zao, zao, zao calls the director boss from the hallway. zao, crows back french father.
he turns to me, multiple grins lighting up his face. his happy to be alive face, his happy to be here face, his happy to be talking to me face, his happy to be explaining something face, his happy memory of the past face, his happy happy face.
when i first went to taiwan, he says, to learn chiiinese, the first lesson on the first day was the chinese word ‘zAO’ which means ‘good morning’. the next day i was walking in the street and i met a fellow who said to me, zao! i knew it meant something, i knew i knew what it meant, but i couldn’t remember. and then i did remember, it was the first thing i learned! zao! good morning! so i turned around to say zao to him, and he was already 20 feet down the street, but i yelled zao at him and he laughed and laughed. zao. zAO!
director boss pokes his head in the door drawn by the constant repetition of zao and my giggles and asks, learning your first chinese word?
zao, chortles french father as he turns back to his computer. zAO. he puts emphasis on the ‘ow’ ending. like za-ow, but said really fast.
Zao!
i love the french father and his witchy ways.
my first chinese word was ni hao (regular hello), but I remember zao too, even though I don’t remember much more.
my first was nihao too (which i picked up from ranma 1/2). and then shie shie (sp?).
that was my first and only, which i picked up from you picking it up from ranma.
it’s probably spelled xie xie.
Or hwee hwee?
snort.
in addition, french father has now taken up serenading me with latin opera along with the classical radio station playing in our section of the library. i’m touched.
you should sing him my song about how french people are better than all other people. except the part where the singer decides to kill anyone who isn’t french. don’t give him ideas.
at the beach or at the pool it’s no big deal to show his breasts!