Lost in Translation
When it rains it pours.
I am pretty sure whoever first uttered these words looked into the future at Tirana this past week. It has not stopped raining it seems. I am from the high desert and thus am not attuned to this downpour of moisture. That and I really hate rain. It gets me wet. It gets my clothes wet. It gets everything I carry wet. And wet is not my biggest goal in life.
Aside from the weather, becoming accustomed to the city is going quite well. I know where I am going whether it is work or church or Institute or home and I know where some of the good places to eat are. I just have to hope that no one stops me while I walk to try to talk to me. That won't work.
Before coming to Albania, I was trying to learn a little Shqip (Albanian) so that I could impress the people around me with the fact that an American knows some of their language. Well, they aren't very impressed. Yes, I know some words and sentences but communicating has proven to be my biggest obstacle (excluding the first week when I didn't know how to properly use the water heater). In fact, today while on the way to watch a devotional broadcast, apparently a man was trying to talk to me and I didn't know it so I kept walking. He started talking louder. Then yelling. I turned around and realized that it probably looked like I was being rude and avoiding him when I just really didn't know. I pleaded at him, "Anglesht" (meaning "English") and kept walking so I would not be late. The man said more (probably grammatically colloquial) words to which I simply pointed at my watch and then in the direction I was headed. I felt bad.
But not as bad as later when a new friend was speaking his decent English with me and then proceeded to walk with me in the direction of my home. After a bit I realized that is home was in the opposite direction. With the help of Google Translate, it was concluded that he was walking thinking I had said that I did not know my way home. He is such a nice guy helping like that, I just felt bad because he was going in the complete opposite direction of his own home.
I sit here now, the rude and needy American who is just trying to survive my time in a foreign country without offending anyone and managing to offend everyone. Now I simply drink my nights away with Fanta Exotic wondering if I will ever get the language down. Now realizing that if I just try more, then I will get it. Wish me "paç fat".
I am pretty sure whoever first uttered these words looked into the future at Tirana this past week. It has not stopped raining it seems. I am from the high desert and thus am not attuned to this downpour of moisture. That and I really hate rain. It gets me wet. It gets my clothes wet. It gets everything I carry wet. And wet is not my biggest goal in life.
Aside from the weather, becoming accustomed to the city is going quite well. I know where I am going whether it is work or church or Institute or home and I know where some of the good places to eat are. I just have to hope that no one stops me while I walk to try to talk to me. That won't work.
Before coming to Albania, I was trying to learn a little Shqip (Albanian) so that I could impress the people around me with the fact that an American knows some of their language. Well, they aren't very impressed. Yes, I know some words and sentences but communicating has proven to be my biggest obstacle (excluding the first week when I didn't know how to properly use the water heater). In fact, today while on the way to watch a devotional broadcast, apparently a man was trying to talk to me and I didn't know it so I kept walking. He started talking louder. Then yelling. I turned around and realized that it probably looked like I was being rude and avoiding him when I just really didn't know. I pleaded at him, "Anglesht" (meaning "English") and kept walking so I would not be late. The man said more (probably grammatically colloquial) words to which I simply pointed at my watch and then in the direction I was headed. I felt bad.
But not as bad as later when a new friend was speaking his decent English with me and then proceeded to walk with me in the direction of my home. After a bit I realized that is home was in the opposite direction. With the help of Google Translate, it was concluded that he was walking thinking I had said that I did not know my way home. He is such a nice guy helping like that, I just felt bad because he was going in the complete opposite direction of his own home.
I sit here now, the rude and needy American who is just trying to survive my time in a foreign country without offending anyone and managing to offend everyone. Now I simply drink my nights away with Fanta Exotic wondering if I will ever get the language down. Now realizing that if I just try more, then I will get it. Wish me "paç fat".
Mirupafshim për sot
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