Posts tagged ‘English language’

June 1st, 2010

Fave Posts Part 1: Language & Communication

You can’t travel around the world and not experience some level of difficulty with communicating. It’s a given almost anywhere you go; even if I were to travel to the deep south in America I would have troubles with the language. While looking through my site’s archives, I noticed that I had touched on the subject quite a few times, and so here are the best posts that have spawned from my experiences. Enjoy!

Oh, so you don’t speak Danish? October 1, 2007 — This post merely mentions the fact that people kept assuming I spoke Danish or Spanish on the trip to, and while in, Spain. However, the likes and dislikes, and the story at the end, are worth a read for sure.

Brooke vs. Juana November 8, 2007 — I took part in a month-long archaeological dig in Spain, and the program hired a housekeeper to take care of the apartment we all stayed in during that time. Unfortunately, this woman and I did not get along. The frustrations were further complicated by the fact we couldn’t understand each other. War.

Spanish 101: Pop Quiz January 9, 2008 — I found it quite difficult to pay attention during my Spanish lessons in Guatemala. Was it the beautiful weather keeping me preoccupied? Oh, do read on.

Landlady from Hell August 15, 2008 — My landlady in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan was a crazy insane lady for sure. It was super difficult to have screaming matches on the phone with her in Russian, but I’m sure her presence probably helped me improve my language skills a bit. How insane was it dealing with her? Read the post!

Americans Don’t Speak English December 24, 2009 — American, British and Australian people can never stop arguing about our language differences. Seeing how I’m generally outnumbered in Australia, I am the target of ridicule… but here in my blog – I can say how I really feel! Oh, and it also touches on the fact that I can sometimes not even understand my boyfriend.

Learning Like a Child: Host Family Flashback Part 1 April 19, 2010 — It’s hard living with a family when you barely speak the language. At first, I felt it more suitable to deal with the children.

Learning Like a Child: Host Family Flashback Part 2 April 24, 2010 — This post is a continuation of the previous, but it touches on the fact that I not only learned like a child, but I became like a child to my host family because of my language skills. Oh, and it also adds in some more of that good ol’ toilet humor!

This is part 1 of a series on all of my favorite posts! Be sure to check out Part 2 and Part 3. Stay on top of the updates by subscribing to my feed, or following me on Twitter.

CategoryWriting | Comment2 Comments »

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April 9th, 2010

Things I've Kept: Funny Student Papers

I was sitting in my room in Ukraine when I started hearing my flatmate laughing pretty loudly. After it didn’t stop, I had to ask what was going on because who likes to be left out of a funny moment?

It turns out she was grading papers from her English students, and one student in particular was giving her quite the laugh.

Obviously, the title of this assignment is “UFO”, but this student decides to take it in another direction by talking about how he shouldn’t have married someone because she didn’t love him. He then continues:

“I’m liar, am I? I’m crazy, am I?! Let me tell you something! You are wild, crazy, insane creature! If I had known that you’re such a cold, stuck up b_ _ _ _, I would never have gotten married with you. My heart is broken. Get off my house!”

Oh, and by the way, this was an adult student and not some outspoken and troubled youngster, so it’s OK to laugh. And then I read his next assignment and thought, “Hmm… I’m not so sure about that ‘troubled’ part anymore!”

This assignment dealt with planning a holiday. In the article, this same student was asking a hotel for a list of rates, which seems pretty normal… until he said this:

“I’m going to go to Antalya with my wife and two children. I would like to ask you for a favor. Please don’t tell my wife that I was with a young girl that last time cause she’s not my daughter. I don’t have any daughter, only two sons.”

After teaching English, even for a short period of time, it is safe to say that it can get a bit repetitive and boring after a while. Well, it turns out that even students get bored and need to mix it up to stay interested.

CategoryThings I've Kept, Ukraine | Comment8 Comments »

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December 24th, 2009

Americans Don't Speak English

I’ve probably mentioned it before, but a large part of the English-speaking Western world actually believes that Americans don’t speak English. So, what exactly do we Americans speak? American!

Look, I’ll give it to the Brits that perhaps their English is the more proper and correct version. They did, after all, father the language. We Americans then took it and simply made it… better. Ha, well, at least in my mind, we made it more efficient.

capsicumA big difference between American English and British English is the spelling of various words. I like to think that by leaving out unnecessary letters, we just make it easier. Think colour (British English) and color (American English). The u is simply an added chore to write or type.

Another difference is with the pronunciation of certain words, and I also like to think that we tend to sway on the efficiency side. Take the word mobile. In British English, it is pronounced like mo-by-ul, but in American English, it is commonly pronounced as mo-bull. The latter definitely takes a little less to say the same thing, right?

I’ve heard it all from the Brits, especially when some learned last year that I would be teaching American English in Ukraine. They always stated how stupid it was to only focus on American English, but the truth is that American English is generally thought of as the language of business. And, it even turned out that my short time spent virtual teaching Korean kids after first arriving in Australia involved American English as well. Yes, American English rocks, but since the Brits do have that whole “inventing the language thing”, I generally give their side of the argument a point from the start.

However, what I do have a problem with is when the friggin’ Aussies come around and try to say things like Australian English is better than American English because they happen to keep in all those crazy unnecessary letters and such.

What I’d like to know is if they have actually heard themselves talk because there is something silly going on down here in their lingo, and it makes it definitely different from the original. So, who are they to say their language is better, right?!

Fair dinkum, mate.

A Language Barrier

I always wondered what it would be like to date someone that spoke another language. It is quite interesting to see people in relationships with foreigners that barely speak a lick of English because I feel that so much of a relationship relies on the ability to communicate. If I couldn’t tell my partner exactly how I felt… I can’t even imagine! But, somehow, some people make it work.

Now, we may not speak completely different languages, my boyfriend and I, but you could say that we speak different dialects of English. You would be surprised how many times I find myself asking him the meaning of an Aussie word or phrase, or just to repeat himself because I couldn’t quite catch it the first time. Yep, we do have a language barrier between us. Here is one such instance:

When I moved into my new apartment, I needed to search out a mattress. We thought we would go to this foam shop he knew about because he heard they were quite comfortable for the price. To check out the exact address, we decided to do a quick web search and go from there.

I was manning the keyboard with Patrick by my side. He started by spitting out the store’s name, which sounded something like “Clock Robba”. Seriously, I had no freaking idea what he was saying. Dumbfounded, I looked at him in confusion as I tried to piece together whether “Clock Robba” could actually be the name for a foam shop.

My fingers couldn’t even begin to type because I honestly was so confused.

“How do you spell that? C l o c k?” I asked.

“No,” said Pat. “Clock like the name silly.”

“What the…?”

“C l a r k!” he spelled.

Oh. my. goodness. I really had no idea. We laughed and I typed in “Clark” as was necessary, and then was shocked again when I had to spell out “Robba”.

Long story short, I was so confused because it was actually a store called “Clark Rubber”, but we just had a failure to communicate. True story!

CategoryAustralia | Comment18 Comments »

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March 29th, 2008

Polish Hospitality

After the horror that was my two days in Lublin, Krakow appeared as nothing more than a peaceful dream. Ok, maybe not too peaceful. There were those EIGHT Spanish guys in my room, and there were those two girls who were happy that some guy randomly spiked their drinks in Hungary (really?! are they still smiling looking back at that?!). Speaking English and signing up for organized tours to Auschwitz and the salt mines was definitely a bit of the “easy route”, so I think it left me dealing with nothing more than the tourist industry and not the true culture of Poland.

In order to get in touch with a little more of an authentic Poland, I headed off on a train to Wroclaw (pronounced vrots-laf) on the west side of the country. The train ride itself lasted only 4 1/2 hours, but when your stomach growls every five minutes while you watch your car-mates feast away – even after you think they couldn’t possibly have any other amazingly large piece of food left in their bags – the ride becomes excruciatingly long.

Hanging on by a thread, we arrived in Wroclaw, where I began my search for the elusive Tram 22 just as my hostel instructions instructed. I checked every tram stop outside of the station, but none with “22″ posted were found. This is where I usually start to get depressed because this is when I have to bust out my little piece of paper so I can point and gesture at the address.

I thought a good place to start investigating would be at a stand near a tram stop. They usually seem to be full of information since they view it all day after day. Since I was new to the town, I thought I’d give the phrase, “Do you speak English?” a whirl. Unfortunately, that got us (the stand owner and I) off to a bad start. The reaction quickly reminded me of Lublin, especially the time the guy actually stepped away from me in a “I don’t want anything to do with you” way when I just needed help finding a bus. The shop owner here wouldn’t even look at me in the face!

Disheartened, I moseyed down the sidewalk until I mustered up the courage to attempt with a lady walking down the sidewalk. She actually attempted to communicate with me, even though it was all in Polish. She did, at least, seem concerned and proclaimed it was quite the journey, but I was still out of luck with Tram 22.

I walked back into the train station to hit up the information stand inside in hopes of them providing me with said information. I stood in line for awhile, during which time old men cut in front of me when I least expected (WTF?!). Finally, when it was my turn, I asked if the guy spoke English. He didn’t. He immediately pointed to some obscure location across the station, I think just to get me off his back. No way, buddy. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. You’re the information desk! I handed him my paper with the address and the words “Tram 22″. In response, he pointed to outside in a shooing kind of way. Fine, I’ll leave, but just so you know, buddy, I was already there!

I needed to think. I walked along the side of the building where the taxis gather. I didn’t want to admit defeat and take a taxi. I wanted Tram 22! Those taxis were looking mighty inviting, all lined up and ready to go to whatever address I so desired… so easy route… so not going to give up! Another man was walking around that area – someone young and well-to-do. I pressed if he spoke English, and to my shock he did quite well! Alas, he was not from around the area and so couldn’t say where the tram arrived. Just my luck! He suggested I try to ask someone waiting at the tram station. It was just my next plan of attack. However, the girls I asked were absolutely clueless to say the least. That was the exact point when I waved the white flag and decided to take a taxi to the hostel. I turned around just in time to see the last car in lin jetting off. “Hmm… guess I’ll ask around a bit more.”

My redeeming moment came when the lady at a ticket stand had at least a little more direction. She sported her glasses and began to jot down a bunch of numbers and some sort of picture. The picture made no sense then, or even now, and when she saw I was still confused she started talking to the guy behind me. Just as I was feeling jipped and pushed off, the guy she was talking to motioned for my piece of paper and spoke English to ME! Excellent! I bought a tram ticket and away we went, but not on the elusive Tram 22. Never actually found that one.

We remained on the tram for only a few stops and then walked a hell of a long way after that. I learned his name is Paul and he was a studying to be a sports teacher. He said that he learned German in school (makes sense since they are so close to the border in Wroclaw) but learned English just by chatting with his sister. It was quite impressive! Along the way, Paul motioned to help with my little red bag, but when I realized it had ALL my important things in it, I had to make some excuse to search for something in order not to offend him when I held it tight. After thanking him for his time and effort, he explained that it was quite common for Polish people to help out like this. Really?! Common?!? Maybe he meant “uncommon”. His English wasn’t perfect. This was definitely a far cry from being shooed and stepped away from when asking for help to this point.

Long story short, Paul walked me ALL THE WAY to my hostel, had to buy ANOTHER ticket for a tram from there, and absolutely refused my money for a new one with a stern, “No way.” It was extremely nice of him to go completely out of his way like this, which got my mind going on if I would be so helpful if asked for help back home. I’m not so sure! What about you? How far would you go to help someone who didn’t speak English?

In the end, I settled into my interesting hostel with no help from Tram 22. After confirming from another group who was forced to take a taxi from the train station, I was assured it does NOT exist, no matter what the people at the hostel say. Most importantly, I was introduced to a side of “Polish Hospitality” I had not known up to this point in the trip.

The End.

CategoryPoland | Comment2 Comments »

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