My wife and I arrived in 1993 for our first visit to Prince Edward Island, a place that would eventually become our home. Soon after driving off the ferry and getting onto the Trans-Canada Highway, I noticed the cars coming the other way all had their headlights on. Where we came from, the only time you saw that during the day was when a funeral procession was going by. I pulled over to the side of the road. I had been taught to do that, whether the funeral was moving in the same direction or the opposite direction. It was proper etiquette.
The cars kept coming. Hundreds of them, all with their lights on. We sat for minutes. Then, finally, it ended. But as soon as I started to get back onto the road, another line of cars appeared, again, with their headlights on. Unsure what to do, I pulled over once more.
“Somebody really important must have died,” I said to my wife. We sat for another ten minutes. “This is the longest funeral I’ve ever seen.”
“Me too,” she said, proving I wasn’t the only ignorant person in the front seat. What we didn’t know at the time was that vehicles in Canada are required to have daytime running lights. This means that as soon as you start the engine, the lights come on, a safety feature that makes your car more visible to the other drivers. No one told us about that. We just thought, well, it’s a small island and everybody knows everybody. Eventually it dawned on us that no one could have that many friends, and that we must be witnessing something other than a funeral. We drove off.
The confusion in the car was a sign of the verbal misunderstandings that would follow over the next days, months, and years. Sometimes a shared language can lull us into a false sense of comfort. We spoke English. They spoke English. So it was easy to forget that different places have different ways of saying things. One day, soon after we moved in, the phone rang. I picked it up and said hello.
“How are you two getting along?” someone on the other end said. The question seemed inappropriate, especially since this was a person whose voice I didn’t even recognize. I paused, then said what anyone from my part of the United States would have said.
“Who is this?”
What I failed to understand was that he wasn’t poking his nose into the health of my marriage. He simply wanted to know how we were doing. It was a question we might have worded like this: “How’s it going?” But here they ask, “How are you getting along?” Someone should have mentioned that to us. I also would have appreciated some warning about how often people around here talk about the weather. (Constantly.) They use it as a greeting. They don’t say, “Hello.” They say, “Beautiful day.” Or, “Some storm coming.” Or, “We needed the rain.” Waiting on line at the supermarket, you might hear the cashier have the identical conversation about the weather with every customer ahead of you. It’s the same thing at the bank. One day, after standing behind half a dozen people, I got up to the teller and said, “Do you ever get tired of talking about the weather?” I expected her to be relieved, and to lunge at the chance to discuss something else. “What do you mean?” she said.
About a month after we moved in, I was introduced to someone in the community. Foregoing the usual remark about the temperature or impending precipitation, he asked pointedly, “Have you got your beds in yet?” I didn’t know this, but he was inquiring about our flower beds. The people here all do their gardening around the same time, in late May or early June, depending on what they’re planting and how much frost is in the ground. Yet again, no one had told us. I thought the man was asking about our furniture, and I wondered where he thought we’d been sleeping all those weeks. “Oh yeah,” I said. “We got those in on our first day here.” He seemed impressed. Or skeptical. I wasn’t sure.
The frost in the ground, by the way, comes up in conversation with almost unimaginable frequency. The level of frost seems to affect almost everything, from crop yield to the price of heating oil to how the local semi-pro hockey team is doing. Exactly how people go about measuring underground frost was beyond me, and remains so.
The midday meal that we call lunch is referred to as dinner here. What we call dinner, they call supper. This is an important distinction. One day when our son was about six, his friend was coming over to play. The boy’s mother dropped him off at eleven-thirty in the morning and asked when she should come back to pick him up. I said after dinner would be fine. She arrived an hour and ten minutes later, put him into the car, and left. Our son cried the rest of the afternoon. My wife and I were totally baffled until much later that night, when it dawned on us that what we meant to say was after supper.
Mileage and speed limits are measured in kilometers. But apparently the word kilometers is too long and threatens to eat into the time available for discussing the precise amount of snow we had last winter, and so people say clicks instead. And they don’t use highway numbers or street names. They don’t seem to even be aware of them. When giving directions, they refer to landmarks. Often, they’ll refer to landmarks that are no longer there. “Go down this road here for a while, oh, about eight or ten clicks. Then turn left where Henry’s appliance store used to be.”
I didn’t bother trying to figure out who Henry was or how I was supposed to recognize where his appliance store once stood. I had no idea how to count clicks, or even what clicks were. Anyway, I was sure I’d never be able to make a left turn, because there would likely be a funeral coming the other way. And that was just as well, too; I really needed to get home. It was almost August, after all, and we hadn’t even gotten our beds in yet. When it came to gardening, my wife and I just didn’t seem to be getting along. Maybe there was too much frost in the ground. Or not enough.
Still, it was a beautiful day.
partialview
December 7, 2010
Hilarious! I can almost see your son crying at the shock of being left alone after dinner (lunch). I haven’t read anything quite like this in a long time that deserves an LOL.
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bronxboy55
December 8, 2010
Thank you, Priya. I’m glad you liked it. I felt terrible about my mistake, but the next day I did do the honest thing. I sat down with my son and I said, “Shaun, if we’re going to live in this place, we all have to remember something. The people here are a little strange.” And that was the end of it.
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partialview
December 8, 2010
😀
Shaun has found a sensible dad in you.
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bronxboy55
December 9, 2010
I’m sure he would roll his eyes at that, but thank you.
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shoreacres
December 8, 2010
I think you must have been a city boy before moving to Canada. Yes?
In Iowa, I was raised on a steady diet of breakfast, noon dinner and supper in the evening. During harvest, dinner was often served to the men in the fields, and I suppose the noon meal became dinner because it was the main meal. My dad’s family was Swedish, so we had something extra – a “little lunch” tucked in between dinner and supper. Swedes love to eat.
When I got to rural Texas, it was the same thing. Dinner at noon, supper at night. And weather? Oh, my. Farmers, ranchers, boaters…. we do love to talk about the weather. Summer’s usual greeting is “Warm enough for you?” Winter is, “When d’you think that next front’ll make it?” Sometimes you can substitute, “Dry enough for you?” and “When d’you think it’ll rain?”
Just remember this – if you’re ever driving a highway in Texas and the person in front of you pulls to the right and starts driving on the shoulder, they’re being polite and giving you a chance to pass them. Go ahead and do it, and then give a casual little wave. It’s the polite thing to do.
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bronxboy55
December 8, 2010
The problem, of course, is that we have four words for three meals. If we could eliminate one, the whole thing would be solved.
Are you familiar with the word kerfuffle? They use it here all the time to mean a commotion or confrontation. “Did ya hear about the big kerfuffle down at the town hall last night?” I had no idea what it meant, and to me, the word isn’t self-descriptive at all. It sounds like a kind of potato chip.
Another saying that confused me (and still does) is the use of the word “dirt” to mean bad weather. One day at the beginning of our first winter here, our neighbor said, “We’re supposed to get some dirt by the end of the week.” I thought he meant he was having a truckload of soil delivered. Thinking it had something to do with getting the house ready for the cold weather, I asked, “Oh, should we get some too?”
Thanks for the comment, Linda, and for the advice about Texas. I’d better write it down.
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shoreacres
December 8, 2010
See? I use “kerfluffle” all the time, to mean a commotion or confrontation. I’m beginning to wonder if Canada didn’t annex Iowa at some time and they missed getting it into the history books!
As for “dirty” weather – quite common among sailors. Dirty, I suppose, because there’s something there that’s cluttering up the skies – rain, fog, snow. But I’ve always heard “dirty” as a modifier, never “dirt” by its lonesome. Interesting.
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bronxboy55
December 8, 2010
I believe Canada did annex Iowa, but of course, no one was paying attention.
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Betty Londergan
December 8, 2010
I want to move to PEI! I laughed the entire way through this post — especially the banker who repeated the same casual weather banter to every single customer. Priceless! I completely related to your bafflement about not understanding someone who is speaking ENGLISH when I recalled my year in England, where I was reduced to pantomime in the hardware store, looking for pushpins. Or maybe they call them pushpins and I’ve totally forgotten our word for it! And now I have to put myself in bed… thanks for the late night hilarity!!!
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bronxboy55
December 8, 2010
This past Monday we had extremely strong winds — the kind of wind that can pull a mailbox out of the ground. I was sitting in the doctor’s waiting room, and within five minutes at least four people emerged from the various examining rooms and headed for the exit. To every one of them, the receptionist said, “Don’t blow away out there!”
I can picture your hand gestures at the hardware store. Were they calling them thumb tacks? Or maybe map pins? Sometimes it’s easier and faster just to search by yourself.
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magsx2
December 8, 2010
Hi,
Yes total confusion, but it does make you smile. It’s amazing how different another place can be even though the same language is spoken. Here in Australia, this happens between the different states, although on a much smaller scale. 🙂
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bronxboy55
December 8, 2010
It probably happens everywhere. Small towns, isolated places, and especially islands will develop their own customs and expressions, things that seem incomprehensible to the new arrival. Maybe you could do a similar post (Australian version). I’d love to read that.
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Amiable Amiable
December 8, 2010
All hilarious, as always, but the story about your son really made me laugh. Poor little guy. Well, I’m bringing a bagged dinner to work today, so had better get going with that! Have a sunny day!
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bronxboy55
December 8, 2010
Actually, it’s raining here today. But, you know. We needed it.
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Amiable Amiable
December 9, 2010
Has it never stopped raining? Seems I recall reading that it had been raining quite a bit at some point. It’s no wonder the weather is the talk of the town – or the island.
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bronxboy55
December 9, 2010
I’d say in the past ninety days, we’ve had seventy days of rain. At least that’s how it feels to me. I’ve noticed lately that the weather forecasts almost always say “a mix of sun and clouds.” How’s that for covering your bets?
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arborfamiliae
December 8, 2010
Like Betty, when I read the part about struggling to communicate in English with people who supposedly speak English, I remembered my experience in Britain. When I spent three months in a suburb of London (many years ago), I worked at a grocery store. People would come up to me and say something that I knew had to be English, but didn’t make any sense. After I replied with “Excuse me?” (or more often “huh?” because it was early in the morning and I’m not a morning person), they would immediately say (in a slower, louder, clearer way) “You’re not from here, are you?”
Even after three months I never understood the proper response to the greeting “Cheers” or “Cheerio” (which my co-workers would often say to me), I couldn’t understand the patrons of the store and my co-workers laughed at me when I used words like “pants” (which apparently means something different in British English).
Language is a funny thing.
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bronxboy55
December 8, 2010
I have the same problem with “Beautiful day.” What am I supposed to say? Yes, it is? And how many times a day can one person say that without losing a little piece of his mind? It’s frustrating, too, when I get puzzled looks after I’ve said something I know was perfectly clear. I think the rhythm of our speech also has something to do with it.
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icedteawithlemon
December 8, 2010
A very enjoyable post! And just so you know, you can be living in the SAME country and have a hard time communicating with your supposedly English-speaking neighbors. When I moved to the Ozarks, I’m quite sure that many of my students thought I was speaking a foreign language, and when I tried to politely correct their grammar I’m sure I was labeled an uppity Yankee!
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bronxboy55
December 8, 2010
That’s a good point. I think it’s especially true when you’re in a place that’s somewhat isolated. I would imagine parts of the Ozarks would be similar to an island. And I’m quite sure I’ve inspired people around here to combine some adjective with the word Yankee, at least in their minds.
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julia
December 8, 2010
So what do your neighbors do when there is a funeral? Do they drive round with their hazards on? Does everyone agree to flash their left turn signals for the duration of the trip to the cemetery?
Have you gotten the dirt of winter yet? How much frost is there in your ground these days? And then, let’s do talk about curling. Round here it’s something to do with hair, or ribbons on packages; or something to make fun of during the winter Olympics.
You’re funny. I do enjoy reading your posts. I’d be curious, of course, to hear what your neighbors think of the way you talk.
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bronxboy55
December 9, 2010
As I was mentioning to someone else, no matter how clearly I think I’m speaking to people around here, there’s this inevitable pause and blank stare, followed by, “Pardon?” That’s their expression for “What?” It must have something to do with what I say, because there are standard exchanges and I don’t use any of them. My speech also has a different cadence, and that seems to throw everyone off. I have the same experience when I listen to someone from New Zealand, or almost any other English-speaking place. It takes me a sentence or two to adjust my brain to what I’m hearing.
I don’t know what the procedures are for funeral processions here. I’ll never get used to saying dirt instead of snow (they have absolutely nothing in common). And curling still mystifies me.
Thanks for the nice comment!
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Jessica Sieghart
December 9, 2010
I am LOLing at the confusion a word or two can make. Your poor son! And the poor mom! She probably thought she’d have a day to do some things and is probably thinking “you only invited my kid here for an hour? What’s wrong with you?”
A few years ago, a new co-worker arrived at my office after relocating from New York. He was talking about Christmas shopping and said “standing on line” just like you did. I swear, I had never heard anyone say it like that before. I thought it was just the accent, but he said it again. For a moment I wondered if I had been saying “standing IN line” incorrectly all those years. Turns out I hadn’t 😉
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bronxboy55
December 9, 2010
They don’t even call it a line here; they say line-up. To me, a line-up happens only at the police station, when they’re trying to get a witness to identify a murderer. Soon after we moved here I heard an elderly woman complaining about how that morning she’d spent a half hour standing in the line-up. I thought she’d been arrested, but it turned out she was just buying groceries.
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Jessica Sieghart
December 10, 2010
That’s hilarious! This is book material 😉
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Earth Ocean Sky Redux
December 9, 2010
An old college roommate of mine is from Iowa and we still visit her regularly. Your reader Shoreacres will attest, Iowa is a foreign country for New Yorkers. Not only do we need a passport to enter, we bring our Berlitz translation book. Soda to us is ‘pop’ in Iowa. Shopping bags are ‘sacks’. And so on and so on. We consider ourselves bi-lingual! 🙂 Lucky you to live on PEI. Some of the most gorgeous country in the world. Great post.
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bronxboy55
December 9, 2010
Are people in Iowa as nice as they seem to be? I’ve spoken to quite a few of them on the phone and they’re unbelievably pleasant. It scared me at first.
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Earth Ocean Sky Redux
December 9, 2010
Iowa has become part of the fabric of our life. We LOVE going there; the pace of life is slower and the people ARE beyond nice (and not in a syrupy way, just honest folk). We are always treated like visiting royalty and introduced to any newcomers as “our friends from New York”, like we landed from Mars. We get alot of ooooh, you live in New York? – what’s that really like, they ask. We leave Iowa feeling refreshed and renewed. Could I live there? I doubt it, I’m too much of a New Yorker, but we call it our second home and couldn’t be more proud to have Iowans as best friends.
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bronxboy55
December 10, 2010
It seems as though you’ve found a perfect balance. Congratulations. I’ve long thought about visiting Iowa, and now I’m sure I will.
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Marie M
December 9, 2010
I love reading everyone’s comments almost as much as I love the posts. Thank you all.
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bronxboy55
December 10, 2010
I agree, Marie. I always appreciate your comments, as well.
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Bill(y)
December 10, 2010
When I first arrived in Singapore, I was bemused at why the office cleaning lady would ask, every day she saw me, anytime from about 11am to 3pm, “Have you had your lunch?”.
The first time she asked I stammered a response and actually answered her question truthfully, all the time wondering why she would care. But she was a nice lady so I was kind, where I might not otherwise be for such a question. Bad habits die hard…
Even more befuddling is/was (I’ve acclimated) “Have you taken your lunch?”, which used to make me wonder if either they thought I’d stolen mine, or had it and was going somewhere with it. Of course “taken” is the equivalent of our American “had”.
Not one ever fond of trite, formulaic call-and-response MacConversations, I try to think up different and quasi-witty things to say in anticipation of this question, which I invariably get at the elevator, in the Men’s room, or basically anywhere at that point in the day. Which has me usually avoiding the situation altogether by hiding at my desk, going to lunch late or being in a crowd with Westerners, which generally appears to diffuse the urge for the question to be asked.
My attempts at sarcasm of course fell flat, as, to make a generalization which is something I generally don’t like to do (and now I’ve done it twice) most Asians don’t get sarcasm, and trying to explain your way out of what you just said, in my experience never pays off, and by then the entire elevator full of people are now wondering what to make of you, colleagues and strangers alike.
These days, six years later, the best I can usually muster, in friendly but sardonic acknowledgment, is “…it’s a fascinating question…” and let it hang in the air for the locals to ponder.
I’m sure it’s a well-intentioned, English translation of a Chinese saying, employed by the ~15% Muslims as well as the ~70% Chinese here. But oddly, I’ve never asked.
Until now: http://www.expatsingapore.com/forum/index.php?topic=5939.0
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bronxboy55
December 11, 2010
It isn’t a question at all, then, but just a curious greeting? I assume they say it to each other, as well. Have you ever overheard such an exchange, and if so, what is the common response? Maybe the people here aren’t even talking about the weather, and I’m more confused than I realized.
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Bill(y)
December 11, 2010
The thing is, when they greet each other with it, it’s in their particular dialect of Chinese, as is the response, both of which sail unnoticed well above my head.
It’s probably analogous for asking someone how they’re doing, but not expecting a full explanation in return, just the acknowledgment of a friendly two-way gesture.
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bronxboy55
December 11, 2010
But when they say it to you, are they speaking English? In that case, maybe something is just getting lost in the translation. I’ve studied Italian and there are countless expressions that, when translated into English, make no sense at all. In fact, a lot of English makes no sense at all.
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mitch@morphodesigns.com
December 11, 2010
Great posts inspire great conversations. The commentary here is like getting a double-feature at the matinee.
Jessica’s remark, “What’s wrong with you?” had me in stitches, for I was thinking how disconcerted that mom must have been. I thoroughly enjoyed Billy’s discussion of sarcasm in Singapore.
My favorite, though, is the general thread that, As Prince Edward Island goes, so goes Iowa.
As a transplanted city boy, I have experienced landmark-centric directions. I actually prefer them, because I easily forget “3 traffic lights, a left, two lights and a SLIGHT right to Mercer.”
Problem is, I either lose count, or am never sure whether to count the light I’m currently stopped at while getting said directions. (Y’all know how that is – and once you miscount, all the other directions become suspect, instead of the miscount!)
One thing about Virginians, though, everything is about two-three miles down the road. I guess that’s because we never ask until we feel like we’re close to our objective.
Cheers,
Mitch
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bronxboy55
December 11, 2010
I have the same problem with the number of traffic lights. No matter how long and complex the directions are, as soon as I pull away, I’m immediately unsure. I usually stop and ask three or four different times, slowly closing in. I’m always amazed, though, when people give completely contradictory instructions. Then I go with the majority vote.
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cooperstownersincanada
December 11, 2010
This was hilarious to read. I had no idea that Americans didn’t have day lights on their cars or a similar infatuation with the weather. This is prime material for a comedian. Thanks for writing this.
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bronxboy55
December 11, 2010
The US has been talking about daytime running lights for years. But then, they started switching over to the metric system when I was nine years old, and they still haven’t gotten past two-liter bottles of Coke.
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Mitch
December 11, 2010
Charles, when you live in areas where weather can change at a moment’s notice, it becomes the first thing anyone talks about. Ask me about our 50 inches last week and you’ll know what I mean.
I know many people who’ve moved to this area have had issues with the lights as well. New York requires them when there’s precipitation, but people from out of state get caught on this one often.
I also know what you mean about language. I came to NY from Maine, and my first few months they were saying some of the strangest things I’d ever heard. In many places they’d have been seen as racial slurs, and I’m still not sure they didn’t start out that way here, but they weren’t used in that fashion by the time I got here. Barely missed many a fight by not understanding the local lexicon.
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bronxboy55
December 11, 2010
Mitch, I understand talking about extreme weather. But these aren’t even conversations; they’re greetings. The comment on the weather isn’t followed by anything. I think it’s just a habit, like saying “How are you?” when you really aren’t interested in the answer. It’s just a way of acknowledging the other person. I always finding myself searching for a response, other than simple agreement, but maybe I’m making too much out of it.
I have to think that just about anything that sounds like a racial slur probably is a racial slur. I’m sure you handled it as well as it could be handled.
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Mitch
December 13, 2010
Well, I did after my first day in high school when someone called me something I “knew” was a racial slur, and it turned out to be something else I’d never considered. People held me back after I lunged at the guy who used the term. From that day on, I held myself in check until I got an understanding of what one of these terms meant to these people. But I’d established my creds on day one. lol
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bronxboy55
December 13, 2010
I’d really like to have an extended conversation with you on this topic, when we both have some time.
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Allan Douglas
December 14, 2010
This was SO funny… and familiar. When Marie and I moved to the mountains of Tennessee from St Louis MO we went through a similar culture shock. Two of my favorites were the time I asked someone if they would do something for me, he said, “I don’t care to do that.”
“Oh”, said I; “OK…um… I’ll do it myself, that’s OK.”
“Nooooo… I don’t CARE to do it for you.”
After several go-rounds I finally figured out that this was the equivalent of “I don’t mind doing it.”
The other was learning that if I tried to hire a tradesman to do something and I ask when he could get to it, if he says, “Whayyll, it twont be THAIS week.” it does not mean that it will be next week… or the week after. In fact he may never return at all. It’s just the local way of getting out of disappointing me by saying he’s too busy to work me in right now… maybe eventually. And it is my responsibility to call him every couple of weeks to see how his work load is now.
We also use land marks… mostly because folks keep stealing the road signs. One of the major marks to our place is Three Mule Corner. A pasture with — you guessed it — three mules in it. Except that sometimes there are four, or five, or none. But it’s still 3 mule corner and every one knows it. It’s sort of a rite of passage here… when you can get to someone’s remote home without having to ask for road names (or a map) you’re adopted as a “local”.
Thanks for another great story Charles!
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bronxboy55
December 15, 2010
The old Abbott & Costello Who’s On First? routine is getting played out repeatedly every day in one form or another. Imagine if we could put them all into a video! I had an incident in Italy a few years ago. We were getting gelato (ice cream), and as I was eating mine, I tried to ask the owner how to say “What flavor is this?” in Italian. I thought this would be preferable to simply pointing and looking confused. He thought I was asking what flavor my ice cream was. I kept asking the question, with slight variation each time, and he kept telling me, in a louder and more drawn-out voice, what flavor I was eating. I thought of asking if he’d ever heard of Abbott & Costello, but that would have lengthened the trip considerably.
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Heart
December 18, 2010
Funny, is an understatement.. Amusing read! 🙂 We as humans are extremely capable of acclimatizing and adapting – and so much so that we can surprise ourselves..
I have had similar experiences, when I moved from India 8 years ago.. I asked for a plastic cover, instead of a plastic “bag” at the grocery story one day, it took both the cashier and I to figure out what we meant 10 full minutes, it is funny to think about it now..!
Thanks for the detailed, well organized post!
Rachana.
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bronxboy55
December 19, 2010
Thanks, Rachana. I bet anyone who’s ever traveled outside of their own town has had an experience like that. And speaking of bet, when we first moved to PEI we learned after some confusion that here, the past tense of beat is bet. Where I come from, the word bet means to place a wager. One day a little boy was telling me that he had just bet his friend at something. I said, “What did you bet him?” He said he had bet him at hockey. I said, “But how much did you bet him?” He told me the score, which my mind then interpreted as betting odds (which seemed really strange because he was about six). Similar to your situation, this went on for several minutes, although I don’t think I figured it out until years later.
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souldipper
December 19, 2010
Charles, As I live in Western Canada (first the prairies and now the West Coast) and have worked in various Canadian locations, I laughed my way through your excellent article. The dinner/supper conundrum has plagued me from childhood. Don’t get me started on the British influences such as Tea or High Tea!
Across Canada, one finds all sorts of phrases that are localized and ingrained in people’s genes – as with any culture. I understand having to stop and slowly unravel the mysteries of language. Try asking for directions in rural Ireland…”Ya go out dare, den ya come back.” I loved their question about being from North America, “Arrr ya from ova?”
It does me good, as a Canadian, to be reminded of the confusion some of our new citizens may experience. Hopefully my traveling experiences mean I have empathy in my soul.
Plus I have now been reminded in such a gentle, adept and endearing manner!
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bronxboy55
December 19, 2010
Thank you for the sweet and encouraging words. I plan to visit your blog right after a good night’s sleep (I’m on the late side of the continent). Would love to hear more about Ireland.
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mcgulotta
March 26, 2012
This is a really good post of understanding the different cultures. So close, yet so far.
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bronxboy55
November 2, 2012
In some ways it seems so familiar, but in other ways it feels like another world.
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