Day Two Hundred and Fifty Six

It's funny (and stupid) how a simple emoticon depicting a smile is enough to placate me.

Also, I had two incredibly amusing conversations with taxi drivers.
First conversation:
"Where are you from?" (actually, I think most people ask this of me as a conversational starter).
And seeing as taxi driver 1 looks relatively Asian (I'm allowed to make stereotypes), I answer that I come from Hong Kong. I also sneak a furtive look at his ID card, which tells me that his last name is Chang. Which is odd because his accent is decidedly not from China. So I politely ask him where he is from.
He is from Korea.
What I took away from this encounter: all Asians speak English with a different accent. And Chang is a Korean surname.
Taxi driver 1 has been taking health scis all morning to the first UMAT session and asks if I'm a health sci (which I hurriedly correct... for all people out there who do not know what a health sci is, these are first year university students who are taking health science, and who all think first year health science is equivalent to pre med. They are also the most annoying undergrads on the face of the planet).
After finishing that conversation snippet of why I am doing UMAT when I am not a health sci, the atmosphere in the car grows slightly awkward as you can tell that both of us are trying to think of some conversational starter. Eventually, we end up talking about the snow that fell on Sunday. And then we arrive. Taxi driver 1 wishes me good luck and drives away cheerfully.

Getting out of the car, I run into my current almost lover's/not-quite-ex's/once-every-two-monthly-boyfriend's fan club. Ughhhhhhhhhh. But I smirk anyway because facades and appearances are important.

Taxi driver 2:
He pulls up and lets me in. He is also a cute little Asian man. Once again, I get asked the same question. "Where are you from?"
At this point, I am tired and hungry... so I stutter somewhat when I reply. "Like, c-country wise?"
"Yes, country." He gives me a sideways look that could be interpreted as "Duh".
"Oh, I'm from Hong Kong."
"Hong Kong, shang gang, eh?" (shang gang = Hong Kong in Mandarin)
I nod.
"Oh, ni ke bu ke yi shou zhong wen?" (i.e. can you speak Chinese?)
"Yi dian dian." (i.e. a little). I ready myself for a torrent of Mandarin because generally when Chinese people realise you understand Chinese, they usually spout out tenmilliongazillionwordspersecond. And this puts me on the edge because my Mandarin is absolutely shit.
But to my surprise, he simply says "That's very good. Many Chinese in Western countries can't speak Chinese any more."
I hide any sign of surprise in my next question. "Oh, so you are from China... Hong Kong..." I trail off.
His reply stuns me. "No. I am from Korea."
I don't bother hiding my awe. "Wow. And you learnt Chinese? That's fantastic."
"I learnt it so I can read Chinese novels."

This man is legendary.

"Is Chinese similar to Korean?" I ask conversationally.
He shakes his head emphatically. "No. The two are very different. Korean and Japanese however, are quite similar syntactically."

Taxi driver 2 just earned fifty more points upon the use of the word 'syntactically'.

But taxi driver 2 doesn't seem to feel the same awe that I do as he sighs rather resigned. "I can read it, but when I speak it... mei you ren ke yi dong" (i.e. no one can understand me).
I try to placate him. "Oh, no. You speak it just fine. Your Mandarin is ten times better than mine. I can't even read Chinese."

I forgot what he said at this point. But somehow the conversation changes and he asks me if I'm a health sci... which I also hurriedly correct.
"A pharmacy student, eh?" He nods somewhat approvingly. "My daughter studied pharmacy. She wanted to do dentistry, but I told her, 'Why do you want to be a dentist? You don't want to spend the rest of your life looking into dirty mouths'."
I laugh appreciatively. There is no love lost between the School of Dentistry and the School of Pharmacy. Actually, we generally have nothing to do with each other simply because we're physically so far away from each other.
Taxi driver 2 continues. "So I tell her, study pharmacy instead and marry a dentist."
This elicits a genuine laugh from me because this comment is so much like what my friends and I would say to each other.
But he hasn't finished. "My daughter failed at that second part. She married an IT boy instead."
I try to think of a polite way of saying that IT men have nice salaries too. But taxi driver 2 gets there first. "Oh, but I still like him. IT is a good career too. He is a manager for the IT part of things in a gold mining company."
"Oh, definitely. IT is just as good as dentistry." I echo. "Gold mining company? That's really cool.'
Taxi driver 2 chuckles. "I thought he'd get paid in gold nuggets, but all he gets that is gold is his gold visa card."

I LOVE puns. This man is pure GOLD.

"Well, as long as the company pays for the expenses on the visa card, I'd say that's just as good."
He laughs appreciatively. "They pay for his expenses if he goes overseas, so yes, it's still a very nice arrangement."
There's a pause before I ask if his daughter is still a pharmacist. And so we chat about pharmacy and finding an intern place. I swear, if all my future patients are as awesome as this man, I will be very happy.
When we arrive outside my flat, he checks the price on the meter (which is $15.60). I pull out a $20 note and he rummages around for change. "I'll give you a discount,-"
"- Oh, that's not necessary," I interrupt.
"No, no. I only give discounts to pretty girls. If you're ugly, I rip you off." He cackles as he hands me back $15.
I thank him and wish him a good evening as I get out of the car.

So, trilingual taxi drivers are now pretty high up on my list of awesome.