to have ice cream at some place that Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck went to in the film Roman Holiday. As we were approaching the entrance my Mum recalled how surprised she was that Audrey Hepburn is popular in Japan and lo and behold we ran into a group of Japanese tourists!

Although the holiday was great I had without a doubt the worst journey home ever. First, our flight back to London was delayed by nearly an hour. Then when we got on the plane and had to wait over an hour and a half to takeover, as our plane was grounded due to the strikes in France. To top it all off we had a really annoying group of young Americans sitting in the middle of the plane. The leader of the group was a girl my Mum and I christened “Becky”. She spent the whole time talking in a really loud voice so we could all hear about everything from her views on fashion to how she was “more open” as a child. We could tell she was one of these people who had to make everything about her. For example, when a friend of hers admitted she was bullied in high school, Becky had to interrupt and talk about how she was also “bullied” for wearing “really ugly glasses”. The funniest thing was that in her little group all the girls clearly wanted to be her best friend and the guys were drooling over her every word. It probably helped that every time she was talking to a male she would play with a straw suggestively in her mouth.

Not only did we arrive late, but we missed our last train and so had no choice, but to get a coach to another airport closer to where we live and then the bus from there. We had to wait an hour and a half in the coach station with just a homeless woman for company sleeping on the bench next to ours. We finally made it home at 4am in the morning. My grumpy brother had to get out of bed to let us in, though Lil’ Bilbo was delighted to see us and insisted on a quick walk before I could get to bed. It was either that or listen to him crying while I tried to get some sleep.

I had to stop going to French class temporarily, as there weren’t enough people to continue doing the intensive class at my level. When I got back from Rome I got a message to call the French Institute’s course administrator. She told me that I still couldn’t do the intensive class, but there was another evening class running two nights a week about to start. I was a bit annoyed, as we had already had to postpone the class due to lack of numbers and now we couldn’t do it at all. However, I figured it was better than nothing and two of my friends from my old class would also be doing it.

So I went to the first class and it was awful. Firstly, there were about sixteen students there. It was so packed two people had to sit at the corners of the tables. Secondly, I didn’t like the teacher. My previous teacher had been lovely, but this guy was the stereotypical snooty French teacher. The only thing missing was the scarf around his neck! Also, he had the same first name as me (same spelling also). To top it all off the class was boring. We spent half of it going around saying the French authors we knew and what type of literature they wrote. The other half was naming five problems in society. When I think something is a waste of my time (for e.g. the infamous JET conferences) I just shut down and try and do something productive. I did that for most of the lesson. Also, when we were discussing problems in UK society the teacher encouraged the students to make generalisations about the UK (most of my classmates were not British). I had to bite my tongue when he started going on about how the Japanese were “systématique”.

So I decided to quit the class and I e-mailed the courses administrator to ask if anything else was available. I didn’t want to slag off the class or teacher and so I just said the class was “not what I expected”. In the end I ended up having to call her and she wanted to know why I wanted to change and I was forced to tell her. I tried not to slag off my namesake too much though. It all worked out okay in the end. I’m now doing a three-hour class on Saturdays. It’s a bit of a pain to have class on Saturdays, but the teacher is pretty good and best of all there’s only six of us in the class. I ran into my namesake on Saturday and he blanked me and strolled off with his nose in the air!

One of my colleagues went to Japan on holiday and brought us back some treats, including some limited edition KitKat. They’re described as “University Sweet Potato Flavour”. Apparently KitKats are often given to Japanese children studying for exams, because the name resembles the Japanese phrase “きっと勝つ” (you will succeed). Also, sweet potato was a popular dish in university towns.



She also gave us a packet of まんじゅう (Japanese bean-jam buns). The picture on the front shows Barack Obama and the mayor of a city called Obama in Fukui Prefecture. This city had been supporting Obama throughout his election campaign and one of the things they did was start producing this variety of buns.



The colour of the buns is not very politically correct, but they are pretty tasty!

I went to France for five days after Christmas, as a friend I had met while studying at Yamasa invited me to visit him. I had to take a plane from London Stansted to Nantes in the northwest of France. My friend came to meet me at the airport along with his brother (who is actually studying Korean) and a friend of his. We then drove for about two hours to the town my friend is from which is called Laval. It’s a nice town with lots of little shops and cafés and even a castle and a cathedral. It’s a nice place to visit and stroll around, but I can imagine it would be a bit dull to grow up there, as the nearest big city is pretty far away.

I spent the next two days and the end of my trip with my friend’s family. They were really nice and made me feel very welcome. Apart from my friend’s brother who I had already met, he has a sister about fifteen years old and a younger brother about twelve. I was expecting his sister to be a bit of a brat from his description, but she was really sweet. Her and the younger brother were pretty shy around me. My friend’s mother was very friendly and I really enjoyed chatting with her. She loves the British TV shows “Doctor Who” and “Torchwood” and is a bit of a computer geek. His father was a bit stern, but still a nice guy. I didn’t see him so much because he was working and also got sick while I was there.

My friend had told me previously that we would probably have a party with some of his friends for New Year’s Eve. However, after I arrived he announced that we would be going to Paris instead with his brother and the friend who I had already met. When his father found out about this he was not happy and seemed reluctant to let us use the family car. He even asked me if I was okay about going. I said I didn’t mind, but to be honest I wasn’t keen on the idea. I had little choice though, but to go along with the plan. In the end we didn’t leave for Paris until 9:30 in the evening and it took us over four hours to get there. I was looking forward to going to bed and getting up fairly early the next day to do some sightseeing.

However, my companions had other ideas. First of all when we arrived I couldn’t believe my friend had referred to his brother’s place as an “apartment”. It was more like a box room with a kitchen area and a bathroom (there were four of us). Also, my plans to go straight to bed were thwarted, as the others wanted to stay up and drink, smoke etc. I didn’t fall asleep until about 4:30. None the less I woke up before lunch and I was determined not to waste the day. So while the others stayed in bed I went exploring the local area on my own. Later on when I returned the others finally surfaced and we went to the Eiffel Tower. I had wanted to skip the touristy things, but again I went along with the majority decision.

That night I assumed we would be going to a bar or something to celebrate the New Year. My friend had been very vague about our actual plans. In the end our “plan” was just to go to the Champs-Élysées to meet some people they knew. When we arrived I wasn’t surprised by how crowded it was, but by the number of police in full riot gear and the people who would randomly let off fireworks on the street. I expected there to be a big fireworks display like in London. However, instead the Eiffel Tower was just lip up. Also there was some kind of minor firework display, although that might have just been fireworks let off by people on the street.

Then just before midnight I got separated from the others in the crowd. By the time I got my bearings I had lost sight of them. I tried looking around and calling my friend and his brother’s mobiles, but I got no answer. I finally got hold of them after over an hour and my friend’s brother gave me vague directions of where to meet them. I tried following the directions the best I could, but I had no idea of where I was. Also, after that I couldn’t get hold of my friend or his brother again on their mobiles. I couldn’t even return to the apartment, as the trains weren’t running to the nearest station and I couldn’t get in anyway without a key.

Fortunately everything ended up okay in the end. I met two groups of French people around my age who were very kind and insisted I stay with them when I explained my situation. It turned out I’d need to get a taxi to where the others were and they advised me that my chances of getting one were slim. I was enjoying chatting to these people anyway, despite being strangers and the cold. We mostly spoke in French, but one guy who was really drunk kept on saying to me in English randomly “Where is your friend?!”. I got the impression that they felt he had let me down. Anyway, the trains started running again and so I could finally return to the apartment. When I arrived the others were already there sleeping. By that point I was just delighted to get to bed.

In conclusion, my trip to France was definitely an experience. Apart from meeting my friend’s family the best part of the trip was using the French I had learnt. I was able to speak to my friend’s family and friends in French nearly all the time. It was also fun when I went exploring on my own to speak to people in cafés and shops. However, if I ever in that situation again I’ll make sure I have my own place to stay, or at least my own key!

I had my work Christmas party two Fridays ago. I had been looking forward to it, as we were attending a murder mystery evening. I'm the sort of person who as a child used to watch murder mysteries with their parents and tried to work out who the killer was. Also, Christmas parties are a good chance to see another side to your colleagues. Well, sometimes you found out stuff you'd rather not know!

Well, the evening was a bit of a letdown. The murder mystery turned out not to be a serious thing, but a comedy event. Basically the owner of this department store had been murdered and we had to work out which of the staff did it. The cast were all stereotypes of course; the office tart, the camp guy etc. Cue lots of bawdey jokes and innuendo. After an introduction in the bar type area we went to have dinner, which was interrupted at regular intervals by the cast who gave us updates on the murder investigation. Like we really cared.

The evening as a whole was pretty average. It didn't help that I was stuck at a table with people I didn't know so well. The food was also awful. We had a full course meal and the main was a roast dinner. Except it was like one of those microwave roast dinners that taste like eating toilet paper. The highlight was two of my colleagues got roped into helping out with the murder mystery. The camp Australian business development manager had to play a security guard and one of the eccentric staff from our clinical unit had to play a drug-dealing nurse.

Well, I spent the next day in bed with what I suspect was food poisoning. I couldn't even keep water down I felt so bad. I can't prove it, but I put the blame firmly on the seafood starter I had the night before. Oh well, at least I didn't pay for it!

When I was in high school I had a "friend" who used to make fun of me for "speaking posh". I remember another friend advised me to try and not speak so posh, because then I wouldn't draw attention to myself! Even though like any teenager I could be self-conscious I ignored both of them. Today I went with another mate to visit a friend we used to work with. We had lunch in a café converted from an old railway carriage and looked around the local markets. We had a good time though it was really cold. It didn't help that the door from the café was open the whole time. The area where I met my friend is called Deptford and is in south London. Before we met up my friend warned me it wasn't the "most glamorous of areas". When we arrived and exited the train station, myself and my other friend found we were on the high street. Three kids about half our size walked past us. They didn't give us a second look until I started speaking to my friend. Then they stopped and started staring us down. They kept looking at us as they kept walking up the street. When my friend arrived and we told her what happened she said jokingly, "Next time you come here to see me try speaking more chavey!"