Nobody answers my phonecalls. Nobody.
Plus, the word “phonecall” doesn’t appear in my Firefox’ spelling dictionary, in Google Translate, in Merriam-Webster Collegiate Dictionary and not even in the Oxford English Dictionary online. I guess that i should write “phone call”, but there are over 400,000 Google hits for “phonecall”. OED, MW, and Google, please wake up.
People in North America have some weird misunderstandings about food. In North America a “bakery” is a place that sells sweet pastry, that was not necessarily baked at the same place or on the same day.
In France a bakery is a place in which various types of bread and perhaps also sweet pastry are baked and sold as fresh as possible. It is the same way in Israel, although in France there are probably many more of them. (The good thing about Israeli bakeries is that you can usually be sure that there’s no animal fat in the bread.)
In France they hardly sell bread in the supermarket – only weird and desperate people would buy bread in a plastic bag in a supermarket when such wonderful fresh bread can be bought near one’s home.
We traveled in many places in North America and hoped to find a bakery that sells fresh bread, but all the “bakeries” just sell sweet stuff. We love sweet stuff, but not too much of it.
But hey, that’s probably on of the reasons why so many Americans dream about going to Europe.
Today everyone seems to have to write something about John Lennon. Me too.
I was born in the Soviet Union, where finding foreign records was hard. But my mother was a Beatles fan, so she had Imagine and Let It Be on vinyl. These were the records with which i learned how to use a phonograph at the age of three or four. I was lucky.
I liked Imagine more; many modern critics would probably agree. I loved all the songs on it, but especially “Gimme Some Truth”. I didn’t know English then, but i loved the melody. I loved the line “Ma-ri-pa-ta-oon” at the end of the chorus. Only about sixteen years later i finally found out that he actually sings “money for dope, money for rope”.
But it’s “Ma-ri-pa-ta-oon” for all i care. (Linguists call it “Perceptive phonetics”, but it’s not really important.)