I Want to Go Back

College classes weren't as interesting when I was in college.  My freshman fall semester was World Civ I, Biology 101, Calculus for Engineering, French 201, and English 101.  Finola emailed a list of her classes.

Intermediate German, History of Ancient and Medieval Western Philosophy, Intro to Cultural Anthropology, and Celtic Worlds First Year Seminar.  Can you tell she wants to major in Anthropology?

I'm envious.  How do I sign up?

Thank You and Goodbye

Arabic or Russian? Russian or Arabic? Which class should I sign up for? There are pros and cons for each. My current Arabic vocabulary is limited to “Thank you” and “I have trouble”. My current Russian vocabulary is limited to “Yes”, “No”, “Thank you”, and “Goodbye”.

“Thank you” is something one should be able to say regardless of what else one might learn. At least in my opinion.

After listening to a podcast of introductory lessons for both Arabic and Russian, my mouth can fit around Russian pronunciation much better than Arabic pronunciation. In the first podcast, I managed to pronounce correctly Привет and Здравствуйте. Those are two forms of hello. Informal and formal. My Russian-speaking husband approved but thought there was too much T sound in my second hello.

My theory is that if my mouth can form Russian words then Arabic shouldn’t be much further up the vocabulary ladder. Or maybe I should switch my sights to Mandarin instead.

شكرا and До свидания.

What's the American Translation from English?

Lots of you have already seen the new Evian babies advertisement that's making the rounds on the Internet. But which version have you seen? The international version or the U.S. version?

Seems like as with many things in life, Americans are given a different rendition.

How many of you know that "The Philosopher's Stone" is in the dictionary, but "The Sorcerer's Stone" isn't? In America, the book and movie are known as "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone." In the rest of the world, it's "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone."

So what did Evian change? In America the opening graphic asks, "How does drinking Evian make you feel?" Whereas the rest of the world is told, "Let's observe the effect of Evian on your body." It seems like such a niggling little thing to blog about. But why do companies change things for American audiences?

Sure, Sorcerer sounds more exciting than Philosopher. But what gives with Evian?

Say What?

Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwyll-llantysiliogogogoch.

My second daughter can actually pronounce that. It's Welsh. And it's a real place in Wales.

Yesterday at the Folklife Festival there was a woman who was teaching people how to speak Welsh. In the less-than-fifteen minutes that my daughter listened to her, she got the pronunciation down pat. A real gift for Welsh. Me? Not so much.

Here's your Welsh lesson in less than a minute. The LL in Welsh has no equivalent in English. Position your tongue in your mouth as if you were going to make an L sound. Then blow air around your tongue. Better yet, get someone who knows how to do it show you.

We learned the translation. "The church of St. Mary in the hollow of white hazel trees near the rapid whirlpool by St. Tysilio's of the red cave" We also learned that folks usually abbreviate it to LlanfairPG.

Smarter Than the Average Asian Bear

Me: posting link on another social network website and searching for independent blogs about the same.

Husband: walking into library and glancing at the screen. "Reading Farsi now?"

Me: "How'd you know it was Farsi?"

Husband: laughing.

Me: "No, seriously. Did you know it was Farsi?"

Husband: "I know these things."

Me: wondering if his being a tax lobbyist is just a cover.

Maharishi Robinson

No more Frau Robinson. The exchange student went home. And my taste in men is nudging slightly older. Who is he?

He's tall and thin, shiny black hair, chocolate brown eyes, tanned complexion. Speaks impeccable British English and fluent Hindi. We'll call him Mr. Patel.

I'll just have to look and keep my lascivious thoughts to myself. But I'm definitely getting better. He's 19! Just two years older than my eldest daughter and three years older than the exchange student.

Where in the World Should The Gaelic Wife Go?

One week. That's all the time you've got to vote in the poll on the top right side of my page. My husband and I decided that I needed some Me Time. Alone. Preferably in a different city. So, here are the pros and cons of each. Don't forget to vote!

London - Cons: It'll still be dark and cold and dreary. The dollar isn't doing too well against the pound. The last time I was in London was with my father who recently passed away. Pros: They speak English. There are great theatres and museums to keep me busy so I don't think too much about my troubles. The last time I was in London was with my father.

Paris - Cons: They speak French. The dollar isn't doing too well against the euro. The first time I was in Paris was with my father. Pros: I speak French. Lots of museums and restaurants. The first time I was in Paris was with my father.

San Juan - Cons: Not much to do except the beach and I'm fair skinned (Gaelic, remember). Getting to the resort you pass such abject poverty that you feel guilty indulging in such luxury. They speak Spanish. Pros: It's still in the US, so no passport or changing money. It'll be warm and sunny. El Yunque.

Remember, vote early, vote often! Polls close on Monday, March 23rd at noon Eastern Time.

Don't Aye For Me Argentina

Some people may think me an artistic luddite, but I have a major beef with the Broadway-bound revival of "West Side Story". The new staging is directed by librettist Arthur Laurents. It's more authentic in that the Puerto Ricans are played by Latinos and the dialogue and songs between the Puerto Ricans are spoken and sung in Spanish, excepting one.

America! is sung in English and the dialogue leading up to it is spoken in English. But very abruptly at the beginning of Act II, all inter-Puerto Rican dialogue and song is in Spanish. Where's the authenticity of that? If you're going to sing America! in English because everyone knows it and might reject the play flat-out without it, why not Siento Hermosa which people also know (more from being parodied by men since the first staging)?

There's also my concern with the "authenticity" of its being in Spanish. Sure, first-generation immigrants speak their native tongue. But why not see "Fiddler on the Roof" done in Yiddish? Or "Evita" in Spanish? Or "The Lion King" in Swahili? Or "Aida" in Arabic? Or "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum" in Latin? Or "Zorba the Greek" in Greek? Or, more recently, Valkyrie (the Tom Cruise movie) in German? If you want to be authentic, let's really be authentic. To hell with whether the audience can understand it or not.

Which leads me to another rub. There are no subtitles in the new staging. When you go to opera, there are subtitles on a scrim. Mr. Laurents thought that subtitles would distract from the play. Did he stop to think that, in our multilingual society, there are people who speak languages other than Spanish who, yes while being able to get the gist of the scene from the acting itself, don't understand the impact of the powerful words written by Laurents in the first place? Not all theatre-goers are middle-age and older folks who know the story well enough to get by on memory. Try introducing the new staging to teenagers who speak Russian, German, and French rather than Spanish. The confrontational scene between Maria and Anita is completely lost on them.

Perhaps I'm being a whiny WASP for whom for years the theatrical universe centered around. Are we now feeling the white-man's burden in all things entertainment? If this is the wave of the future, perhaps my entertainment dollars are better spent in venues that don't feel the need to change the libretto just to appease the fastest growing demographic, most of whom probably won't darken the door of the theatre it lands in.

Cussing Is Cussing No Matter the Language

My eldest child is a whiz at languages. She had four years of French before switching to Art and is in her fifth year of German. At breakfast this morning she realized she needed to hurry to make the school bus.

"Schei..." she exclaimed.

I glared at her. "I don't care if you can cuss in three different languages, don't do it at the table."

"I wasn't. I was saying Schrei which means scream."

"No, you weren't. You were about to say Scheiße."

She laughed, knowing she was caught by a mother who had only one year of German in college. Then she smirked and retorted, "I'm going to learn how to cuss in some other language and you're not going to know which language so you won't be able to look it up to see what I'm saying."

Spurred on to knowledge by showing up her mother. I'll take it.