Si....I mean Oui

As my vacation to China is coming up rapidly, lots of things are going through my mind. One of the things I am thinking about is the language barrier.

I don't speak Mandarin. I have been trying to use a software program to teach me this incredibly complicated language. What I've learned so far are some colors, like red, yellow, white, blue, black, and pink (although pink is a little more complicated). I've also learned the words for boy, girl, man, woman, dancing, old lady, old man, fish, airplane, bird, to jump, to walk, to run, to eat, to drink, and to read. And I've learned the words for the numbers 1 through 8.

What it all boils down to is this: I better not ask for anything in multiples of 9. If I decide to buy something, I better like that item in red, blue, yellow, black, white or pink. And if someone asks me to dance, at least I'll know they're not trying to steal my wallet. And if I need assistance, at least I will know how to say, "the little boy is sitting on the left wing of the yellow airplane," or "the white fish is swimming in the aquarium," or "the old man is dancing because he ate too much Mongolian hot pot." Needless to say, I have some concern with my effectiveness in this language.

Without a doubt, I will be thankful once we get to Hong Kong where one of the languages is in English, or when I return to hear the English language. Whenever I have travelled abroad, I find myself thinking very hard due to language issues. I speak French. I speak Spanish. I can decipher Italian. I have a concept of German. But NONE of these languages remotely resembles the Chinese language. I hope my brain doesn't get too tired.

Case in point: I went to Europe several years ago with my friend Jonathan. We took the train from Rome to Amsterdam. It was great! By the time we got to Amsterdam, however, it was extremely rainy. We arrived in Holland at the beginning of April. It was cold. It was damp. And I had a cold. It didn't prohibit me from seeking out things to see in the city of Amsterdam, and the experience of it made me come to like split pea soup. Jonathan and I decided we needed to have some down time before we returned back to the U.S. We decided to see a movie.

The name of the movie escapes me, but from what I recall, it was in English (with Dutch subtitles of course). Michael Douglas was in it, and I had heard rave reviews of it before we left for our trip three weeks earlier. We got our seats. We were relaxed. We were tired. We were looking forward to hearing English.

The movie started. I remember being able to read the credits preceding the movie. And we gave a sigh of relief. "YAY!" we thought, "English." When the movie started, the scene changed to a desert town, that looked much like the Mexican influenced architecture of the desert southwest of the U.S. "Cool," I thought, "this takes place in Arizona." Then the dialogue started.

It was in Spanish.

Furthermore, the subtitles were in Dutch (imagine that, we're in Holland). Jonathan and I looked at each other, started laughing hysterically, to the chagrin of the other Dutch patrons not impressed by our disruption. It wasn't just one scene that was in Spanish, but more like the first 25 minutes.

At minute 26, we cast a sigh of relief. The movie was then in English with Dutch subtitles. After 3 weeks, it was such a pleasant language to hear.

I promise to try my damndest to learn more Chinese, or to learn while I'm there too, but nothing beats coming home to your own language. And, at least if I buy some clothes, I won't have to worry about getting a hot pink one, with a white fish, swimming in an aquarium on an airplane, with an old man eating a sandwich, standing over it dancing.

Thank goodness for that!