Travel Oops: “Tenemos un Problema con el Baño” (We Have a Problem with the Bathroom)

Posted on January 2, 2013 by sglaser

My sister Suzie and I © Edward Schuck 1981

Becoming fluent in Spanish was an important goal of mine in seventh grade at Santa Barbara Junior High in 1981. Already, I knew that I wanted to travel.

Every Sunday when my dad brought in the Los Angeles Times and placed it on our kitchen table, I rifled through for the travel section, which was huge. I scanned all the ads and articles as well as filled out every form, requesting brochures and tourist materials. Many of the countries to which I wanted to travel were Spanish-speaking nations.

Consequently, to learn Spanish, I dutifully conjugated verbs, poured through my textbook and practiced the book’s basic dialog scenarios at home. Literally translated into English (only in present tense), the riveting stories went something like this:

Carmen: Hello, Juan.

Juan: Hello, Carmen.

Carmen: I go to the shoe store.

Juan: I go to the shoe store, also.

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Travel Oops — “Do You Have a Gun, Miss?”

Posted on December 11, 2012 by sglaser

A “temporary” building with two classrooms, P301, on the inside, was a faded green mint color — like saltwater taffy gone stale, having been left in a carnival candy sack too long.

But I had windows, a big white board, carpet and neat tables and chairs lined up perfectly. On high, the air conditioning unit blasted air that could cut any perennial’s life short. Was this real? I didn’t have any of these items in my US classroom.

In the little climate controlled temporary, I felt a certain calm even on the first day as a new exchange teacher. Of course this was mixed with a free-flowing anxiety. I didn’t know a thing about Australian students or Year 8s, for that matter, but really, how hard could it be? Plus, if I totally bombed, I could definitely milk my accent for the first week of school, at least.

Right?

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The Friday Funny Sign — Low-Cal Rooster or Anatomical Unit?

Posted on October 26, 2012 by sglaser

The sign begins so formally, and then…..

I almost think the “Aerated Drink” label is as funny as the “Diet Cock.”

Thanks to Jane Whitmer for this photo she took in India.

The Friday Funny Sign

Posted on October 12, 2012 by sglaser

This photo doesn’t really need any explanation. My sister and I saw this Rep. for Viagra in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. We immediately needed to have a photo. The Viagra Guy had no problem with this. Little does he know his promotion efforts are now online. Hopefully, it helps business.

Avoid the Oops — Not Trying the Language

Posted on October 12, 2012 by sglaser

Katerina, my new Greek friend who taught me the proper Greek alphabet
© Stephanie Glaser

During a layover from Athens to Amsterdam, I took advantage of a free minibus tour of Budapest, arranged by the airline company on which I flew. Because the tour was conducted completely in Greek, I didn’t learn much about Budapest, but I befriended the seven other travelers on the van who were all from Greece.

The only Greek word that I knew was “Efharisto,” (thank you) so whenever I could use it, I did.

Katerina, a seven-year-old girl who was part of the minivan crew, giggled and said something to Gabriella, one of the two English speakers in the group. Gabriella told me that Katerina found it funny that the only thing I could say in Greek was “thank you.”

Through Gabriella, I told Katerina I actually knew the Greek alphabet. I spared relaying the details of how I had learned her language’s alphabet, along with such skills as playing quarters and other drinking games, while in a sorority at college. Then in a moment of silliness, I sang her the version I had learned courtesy of Delta Gamma.

For a minute, as everyone sat in silence, I thought I had offended them. Then all the Greeks broke out into uproarious laughter. Clearly they got a big kick out of the Alpha Beta Gamma ditty, and they had a hard time composing themselves again.

Although slightly embarrassed, I never felt like they thought I was an idiot. Entertaining, yes, but stupid, no. In fact, Katerina and her grandfather offered to give me a proper lesson in the alphabet. They patiently waited for me to repeat each letter after them.

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Friday Funny Sign — Aged and Aged Quite Well, I Might Add

Posted on October 5, 2012 by sglaser

When I first saw this sign in Adelaide, Australia, it caught my attention since we don’t have signs like this identifying the elderly in the US, or at least I’ve never seen one. The funny thing to me is that the two figures have aged quite well, indeed!

They look quite spry — just as they did when they were school kids. Although the books must be too heavy for them now — or perhaps they read using their I-Phones or Kindles.

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“Où est Jim Morrison?” Looking for the Lizard King’s grave at Père Lachaise

Posted on October 2, 2012 by sglaser

Not long ago, I was a substitute teacher for a high school French class. Right away, I confessed to the students that my knowledge of French was very limited. Basically, it consists of pleasantries, “petit déjeuner” (“breakfast”) and “Où est Jim Morrison?” (“Where is Jim Morrison?”)

My admission was met with confused looks, and they asked, “Who is Jim Morrison?”

“Jim Morrison? You know, the lead singer of The Doors…The Lizard King…sound familiar?” Blank looks. Maybe song lyrics would work. “You know, ‘Come on baby, light my fire?’ That’s a song, by the way, I don’t really want to light your fire.” I tried to sing the refrain for them.

More looks that said, “Wow, CRAZY sub. We wish we had Mrs. Johnson right now.”

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Avoid the Oops

Posted on August 31, 2012 by sglaser

Using Embarrassing, Inappropriate or Offensive Words

“I am very pregnant; I do not like beans.”

It’s easy to say the wrong thing when you’re in another country and dealing with a language barrier. Suzanne Miller, director of Nursing for St. Luke’s Wood River Hospital in Ketchum Idaho, knows this well.

While in college, Miller studied in Guadalajara, Mexico, where she had a mix-up with the Spanish word “embarazada,” which of course, sounds like embarrassed. However, it doesn’t mean embarrassed — at all.

“For two weeks, I didn’t eat my meals because they always included refried beans. Finally, my host mother asked me [in Spanish] “Do you not like my cooking?’ So then I said [in Spanish], ‘I’m so, so embarazada, because I don’t like beans.’ My roommate, Jen, was fluent in Spanish and told me, ‘You just told Señora that you are very, very pregnant.’ Senora was stunned at first but Jen eventually cleared it up.” — Suzanne Miller.

To avoid issues with communication, many US travelers head to the UK, Australia and New Zealand because these countries share the same language as the US. Or do they? Can you say the wrong thing in your native tongue when you are traveling in an English-speaking country? Absolutely! Slang varies from dialect to dialect.

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Getting Schooled in Aussie Slang

Posted on August 2, 2012 by sglaser

Teaching eighth graders, who are pubescent pundits, is challenging no matter where you are. But when you are teaching in a new country and you don’t know their slang, it’s just plain brutal.

I discovered this the hard way when, as an exchange teacher, I bumbled my way through one year of instructing Year 8’s in Adelaide, Australia.

I already knew a few tidbits before I arrived. For example, never say, “I root for the team.” The connotation of that statement would be that I do way more than cheer for my team to keep their spirits up. I also knew not to freak out when kids would say that they wore their thongs to the beach; they meant flip flops not G-strings.

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Can you get me to the Iría?

Posted on June 24, 2012 by sglaser

Having just spent a week driving a motorscooter around Italy’s beautiful but treacherous Imalfi coast, justifiably, my friend Indira had picked up either bravado or a deathwish. Consequently, she was fearless driving a motorscooter on the empty roads crossing the barren landscape of the Greek island of Naxos.

Afraid of wrecking on my moped and scraping off all my skin, I proceeded slowly. And despite wearing the most massive helmet that the island of Naxos had to offer, one that looked like it would withstand even intergalactic travel to the Death Star, I still puttered well behind Indira and Katherine, a friend we had met on the ferry from Athens.

It didn’t take long before I became separated from Indira and Kari. Basically, I was lost. On the interior of this island, the immediate surroundings all looked the same: lots of scrub brush and an occasional windmill, goat or donkey. I stopped and tried to get my bearings. I sure seemed to be in the middle of Naxos’s nowhere.

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