Although often frustrating (not to mention embarrassing), there is something quite pleasant about living in a country where the native language isn't your own.
I am appalled to say that after years of living in Hong Kong, I can still only speak taxi Cantonese, but that means that I can often get away with saying things without people understanding me – in French usually, since to say that English is widespoken here would be like saying that foie gras is only slightly calorific.
However, there is the odd occasion where the inverse happens – a Cantonese person will spot my linguistic shortcomings and take full advantage of them. I probably miss 99% of these "tests", but occasionally I'll hear a familiar word, usually slang, and notice that I am being taken for a ride.
This limited knowledge of Cantonese insults led to me slapping a man across the face in a cinema once – after asking him to be quiet when his phone rang loudly during the film and he proceeded to answer it in an even louder voice, he turned around and muttered something under his breath. I of course showed my displeasure, and he then told me with scorn to do things to my mother which can not be repeated here. Thankfully I had learned how to say them... My hand just reacted for me...
Anyway, this morning, another such incident occurred. As a man delivered our shopping to our home, he said something that sounded like it contained the word "beautiful" to me. Flattered that he liked our home – but why was he looking at my cleavage so much? – I thanked him and he left.
After a quick search online, turns out he was telling me, repeatedly "nice tits, lady".
Cantonese 101 starts now.
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