Lost in translation

The other day I went to my Peruvian neighbours to borrow an egg. The Grandmother answered and when I asked for an egg, she told me she didn't speak English. I didn't know the Spanish word for egg, so I held my thumb and index finger up as if holding one. What was I thinking? Of course she didn't know what I was trying to do. Who would? Instead, I started acting like a chicken, in hopes that she would know I wanted an egg.

She looked at me with a puzzled look. I ran to my house, turned on the computer, and looked up how to say egg in Spanish. I dashed back outside, and just then the mother arrived. I told her that I wanted to borrow an egg, but didn't know how in Spanish. "Heuvo," she said, and with that the Grandmother went into the kitchen and brought an egg.

Gracias, thank you, I said, after having expanded my Spanish vocabulary.

The following day I was riding the bus with my neighbour. I told him that I was trying to borrow an egg from his mother-in-law. "I know," he said laughing. "She thought you wanted a chicken."

Now, if you find yourself looking for an egg in Spain or Latin America, or parts of Los Angeles, you'll know. Consider it my gift to you.

This reminded me of the first day Carrie and I were in Korea. We met up with two other teachers and found one of the many small restaurants that dotted downtown Seoul's alleyways. The menu, in Korean of course, was hung on the wall, and unlike many restaurants there were no photographs of the gastronomic offerings. A husband and wife team toiled in this modest restaurant. She in the kitchen, and he out front.

We were seated at a table, and given some green tea. We asked for a menu, and the man pointed to the wall. We were not able to speak or read Korean, and he was unable to speak English. The four of us sat looking at one another, wondering if the only dinner we were going to get would be the hot tea. We looked over at other tables trying to find something that looked good.

The man came back to take our order, and we all looked at each other. The only thing that came from our mouths was an insecure laugh. After what seemed like hours, the standoff ended, when we pointed to a few other dishes that other patrons were devouring, and told him to bring whatever he wanted.

I don't remember what we ate that night, but for the most part it was delicious. But from then on, we made sure to find restaurants that had pictures on their menu.