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Opoudjis in acts of public diplomacy
Boarding the flight to London in Melbourne, I overhear the couple with baby in front of me discussing with airport staff their transit to Brussels. The following conversation ensues:
ME: Oh, so you’re going on to Brussels too.
ME: My commiserations.
GUY: ˈæktʊəliː, ai hiːr ɪt ɪz ə ˈwʊndəɹfuːl destɪˈneːʃən.
ME: Oh. Uh, yeah, it’s great. Looking forward to it.
VERY MUCH FLEMISH GUY: *talks to wife in very much Flemish*
Just call me Bridge Between Nations.
Posting this from Hong Kong Airport Sauna. Which is coextensive with Hong Kong Airport, really. Have already lost my boarding pass once so far. It’s going to be a looooong trip.
I’ve purchased one of them newfangled digital camera thingies — for those who care, and that’s not me, it’s a Canon IXUS 80 IS or something. I spent my insomniac hours in the plane grappling with the user manual. My memory is shot enough as is; there’s no way I’m going to remember any more than Point, Click, Drool.
Alors, On to Heathrow.