Pendragon Language Teaching

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Feel free to browse through the short stories and texts.

Content may be used for private and educational use only. Copyright, Carl Taylor 2009.

The General Manager

Carl
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“Welcome! Welcome!”
The voice was calling us from behind large wrought iron gates, from beyond the manicured gardens where steps led up to the veranda of the brand new hotel.
“Welcome!”
A figure stepped down from the veranda and walked towards us along the gravel path.
We had walked two kilometres along a dusty track that followed the sea, two kilometres along which we had been hassled by villagers, hassled by animals, hassled by insects and now this welcoming voice was offering escape.
The gates swung open and the hotel manager stood before us in a neat open neck shirt and clean trousers.
“You are looking for a hotel?”
“We didn’t know there was a hotel at this end of the village. You aren’t in the book.”

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Struggling in Paradise

Thursday, 15 October 2009 16:37 Carl
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India knows no distinction between the wealthy traveller and the impoverished backpacker. It has no regard for either. The size of one’s wallet merely determines the degree to which the traveller suffers. But suffer he will, one way or another.
We had booked flights from Madras to Port Blair on the Andaman Islands. These islands are closer to Burma and Thailand than India but they are Indian territory and so are administered from Delhi. Indians can travel freely to Port Blair, and many are positively encouraged to do so by the Indian government, which wants to populate the islands with mainland Indians. And so squatters come by the boat load, erect shanty towns and tin hovels and ply their trades as they do in Calcutta, Madras and Bombay.
We chose to fly from Madras by East-West airlines.

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A journey to Cairo

Thursday, 15 October 2009 16:34 Carl
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“They are Egyptians, my friend. They will never change.”
Thus spoke Rashid, a Gulf Arab, elegant but plump in his long white dishdasha, Muslim cap and bushy black beard.
“But surely, it is easier for you. You speak the language; you know the culture.”
He sipped his tea and smiled benignly. “They see us in our white dishdashas, they think all Gulf people are Saudis. They make us pay more than they make you pay. We must argue over everything.”

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