Canadians try to make up for being covered with snow and rain for six or nine or whatever months of the year by being outside as much as possible during the summer. This is in direct contrast with Iranians, who cower inside hiding from the the relentless heat of summer sun, and avoid going out as much as possible (although you wouldn’t guess that from midday Tehran traffic), only stepping out in the evenings.
One of the many outdoor events going on in Halifax was a public picnic at Citadel hill in downtown- it had some fancy PR name like the incredible picnic or something. There was a huge tent where local farmers sold their stuff- ice cream, sausages, home-made burgers, another tent with animals, a live band, and an aquarium with lobsters and crabs in it which the golden boy loved and wouldn’t come away from. It was a lovely hot sunny day, perfect for a picnic. There were free samples of the sausages- and I tell you, I haven’t tasted very many things better than home-made honey and garlic organic Nova Scotian sausages. I was ashamed of going round the tent, taking free samples more than once, but I couldn’t help myself.
After that, we strolled down the waterfront, looking over at the sparkling blue ocean and the throngs of haligonians dressed up in their scanty summer finery. There is a large cement wave at the waterfront, the princess took off her sandals and began climbing up it, then sliding down, screaming with laughter. Her antics attracted other kids, and soon the wave was covered with kids, some of them not so small, scrambling up the steep cement slope on hands and knees, and then sliding down again.
One of the advantages of having a mother tongue other than English is that you can swear at English-speaking Canadians freely and with impunity. I remember as a little girl attending an English primary, I would call other little girls who were getting on my nerves a phart in farsi, laughing loudly at them, and then telling them it meant a beautiful flower. They knew it didn’t.
And so, on that lovely sunny halifax Sunday afternoon, my daughter and I happily called other huge rough boys who shoved and pushed and interrupted her slide on the wave “male donkey” and “male giant- get out of the way” in Farsi, secure in the knowledge they couldn’t understand.
It was only later we noticed a small printed notice by the wave: “Do Not Climb.”
Tags: children, farsi, Farsi insults, Halifax, insults, picnic
January 29, 2009 at 2:08 am |
Oh, I see, so you are one of those freaky Iranian women who sleeps around. Congratulations, you Iranian women have won the cheapest sluts award of the century.