Tahs-teez is arabic for fart.
You're welcome.
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Saturday, July 10, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Little Kids Think I'm Dumb
My fella has one niece and three nephews, all pre-teen and incredibly bright funny young people. They all call him Tonton, which is some kind of french slang for uncle. As the family back home is on the traditional side, I was slowly introduced to the kids as Tonton's fiance, rather than trampy live-in girlfriend, so as to side step any pesky questions about why Tonton's lady-friend is always having sleep overs with him, and does she have her own bed. You get the idea. Plus there's the fact that I don't speak much Arabic, or any french, and they don't speak much English yet.
When we Skype with the kids, I usually just lurk quietly in the shadows, trying to pick up what the discussion of the day is with my limited vocabulary. Last time I was awarded a full access pass to talking and, essentially, meeting the kids. They asked questions in perfect French, and Tonton answered. Eventually I was persuaded to speak. Now, the first words and phrases I learned in Arabic were better suited to the men's room of a very dirty bar than Saturday Morning cartoons. But I pieced together what I thought was a pretty impressive, albeit simple phrase; Would you like to eat some watermelon? Here we have small watermelons, as big as your head.
They laughed their cute little ass off at me. Which is fine, because I'm sure it's hilarious to hear a grown ass woman speak like a retarded 5-year-old. I guess I'd made an error in conjugation, and used the masculine version of the verb eat. Whatever. That's not the worst part. I'm used to being made the object of fun, and making children genuinely laugh is always a great thing. The worst part was when Yasmine, the oldest, then asked me, in perfect English, to "say the watermelon sentence again, please".
So, the way I figure it, these kids are fluent in two languages, and functional in a third. Seriously. I think her English is better than my Spanish. For this, of course, I blame the U.S. public school system, which gave me four years of Spanish but never required me to actually learn a second language. It's the U.S. public school system's fault that I can barely string together more than a few paltry sentences in any other language, while these kids are being raised tri-lingual. And in two different alphabets!
But these kids don't know about the U.S. public school system, and my Arabic isn't good enough yet to explain it to them. So, for now, they just think I'm stupid. Funny, but stupid. I was really hoping it would take them longer to figure that out.
When we Skype with the kids, I usually just lurk quietly in the shadows, trying to pick up what the discussion of the day is with my limited vocabulary. Last time I was awarded a full access pass to talking and, essentially, meeting the kids. They asked questions in perfect French, and Tonton answered. Eventually I was persuaded to speak. Now, the first words and phrases I learned in Arabic were better suited to the men's room of a very dirty bar than Saturday Morning cartoons. But I pieced together what I thought was a pretty impressive, albeit simple phrase; Would you like to eat some watermelon? Here we have small watermelons, as big as your head.
They laughed their cute little ass off at me. Which is fine, because I'm sure it's hilarious to hear a grown ass woman speak like a retarded 5-year-old. I guess I'd made an error in conjugation, and used the masculine version of the verb eat. Whatever. That's not the worst part. I'm used to being made the object of fun, and making children genuinely laugh is always a great thing. The worst part was when Yasmine, the oldest, then asked me, in perfect English, to "say the watermelon sentence again, please".
So, the way I figure it, these kids are fluent in two languages, and functional in a third. Seriously. I think her English is better than my Spanish. For this, of course, I blame the U.S. public school system, which gave me four years of Spanish but never required me to actually learn a second language. It's the U.S. public school system's fault that I can barely string together more than a few paltry sentences in any other language, while these kids are being raised tri-lingual. And in two different alphabets!
But these kids don't know about the U.S. public school system, and my Arabic isn't good enough yet to explain it to them. So, for now, they just think I'm stupid. Funny, but stupid. I was really hoping it would take them longer to figure that out.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Accidental Accent
Part of my journey to become just the best darn fake-Lebanese girlfriend ever has been trying to learn the language. For the uninitiated, the average Lebanese speaks three languages fluently; English, French, and Arabic. Lebanese Arabic, however, is a distinct language, different from formal written Arabic, so I guess technically most Lebanese speak four languages then. So, luckily for me, my fella has been speaking English since he was in school, and is more than capable of communicating in my first language, even though it’s his third (fourth?)
So why learn Arabic? To torture myself? To prove I can? Just to be obstinate and obnoxious and pretentious? Well, yes, of course for those reasons. But also because of what happens anytime to Arabic speakers are in the same room together; 20 minutes of unintelligible conversation followed by a one-sentence translation. Not only am I constantly desperate to know all the details of all the conversations I’m constantly missing, I’m tired of people having to pause to explain a joke that doesn’t really translate, or synthesis a hilarious story into one unfunny phrase.
So instead I’ve been learning a language that not only has three different genders for adjectives and adverbs, but also applies gender to verbs and nouns. It is crazy making. Plus learning all those crazy new sounds, because that alphabet has, like, 8 extra letters. The good news is I’m coming along, making progress, and am now able to form simple sentences and swear like a Phoenician sailor. The bad news is all of this effort is negatively impacting my English skills.
No, I haven’t reverted back to pre-verbal, but I feel like my vocabulary is not as strong as it used to be. And I find myself often reaching for certain words, and finding an Arabic word where the English word should be. All of this is manageable. The really obnoxious thing, the thing that may very well alienate my friends, is the accent. I’ve acquired a fake Arabic accent. As in, when I’m speaking to native English speakers, I still sounds like Andrea who grew up in the east bay and went to high school in the central valley, but when I get on the phone with a friend from Beirut, or talk to a friend from Riyadh, and get into a lover’s quarrel with my honey, I unconsciously transition to accented English.
It makes no sense. It doesn’t make my English any easier to understand, and it makes me look like an ass. Especially since I’ve started using the same accented English with other non-native English speakers are school and at work. Trust me; I look stupid saying ‘bas’ to a nice Korean family.
And I’ve completely given up on my high school Spanish…
So why learn Arabic? To torture myself? To prove I can? Just to be obstinate and obnoxious and pretentious? Well, yes, of course for those reasons. But also because of what happens anytime to Arabic speakers are in the same room together; 20 minutes of unintelligible conversation followed by a one-sentence translation. Not only am I constantly desperate to know all the details of all the conversations I’m constantly missing, I’m tired of people having to pause to explain a joke that doesn’t really translate, or synthesis a hilarious story into one unfunny phrase.
So instead I’ve been learning a language that not only has three different genders for adjectives and adverbs, but also applies gender to verbs and nouns. It is crazy making. Plus learning all those crazy new sounds, because that alphabet has, like, 8 extra letters. The good news is I’m coming along, making progress, and am now able to form simple sentences and swear like a Phoenician sailor. The bad news is all of this effort is negatively impacting my English skills.
No, I haven’t reverted back to pre-verbal, but I feel like my vocabulary is not as strong as it used to be. And I find myself often reaching for certain words, and finding an Arabic word where the English word should be. All of this is manageable. The really obnoxious thing, the thing that may very well alienate my friends, is the accent. I’ve acquired a fake Arabic accent. As in, when I’m speaking to native English speakers, I still sounds like Andrea who grew up in the east bay and went to high school in the central valley, but when I get on the phone with a friend from Beirut, or talk to a friend from Riyadh, and get into a lover’s quarrel with my honey, I unconsciously transition to accented English.
It makes no sense. It doesn’t make my English any easier to understand, and it makes me look like an ass. Especially since I’ve started using the same accented English with other non-native English speakers are school and at work. Trust me; I look stupid saying ‘bas’ to a nice Korean family.
And I’ve completely given up on my high school Spanish…
Friday, June 18, 2010
I think introductions are in order...
When the person who got me started writing my half-assed ideas on the internet (now officially referred to as blogging) 10+ years ago told me I still had some funny stories left in me, I believed her. I'm not going to pretend I didn't think about it. I have missed writing lately, and I was looking for something, anything interesting to write about. But I was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, I had become a terribly boring person and no longer had anything interesting to write about. Luckily, or hopefully, I am wrong.
But the days of writing about boobs and wieners are (mostly) over. I'm a grown ass woman, and I'm settling down with a grown ass fella. He's Lebanese, and I'm Italian America, or white to you lay-people. So far, it has been a fun adventure, but there are some interesting moments where we collide, if for not other reason than I have boobs and he has a wiener. So I want to re-assume my role of The Person Who Writes Personal Shit on the Internet To Feel Cool (now called blogger), and document it all for my own mental health and your entertainment. Enjoy!
But the days of writing about boobs and wieners are (mostly) over. I'm a grown ass woman, and I'm settling down with a grown ass fella. He's Lebanese, and I'm Italian America, or white to you lay-people. So far, it has been a fun adventure, but there are some interesting moments where we collide, if for not other reason than I have boobs and he has a wiener. So I want to re-assume my role of The Person Who Writes Personal Shit on the Internet To Feel Cool (now called blogger), and document it all for my own mental health and your entertainment. Enjoy!
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