Be nice...but not too nice

True story 1
I heard a violin at my door. Strange, since usually music is played in the hall of the hotel and when the last hour arrives it should be in the form of a white lady to welcome you to heaven, not a violin. Anyway, the nurse confirmed there was someone indeed playing in the ward. 5 minutes after they were literally at my door and I thought it would be nice to retribute with my presence. So I went to the door, smiled and applauded at the end. It was a Pakistani trio. Maybe Indian, I couldn't distinguish from the dressing and instruments. A nurse apologized, I said it was perfectly fine. And she turned to them, 'good, good, you can play 2 more". Heyyyy! 2 more at my door? Its cool but don't over do it.
True story 2
The cleaner, male (Indian, this time he said it himself. I didn't have to guess and miss it), decided to establish conversation for the first time. Wrong subject. "You are loosing hair" - yes I am loosing it, indeed it is everywhere! Next: "where are you from?". The rest was a bit a try and guess what was being said because I could not understand him to the point where he said something, I said something like "mhm mhm" and he looked at me for an answer. "Sorry, (I admitted) what did you say?". In between we both agreed we would love to visit our countries. Though I could not really be 100% sure if he already visited mine. At least he could establish the link Goa and Portugal. "Oh Goa, yes I need to go there as it used to be Portuguese" I said. I hope he didn't take too bad my property over that part of India. And then another pearl, he says "Portugal is very clean" (so he might have gone there after all!), more than England. England is very dirty!!! He must know what he is saying.
True story 3
I lost my head and decided to share a Pierre Marcolini chocolate (thanks P.) with one of the assistants. Again what a mistake. she is from Philippines and kept a strong Asian accent....we could not understand each other. We had an absurd, but short exchange. "You need to try these wonderful Belgian chocolates that a colleague got me from Brussels" I said. "Ah! nice friend post chocolates from Brazil, nice" She said. "Well not Brazil, he sent them from Brussels, Belgium" I said . " Nice, nice. (she looks at the package) Ah he courriered or posted? No post." She said. By then I was pretty lost. I have a box of PM chocolates , were they posted or delivered in hand? Who cares, they are so goooood!. Lol

Note: Going through this post I can think of some politically correct British minds thinking : OMG what a prejudice, racist bastard. Well lets face it we are all from different nationalities. The ones mentioned above are the real ones, but could be totally different and still make for the same story. And the simple fact is that we could not understand each other. In the benefit of the doubt about my pure intentions my Portuguese assistant here in the ward is also quite a character and her English is not great other. So I need to do a post on her.