We're all in various stages of jet lag, and it's hot as hell here in the daytime. Even the hotel has ruins in it. On the way to the breakfast area there is a kind of diorama of a excavated wall.
Malu is completely unimpressed by all the ruins. It's just old busted-up walls and buildings to her. I explain that, for centuries, there weren't neo-classical post offices, government buildings, train stations, and monuments all over the world like there are now. This ubiquitous style was a result of some obsession and rediscovery of the Parthenon, the Acropolis, and other sites that set that architectural ball rolling a few centuries ago. So these ruins are looked upon now as the Ur structures, the primeval model of what an imposing civic structure should look like. And, of course, how could she know that their crumbly nature makes them all the more romantic. That's a nutty concept for a kid's head to wrap itself around (not that anyone should necessarily buy into the romantic notion of ruins).
She's reading an Ian McEwan book for school, and I have to help her with its Britishisms. Even the weird syntax and grammar is peculiarly British. What's a QC? (I dunno) What are Y-fronts? (that one I knew) All of which makes it seem 'real' — of a place and a time, but also awfully parochial and limiting for a book that's not in the "voice" of a lad or provincial lout.
But, of course, the Brits claim it's their language and they can mangle it as they see fit.
