O Christmas Tree

*original writing date: 20 December 2005*


Attention one and all! Please add the following to the “Things the Dutch Can Carry While Riding a Bike” list.

Christmas trees. Yes, that's right, friends. Christmas trees.

More than once or even ten times in the last few weeks we have witnessed our city mates balancing atop their bicycles with fresh Kerstboem just purchased from the corner lot, on their way to home or flat to make the place festive for the season.

My own experience in finding a tree for our home goes like this. Just a short distance from our place is a set of shops, which I have described before. Just in time for the season an area has been cleared along the walkway and a tree lot has been established. This tree lot comes complete with a caricature of a little Dutchman selling trees to the neighborhood residents day after day. He wears a full set of snow trousers and parka as he spends his day outdoors trimming and wrapping trees for customers to purchase and carry off.

I approached him armed with my standard phrase in Dutch “Mag ik in Engels spreken?” (May I speak English) which generally goes a long way with the shop keepers and store attendants, and then I am able to ask my questions in the language I understand best. However, to my query, this man said “Nee” (No) and then continued in a jabber of Dutch.

So picture me, standing stock still, eyes as big as saucers and mouth agape, tiny patch of drool forming at the corner, as my brain clicks into gear and I try to sort through the jumble of words pouring from his mouth to translate the ones I recognize into English and make some sense of what he is saying. Ding! The light goes on and he is telling me that he prefers to speak Dutch and I should practice mine. So, actually no, I can’t speak Engels but I am welcome to speak Nederlands to him. (This all takes a bit, as the sorting processors in my brain are quite slow.)

“Nee??” I said

And he nodded at me.

So, digging as deep as I could into my 10 once-a-week language lessons, I did my utmost to conduct a tree buying conversation in Dutch. At some level communication must have taken place, because a few minutes later I had a beautiful little tree, which had been taken from its display stand and properly netted, tucked under my arm and I was on my way home with my first Dutch Christmas tree!

*It here must be noted that having exhausted my vocabulary in getting the tree, I neglected to ask for a “stand” and Don had to go back a little later in the day to seal the deal, so to speak.*

But I was off with my small Christmas bush under one arm and a special delivery package I had just picked up from the post office under the other. I must say, I felt rather festive schlepping them both through the streets to home.

affirmative

I work in an International School. Daily, I am surrounded by multiple languages. I communicate in two.

I communicate well in only one.

As English is the working language of the school community, I conduct most business in person and by phone in my native tongue. Sometimes I forget that it is not the native tongue of everyone in my community.

Part of the variable every-day-is-a-new-adventure job I do is to coordinate the door to door mini bus service of the school. As applications arrive, I process the information and liaise with the taxi company that provides the vans for our "bus" system. Currently, we are in process of a new sort and so it has come to me to call the applicants who have moved up the queue and will be given a seat on the bus. The question/answer session generally consists of me telling them that their application has been processed and their place approved, and would they like to accept this spot in the service on this date specific? They then answer yes or no and we move forward from there. Or the application stops.

Simple.

Kind of.

As I spat out my speech today, reached the end and managed the perfunctory pause to hear the answer to my question, I was met by audible hesitation, and then a single word reply. YES. But the inflection on the statement was unmistakably a question: YES?

And in a moment it was all perfectly clear to me.

I know the sound of this YES.

This YES? that means 'I think I gathered about 25% of what you've just blathered at me, and I can tell from this pause in conversation that it is my turn to speak and the best response at this moment, just might be YES so I am going to throw it in there and hope that you won't start sputtering more rapid fire conversation at me before my brain can process what you've just said and what I have in essence agreed to since I have now uttered a positive pronouncement to your question, which I think was indeed a question, but I can't be certain since I actually, in truth and honesty, have absolutely no idea what you are saying.'

I have used it before.

The day to day reality of speaking Dutch is at best an exercise in futility. I have mentioned before the fact that the Dutch are incredible linguists and most speak not only fluent English, but also at least one or two (or three, four or five) other languages in addition to their own Mother Tongue. Because they are such excellent English speakers and because the accent of an English speaker on the Dutch is so obvious, the most likely scenario in conversation with a Dutchie is that s/he will switch to English to carry on the conversation with ease. I always, always let that happen, because, well, I am just that lazy. So, while I can speak Dutch I am far from fluent, and the bottom line here is I probably will never be. Simply because I don't have to be.

Lest you get the wrong impression of me, please rest assured that I do try mightily to speak the language of my host country and I do study it and engage in (albeit simple) conversation as often as I can. The payoff for my effort is that my receptive skills are strong, and while I cannot prattle with proficiency, I can listen with comfort. Most of the time.

My position however is unique in that I am an English speaker. And that alone makes my experience as an expat in this country entirely different from many who travel here; those for whom learning at least one if not both of the dominant languages of this country is imperative. Like some friends we had in Leiden, who came from Russia (they have since returned to their home country) for whom the negotiation of all things Dutch was next to impossible until they mastered a common language. And people like the woman on the phone today who is working hard, exponentially harder than I have to work, and grappling with a language that is not her own in order to communicate.

People like that impress me deeply.

The phone conversation today really taught me something. Perhaps the lesson is an obvious one, but that doesn't make it any less an epiphany for me. Knowing that I needed to repeat my message caused me to simplify my sentences, to pull back on the rapid fire delivery and in every way possible to SLOW DOWN. And slowing down in that single conversation, taking that breath as it were, made me step back and consider just what it is I do and am doing.

And just how much I like it all, my life.

And maybe, just maybe, how I sometimes rush through it all a little too fast.

I liked that moment of fresh air and deep breathing and I think I should very much like to find that same kind of moment tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that too. Because I don't know everything, and sometimes I only understand some things. But all of the time, I know I am alive, and here, and happy.

And that, friends, is worthy of affirmation.

Hello, I Love You, Won't You Tell Me Your Name?

Andrew's (incredible, stupendous, amazing, fantastic) preschool classroom has a self-check-in system in place wherein the children find their name card on the door and by use of sticky back velcro attach it underneath a picture of themselves, thus enabling not only a register of who is in attendance on a given day, but also the added benefit of early letter and name recognition for the child. Cool, huh?

Standing above the child's name on each card is a greeting--hello, to be exact--customized to each according to the language which they speak. For the English speakers 'Hello' graces the tag, except for the tag of the Australian child, whose tag reads 'G'day' (Truth be told, I really wanted Andrew's card to say 'Hey, y'all' but couldn't convince his teachers that the southern vernacular was really his by right)

With new children arriving weekly to his class I sat down with the classroom teachers yesterday to create a list of the new names and the appropriate greetings.

Here then is a small sampling of the ways our class says hello. (Thank goodness for Google search with a task like this.)

Hungary: Szia

German: Guten Tag

Dutch: Dag

Marathi: Namaskar

Spanish: Hola

Mhroroi: Shona

French: Bonjour

So, lay it on me. Add to the knowledge base here. How do you say hello?

Sorry, Jenn Can't Come to the Blog Right Now

Kies:

a. Jenn is een beetje ziek.

b. Jenn is een beetje moe.

c. Jenn is een beetje gek.

d. Alles.


Ik kom zo terug.

Choose:

a. Jenn isn't feeling well.

b. Jenn is a bit tired.

c. Jenn is slightly crazy.

d. All of the above.

Back soon.

...They Have a Different Word for Everything

Our Dutch lesson today begins with some simple vocabulary. Practice aloud please, as it's just oh-so-much-more-fun to actually PRONOUNCE the 'g' rather than trying to read the 'g'. Okay, really, it's just my joy in picturing your attempt to pronounce the 'g' over any other reason, but you don't want to deny me that pleasure, do you?

We shall start here:
Dag (dakh)= day
Dagen (dakh-en)=days

Now, try these:
Prettige (prett-ikh-ah)= nice or lovely or beautiful
Feest (fayst)=festival or party or celebration
Kerst (cares-t)=Christmas

And hold onto this one:
Lees (lace)=to read

I love clever advertising, and by this I mean those ads which capture a play on words to perfection. I do not mean those horrific attempts at mock-wit which change the spelling of a word to alliterate a phrase. For instance, something like Kitty Korner makes me groan in horror and don't even get me started on Kar Kare. This is travesty! Seriously. If neither word begins with that letter you don't get to just go changing it around. The blatant disregard for spelling rules just bugs. Think of the children! Think of the EAL students! Think of the spelling bees!

Oh, but I do wander. Forgive me, I will try to focus.

In Dutch, the common phrase around Christmastime is "Prettige Kerstdagen" or you might hear "Prettige Feestdagen" as the joyful wish of happy christmas days. So, keeping that phrase "Prettige Feestdagen" in mind (which can be taken to mean "have a lovely set of party days" or "Happy Celebration"), substitute the single word "Lees" (to read) in place of "Feest" and you have:

Do you see it for all the wit and glory? The simple trade of words in that phrase makes it "Happy Reading Days"

I discovered this sign--and ad campaign--at a local bookstore in The Hague's centrum while doing some Christmas shopping. I was delighted. Absolutely. Not only for the clever thought behind it, but because it is a perfect sentiment in anticipation of DAY TO READ, launched by Soccer Mom in Denial, which arrives for our mutual enjoyment and benefit next week. Jan 10th is the day friends. The day to cuddle up with a book and read, read, read.

At its heart this campaign is a call to awareness and a reminder that a good book has no equal.

Join us on the 10th and spend some time with your feet up and your mind engaged. Then, please take the time to report on your leesdag by writing about it either at your place or at one of ours.

Happy reading friends!

Stupendously Silly in Any Language

I really cannot account for the why.
I hardly will take blame for the lack of judgment.
I feel compelled to clarify that I understand it to be frivolity of the highest order.
But I must confess plainly that I get a huge kick out of Spongebob speaking Dutch.

And the theme song? To die for. Or at least to fall over laughing about. Especially that part about him looking like a cheese souffle. That gets me everytime.

This post is for my nephew Mitch. And for any of you other silly underwater cartoon fanatics out there. Go on, you can admit it here, you're among friends. (Please forgive mistakes in translation.)

The theme song from Spongebob Squarepants:

Kunnen we, kinderen? (coonen vee kint-er-en)
Can we, kids?

Ai ai, kapitein! (eye eye cop-ee-tine)
Aye! Aye! Captain!

Ik hoor het niet! (ick hoar het neet)
I don't hear that!

Ai ai, kapitein! (eye eye capp-ee-tine)
Aye! Aye! Captain!

Oooooooow! (oooooooooh)
Oh!

Hij woont in een ananas diep in de zee (Hi vont in ayn ah-nah-nahs deep in dah zay)
He lives in a pineapple deep in the sea

Spongebob Squarepants (no translation necessary, yes?)

Hij ziet zo geel als een kaassouflée (Hi zeet zo khayl alls ayn kahs sooflay)
He looks so yellow as a cheese souffle

Spongebob Squarepants

Ja, iedereen weet wat voor mafkees het is (yah, eet-er-ayn vayt vaht for mahf-kays het is)
Yes, everyone knows what a weirdo he is

Spongebob Squarepants

Die vierkante friet is zo gek als een vis (dee fear-kahn-tah freet is zo kheck alls ayn fiss)
This square fry is crazy as a fish

Spongebob Squarepants
Spongebob Squarepants
Spongebob Squarepants
Spongebob Squarepants
Spongie-bob Square-pants



And just to prove I am not exaggerating the silliness point. The theme song lyrics now in English:
Are ya ready kids?
Aye Aye Captain!
I CAN'T HEAR YOU!
AYE AYE CAPTAIN!
ohhhhhh!!!!
Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?
SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS!
Absorbant and yellow and poreous is he
SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS!
If nautical nonsense be somethin' you wish
SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS!
Then drop on the deck and flop like a fish!
SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS!
Ready?
SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS!
SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS!
SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS!
SPONGEYBOB SQUAREPAAAANTS

For your multi-sensory pleasure, the theme song:



And to make this post tolerable for my daughter, I give you the theme song once again, ala Avril Lavigne:



Now, that's something that ought to stick with you all day. Happy Humming!

On Acquiring Dutch

From the initial moment we began discussing plans to move across the ocean, I was eager and anxious to acquire the language of the Dutch. This would be a first experience for me in international living and I was excited about the opportunity to learn a new language and use it daily. Not long after we arrived, I found a Dutch language class and enrolled. The course title 'INTENSIVE DUTCH I ' was in no way a misnomer. It was a once per week, three-hour, evening class held at a local college and it was INTENSE. The moment I stepped into the classroom there was no language other than Dutch spoken. No translations, no explanations, no nonsense. All grammar, all vocabulary, all everything was explained in Dutch. And hoo-boy that makes it intense. At that point in time I understood a sum total of perhaps three Dutch words and these did not include any of the vocabulary for the idea 'to understand'. When my teacher would ask the class if we understood what she had spoken or explained I would just sit at my student desk with that doe-in-the-headlights stare in my eyes, and nod vigorously with a sloppy maniacal grin on my face, pretending I totally got that. Any of it.

Somewhere along the intensive line I did manage to get it. Some of it, anyway. I emerged from that 10 week course able to ask a few questions and follow simple directions when spoken in Dutch. Which frankly I was pretty darn proud of, this being my first go at new language and all.

I did not follow up that course with 'INTENSIVE DUTCH II' because of a schedule conflict but instead sort of threw myself into the 'learn it as you blow it' trial-and-error method of speaking a new language. The Dutch for their part are first and foremost excellent linguists and are willing to speak English to any expat, so it's not as if I have ever had a minute of trouble communicating in this country. (Well, other than the time I wanted to buy a Christmas tree; but even that ended up a success, and a funny story to tell.) In fact, even with my rudimentary attempts to speak the native tongue of this land, a Nederlander hears my accent and readily switches to speak to me in the language of my comfort. I usually allow that to happen and don't really insist on speaking Dutch, because well, it's just so much easier to speak my familiar English.

That's not to say I haven't kept at it and I have continued to make an effort to speak Dutch. I think that it's simple courtesy to speak the few words that I can. I am not fluent, but I am able to conduct business at the market and I can ask or answer simple questions. And I can follow slow and straightforward conversation. I get frustrated when the conversation moves at rapid fire pace, or Dutch-speed as I like to call it. I also get stuck when conversation moves to topics and ideas outside of my vocabulary. And stuck is the best way to describe how it feels to me when I get lost in the mish-mash of sounds; words losing their meaning as my brain processing slows down to a crawl.

I get stuck.

It's as if I am standing in swampland and I cannot move my feet to make headway in moving through the muck. I am trapped in the twilight world between understanding what I hear but being unable to answer or keep up my end of the conversation. I heard a fellow expat describe the feeling as "the dumb factor". When comprehension gets mislaid in the banter of a language that is not your own, you tend toward that simple stare as you plaster a grin on your kisser, not unlike the one I used in my language class, and you nod and smile, nod and smile. And you hope to God that you are not agreeing to some radical political stance or promising your first-born child to a whimsical elfin creature.

Last week as Andrew and I stepped off the city bus and began the short walk to our home we had to cross through an area that is currently torn up and under construction. There are myriad big machines, and lots of big lovely holes which the diggers have dug. Besides being a rather large obstacle to the desire of one particular preschooler to keep moving along, the equipment is also a large obstacle on the sidewalk. Machines, tools and construction supplies are strewn over the area where pedestrians travel and as a result all walkers are forced onto the bike path for a length of about 50 feet. As we were making our way along the path we were doing our best to stay far to the side so we wouldn't be in the way of any cyclists. Despite our noble effort to share space, a grumpy Dutchman swept up behind us on his bike and rang his bell. Repeatedly. Then he scolded the two of us for being on the bike path. Without hesitation I raised my head, narrowed my eyes and barked a retort to his diminishing backside as he cycled past. ALL OF IT IN DUTCH. I didn't even pause when I added the verbal insult at the end.

I actually didn't know I could do that. Not without measured planning and careful English to Dutch translation inside my head. That realization is satisfying in a way I can hardly explain.

I guess my language acquisition is going better than I thought.

Getting It Right

Not so long ago, I was standing in the kitchen on a Saturday evening, preparing food and things for a party we were hosting, when three year-old Andrew strolled in. He had the packaging for his CARS car in his right hand. With his left hand, he patted my bottom and said “this is butt crack”.
I snorted and then sought clarification.

“What was that?”

“This is butt crack”.

Hmmm… Didn’t know he knew such a phrase or the location of this particular body part. I was totally intrigued, but also totally up to my elbows in chicken marinade so I let it pass with a decided 'Huh!' and in my mind chalked it up as proof that having older siblings can really be a detriment to the innocence of toddlerhood.

The next day I was lounging on the couch, recovering from the party we hosted the night before, when Andrew sauntered into the living room. Again, he was holding the packaging for his CARS car. Again he said:

“this is butt crack”

And again, I said:

“what was that?”

This time he held out the cardboard packaging for me to see. On the back are the pictures and names of all the cars from CARS which can be purchased. (COLLECT THEM ALL!)

“This is butt crack” he said, pointing to one of the pictures.

I took the card from him and squinted hard at the tiny writing under a picture of a red car.

“Ah!’ I said “this is DIRT TRACK McQueen”

“Uh, yeah. This is dirt track”

“Right buddy. This one is called dirt track NOT butt crack.”

Uh, yeah. This one is not butt crack. This is dirt track Lightning McQueen”

“Exactly. I’m glad we cleared that one up.”

“Yeah. This is dirt track NOT butt crack. This is dirt track, Mama. Yeah, this is not butt crack.”

“Okay then, are we done saying butt crack now?”

“Okay, this is not butt crack okay, Mama? This is dirt track Lightning McQueen”

“Okay”

“Yeah, this is dirt track Lightning McQueen. NOT butt crack! That’s funny!”

“Yes, baby. That’s funny.”