Schools, skulls, and an old lady.
One of that funny and awkward things happened to me at New Orleans art markets.
So, here I'm again! My wife Oygul returned home from her vacation to New York, and my iPad returned with her. Both are safe, sound, and tired from traveling but happy. I shifted some of the households (read three cats) and not only worries onto her shoulders.
So you and I can finally return to the funny stories and silly butts world.
It happened to me on one Halloween day. I did an art market on Frenchman street in New Orleans. As you may know, New Orleans is famous for its unusual cemeteries, stories about ghosts and vampires, and voodoo magicians. It is rightly called The City of the Dead.
No, we are all pretty alive here, but the dead play some role in our life, popping (I could hardly resist not using the word "pooping") everywhere daily.
So, I'm standing in the middle of the art market, selling my artwork. But, unfortunately (or not?), that market was at night, and the night was pretty cold that day (yeah, we have cold nights here, sometimes...)
My face was so cold that I couldn't even smile anymore, and I just sat down in a chair next to my desk and heater to have a hot tea break when an old lady came into sight.
She was tall and thin, had short gray spiky hair, and was wrapped in several layers of colored scarves.
We started talking, and I knew from her accent that she was English.
So, I was about to ask her if she was somehow related to Professor McGonagall when she suddenly asked me, "Why is everyone here so obsessed with skulls?!"
At this point, I must remind you that English is not my native language; therefore, I often get into "difficult in translation" situations.
Her "skulls" sounded like "schools" to me, and I hesitated to decide what she was talking about for a minute. Did she mean art movements and schools or public schools or what?
You have no idea how fast your brain starts to work when you think in one language, speak in another, and simultaneously, something else goes wrong.
So I wouldn't say that New Orleans has any noticeable obsession for anything that can be attributed to schools (you can change my mind here). Except that everyone loves the Tigers, the Louisiana State University football team.
But she definitely wasn't talking about football, right?
I didn't find anything better than to ask what she meant. And she immediately replied, "Skulls!" It sounded like "schools" again, and I realized we stack.
Then I asked her, "What are schools?"
I always start laughing at this moment because I imagine all the marasmus of the situation from the outside.
The most exciting thing is that my neighbor artists in the market didn't laugh, didn't giggle in their sleeves, and didn't even smile, waiting for the denouement.
Maybe they heard "schools," too?
The old lady didn't even raise an eyebrow at my idiotic question. Instead, she pointed her finger at the skull on my table and said articulately, "Skull! This is a skull!"
After that, laughter and remarks about the city of the dead rushed from everywhere. It turned out that quite a lot of people had gathered around us.
The lady gave them all a look of pity, tucked one of her scarves up, and slowly vanished into the darkness outside the art market.
I still can't stop thinking if she heard what I said to her, "schools" instead of "skulls"? Or do my "schools" sound like "skulls"?
Oygul noted that my "years" sound like "ears," for example.