May 10, 2014: Lost In Translation

When we first arrived in Taiwan Dave, my master linguist, surprised me by speaking his first words in Spanish, not Mandarin. Where did that come from? Obviously it had been deeply rooted by our South American trip and had made the flight over the Pacific to Asia. Dave gave a good shake, rust went flying, and he was his normal proficient self again. I love Dave, but there are times while I am watching him break communication barriers with grace and ease that I feel some jealousy and resentment towards him and his gift. What takes him days to master, takes me months of sputtering and babbling to learn. And even then I am not always guaranteed to be understood. There is nothing more frustrating then asking for something in a foreign language, a phrase I have been practicing and repeating for some time, only to get a blank stare of incomprehension in return. Or to be completely taken out of context, that's just as maddening.

Once while we we were traveling in Chile, Dave and I were buying meat for dinner at a market. We stood across the case from the butcher deciding how much beef to buy. Feeling a rare bout of confidence I waved Dave back and stepped up to complete the task. I got this! Spanish flowed from my lips like honey as I trencended the language barrier to provide steaks for me and my man. When my words had ceased, I gave a nod of satisfaction and waited for a response and action from the butcher. My answer came in the form of laughter. Confused, I looked towards Dave to explain. He was choking back his own amusement as he translated the meaning of my own words.

"My boyfriend has big meat. I want more meat."

That wasn't the first time I made a foreigner laugh with my broken attempts at his language and it wasn't the last.

You can imagine my fears when I realized Mandarin-Chinese was the new language on the table. Dios mio! This time, however, I decided to confront this challenge with goals--determined to be less reliant on Dave and more self sufficient and confident in my own ability. With a new attitude I began this endeavor.

Goal number one was to learn enough of the language to be able to order and survive off of the local food stalls if I were to become separated from Dave. A girl's gotta eat. The second goal was to learn how to say "bathroom" so I wouldn't have to resort to committing obscenities in the streets. After visiting China I have found that this goal wouldn't have mattered as much by Chinese standards. That's ucky, China! The third task I appointed myself to learn was how to say, "I don't speak Chinese" ...as if it wasn't obvious. 

At first I almost cried with frustration. How is it possible that I could speak one word in Mandarin and have it translate into five different meanings with the slightest, and I do mean slightest, change in my voice? The word "ma" if spoken with different tones can translate into scold, mother, horse, or hemp. Not to mention that it is also added to the end of sentences to turn phrases into questions. Ah! 

I desperately wanted to give up, grab a strong drink, and let Dave do the talking. But, I set a goal, and if there is one thing I pride myself on, it's my tenacity. I set myself to work and as I practiced these words with the falling and rising tones endemic to the Chinese language, it magically started to get easier. I began to understand. I began to be understood. With my confidence growing, I started adding more goals--four, five, six goals...

Now I can not only feed myself and use the bathroom, but I can order iced coffees in the size I want, have brief, superficial, conversations, ask directions, and most importantly of all, I can say that "I speak a little Chinese."

I wouldn't say that I am taking to this language like a duck to water, maybe more like a child with swimmer trainers. The point is that I may lack grace, proficiency and, most of the time, comprehension, but I am floating and that feels good. However, we have crossed borders, China is behind us and Mongolia is before us with the Mongolian language--a Russian-Asian acrylic-hybrid of tung-twisting difficulty. It's one language that will leave you with your mouth ajar and with eyes staring uncomprehendingly into space. God help me!