Learning a new language is at once super gratifying and super frustrating. Sometimes I listen to people around me and I think I catch 80% of the individual words, but I can not make out the meaning at all (I hear; before he ....did...three days...so much...with you...very good....was there....right...right....jackfruit). The guards at my new place speak only Bangla and seem to believe that I also speak Bangla, so it's good practice when they call up on the phone to tell me something, or corner me in the garage to ask me if I need a housekeeper ("bua").
The two purchased I've made for my house have sort of demonstrated why local knowledge is important (or why quality standards are helpful). The first thing I bought was a punching bag. I've decided to turn my three bedroom into a one bedroom, with an office and a gym. So the punching bag situation in Dhaka is that you buy a hook from the local hardware store, attach it to the fixture that is made for a ceiling fan, and then hang the bag from there. It requires a little faith in the ceiling integrity of the building, but my landlord didn't seem to have any concerns about it. The first bag I found was almost USD $300--way more than my budget. I was bummed until I found another one that was USD $50, but was not yet filled. So I bought it and they agreed to fill it. Here's where the local knowledge piece comes in: evidently, typically people would only pay half up front. The other half you only pay when the work is done, so that it gets done quickly. Being the trusting American I am, I paid full up front. So a week later, there is no sign of progress on the bag. So today, my plan is to go and demand that I have it within a week or I want a refund. We'll see if that works at all (I am not really sure what the refund policy is). Once i get the refund, I can wait a week, rebuy it, and only pay half up front. Buyah! (not to be confused with "bua").
Purchase two: water filter. I bought one of the snazzy ones with multiple kinds of filters (there are lots of science words on the front). There's also three lights: "safe", "buy", "replace" so that you know when you need to get new filters. Great, except that I got my all set up and put water in, and no light came on! So I went back to the store and asked the guys who sold it to me why there wasn't a light on. The answer I got (this conversation is in Bangla, so there is a chance that I'm miscomprehending, but I don't think that was the case): the only light that turns on in the replace light. Don't worry about the rest of them. Hmmmmm. Convenient how that only gets mentioned once it's purchased and in my house. And I can live on the wild side, but normally drinking water is not where I like to take chances. Especially when every other one of these water filters I've seen in operation has the "safe" light on. So I'm going to get a Bangladeshi buddy to call the helpline with me, as my expectations for their English customer service are low. In the meantime I am trying hard to remember to buy bottled water on my way home.
Speaking of buddies, one of the words I learned this past week was "dost." It was translated for me as "buddy," but listening to how and when people say it, I am going to say that it's "dude" (I said this to my football friends and they said that I was wrong, but I'll stand by it). For example, if someone misses a wide open goal, you might say, "Doooooooooooooooooooost!" (see, when I write it like that, it really looks like dude!). Or Dost, give me the panni (water).
One cool thing is learning a word that you hear constantly but never understood; it's really illuminating. My first lightbulb since coming back was the word "o". "O" is third person, informal. I had been talk "she," but evidently that's a step up, either formal or informal. So when people are talking about me, in front of me, usually they'll refer to me as "o," at least if they feel pretty comfortable with me (I take it as a compliment since often it seems hard to break the barrier of being a foreigner and wanting to be casual). So now I know that the guys on the soccer field are yelling "Dude" all the freaking time.
I've been trying to think of bilingual puns that take advantage of this new word. Obviously the first one I thought of would be that Russian philosopher dude, Fyodor Dostoyevsky. Next on the list was a tie between two: The big lebowski or Casper---both involve a friendly dost. Dost-in Hoffman would have to get a lead role. Ashes to ashes, dost to dost.
Yep, the thing about living alone is that the only person there to keep an eye on your sanity is you. But at least everyone always laughs at your jokes.
The two purchased I've made for my house have sort of demonstrated why local knowledge is important (or why quality standards are helpful). The first thing I bought was a punching bag. I've decided to turn my three bedroom into a one bedroom, with an office and a gym. So the punching bag situation in Dhaka is that you buy a hook from the local hardware store, attach it to the fixture that is made for a ceiling fan, and then hang the bag from there. It requires a little faith in the ceiling integrity of the building, but my landlord didn't seem to have any concerns about it. The first bag I found was almost USD $300--way more than my budget. I was bummed until I found another one that was USD $50, but was not yet filled. So I bought it and they agreed to fill it. Here's where the local knowledge piece comes in: evidently, typically people would only pay half up front. The other half you only pay when the work is done, so that it gets done quickly. Being the trusting American I am, I paid full up front. So a week later, there is no sign of progress on the bag. So today, my plan is to go and demand that I have it within a week or I want a refund. We'll see if that works at all (I am not really sure what the refund policy is). Once i get the refund, I can wait a week, rebuy it, and only pay half up front. Buyah! (not to be confused with "bua").
Purchase two: water filter. I bought one of the snazzy ones with multiple kinds of filters (there are lots of science words on the front). There's also three lights: "safe", "buy", "replace" so that you know when you need to get new filters. Great, except that I got my all set up and put water in, and no light came on! So I went back to the store and asked the guys who sold it to me why there wasn't a light on. The answer I got (this conversation is in Bangla, so there is a chance that I'm miscomprehending, but I don't think that was the case): the only light that turns on in the replace light. Don't worry about the rest of them. Hmmmmm. Convenient how that only gets mentioned once it's purchased and in my house. And I can live on the wild side, but normally drinking water is not where I like to take chances. Especially when every other one of these water filters I've seen in operation has the "safe" light on. So I'm going to get a Bangladeshi buddy to call the helpline with me, as my expectations for their English customer service are low. In the meantime I am trying hard to remember to buy bottled water on my way home.
Speaking of buddies, one of the words I learned this past week was "dost." It was translated for me as "buddy," but listening to how and when people say it, I am going to say that it's "dude" (I said this to my football friends and they said that I was wrong, but I'll stand by it). For example, if someone misses a wide open goal, you might say, "Doooooooooooooooooooost!" (see, when I write it like that, it really looks like dude!). Or Dost, give me the panni (water).
One cool thing is learning a word that you hear constantly but never understood; it's really illuminating. My first lightbulb since coming back was the word "o". "O" is third person, informal. I had been talk "she," but evidently that's a step up, either formal or informal. So when people are talking about me, in front of me, usually they'll refer to me as "o," at least if they feel pretty comfortable with me (I take it as a compliment since often it seems hard to break the barrier of being a foreigner and wanting to be casual). So now I know that the guys on the soccer field are yelling "Dude" all the freaking time.
I've been trying to think of bilingual puns that take advantage of this new word. Obviously the first one I thought of would be that Russian philosopher dude, Fyodor Dostoyevsky. Next on the list was a tie between two: The big lebowski or Casper---both involve a friendly dost. Dost-in Hoffman would have to get a lead role. Ashes to ashes, dost to dost.
Yep, the thing about living alone is that the only person there to keep an eye on your sanity is you. But at least everyone always laughs at your jokes.
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