Lost in Translation

This could be a new series, not just a single post, because let's face it:

My Hebrew stinks.

Yes, I studied for almost a year.

Yes, it was under the best teacher imaginable.

Yes, I actually enjoyed the language and enjoyed learning it.

No, I didn't do the homework, BUT I was able to keep up with Stewart for some time even though I was going to classes part-time and not doing the homework. Just sayin'. Of course, there came a point where he left me in the dust.

Here's the problem with my Hebrew progress, or lack thereof.

Really, it's twofold, so here are the problems:

1. Speaking is difficult, and I'm scared to death of it. I can read OK. I can listen and understand better, but to SPEAK...Lordy, Lordy. That's a whole other ball game.

2. Most people here speak English, and they are eager to practice or oblige.

So, my friendships with other Israelis are completely dependent on English. Sure, I'll throw around a Hebrew phrase or two. I naturally nod, and say, "ken, ken" (yes, yes) as someone rattles away in Hebrew, but for the most part it's all English.

EXCEPT when I go out on errands. I try to force myself to only use Hebrew, or at least try to use my Hebrew when I am grocery shopping, at the pharmacy, asking for directions, etc. It doesn't always work, but I'm patting myself on the back for minimal effort.

Sometimes, I succeed. And I'll be honest. It feels like a grand accomplishment. Other times, things don't go so well. Just last week at the butcher, I was trying to ask him to trim the fat from my roast.

"Bli shemesh, bevakashah," I requested politely. He corrected me, "Bli shemen."

Oh, right. Shemesh is sun. No, I don't want the sun trimmed from my meat.

At least that's not as bad as a friend of a friend of mine here in Tel Aviv. She requested "Shemen Zayin." She meant to say "Shemen Zaitim." She wanted olive oil. She asked for penis oil. Oops.

Sometimes the translation to English is almost as bad. A large supermarket chain here is starting to add English to all of their generic product labels. On a box of generic twinkies, the package read, "Personal sponges." Ummm..... yeah, not really the best choice. I think they were going for "individually wrapped," and somehow picked up on sponge part and left off the cake part. Anyhoo. A "personal sponge" would probably be on a different aisle, no?

There are very few ways to "cheat" at Hebrew. No easy translation aides. Google translate has a Hebrew to English translator feature, but it is practically unusable. Comical at best. Lydia's school sends out a ridiculous number of emails. Like several a day. Sometimes it is an announcement sheet for the whole school. Sometimes it is an email at 11 pm informing you that the school hours for the following day have been changed. Sometimes, it is the teacher giving you a heads up about a field trip or the coming week's events. Regardless, it is a challenge for me. And suffice it to say, we have missed a few things along the way. My best effort in mass quantities like this, well... is google translate. It's embarrassing to admit, but there it is. So, I pop the emails into google translate, try to decipher the gist of it, and really read the portions that don't make sense.

In doing this, I once received an email from Lydia's school all about grenades. How the school would be celebrating grenades. How the children were going to be examining grenades. How grenades were essential to Israel, and how each child should bring a grenade to school with them. The missing link? Pomegranates. Google translated the Hebrew word for pomegranate as grenade. Thank goodness we didn't send Lydia to school with a grenade.

It's time to hit those Hebrew books again.

Shalom 'yall,

E

PS- the word 'ri-mon' in Hebrew is actually the same for pomegranate, and you guessed it...grenade. Who knew?