Me Speakee Engrish

Sheila sez:

Monty Python in Portuguese!

I love it!

Keep up the good work.

You give me far too much credit. All I did was search on “nudge wink” in YouTube.

Thanks to the non-Americans who post on YouTube and to those who write blogs. Americans think we are the center of the universe and we need a slap upside the head once in a while (and actually a lot more often than that) to be reminded that we are not alone.

I love languages. I should have majored in linguistics. I love hearing people speak in different languages. I love hearing different accents. I love seeing different languages. (With that Monty Python video: I was sitting here “reading” the subtitles and I don’t even know Portuguese.) New York City is a great place for languages and accents, as are major airports. It’s fun being in a shop at O’Hare and eavesdropping on a conversation and trying to figure out if the people are speaking in Polish or Bulgarian or maybe Roumanian.

(Is it eavesdropping when you don’t understand what the people are saying?)

A few of my immature friends and I once spent a good 5 minutes reading (or, rather, staring at) the foreign subtitles for a cable tv show trying to figure out what language it was in. The audio was not in English and the subtitles used a lot of u’s, nn’s, k’s, and y’s. It took a while before ‘J’ exclaimed “FINNISH!” And she was right.

(Yes, that’s what we do for fun out here.)

Having an opportunity to visit Athens, Greece, I dutifully studied a little Berlitz speak Greek guide for weeks beforehand and then the only thing I used with any degree of frequency over there was “σας ευχαριστούμε.” Which was OK — every Greek I met was super nice (and almost everyone over there speaks English), and it’s like the most important thing to learn to say in any language.

That, and “s’il vous plait.”

Americans love foreign cars, Bunn and Krups kitchen appliances, Sony electronics, Nikon cameras, Yves Saint-Laurent bags, Prada shoes, cheap stuff we can buy at Wal-Mart made by slave labor in China. Other than that we get freaked out by foreign things. Especially language. If it’s not English and spoken with an American accent you might as well be speaking Greek.

You walk into your freshman chemistry lab section and there — to your horror — is the lab instructor, a graduate student from Beijing. Your calculus discussion section is run by a grad student from Cairo. And the dang computer labs are staffed by assistants from Hyderabad and Bangalore.

You write home and complain bitterly to your parents, who complain bitterly to the university.

OK, I’m being too critical.

Personal disclaimer: I have the benefit and blessing of having been raised in a “multicultural” (I’m not crazy about that word — it’s a fine word, but one co-opted by the Politically Correct Crowd) environment. But I don’t speak the language of my grandparents and I took French in high school and college, so it’s not like I’ve ever been bilingual.

But it really torques me off when some Americans turn their ears off when a speaker doesn’t sound like Tom Brokaw or Katie Couric. Or Keith Olbermann. They don’t make even the smallest effort to try to understand.

The only non-native English speaker I ever had any problem with was a former co-worker from India. He not only had a very thick accent but had had the misfortune of being born with a cleft palate. The birth defect had been repaired, but it was difficult for him to enunciate. It was kind of sad because was a great guy with a very dry sense of humor, but I could just see people’s brains switch off when they heard him speak.

I like those post-game interviews with athletes whose first language is not English. (1) I like hearing the accents, and (2) You get more pure emotion precisely because they can’t find the English words with which to express themselves. After throwing his no-hitter in September Anibal Sanchez of the Marlins struggled with an interview in English before switching to Spanish at the end. I’m not exactly sure what he said, but it was probably about being proud and happy, and it was good to hear the Spanish words pour out of him. It kind of kills me when a European or Asian or whatever athlete wins a gold medal at the Olympics, gets interviewed by some reporter from NBC, and apologizes if their English is shaky. Why apologize?

And what’s this with the dearth of bilingual sports reporters? Professional sports have become increasingly global. How can you get a really good interview with Albert Pujols or Carlos Beltrán on hitting if you don’t speak Spanish? By interviewing them in English you force them to describe their art with a short list of words. It’s like listening to Beethoven’s 9th Symphony played on a kazoo — you get the tune, but you lose out on the music’s soul.

Pretty clear that Steve Lyons isn’t a bilingual kind of guy.

(Sweet Lou is Hispanic? I always thought he was Italian, although there is nothing frahjeelay about him.)

Funny country, America. We like to say we’re a melting pot, but we’re more of a buffet with each dish retaining its uniqueness. Which works for me. Whenever I hear politicians or social scientists speak of “assimilation” I think of the Borg.

(Engineering joke. Of if you took physics in high school or college.)

“I love America, but I don’t like it.”

Me, I like it most of the time. And I love it all of the time.