Well, today was weird. I had to explain a list of English idioms for Jack. I never thought how weird idioms were before I had to teach someone using limited language with next to no knowledge of British culture.
“Break a leg” – I attempted to make stories about the Globe theatre and Shakespearean actors. He didn’t know what a Globe theatre was had only a rudimentary grasp of what a Shakespeare was. Therefore the seating arrangements of the theatre, about poor people drooling onto the stage and making actors fall over was replied with a blank look and a polite smile. When he failed to understand – quite rightly – my frankly shite explanation, I spun a web of bullshit – one of the worst webs I find – about how people at a theatre would put their arms onstage and people would fall over them. That seemed to work.
“Gets to me” I started with chalk stick figures, always a last resort and it looked like someone firing a comically oversized bow and arrow. Jack nodded, but he’s probably just being sympathetic. “Face it” began my tale of masculinity, power and the fight to defeat everything you run away from. After more bullshit spinning, he got the right end of the stick.
“Bless you” was particularly difficult to describe, primarily of what the Black Death was and why people should be blessed, but with over-exaggerated miming on a par with a drunk Englishman on a beach holiday in Spain trying to tell the bartender to go back to his own country and sheer dogged determination, this one was understood. “Blue blood” turned slightly racist, “blood from a stone” was tricky for people as logical, smart and literally minded as the Thais and don’t get me started on “raining cats and dogs”.
Then began one of the most surreal moments of my life. He wanted a list of English slang, and it was difficult trying to think of slang that did not concern the human genitalia, sexual preference or offensive names for people from Manchester or Liverpool. I realised how sordid much of the English language is. I had to resort to slang that was “in” before I was even born. “Wassup”, “wicked” and “guv” deigned to show their faces, and by extension disco medallions and wafros worn without irony. Still, “mate” “cool” “bezzies” and “awesome” made the list, and Jack diligently began use of these in conversation, I left school today to the call of “see ya mate”. I feel kind of bad, a few days ago I met a mild mannered and impeccably polite Thai man, who now sounds like an American caricature in a shitty sit-com. Paradise lost and all that.
Another break down of communication happened today. I went to buy a few days worth of bread, I said “see” (four) to the stand owner. She misheard me and assumed “sib”. When I looked back she was stuffing 10 bread rolls into my bike basket and I didn’t have the heart to tell her to put 6 of them back. She’d barely sold any and it was getting on for 3pm. It serves me right for trying to flash my new found language skills when they’re not needed. She speaks perfect English when it comes to numbers. My accent and mangled Thai just confused her. My fridge is now dominated by bread rolls, rapidly growing stale. Guess that's breakfast sorted for the next week and a bit.
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