LOL

In this morning’s Portuguese lesson, Ilidio struck upon the idea to descend the stairs and chat to Tomas, one of the building guards/janitors, who was enthusiastic about the idea. The rationale was that interacting with a different person and accent will attune my ears as listening is still the most daunting facet of the language. Tomas tried to push our chat to the weekend when he’d be freer. I stopped short of reminding him that every time I encounter him during the week he’s chilling on the wall either with his headphones, or asking me to arrange a job for his brother.

Tomas’s accent is wonderfully clear and we chatted about fruit production in the UK compared to Mozambique, as people often want to know whether mangoes and papayas are available in other countries. Tomas, sadly they are not unless you wanna pay £1.40 for a paltry sized mango that may or may not ripen depending on how bothered you can be to first wrap it in newspaper and then monitor it for the two-hour window between hardness and fermentation. I struggled on the UK fruit production side after apples and pears.

My work credit card has been suspected of fraudulent use, which may be because I have tried to use a website called ‘LOL Travel’ to make a flight booking. LOL Travel suggested Egyptian as my default nationality, which seems like a wild punt. There’s not much ‘lol’ about not being able to make travel bookings when your visa expires on 03 March and it’s essential to leave the country that day.

As I left the gym, Tshinde and Lundula were in the neighbourhood and I benefited from a lift up the hill and some gifted churros con chocolate, fresh and warm from the fryer. It was a successful journey home. Here are the spoils, dumped on top of less interesting work paraphernalia. Helena the landlady’s tablecloth is very ‘busy’, like most of the decor in this apartment. If I stay much longer I’ll need to head more in the direction of scandi-chic, which was the surprising route I took for my flat in Cambridge, and where the greys and yellows were coordinated and more calming. Helena has some psychedelic orange and green cushions that need to be banished to a distant cupboard.

It was the starkest warning of the generation gap when in Cambridge a 20-something used the word ‘lol’ as an actual word in response to something amusing. It held no sway with me.