July 26, 2012

Casa Fuster, Habana, Cuba. February, 2012

I remember when I was learning French in high school, all the students wanted to learn how to say the “dirty words.” And while there are plenty of them in French, none were taught in class, not even by our shifty and somewhat questionable teacher, M. Chevance. When I went to Czechoslovakia in 1972, I knew three different ways to say “drunk,” all of which proved useful in a country where tumblers of vodka were offered at breakfast. I can say two things in Swiss German -- one means hello, the other means something less cordial and I have to control myself from saying it while changing planes in Zurich Airport. So imagine my delight upon finding among the ceramic decorations in this collectively ornamented community a tile that boldly announced ¡Coño! I assume it was put there by a teenager. But maybe not.

No comments:

Post a Comment