It's not like I didn't face this type of embarrassment when I was testing out my Spanish a few years ago in Spain. After all, it was I who walked into my Spanish family's living room one evening to inform them that I thought my dresser drawer was broken, only to be, subsequently, the target of unfettered, unrepentant laughter for about fifteen minutes - and for the rest of my stay for that matter. It turns out that instead of saying "creo que mis cajones están rotos" (translation: I think my drawers are broken) I actually said "creo que mis cojones están rotos" (translation: I think my balls are broken). Of course it makes sense, right? The American kid puts on a deer-in-the-headlights look in the face of all this laughter and that in itself makes the whole thing 100 times funnier, leaving my Spanish brother gasping for air on the floor from laughing so hard at the Americano's ridiculous mistake. So, I am well aware of how the mispronunciation of one stupid letter in a foreign language can immediately make you look like some stupid asshole.
Now, fast forward a few years to a harder language that looks like Klingon and that has far fewer cognatic (yes it's a word) advantages as Spanish does in relation to English. (example: What is excellent in Spanish? Answer: excelente. What is electricity in Spanish? Answer: electricidad. What is diarrhea in Spanish? Answer: Diarrea. - you know, the essentials). Maybe the severity and comedic value of my mistakes so far have been light in comparison to that of the mistakes that I still have the pleasure of committing in the future. But that doesn't change the fact that they happened....
One bright and early morning -in fact, the first morning that I commuted to work, I was sipping some coffee in a mini bus called a sherut, about a few blocks away from my destination in northern Tel Aviv when I realized that there were no buttons to press to let the driver know that I needed to stop and get off. There is only the phrase that is translated literally as (driver, stop me here, please) that must be shouted out in the direction of the driver... this is Israel after all. Figuring this was my only option and also a great way of starting to adapt to the culture, I did my best to shout out this phrase when we were closing in on the street that I needed to get off on.
"נהג, תעזור לי בבקשה!"
I didn't get the reaction that I had hoped for; in fact, a wave of pure horror-infused adrenaline ran through my veins when the driver, along with most of the other passengers looked at me like I was about to have a seizure or something.
"מה ?מה אתה צריך?" (What? What do you need?)
uuhhhhhh.... פה פה אני רוצה.... (here, here, I want), I clumsily replied.
Noticing that I had a goofy accent, the driver put two and two together: I had meant "Driver, please stop here for me!", but just because I screwed up the sound of one stupid letter, it came out as "driver, help me please!". Look for yourselves:
"נהג, תעצור לי בבקשה!" - Correct
"נהג, תעזור לי בבקשה!" -Incorrect
Goddamn צ and ז.... Stupid Hebrew words that are designed to make you look like some kind of moron. All that one can do is bury one's head in one's lap when the adrenaline subsides and try to learn from the embarrassment. At the very least, it is a very fast way of learning as it is a good form of negative reinforcement. But, there is actually a type of mistake from which one does not benefit in any way: the inevitable non yes-or-no question in wickedly fast 'Brew that you think you understand, but of course do not and just nod stupidly at. This nod is quickly followed by either a burst of laughter or a shaking of the head, "you didn't understand...". Classic.
"ג'וש, איך אתה מרגיש על העברית שלך אחרי כמה שבועות פה?" (Josh, how do you feel about your Hebrew after being here for a few weeks?)
Nod. Smile. Slight glint of confusion in eyes.
But seriously, after suffering a bit as anyone does with these common problems of learning another language, I still feel very good about my Hebrew. Whereas I only understood about 30% of what was being said around me when I first got to Israel, now I feel that I can understand around 50% of what is being said (depending on all sorts of factors ranging from native/immigrant accents, socio-economic status, venue differences (school or bar) and age). I have also stacked up a couple hundred words' worth of new flash cards since I arrived in Israel five weeks ago. And even if I make these stupid mistakes, I am usually complimented at some point or another for knowing as much as I do for having only studied the language intensively for 2 months or so - which helps with my self confidence (50% of speaking a foreign language). I'll just have to live in resignation that I WILL say stupid things in Hebrew over which I will only have a small amount of control. I am reminded of this nice little poster:
