It looks like I'd better start learning French, German and Italian if I ever hope to tour Europe with husband Ray. That's because after our misadventure in Mexico when we had to rely on brother-in-law Dick to interpret a rogue federale's extortion demand Ray says he's not going to any country where he can't tell when local hoodlums might be saying, "Let's knock him in the head and take all his money."
He admits that same plot could unfold in English-speaking countries, but he maintains that "at least I would know what they're saying and have a chance to run!" He's so worried about being in that hapless situation again that he took the precaution of asking friends Carl and Judy who briefed us on a Hawaii trip we're planning "They do speak English there, don't they?"
Later, when I mentioned to him that I was certain he KNEW English was the language in Hawaii, he said, "Well, yes, I do but have you seen Hawaiian words? They're really polysyllabic!"
I have to admit that if all Hawaiian words are typical of a couple I know "Mele Kalikimaka," which I learned from Chevy Chase in the movie "Christmas Vacation" Ray is right. But I also know that if all Hawaiians are as smart as my friend Brian, the only native of Hawaii with whom I'm acquainted, they'd jump at the chance to use the American shortcut "whazzup" instead of "he aha maluna."
And that American shortcut brings up another problem for people from other countries who visit or immigrate to America. My father attended college with a German exchange student named Claus, who came to America speaking flawless English only to discover that English isn't spoken here. "I speak English," Claus informed Dad, "but YOU speak American."
When my friend Rosemarie came to America from Germany many years ago, neither she, her husband nor their two young boys spoke English. But that didn't stop her from getting a job at a factory sewing shirts. Each day, she and her co-workers some of whom understood a bit of German went to a restaurant where Rosemarie always ordered "coffee, apple pie" for lunch.
After weeks of the same order, her puzzled co-workers asked why she never selected something different to eat and Rosemarie confessed that coffee and apple pie were the only English words for food that she felt competent saying. In an effort to be helpful, her friends taught her to say "ham sandwich." Rosemarie, who now speaks perfect English, laughs when she relates giving the waitress her order. "I said 'ham sandwich,' and she said, 'white, wheat or rye?' and I replied, 'coffee, apple pie.'"
Years later, Rosemarie met an elderly German-speaking couple who moved to her small town and remembering her own early difficulties with the English language befriended them by interpreting for them on shopping trips. Grateful for her assistance, the old gentleman one day ventured out by himself to buy a card for Rosemarie's 40th birthday. "The card he selected had a beautiful rose on the front," Rosemarie recounts with a smile, "and the elegantly scripted words 'In Deepest Sympathy.'"
Early in our marriage when Ray was quite a shy guy (all these years living with me seem to have changed that), we visited Tijuana with a California friend. Ray's sole purpose for crossing the border was to buy me a heavily embroidered off-the-shoulder blouse. I have to admit that he made a really good try at purchasing the item.
We entered a store where Ray approached a young senorita and said, "Blouse?" When she gave him a blank look, he repeated, "BLOUSE?" The third time his request was even louder and he tapped himself on the chest for emphasis. A big smile of comprehension lit up her face. "Si!" she said, and headed for the back room. She soon returned carrying a large box which when opened contained more brassieres than Ray had ever seen at one time. (For that matter, there were more than I, with the benefit of several years of girls' gym classes, had ever seen at one time!)
As we walked out of the store, Ray's complexion was the color of a ripe tomato and tears of laughter were rolling down my face. I returned to the United States with a silver bracelet, some perfume and a great story about our inability to habla Espaol.
I realize that Hawaii shouldn't pose that sort of language problem, but just in case does anyone know where we can buy a Hawaiian-English dictionary?
Marsha Henry Goff is a free-lance writer in Lawrence. Her e-mail address is mhgink@netscape.net.
No comments
Commenting is turned off for this story.