ESL attracts all kinds of people,
but I think I can more or less say that there are three main categories: the people who
genuinely love travel and adventure, the people who can’t function in their own
country and the people who are married to either a foreigner or a travel
addict. I’d like to dedicate this blog
post to the people who can’t function in their own country either because of
radical political beliefs, religious beliefs or general strangeness or obscure
social anxiety.
On Wednesday I met, or rather saw a
much older American man in the office. I
smiled in greeting and went to make a more formal introduction when this came
out of his mouth, “um, IZ-ven-Ite, MOZHA YA…” (ExCUse ME, MAY I)- the capitals
are to imply emphasis, Russian spoken by an American. I know this is me pot calling the kettle
black, but come on, if you’re going to speak a different language, please try
to copy the tone and sounds. It’s like
when white preppy people try to speak slang or Spanish. So I blinked at the guy wondering why on
earth he was shouting terrible Russian at me only to realize that he was trying
to talk to our office manager, Ludmila, who doesn’t speak a word of
English. Fine. He’s trying to talk to her, so I walk away,
feeling slightly insulted that he didn’t even acknowledge my existence. I don’t often come across Americans in the
middle of Siberia, so I’m always a little too excited when I see them and
puzzled when they don’t return our assumed friendliness. I should note here that Ludmila is in her mid-fifties,
and I wouldn’t quite put her in the babushka column just yet, but she’s
close. As I said earlier, she doesn’t
speak English, but at least she tries to speak slowly and clearly when it comes
to dealing us non-native Russian speakers.
Daniel, the American must be a bit older complete with glasses and
questionable fashion taste.
So there I am, sitting in the back
of the office, trying to read my book when I hear this conversation, again the
capitals represent shouting and accent:
Daniel (American man): UM, MoZNA,
PASSWORD?! (may I have the password?)
Ludmila: SHTO?! (WHAT?!)
Daniel: Y VAS PASSWORD? ( you have
the password?) PASSWORD? What is password, or yes, PAROL? Y VAS PAROL?
Ludmila: ZA SHTO?! (What for?)
Daniel:
Sorry. Y
vas INTERNET?! (Do you have internet?)
Ludmila: DA! Y NAS INTERNET, TEBE NUZHNA PAROL! (Yes! We have
internet, but you need a password)
Daniel: Da! Parole.
Shto Parol? (Yes, password, what’s
the password?)
Ludmila: Y NAS
INTERNET! ETA
RABOTAET! (WE HAVE INTERNET ! IT
WORKS!)
Seriously, shoot me now. So there they are, shouting at each other
when they were sitting opposite each other at a desk. It was like a conversation from South Park
making fun of old people. At some point
two of my younger colleagues joined me in the back of the office with the same
eye-roll and trying-really-hard-not-to-laugh expressions. However, when we all made eye contact with
each other we couldn’t help but giggle a little. Under my breath I asked one of them if I had
that thick of an accent when I speak Russian and they both assured me that I
did not, which made me feel better. It
is always frustrating to me when people don’t understand me and I’ve always
thought it was my fault because of poor pronunciation- and while that may be
the case some of the time, the rest of the time it’s because don’t want to
understand. Anyway, so after another
five minutes of painfully loud shouting for no reason about the internet, I
stepped outside. I was also in need of
laughter, so once I made it out into the hall I let myself go. I was escorted by Constantine, a
co-worker.
Naturally we could still hear these two desperately
trying to communicate with each other and yes I wanted to help but a part of me
was enjoying the shouting match plus, I just wanted the guy to ask me for
help. Yes, I know how that sounds and at
the end of it all, he never did.
Realizing that they had moved from shouting about the internet to
shouting about the printer, we both decided that perhaps we should go and
assist them. Turns out, we didn’t need
to.
Ludmila: ETA NASH KOMPUTER!! PRINTER TAM! (THIS IS OUR COMPUTER ((ahem, it’s
the only computer in the office, fyi)) THE PRINTER IS THERE)
Daniel: OK! Kak work?
(and I love it when people mix Russian and English is the craziest way
possible) How does it work?
Ludmila: AH! JUSTINA!
KAK PRINTER PABOTAET!?! (Ah!
Justina, how doesn’t the printer work?)
Me: *taking a calming deep breath,
it’s not as if this is the first time she’s ever printed something, why on
earth is she asking me?* Bam nyzha parazhdite za 45 seconda, teperni, pozlausta
(You have you wait 45 seconds, just be patient)
Ludmila: *now walking around in a
tiny circle looking like a lost bird* pochimy kak dolga? Mozna buit nuzhna remont?! (what’s taking so long? Maybe it needs to be repaired?)
Again, I’m confused, yes the printer
is old, and in the grand scheme of things 45 seconds isn’t that big of a deal.
What’s more, this not the first time in her life that she’s ever used it! She
is the office manager after all, if anything she should now more than I do
about how these slightly outdated machines operate. Once the magical paper was loaded and the
machine decided to wake up, everyone seemed happy. I was looking for any reason to get out of
the office so I took sanctuary in my classroom which was finally open.
Now that I finally had a few moments
of quietness I wondered about Daniel.
Where had he come from? Was he
really a teacher or was he just a native speaker? It’s just a matter of time before schools
learn that just because there are native speakers of English, it doesn’t mean
that everyone can teach it, or that native speakers always speak properly. Yes, I’m talking about all those people who
use double negatives and ‘me and my friend’ when it’s really, ‘my friend and I’
and so on. He didn’t quite strike me as
teacher-teacher, but perhaps my own ego got in the way.
So yesterday, which was Thursday, I
saw him again and once again tried to be friendly, and once again I was
ignored. Was it me? Perhaps.
I get it, not everyone likes to be friendly with other natives, Russian
usually hate each other when they are in different countries, perhaps this is
the same thing; and while a bit strange, I can almost appreciate it. Then he asked me about the translation class.
Daniel: Where’s the book for the translation class?
Me: Are you talking to me?
Daniel: Yes, where is it?
Me: I have no idea what you’re
talking about. Perhaps it’s on the hard
drive, isn’t that what Lilya told you?
Daniel: WOW! You said too fast.
Me: Um, what?
Daniel: WHERE IS THE BOOK FOR THE
TRANSLATION CLASS?!
Me: ASK LILYA!
Daniel: You don’t have to shout at
me.
I need a beer. Just another in paradise.
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