My German professor in high school smoked cigarettes in the classroom. His voice grated the cinderblock walls with a tobacco rasp. We read Kafta's DAS URTEIL from a blue book. My Boston accent defiled the Teutonic language with the absence of 'R's. My 1st semester grade was an F. I was on academic scholarship. My failure was a disgrace to the testing system. The Principal and Vice-Principal suggested a change of language.
Spanish.
I refused their offer.
2nd semester was another F in German and another in religion. I no longer believed in god. The school took away my scholarship. I remained at Xaverian and studied German. My accent never improved despite Bruder Karl's tutorship. He failed two more times. I graduated from high school without any honors other than the annual delivery of Bruder Karl's Xmas card.
"You were my star student."
I doubted him until living in Hamburg. 1982. I spoke Auslander Deutsche at the door of a pimp's nightclub. BSIR.
"Es tut mir lied."
I did some things for which I was sorry, but I have never heard a Thai person say that they were sorry.
"Kor thod."
Your girlfriend can burn your house down with a burn-the-house-down smile.
No sorry.
Leave you for another man.
No sorry.
Say you don't love them enough.
No sorry.
Their lack of contrition is a parody of the famous adage from the movie LOVE STORY.
"Being in love is never having to say sorry."
Thais love everyone.
Beauty never says sorry to the Beast.
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