Linguist Abroad

While visiting Anime-town (legitimate dedicated shopping center in Tokyo), Alex and I stopped at a clothing store  displaying discount children's costumes. Alex, in search of a cute outfit for her niece, browsed the clearance rack while I stood by. Our solitude lasted only a moment as a Japanese sales lady approached to check on us. Noticing Alex holding up a couple different outfits, she began by asking if we knew what size we were shopping for, prompting the following conversation in Japanese:

Me: We don't know. It is for her . . . (here I blanked on the word for brother's child, since I knew I didn't know the word for niece).

Lady: Brother's child? Sister's child?

Me: Yes! Brother's child. Brother's child.

Lady: Girl? Boy?

Me: Girl. Girl.

The lady nodded and was quiet for a moment, both of us pretending to watch Alex browse the rack while I quickly replayed the conversation in my head, going over the words I had forgotten. My reverie was broken by a single utterance.

Lady: Meiko.

Me: Hm?

Lady: Meiko.

Me: Make? Meiko? Make? Style? (My brain was racing through every conceivable word she could be saying and what she meant by it. Was she saying "make"? Normally I'd have expected that to sound like "meiku" not "meiko" but nothing could be assumed at this point. Was she asking for the style of clothes we were looking for? the brand name? the build of the child? the material composition of the outfit in question? What do you want to know, woman? WHAT?)

Lady: No. In Japanese. Brother's child. "Meiko."

Me: Meiko! Oh! Thank you! Meiko!

I was so excited at the turn this conversation had taken. A new word! I repeated it several times to myself before she started up again, telling me "meiko" was if the child was a girl, but if it's a boy, then the word was "oiko."

Meiko! Oiko! Niece. Nephew. I may never use the terms again, but I know them now! Alex, having finished browsing, waited politely a step away. I thanked the lady for her delightful conversation, and away we went. 

Three hours later, Alex apologized for "dragging" me all over the shopping center looking for souvenirs for her family members while I purchased nothing. I didn't notice it had been three hours. I spent the whole time muttering "meiko" and "oiko" to keep myself from forgetting the new words and not paying attention to the shopping at all. Linguistic happiness is so easily and inexpensively achieved . . . 

Snake?

Breakfasts at the factory cafeteria in China were a simple and delicious affair with very little variation. Noodle soup took center stage with fried rice, steamed buns, and an occasional side dish forming the rest of the cast. I'm not sure what the side dish was. Brian was not sure what the side dish was. In fact, nobody seemed sure what the side dish was. Believe me; we asked.

Brian was much more adventurous with the food than I had really expected him to be. He was quite willing to try just about anything so long as it wasn't seafood. So when we arrived one morning to a new side dish, Brian said he'd be willing to try it as soon as we knew what it was. I guessed vegetables, but one can never be sure. A Chinese coworker came in, and after allowing an appropriate time for her to get her breakfast, I asked politely what the dish in question was. In English, of course.

The coworker puzzled for a moment, bringing her finger to her chin. Hesitation over food in China is never promising. I was about to tell her to never mind when she said, "Snake?"

"Snake?" I said. "Oh. Thank you." I turned back to my meal, and told Brian that we didn't know what it was. He hadn't quite heard her say "snake" and I wasn't about to tell him she'd said, "snake." I didn't believe it was snake. My functioning theory was that she meant the word "snack," but this was conjecture at best. The funny thing about the Chinese is that they don't believe in disguising what you're being served. If it looks like noodles, it's noodles. If it looks like chopped-up chunks of eel, it's chopped-up chunks of eel. If it looks like Sebastian escaped the mad French cook and is hiding on your lettuce platter, then it might be Sebastian's cousin, but the scenario hasn't varied much. 

The real point is, if it looks like shredded pickled vegetables, it certainly isn't snake. And if it had been snake, it would have looked like snake. We just needed to wait for a second opinion. Unless maybe they were all baby snakes? I searched surreptitiously for any sign of eyeballs while we all quietly ate our noodles.

Another coworker arrived and the first lady lost absolutely no time posing our query to him in Chinese. I could hear her explaining that she hadn't been sure about what it was called. "Oh," he replied at length. "It is a condiment."

I thanked him, but neither of us touched the dish yet. His response merely labeled the role the dish played at the table, not the question of its basic construction. I'd expect a large snake to be a main dish, but a handful of baby snakes to merely be a "condiment." We all ate our noodles and waited a further opinion.

One of Brian's engineer coworkers was the next to enter, and she was promptly bombarded by the two present Chinese people to identify for us the dish on the table. Her English enjoyed a slightly broader vocabulary, and they seemed to be able to tell our question had not quite been answered. The third coworker quickly offered us two more synonyms for condiment, "side dish," and "appetizer." I felt a little more comfortable with her and so pressed the issue and said, "Yes, but what's it made of. Vegetables?"

"Mmm. I do not know. Maybe." She returned to the other two in Chinese conversation asking them if either of them knew the composition of the dish. They both shrugged. She turned back to me and repeated "appetizer" following it up with an assurance that it was delicious and not too spicy. This seemed to be the most satisfactory response we would receive, and so I leaned over to her and said, "She said it was snake."

The engineer burst into laughter, and translated hurriedly for the other two who also burst into laughter. The first woman looked embarrassed and emphasized that her English was not good, and she knew she hadn't gotten the right word. The joke was passed on to everyone who came in to breakfast, but we still didn't try the dish. After all, we still don't know what's in it.

Yes, Scrooge Darling

Our church did a special program for the Sunday before Christmas and I passed the whole of it paying fervent attention and taking notes. Because of Brian. I pass on to you now his priceless remarks.

At the choir sitting down after the first choir number
"I hate choirs. Y'know what the most important thing to a choir director is? Standing up and sitting down at the same time. How about actually singing well? Nope. Just as long as we all sit down simultaneously. That's what really matters."

At the children getting up to perform a number
"I hate when they do this. Look at this. They take three times as long to get up there and stand still than they do to sing the song. And of course it's soooooo important that they all stand still. It's kids. They're not going to stand still."

At the children actually performing the number
"And of course they don't know the words. All these kids just standing up there not singing, but it's sooooo important that they stand there! This is important to Christmas."

At the children sitting down after the number
"Yup. Better tell them not to run again. Cause they listened to you so well the first sixteen times."

At the instrumental musical number
"I hate arrangements. I just hate arrangements."

At the choir singing a medley number
"I hate medleys. Every time you see the word 'medley' just substitute 'bastardized conglomeration'."

At the choir pausing during the medley number
"I hate pauses."

At a special number that suddenly changed languages
"I hate bilingual duets."

All right, Scrooge, darling, let's take you home before you start swinging a coal shovel at the carolers.

Pragmatism for the Win

Brian to me after a miserable day of sickness, "I hope you feel better in the morning." I opened my mouth to say thanks but was interrupted by Brian.

"Odds are against that. I hope you feel better the second morning."