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scott's avatar

Bom dia. I recall one of my first excursions into the neighborhood Pingo Doce. I don't think I was yet aware of the 'Ola, bom dia' component of the check-out interaction. The security guard next to the register where I was paying made a grumbling comment in English, as if to the wind, but the fact that he did so in English meant it was directed at me. These days I am usually good with the opening salutation, but I find that I get flustered trying to use my broken Portuguese and often forget to add 'por favor' at the appropriate point in the request, often rushing to add it, after the fact. Still learning that I am retired and in no hurry. There is time to say good morning, please, and thank you. Tchau.

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Switter’s World's avatar

In Zimbabwe, while waiting in queue at the bank for hours at a time to do things as simple as depositing a cheque, I took to reading long Russian novels. It helped keep my mind off murder, it helped me to check off the thick ones on my Hundred Books Everyone Must Read Before They Die list, and it seemed so appropriate in a country that called itself Modern Socialist Zimbabwe.

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