Mothers are a foreign country – pt. 1


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How mothers can prove in less than 150 characters that they have no taste in music, no tact, and no idea about geography.

After almost a month of silence, my mother sends me a laconic text message stating she has received her birthday present. The present in question is a CD by Ólöf Arnalds — not the latest, the previous one. Mother’s opinion, in less than fifteen words, is the CD sounds like Japanese music, although of course she knows it’s not Japanese but Icelandic from the bits of text contained in it. She doesn’t know Icelandic, but she can tell it’s not Japanese because titles and credits — but I doubt she actually looked at anything besides the title on the cover — look like they are written with some sort of alphabet, although very bizarre; Japanese is written differently, of course, a bit like hieroglyphs, but without the fancy little birds and men with bobbed hair doing stuff. She doesn’t say if she likes the music or not: I can affirm from experience that this is evidence she doesn’t like it or, rather, that she doesn’t get it at all. She concludes her message saying she’s happy I’m living in Iceland instead of Japan right now, like they were close countries and one could end up in either of them just for a chance.