Language barrier
Why am I not even surprised that this happened to me on the streets of Boston? There I was, peacefully walking with my friend D, and her baby, down Beacon St...
By the way, if someone tells you that it is possible for two women with strollers to walk side by side down a street around here, reject that person. We were only able to walk in tandem, and communicate via bullhorn and body language...
...walking down Beacon street on the way to my favorite park. There is this age old little shed-like shoe repair shop, which, I was fairly convinced, was a mummified version of itself when it opened in the late 1940s, until I saw it actually open that day. We were making our way past there, strollers and all, when this middle-aged to elderly Russian man approached us, went straight to me, and, showing me a slip of paper, started to hurriedly speak. I thought he was going to ask for directions, but he said, "Vat is dis? I have to pay или vat?"
I'm a good samaritan, no problem, so I took a look. He was showing me a notice from the DMV that he needed to renew his car registration.
"It's the registration to you car," I told him, "you need to renew."
"But что это?" he insisted, pointing at the spot where it said $50.
After some more back and forth, the Russian and I finally settled on what he had to do, and D and I proceeded with our walk.
The question is, why in the world did I not speak Russian with this confused man? Do you know, that I once had to call a patient that I knew 100% was Russian, and I asked for a phone interpreter? I just don't know how to say fancy things like "esophagus" and "gastroesophageal reflux disease." Not to mention, "bowel movement." I know the little kid way, and the really rude way, but not a nice doctor way. So, interpreter it had to be. And then, like an international spy, pretended I didn't understand the patient, and allowed the interpreter to translate what I was saying - not exactly accurately, either, I must say, but I stayed fast, and didn't blow my cover.
Meanwhile, I converse with Puerto Ricans and Dominicans like it's my job.
Where oh where DID my Russian go?
And also, I feel badly for Munchkin, who's going to have to deal with this language confusion. He probably won't start talking until age 8. Good thing for now, we still communicate via giggles, raspberries and breast milk...
By the way, if someone tells you that it is possible for two women with strollers to walk side by side down a street around here, reject that person. We were only able to walk in tandem, and communicate via bullhorn and body language...
...walking down Beacon street on the way to my favorite park. There is this age old little shed-like shoe repair shop, which, I was fairly convinced, was a mummified version of itself when it opened in the late 1940s, until I saw it actually open that day. We were making our way past there, strollers and all, when this middle-aged to elderly Russian man approached us, went straight to me, and, showing me a slip of paper, started to hurriedly speak. I thought he was going to ask for directions, but he said, "Vat is dis? I have to pay или vat?"
I'm a good samaritan, no problem, so I took a look. He was showing me a notice from the DMV that he needed to renew his car registration.
"It's the registration to you car," I told him, "you need to renew."
"But что это?" he insisted, pointing at the spot where it said $50.
After some more back and forth, the Russian and I finally settled on what he had to do, and D and I proceeded with our walk.
The question is, why in the world did I not speak Russian with this confused man? Do you know, that I once had to call a patient that I knew 100% was Russian, and I asked for a phone interpreter? I just don't know how to say fancy things like "esophagus" and "gastroesophageal reflux disease." Not to mention, "bowel movement." I know the little kid way, and the really rude way, but not a nice doctor way. So, interpreter it had to be. And then, like an international spy, pretended I didn't understand the patient, and allowed the interpreter to translate what I was saying - not exactly accurately, either, I must say, but I stayed fast, and didn't blow my cover.
Meanwhile, I converse with Puerto Ricans and Dominicans like it's my job.
Where oh where DID my Russian go?
And also, I feel badly for Munchkin, who's going to have to deal with this language confusion. He probably won't start talking until age 8. Good thing for now, we still communicate via giggles, raspberries and breast milk...
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