Listening to: Bert Jansch - Courting blues.
My parents visited last weekend. Being a part of their english tourist experience made me realise how much I've already learned. I'm still obviously a long way off any real true level of competence, but it was a linguistic pat on the back of sorts - an encouraging 'keep at it!' everytime I was able to act as their translator.
'Pat on the back... keep at it' ... that brings to mind something I've been thinking a lot about of late. As non-nationals attempting to integrate, we must always be aware of phrases that are non-translatable. That is to say we must screen the idioms and the slang of our own langauge when talking in another language, if we don't want to seem crazy.
The brazilian females intimidate me a little. Watching them 'on the pull' is like watching one of those animals in the wild programmes on the discovery channel. There is a phrase in spanish that translates to 'they have red in the eyes', I guess it's their equivalent of 'on the prowl' or 'in for the kill'. I then taught the argentinan 'SCHLAG', and he offered me (no idea how to write it in the vernacular, sorry) the spanish equivalent. It translated to 'quick knickers'. C'est fantastique, n'est-ce pas?
On tuesday I spent my lunchtime attempting to explain the associations of white vans in england, to a french friend. I think I was eventually successful, but it was a bit of a challenge.
By the end of the weekend, after spending each day and evening with my mother and step-father, I started to realise that it isn't only between languages that we must filter our idiomatic choices. I realised that language barriers exist between generations. My parents often misinterpret my style of speech as rude and negative, when my intentions lie elsewhere.
Is it the case that there is a generational language which is incomprehensible to other generations, or is it merely that I'm a bitch in denial? J'espère pas...
Bon soirée.
No comments:
Post a Comment