Mar. 8th, 2007 14:07
Language negotiation at lunch
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cosLast week, at Rami's, the Israeli falafel place in Coolidge Corner...
background: The guys who work there mostly speak fluent English and Hebrew. I'm not sure if all of them speak Hebrew because sometimes I see them talking to each other in English, so I usually approach them with English, but when I do try Hebrew (usually after hearing them talk to each other and confirming the person at the counter speaks it), they're usually delighted.
Esther, Kat, and I are sitting at a table eating. A group of three women walk in and start ordering in reasonably good but imperfect English. They're talking among themselves and ... oh, that's Arabic! One of them, however, apparently has very good Hebrew, so she starts talking to the guy behind the counter in Hebrew. He's delighted, the communication flows, and soon the other two Arab women are doing it, except their Hebrew isn't that good. Little do they know, however, that the guy behind the counter also has reasonably good Arabic... until one of the women asks the other how to say something in Hebrew (asking the question in Arabic), and the Rami's guy answers her. Now they're even more delighted, and the conversation continues in a mix of Arabic and Hebrew, full of "how do you say this?" and "where did you learn Arabic?"
I just listened in amusedly, and told Esther & Kat what was going on after we left. It made my day happier.
background: The guys who work there mostly speak fluent English and Hebrew. I'm not sure if all of them speak Hebrew because sometimes I see them talking to each other in English, so I usually approach them with English, but when I do try Hebrew (usually after hearing them talk to each other and confirming the person at the counter speaks it), they're usually delighted.
Esther, Kat, and I are sitting at a table eating. A group of three women walk in and start ordering in reasonably good but imperfect English. They're talking among themselves and ... oh, that's Arabic! One of them, however, apparently has very good Hebrew, so she starts talking to the guy behind the counter in Hebrew. He's delighted, the communication flows, and soon the other two Arab women are doing it, except their Hebrew isn't that good. Little do they know, however, that the guy behind the counter also has reasonably good Arabic... until one of the women asks the other how to say something in Hebrew (asking the question in Arabic), and the Rami's guy answers her. Now they're even more delighted, and the conversation continues in a mix of Arabic and Hebrew, full of "how do you say this?" and "where did you learn Arabic?"
I just listened in amusedly, and told Esther & Kat what was going on after we left. It made my day happier.
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Father - Hebrew: "aba", Arabic: "abu"
Village - Hebrew: "kfar", Arabic: "kafr"
Pepper - Hebrew: "pilpel", Arabic: "filfil"
There's a lot of vocabulary like that. "Falafel", BTW, is just a modified pronounciation of the Arabic word for "pepper" - that's what they call it.
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the result was very interesting multi-lingual dinning experience where Esther spoke to me in English, I spoke to our waiter in German, he spoke to the head-waiter in Hungarian, and the rest of the staff spoke to each other in what I can only assume was a dialect of Chinese.
I can only assume
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I am reminded of a story my partner tells of her mother as a young au pair. (I don't recall which country this occurs in.) Her mother and three friends went to lunch, and as a prank they pretended to speak four languages, but such that any language was shared by only two of them.
So if "A" is the language spoken where they went for lunch:
1st person speaks A and B
2nd person speaks B and C
3rd person speaks C and D
4th person speaks D (I don't recall if there was an "E" language as well)
So any lunch communication had to be relayed between successive pairs of them for translation. They apparently did a good enough job, including restricting all chat between themselves to the scheme, that everyone around them were fooled. 8-)
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Basically, this winter break, I kept going back to France because I could wrangle with the language there much better than I could in Germany. Wound up at a hostel where, lucky me, all 3 bunkmates that came through spoke Spanish, and two spoke Portuguese. My Spanish is fluent, and my Portuguese is weak, but passable if necessary (it gets muddled by the Spanish). The one time I met strangers on my way toward the Catacombs, they were Spanish, and we had a grand time chatting through the basement tombs.
Language and music both have this kinda of effect on me...
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شُكُور
shukran!