In school this morning I gave a presentation about my homeland. I stood before my classmates, and said:
Jag kommer från USA. Det är ett stort land, med många olika manniskör…
I drew a huge map and gave in Swedish what I thought was an exhaustive overview of America’s geography and regionalism, with information like
“Cowboys bor här”
“Alla folk som bor sud om här tycker att Kanada är vår 51st stat.”
Ingen man tycker att Mexiko är an stat.”
Skandinavisker bor här, var det är kallt.
And at the end of the presentation which, even in the remotest philosophical sense, begged no questions, hands went up.
Can you talk like someone from Alabama.
Why has it taken you so long to get universal health care.
So forgive me if I toast as if an author reading from a new book. If I stay on script, perhaps I can limit questions.
For those of you I haven’t met, CB
I am also a lawyer, an editor, and a columnist.
So for me, for many of us here, words are everything. Our craftsmen’s tools, and our trusted companions, and on our best days, a way to get a client out of trouble.
I depend upon words, a lot, actually, to stay out of trouble. So I am lost here. For example, two weeks ago I went to the Rosengård vårdcentrallen instead of the one in my neighborhood. I didn’t know the words, so my ear juxtaposed Granens vårdcentralen into Rosengården and I went with it. I mean, why not?
Rosengården is such a pretty name.
Last Sunday I went to Jagersro racetrack to photograph a horse show. The place seemed deserted and I had no idea where to go, so I maneuvered my way in a restricted area, loaded with cameras and high fencing. The language barrier filters over signs that say Det är förbudet . I walked through the owners’ stables, saying “Hej hej” to all the expensive mastadons, hoping to somehow convince the oversized ponies that I belonged there, until a leathery horsewoman eyeballed me as if I were an exasperating six year old, and led me out of the secure area by my ear.
If I am to stay out of prison, jag must lära mig ett nytt språk.
Men att lära mig Svenska är mycket svårt.
Jag vet inte varför. Perhaps it is because I am something less than young? Perhpas my brain has become full
(I mean “full” not “drunk”) full is one of my favorite swedish word, so like Mandarin, one little word if misused can be such a problem
Or desicated. Ut torkad.
But it doesnt matter. I must learn, so every day a pack my Barbie and me lunchbox and go to the Folkuniversitetet and hope I remember where they put my room.
Men, det är inte bara att komma ihåg. Uttalet är också ett problem. Jag är rädd för att min man ska köpa ett hus vid en sjö (can you say that word for me?) lake. Han hade nog riktigt roligt när han hittade ett telefonnummer med fem (and this word?) sjuor …. till mig. Och min lärare kritiserade mig för uttalet “I morse” som om jag var född i Skåne.
Hur ska man säger “I morse,” frågade jag.
I Stockholm, säger vi “I moyshe.”
“I moyshe?” frågade jag. “Är det Yiddish?”
“Nej, det är inte Yiddish.”
Plötsligt tillbacka i rättsalen, fortsätter jag, ”Hur ska man säger “I morse” i Götebory?
”I Göteborg…i Göterborg,” tänkte hon. ”__ Det kvittar”
Jag lärde mig ett nytt ord den där dagen ”lokalpatriot”
Thank you for Strax. I am completely certain that it was fabulous. The funniest Strax ever, and I am hopping that by the next Karnival, I will so totally get it.
Because on the issue of words and communication, humor is another barrier. Funny often depends on growing up eating the same breakfast food, watching the same media icons. Take Donald Duck, for example. In America, Donald is mere periphery. Of the early Disney entourage, Mickey is the big man on campus, with Donald at best his foil. Here, Donald is, well, Christmas. I walked out of the a vintage comic book store in Old Town in Stockholm once, wondering, why does Donald have that kind of pull here. “The color of his clothes match the Swedish flag,” my co-writer offered. “No. That’s not funny. Try again,” I said. “Because he is a sailor and wears no pants,” he slung back at me. Bingo. We had it, a line that makes me chortle, giggle, or smile every time I hear it, but does it work over here? I don’t know and I’m not asking my teacher. She is already mad at me for causing a ruckus in class over the course material’s simplification of the distinction between tycker and tror. She got so frustrated, she looked at me and said, “Du, du advokat.”
I was thrilled. flattered.
No, no matter hurdles, it is important to learn another language for many reasons, including for business. I am never going to get that second meeting if the CEO ask me “Prata Svenska?” and the best I can do is show what Rosetta Stone and I have been able to accomplish to date: “Fiskar simmar” or the infinately more complicated, “Bussen svänger höger.”
Men jag kan kanske de viktigaste orden. Jag kan “tack för mat och vin”
”Fantastisk show”
“Det är vackert här” och
”trevligt att träffas”, och jag tror att jag talar på allas vägnar när jag säger dem orden. Och nu ett ord till. Skål.