Life with Puss

My crack-addled citrus continues to go gangbusters. If this were like last year, I'd come home to find the house delicately scented with lemon blossoms.

Instead, it smells like fish oil.

Early this morning, it was so strong that I was convinced the cat had barfed somewhere, so I turned on the lights and looked in all the likely spots. (Cat vomit is not something you want to put off discovering!) I didn't find anything, but I'm far from convinced the reason is that there's nothing to be found.

At least her appetite seems to have returned, so it won't be like last time when I feared she'd starve to death on my watch. Of course, this only makes the mewing outside my door at four in the morning all the more puzzling.

Also, she bit me--on my feeding hand! Clearly, cats have no use for bromides.

"Was hast du mit deinem Türkisch gemacht?" "Weggeworfen."

Tonight, we watched Gegen die Wand. (English title: Head-On; literal translation: Against the Wall.) Nuphy told me I'd really enjoy it because of all the code-switching; Nuphy so totally has my number.

The female protagonist is German-born, but her parents are Turkish immigrants; her male counterpart moved to Hamburg from Turkey as a child. (The same is true for the actors who play them.) The male protagonist's best friend speaks just enough German to order a beer, so they always chat in Turkish. Yet when he meets the female lead's brother, the latter tells him (in German) that his Turkish is a mess and asks him what he's done with it. "Thrown it away," he mumbles.

Unlike in Monsoon Wedding, where Hindi, Punjabi, and English alternate so freely that only three minor characters ever confine themselves to one, the switching in this film all appears well-motivated. For instance, three Turkish men are playing rummy jack with the male lead and chatting entirely in German. One invites him to join them at a brothel, but he responds, "Why don't y'all fuck your own wives?" The man becomes infuriated and tells him "NEVER use the word 'fuck' in conjunction with our wives!" When the protagonist reacts coolly, he screams "DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" in Turkish. (Not because he thinks the protagonist will understand it better--he knows how bad his Turkish is--but merely for added emphasis. Meanwhile, the wives are in the other conversing in Turkish--about fucking.)

One of the oddest bits of it comes late in the film when the male lead is trying to track down the female lead in Istanbul. He speaks to her cousin in Turkish because she doesn't know any German. But when he's trying to talk about his emotional connexion to the other woman, he switches--to English. (Again, for emphasis; I speculate he chose English since it's something he knew a hotel manager in Turkey would understand.) Earlier, his cabbie had asked him where he was from; although he's previously answered this question with "Mersin", his birthplace on the Mediterranean near Adana, he says, "Hamburg." The driver immediately switches to German. "I'm from Munich!" "Oh no, does that mean you're a Bavarian?"

Unfortunately, I expected we'd be watching either 8 femmes or 阿飛正傳 (Days of Being Wild), so I had my Cantonese grammar with me but not my Turkish one and missed a lot of subtleties. (Without it, I can only recognise a few words--"mine", "there isn't", "no", and the like.) Just as well--I don't really have time for Turkish right now.