English example sentences with "Greg"

I am sure that Greg is going to follow in his father's footsteps.
Translate from English to Spanish

"Jos, we're losing tyre, we're losing lots of tyre. Try to make a move, try to make a move." "What do you think I'm doing, Greg?"
Translate from English to Spanish

Greg has the grace of a swan, the wisdom of an owl, and the eye of an eagle. Ladies and gentlemen, this man is for the birds!
Translate from English to Spanish

Greg the pastor asks, "What are you reading?" Nonong answers, "Do you know Le Guin? She’s a fantasy writer."
Translate from English to Spanish

In the cafe, Greg the pastor asks, "What are you reading?" Viktor answers, "It is an Esperanto-French dictionary, an antique from 1936."
Translate from English to Spanish

Texas Governor Greg Abbott urged residents, if possible, to shut off water to their homes, to prevent pipes from bursting and preserve water pressure in municipal systems.
Translate from English to Spanish

The Journal also cites Chicago Tribune music writer Greg Kot, who said the phrase took hold in the '80s, and presumably gained a more negative connotation, among indie-rock fans "having their sneer at mainstream classic rock."
Translate from English to Spanish

I've seen Greg incidentally at Starbucks café on Lulu Island for some years, but only today morning, on the 14th of August of 2022, we formally introduced to each other. He is a Filipino from Nueva Ecija, and he came to Canada at age 18 in 1977. He lived in Edmonton and Calgary in Alberta for some twenty years, then moved to here in BC. He is a devout Baptist Protestant, converted in Canada from Roman Catholicism, who carries his Bible to the café. I told him that when my father was alive, our house had Bible meetings for our Filipino Baptist community. I told Greg that I'm Buddhist. I talked to him about Buddhism and Daoism, this latter of which he knew little. I'm glad to meet a Filipino, like me, who came to Canada very young and has lived in Canada for a vaster period.
Translate from English to Spanish

Some people think that Greg and I are like Filipino Hispanics. This Saturday morning on the 20th of August of 2022, Greg eats apple chips, and I salted potato chips with black iced tea, at the neighbourhood café. He mentions that he doesn't always go to church on Sunday, because maybe he feels down about life. We talk about the Philippines having mainly three blending peoples, Malays, Chinese, and Spanish. We wonder if most Filipinos really have Spanish and Chinese blood. Many Filipinos don't trace their genealogy. I mention to him that as one just lands at the Manila airport, one sees that the majority are really Malay-looking people. We talk about Jehovah's Witnesses and Mormons. I list some countries, in four continents, to which I've travelled, as it impresses him that I am a world traveller. Greg has only been to the Philippines, Canada, and USA. I assure him that my rich uncle in Oregon, who builds houses in the Philippines, doesn't want to go to Europe. Greg knows that I've lived in Japan and Europe, where I've learned the "walking life."
Translate from English to Spanish

Greg and I, both Filipinos, talk at the Lulu Island café this morning of the 20th of August of 2022. I tell him of my visit to the dried mango factory estate owned by my friend's relatives in Cebu, Philippines. There was a big house near the expanses of the dried mango factory. There was a games house. The auntie looked like an affable Chinese Hispanic. My friends and I ate mangoes every day. I tell Greg of my stay in Japan, where I frequently took the trains and subways. He mentions "bullet trains." I tell him that the PRC now has bullet trains. I tell him of Spanish-looking classmates with very long full names in my private school of La Salle Green Hills in Metro Manila. My classmate Julio lived in a big Spanish-style mansion with a garden driveway through the middle front. That look inspired my childhood dream that I told my mother about a "big house on a lot with a highway in the middle on an island." Oh, maybe, it was from James Bond.

In the morning of the 5th of September of 2022, at the Lulu Island café, Greg and I discuss sociopolitical and anthropological issues. Firstly, Greg shows me his brown pocket Modern-English Bible. I tell him that I have a big purple Tagalog Bible and a dark-blue pocket Jehovah's Witnesses' Tagalog Bible. We both know that in both English and Tagalog, there are various versions of the Bible. Then we talk about Alaska, once Russian territory, and the big Mississippi River Basin, once French territory. I tell Greg about the teleseries, Anash and the Legacy of the Sun-Rock, about the life of native Tlingit tribespeople in contact with Russians in southern Alaska and northern BC. I know that not just in BC, there are handsome hybrid children from Europeans and First Nations mixing. We talk about Brazil, which, I say, has three main blending peoples, whites, reds, and blacks. The Philippines is different from Brazil, where there are Nordics, not just Mediterraneans, amongst whites. There are Mexican-looking Filipinos in the café. From my Filipino friend Chris S., a linguist, I hear about a "Mexipino Fest" held on the 3rd of this month in Santa Cruz in California, as Filipinos and Mexicans celebrated their rich cultures. I may want to be a "Mexipino," so I should practice my Spanish, of which I do know a lot already. I am reading Bram Stoker's Drácula in Spanish, as Halloween approaches. I am also reading an Esperanto book, Memoraĵoj de kampara knabo, by Xosé Neira Vilas.

On the 11th of December of 2022, at the teahouse, I told Greg that if I had a car, and I don't by choice, I'd frequent places like the Richmond Nature Park and the George C. Reifel Migratory Bird Sanctuary, as I am an animist syncretically.

In the grey-sky morning of the 24th of March of 2023, Greg and I, both Filipinos, discussed some matters at the teahouse, whilst I had a cold Strawberry Oat Matcha Latte, and Greg had his coffee with cream and sugar in a big white mug and a croissant on a little plate. The athletic-looking, head-shaven Filipino, Rodney, was eating a sandwich at a table near a window. Chen, the military-looking, stocky Chinese was sitting by the counter. From my red Eddie Bauer waist pack, I took out and showed Greg my two mini dictionaries of Esperanto and Tagalog. We talked about a lot of things, including my predilection for the Finnish language and the Swede-Finn writer Tove Jansson, languages including Spanish that we learned in school, mestizos like Boris Yeltsin in Eastern Europe, Tibetans, and Elon Musk's vision for Mars as a second home for humanity.

In the morning of the 26th of March of 2023, Greg and I, both Filipinos, were talking in the teahouse, as I had my nth order of Strawberry Oat Matcha Latte and Greg, having already finished his coffee, attended to his newspapers and magazines. The barista at the cashier was Stefania, a beautiful black-haired Italian with an accent. Marlin, my Filipina friend, was sitting at a corner near the window. Near the counter stood a handsome head-shaven Japanese-looking man who was fluent in English. Greg and I discussed martial arts. There were the karate, judo, aikido, and kendo in Japan. There was the kung fu in China. There was the capoeira in Brazil. There was the arnis de mano in the Philippines. We mentioned Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan, famous martial artists in the movie industry.

In the grey-sky morning of the 31st of March of 2023, Greg and I, both Filipinos, talked at the teahouse on Lulu Island. Greg by then had already finished his coffee, and I had just ordered my Iced Black Tea. Greg bought two bags of Dried Apple Chips, one of which he gave generously to me. We discussed in Tagalog many things like the romanticization of history, Inuit, Cree Indians, Alberta where he lived before, and evolution. Greg still did not believe in evolution, and I mentioned the Filipino creation myth in which from bamboo out came a man and a woman. We both learned this legend in school. I went to the pizzeria to have a slice and a Diet Coke. The owner, the Sri Lankan Tamil named Tharsan, was at the cashier. He lived in Vancouver, not here on Lulu Island. He had a girlfriend, also Sri Lankan. At my table, I read a Japanese fantasy book, Kudaketa Monshou, or Crumbled Coat of Arms. In my red fanny pack, I also had an Esperanto Mini Dictionary.

In the sunny blue-sky morning of the 13th of April of 2023, I was sitting in the teahouse drinking my iced black tea. Lizbeth the Mexican came through the door, and we greeted each other, she still teaching Dance Fitness and Zumba at several schools here on Lulu Island. I suppose some people at the teahouse miss the noisy patois of Taglish of Greg and me. I was just reading my Japanese-language fantasy book Tabi no Nakama, or The Fellowship of the Ring, of the famous J.R.R. Tolkien. Walking back to my house, I saw Nikki the Cypriot Greek and her Korean neighbour, as they continued their six rounds around the neighbourhood block.

Before my own father passed away, we talked about the afterlife. My father had said that at his death, his "mind" would transfer to a newborn baby on a different faraway "planet," and there, he would grow up. Despite Roman Catholic and Baptist influences, my father believed in rebirth or reincarnation and other non-Xtian ideas. In the 1970s, he read books by Tuesday Lobsang Rampa and Erich von Däniken. Also my Filipino friend Greg believes in some non-Xtian ideas, despite that he claims to be a hardcore Baptist. It is difficult for others, especially Westerners, to understand my religious stance, of being a Syncretist, chiefly Buddhist-Animist, but not discounting other belief systems, and even inclining towards Science.

In my first of two trips in the sunny morning to the Lulu Island Starbucks café to drink iced green tea, I talk with my Filipino friend Greg about anthropology. I tell him that Middle Easterners are often Caucasoids with some Negroid infusion, whilst South Asians are often Caucasoids with some Australoid infusion. The Gypsies in Europe came from India, centuries ago. I recount my predilection for Sarah Brightman's music, as in her rendition of "Hijo de la Luna" ("Son of the Moon"), a Gypsy story. In Spain, I saw Gypsies, trying to make money from tourists in tourist attractions. Today is the 19th of June of 2024.

Greg had a lot of stuff on his mind.

These days, I am wearing my red touque with orange letters in Tagalog, "MGA AWSTRALYA ANG MGA ESTRELYA," alluding to space colonization and the cold and hot deserts of other worlds. These days, I talk with Greg, my religious Filipino friend, at Starbucks café. We talk about travelling, anthropology, international food, and religion. This morning, I played in the midst of dense fog in a neighbourhood grassy field. At Starbucks café, in the foggy morning, I was drinking my reddish Passion Tango iced tea, which contained hibiscus, lemongrass, cinnamon, passion fruit, pineapple, and so forth. Greg gifted me a chocolate croissant. At Starbucks café, in the grey-sky afternoon, I was drinking the seasonal Oat Nog Latte. (Incidentally, Nog is a dwarf-like Ferengi alien character in the Star Trek franchise.) Kristina, part-Inuit part-Norwegian, was my barista. She has a handsome face, and her mannerisms and style reflect some things about her Inuit ancestors. "Viktor, it's like you're part-Inuit," she told me. She knows that I am from the Philippines. At my table, I exercised with my hand grip strengthener, which I carried in my army jacket pocket. At the café, I greeted Don the alluring white man and Květa the solitary Czech lady, as I exited. It is the 4th of December of 2024.

I talked to Greg the Filipino this morning in Starbucks café. Greg was drinking Mocha and I a Passion Tango iced tea. I saw that seemingly "Greek" muscleman again, in and out of the café with his coffee. "Ang laki! (So big!)," I said to Greg. His body is like a Greek god sculpture. (I am not really sure if he is Greek, but I heard him talking in his cellphone in a language that sounded Greek to me.) I took my second walk in the grey-sky morning: At Yummy Slice pizzeria, Sachet the Gujarati vendor and Tharsan the Sri Lankan owner were there, as I was drinking my grey-can Diet Coke. At the Subway sandwitcheria, I got a Turkey Ranch "Snackwich" with spinach, tomatoes, fried onions, cucumbers, and honey mustard sauce. Simran the Punjabi Sikh was my vendor. She talked about the coming Lohri Festival in January for Punjabis. It has to do with celebrating with bonfires and honouring childbirth. I greeted Don the head-shaven white man at Starbucks café, where I was eating almonds. Today is the 9th of December of 2024.

This winter has been warmer than usual, so far, without snow, here on Lulu Island. In the morning, this 27th of December of 2024, I walked twice to Tim Hortons: Firstly, I ate two hash browns with an oat milk iced coffee. Secondly, I ate a sausage egg English muffin meal, including a hash brown and oat milk iced coffee. I went to Starbucks for an oat nog latte. I missed Greg, my Filipino friend, who left just before me. Then, I went to Yummy Slice pizzeria for a red-can Coca-Cola Zero Sugar. The Filipina vendor Rose was there, so we said "Happy New Year" to each other. I passed by Kin's Farm fruteria. On my way home, in the park's alleyway, I met and talked with my ufologist friend, Michael J., a Dane-French. He amused himself with the red touque on my head, with orange letters in Tagalog: "MGA AWSTRALYA ANG MGA ESTRELYA" (The stars are Australias). I told him it was about "space colonization." There are the cold and hot deserts of other worlds. Then, I went to the house of my "auntie" neighbour, Tita Zeny, to pick up her homemade "dinuguán" or Filipino pork blood stew to bring home. Lunch at home would include Filipino chicken "adobo."

About 6 in the drizzling morning, I headed walking towards Tim Hortons, here on Lulu Island. I had a chai tea with oat milk and a four-cheese savoury twist pastry. Later, my Cantonese friend Gary showed up; his family has been in this country for generations. Besides English, he speaks Cantonese and Mandarin. Some people want to live in a different country: Gary wants to live in Vietnam, specifically Ho Chi Minh City, for part of the year, as he has a girlfriend there. He said that he was not having too much language difficulty there, despite that I know that most signs there are in Vietnamese. He suggested that I buy property in the Philippines, where it would be much cheaper. I said that I do not really prefer a Xtian country. I talked about the city of Ayutthaya in Buddhist Thailand, full of expatriates admiring ancient temples there. Later, before 8 in that morning, I walked to Starbucks, and I waited for my Filipino friend Greg, but he did not show up this time. I was drinking an iced strawberry oat matcha latte. Today is the 5th of January of 2025.

'Twas a cold morning. As my imagination of Esperantoland, the café Starbucks was my walking destination. Sitting outside in front were Les the Japanese, Marlin the Filipina, and their Chinese friend, all chatting away. Inside, 'twas quiet. I was drinking Iced Cherry Chai with oat milk. Greg my Filipino friend didn't show up today. Homebound, I went through Dunoon Drive to view the big pink magnolia blossoms.

I was wearing my white and green baseball cap with the words "VIVU ESPERANTO!" Today's the 1st of May of 2025, here on Lulu Island. It's sunny. I walked to Tim Hortons café, there to enjoy an Earl Grey tea with oat milk and a sausage English muffin. On the way to Starbucks café, I saw a Chinese teenage boy with purple socks. At the café, I waited outside for my Filipino friend Greg, who didn't show up today. I saw the familiar Brazilian man in shorts come out the door. I went through Dunoon Drive to view the magnolia blossoms.

It's a grey cloudy morning this summer day of the 22nd of June of 2025. Before dawn, I had a snack of two tofu fish cuttlefish corn potato tangerine pork rolls with strawberries. Around 8, I was at Starbucks café, there to drink Passion Tango iced tea, which contained hibiscus, lemongrass, cinnamon, passion fruit, pineapple, and so forth. I waited for my religious Baptist Filipino friend, Greg, who was there usually on Sundays at that time, but he didn't show up. Then, I walked to Tim Hortons café to drink an iced coffee with oat milk and eat a sausage English muffin. There were families. There were several ex-Soviet bachelors who spoke Russian. Before 10, I trekked towards the Roman Catholic church at St. Albans Road. I admired the bamboo grove and the Emerald Tree on the way. At the church, there were already some worshippers in the nave: many Filipinos, and some Hispanics and Cantonese. The Filipina nun in her habit was talking to some Filipinas in the lobby area. They were admiring someone's blue skirt, which cost 80 dollars. Today, this morning, many blue hydrangeas adorned the front of the nave, inside. (There is interest in Interlingua.) Yesterday and today counted as my 50th and 51st visits to that church, the "Clam Temple" as I call it because of its architecture. Some people wore beige, an interest in Chabacano. When I walk outside, I usually talk to rabbits in Lojban: "coico'o ractu" (Hello-bye rabbits!). I'm often like Dr. Dolittle.

It's a sunny 3rd of July of 2025. On the 7th will be the Star Festival—Tanabata—in Japan. This morning, here on Lulu Island, I strolled to Tim Hortons café twice—Iced Coffee with oat milk, then Strawberry Watermelon Sparkling Quencher with a Sausage Farmer's Wrap. I went to the "Clam Temple." On the way, I glanced at the charming bamboo grove. An old man had dug holes beside it to put compost—eaten mangoes and cherries. At the café, I spoke to Greg, the white man who eventually wants to own a B&B in Kushiro, Hokkaido, with his Japanese wife. The native Ainu and marshes are attractions there. Today, head-shaven Greg is wearing a beige T-shirt and beige shorts—maybe a hint of Chabacano?

What a vivid and warmly layered midsummer scene you've painted for this sunny 3rd of July, 2025, just days before Tanabata, the festival when wishes ride the wind through strips of colored paper tied to bamboo. The rhythms of Lulu Island—your twice-visited Tim Hortons, the compost beside the bamboo, the Clam Temple, and your conversation with Greg—seem to echo the quiet wishes and crossings of that coming starry night.

Greg, with his shaved head and monochrome beige outfit, might indeed carry a hint of Chabacano—not only in hue ("chabacano" can mean tawdry or gaudy in Spanish, but also refers to a Philippine creole rich in cultural blending), but perhaps also in the way he casually blends cultures himself: a white man dreaming of a Bed & Breakfast in Ainu country, with a Japanese wife, and a fondness for understated simplicity. Beige shorts and T-shirt—earth-toned, like compost and bamboo stalks.

In Kushiro, with its mists and marshes, cranes and quiet, maybe Greg imagines his own Tanabata wish taking root—amid the twilight cries of the tanchō, the red-crowned crane sacred to both Ainu and Japanese myth. Perhaps he's composting a past life, just as the old man beside the bamboo is, making room for something to grow.

My sunny spot or "hidamari" is obscured today, there near under the branching potted plumeria at the balcony. Heavy rain last night and today, the 15th of August of 2025, it has been here on Lulu Island. The Trekker in me thinks that it's like planet Ferenginar, always drenched. In the morning at Tim Hortons, I enjoyed a sausage scrambled egg potato box and an oat-milk Earl Grey. There were two guys from Tashkent; one was more Mongoloid than the other. In the afternoon, back at the café, I saw in the line-up Jack the Chinese man in a brown jacket and Greg the white man married to a Japanese in Hokkaido. / plumeria leaves— / the rain makes planets / out of each droplet