The Joys of Cantonese

Well, after rowing practice yesterday, I'm all sore again. I can hardly move. But after reading Harry Potter and listening to some nice music, I feel much better. Yang lent me the Les Choristes soundtrack, and that is beautiful music. But I think my capacity for understanding French has withered, because I only know understand the titles of the songs and a few words here and there. I also learned some Cantonese yesterday from my dad while we were TV shopping (TV busted. All we see now is a thin colorful line on a black screen). I can now recite my colors and can say some simple sentences. I'm proud of retaining at least some of it. Sadly, most of them revolve around food. And I sound like a kindergardener, saying stuff like 'I drink orange juice' with a horrible accent. And all the words sound the same to me, so I ended up saying once that I drink apple porridge. Whoops. Oh the joys of the Chinese language.