A Slight Misunderstanding

A few days ago, I wrote a post about the pros and cons of English being the world's most spoken language and that sometimes being a crutch as you travel - assuming you speak English primarliy already, of course.

Today, I walked into a small market in the Plaka district of Athens and had an experience that seems to illustrate that point precisely. It was a simple errand, or so I thought. I was looking for a European plug adapter as the worldwide adapter I'd been using and finally given out. After searching fruitlessly myself for a few minutes, I approached a clerk to see if he could help me.

I'd almost come to depend, unknowingly, on the notion that nearly everywhere I went, most people spoke English. I'd become rather pleased with myself for taking the time to learn just a handful of key words and phrases that allowed me to initiate the conversation in a local's home language. Nevermind, that if they didn't then continue the conversation in English, I'd be lost entirely.

So, I traded a quick "Yasas" - hello in Greek - and proceeded to explain what I was looking for entirely in English. The perplexed look on the clerks face told me that he didn't speak a lick of English. I, of course, spoke no Greek, but found myself unprepared for such an occurrence, especially in a heavily touristed area. I hadn't actually taken the time to find out how to say 'electrical adapter' in Greek.

Instead, I proceeded to compound his confusion by committing a cardinal sin of international travel, which drives me nuts when I see others do it. I repeated my explanation, in English, only this time I spoke in a much louder tone and enunciated my words more succintly. As though the crisper words and higher decibel level might some how trigger a miraculous understanding of the English language by the Greek store clerk standing before me.

When that unsurprisingly didn't work, I inexplicably decided to employ a round of international charades in a last ditch effort to bridge our communication gap. I curled my hand, leaving my first two fingers pointing out, attempting to resemble the prongs on a electrical plug - an American one, of course! Then, I moved my hand back and forth in what certainly could be mistaken for nothing other than plugging something in to a socket.

The clerk's face suddenly lit up and he motioned for me to follow him down one of the narrow aisles. I was pleased that my little game of charades had made the difference. We turned down the small hardware aisle, and the clerk grabbed an item that made me instantly realize just how badly my attempts at communication had been.

The clerk smiled, as though he agreed that we'd managed to figure things out non-verbally, and handed me a kitchen knife. I wasn't entirely sure if he took my hand gestures to mean that I needed a knife to cut something or to shank someone, after all who cuts their food with two fingers sticking out?

But, I felt so bad about the miscommunication that I was ready to buy a knife that I would never need, just so that I wouldn't potentially offend the clerk. Luckily, the clerk became tied up with another customer and I quietly dropped the knife back in the bin and sheepishly scuttled out the door before he could take notice.

As I strode back toward my hostel, I promised myself that I'd take a little more time to try to learn the language of each country I visited, and at least learn the words for 'electrical adapter' in Greek before I set out again.