Parlez-Vous Footlockaire?... Hable en Escargot?... Come Again??!!...

Memoirs of a Geezer!

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth 

to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

This Episode:    Parlez-Vous Footlockaire?...   Hable en Escargot?...   Come Again??!!...

Ambling along the shores of Playa La Ropa, gentle waves tumbled onto bare feet.  A blazing sun dropped shards of heat on my beaded forehead as we moved slowly toward a garden of palapas and their beckoning shade!  Soon our fists were wrapped around cool, revitalizing drinks, the scent of fresh lime

Sand and palapas from Playa La
Ropa in Zihuatanejo, Mexico...
where brilliant linguists have
been known to congregate!

wafting up in a tiny effervescent storm.

"De donde eres?  Y donde vive?" she asked.   She was one of two young women we met under the palapas.  She spoke in rapid Mexican-Spanish; I had trouble receiving the question and plugging it into my mental "Spanish to English" dictionary.  

"Miercoles," I answered with little hesitation.  The two young women laughed merrily.  "You told me, "Wed-nes-day," she said, pronouncing each syllable.  I babbled and blushed and then asked her to repeat the question, "mas despacio, por favor."  We all laughed.  "I'm not from, nor do I live in "Wednesday," I admitted. We exchanged names.  "Yo quiero aprender mas espanol," I said.  "Tratamos de hablar solo en espanol cuando estamos aqui, en Mexico!" (We want to learn more Spanish.  We try to speak only in Spanish when we're here in Mexico!)  Sweetheart -- she's my wife! -- understands spoken Spanish far better than I, but I've been able to speak the language with greater ease.  We're a good team.

Our new-found friends said with ardent enthusiasm, "And we want to learn more English!!  We teach one another!  Yes!  Podemos ensenar cada otro...  maestros!"  And so we did.  We spent a delightful afternoon teaching and learning from one another!

In my geezerhood, I like to think I've picked up, over time, a fair amount of words and phrases in other languages, through travel...  (maybe I'm delusional!)              

See...  here's the thing.  Travel is a marvelous gift, a privilege and a remarkable teacher.  Whenever we travel to other countries, we find the overall experience much richer, far more fulfilling and gratifying when we make an effort to learn and use the host country's language.  In the process, however, we do tend to generate humor, and laughter too, among "el gente" (the people) with whom we converse, or try to converse. 

I love languages; I enjoy trying to learn them, even if just a few basic words and phrases.  But our best efforts don't always serve us as well as we'd like.  Sweetheart and I honeymooned in Greece.  It was a few years ago (well, actually, many years is closer to the truth!).  I tend to suffer from heartburn (now

more than in my callow youth!).  They have what we call "sidewalk emporiums" in Athens, stocked with all manner of sundries, the one at which we stopped staffed by an attractive young woman.  I figured they must have something for stomach complaints.  I looked carefully through my Handy Book of Greek Words & Phrases.  I could find no word for "heartburn," nor "antacid."  Finally, with my stomach on fire from lemon rice soup, peppers, dolmades and other Greek delicacies, I found what I thought were appropriate words to describe my malady, placed my hand over my heart and said in my finest baritone,  Πυρκαγιά καρδιών.  

Sweetheart looked concerned.  "What did you say to her?"  I told her what I said!  "Heart fire!" she exclaimed incredulously.  You said 'heart fire'?!  Are you nuts?  Did you see the look on her face...  shock, fear?  She probably thinks you're some kind of lunatic masher.  Let's get out of here before the police arrive."  

"But I looked it up!  Don't you think she understood what I wanted?  Can't be that big a stretch from 'heartburn' to 'heart fire'...  can it?"

"C'mon," she said, insistently, muttering "heart fire!" and "silly lunatic!" as we walked briskly to avoid the apparent arrival of Greek "masher police."  The next evening, while on an "Athens By Night" tour, we told the story to several companions, with several different translations circulating, given the international flavor of the gathering.  Laughter ignited, in their turns, like spontaneous bonfires among the various ethnic groups.  Eventually someone came up to me and said, "hier bitte."  I looked at my open palm and found three antacid tablets, donated by a sympathetic and, no doubt, kindred soul, a fellow sufferer from...  who knows?  maybe Germany, Holland, Austria...?

 

I've acquired a bit of Russian, too.  My grandparents came from Russia.  I have a few useful and even some off-color words and phrases.  On one occasion in my distant past, having had too much vodka, we were in a Serbian restaurant (where many of the patrons spoke Russian!).  From my limited arsenal, I rattled off a string of short sentences to a nice Russian fellow.  A number of my more familiar phrases.  Accidentally, but stupidly, I inserted a filthy suggestion.  The man hurled a plate of baba ganoush at my head.  I ducked, cleaned up the shattered mess and then issued profuse apologies.  I bought the man a couple of drinks.  We became jolly good chums...  in Russian:  друзьями!

The Bridge Leading into Lalinde!

Not that  many years ago, firmly established in what I'd term my "early geezerhood," sort of the "teen geezer" years, my wife and I were in France.  The airline had lost our luggage, forcing us to spend the better part of a day shopping for basic necessities in Paris department stores.  We had to find and purchase underwear, for example, of an all-cotton variety, navigating entirely in French.  At one point, seeking another type of garment, I asked a sales woman, "Avez-vous un costume pour le plage?"  She looked at me a long moment, and then said in beautifully accented English, "You know, you needn't say 'beach costume.'  We do have a word for 'bathing suit.' "  I smiled sweetly, babbled several "merci's" and followed her to a rack of bathing costumes...  er, that is, swim suits.

We were treated beautifully by the French.  

In Lalinde, for example, I asked a woman where I might find a pizza restaurant, wanting cuisine to please our grandson.  The woman actually came out of her book shop and guided me for two or three blocks to the town's finest pizza establishment, all because I asked her in her own language!  Sweetheart drew a warm hug and

A Street Scene in Tremolat!

exclamations of praise and joy from an older woman in Tremolat (on the Dordogne, the "Smile of France"), because she, my wife, had asked the woman, in French, where the town library was located!  Wonderful moments!  Magical!  

We visited Estonia where our daughter was serving in the Peace Corps.  She mastered and continues to speak it fluently when corresponding with Estonian friends.  There, too, we were treated with great

Beautiful Tallinn in Summer!  (We were there in February!)

kindness and deference whenever we made the effort to speak the language.  Always the same!  Delightful times, magical experiences... when the host country language became a key player in the plot!

In part I credit my early education.  Jesuit Father Rudolph bellowed superbly in Latin.  I endured four years of it in high school.  Russian in the military, and in my college years as well.  Today, my love of languages continues.  I try to learn new words and phrases -- Spanish, French, Turkish (I spent wonderful times in Turkey during my military years!), Italian, Hebrew, Polish, Chinese...

Uvas!  Muy Deliciosos!

Not quite sure why, but I find it fun to use ridiculous phrases and complete sentences taken out of context.  I've had satisfying reactions from native speakers when I've announced in my finest Russian, "Sir, I don't want to go to the barber shop."  In Mexico, when it rains I like to say to anyone within hearing range, "Es buena para las uvas."  (It's good for the grapes!...  especially amusing where they grow no grapes!)     

Language as "ice breaker..."  It knocks down barriers, allows the traveller to make friends of host country strangers, often rather quickly, acquiring invitations to visit schools, homes, too, even meet entire families, a welcome byproduct.

Next stop?  Hmmm...  maybe the Amalfi Coast (if only in my fantasies), described as a treasure among the world's finest culinary landscapes.  Pasta, fresh fish, anchovy pesto, pasticciotti, delizia al limone...!!  Wonder if there's a Pocket Guide to Spoken Italian on my bookshelf?!  HONEY!!!... 

Humbly Submitted 10-16-15 -- Joel K.