Spotting the Advantages of a Language Barrier
By John Dwyer
3 March, 2006
A few years ago, in San Francisco, I attended a book-signing
and lecture by a well-known travel writer. After the lecture a
member of the audience asked the writer how he felt about
traveling in a country where he did not speak the language. The
writer replied that it sometimes leads to experiences because it
forces one to be inventive to communicate. He said that in such
circumstances people often use exaggerated gestures and facial
expressions. He believed that the humor in such expansive
expressions can break down barriers and lead to a friendly and
relaxed atmosphere.
An experience in Greece gave me a chance to test this writer’s
theory.
Passing through the city of Thessaloniki, after a relaxing week
on the island of Skopelos, I was on my way back to my work in
Pristina, Kosovo. My travel connection to Pristina didn’t leave
until the following morning so I spent the night. Being a
waterfront lover, I found a nice, moderately priced hotel near
the harbor area. After checking in and relaxing awhile I decided
to take a walk around the city and have a light dinner.
It was a pleasant June evening and I enjoyed the walk.
Thessaloniki has a large, broad bay that faces the Northern
Aegean Sea. It boasts a bustling commercial harbor. I tramped up
and down the waterfront gazing at the different types of ships
that call on the city also known as Salonica. Ferries bound to
and from the islands of the Aegean Sea scurryied in and out of
their docks. I saw a troopship loading a German Army unit
returning home after duty in Kosovo. A number of tramp
freighters were in port waiting for new cargo. It proved to be
the kind of place that intrigues me—lots of waterfront activity.
As darkness started settling in I began feeling hunger pangs and
headed back to the neighborhood of my hotel. Near the hotel were
a number of small restaurants patronized by the local residents.
I decided to eat at a brightly decorated delicatessen.
The delicatessen had lighted, refrigerated showcases and from
these I could choose the ingredients for my sandwich. Choosing
was the hard part. They had artistically arranged a bountiful
variety of foodstuffs in the cases. The problem was identifying
the foods. Some were easily recognized; bologna, sausage, etc.
Not being much of a red meat eater I wanted either chicken or
turkey. But how would I communicate? I didn’t speak any Greek.
And I didn’t recognize the chicken or turkey.
As I was mulling over my problem, a tall, bright–eyed,
attractive young women asked if she could help me. At least I
think that’s what she said. She had an obvious twinkle in her
eye. My Irish forbears might affectionately say she had “a bit
o’ the devil in her.” I looked at the showcase and pointed at
some light meat. She told me what it was—in Greek. Puzzled, and
showing it, I pointed again. The young woman stood back and
thought over the situation. She then folded her arms under her
shoulders and started flapping them like a bird. I started
laughing. After a moment’s thought she decided she needed to
expand her description. She puffed up her cheeks and then made
gobbling noises like a turkey. Both of us started laughing. She
had delightfully communicated her message. And I got my turkey
sandwich.
The next morning I stopped in the delicatessen to see if my new
friend was there. It was her day off. One of her colleagues
spoke some English and I told her what had happened the previous
evening. She started laughing and loudly told all of her
co-workers about my experience. Everyone in the small
restaurant, including the customers, joined in the gaiety. The
young woman’s charm and spontaneity had delighted another
audience—and made a traveler feel welcomed.
The well-known travel writer was right.