Jul

27

Tram 11

Filed Under Language, Motoring & Transportation, Society & Culture | 12 Comments

Tram 11, the tram I take every time I go to church on Sundays and Mondays, didn’t arrive when I waited for it last Sunday at the tram stop across the Central Train Station of Zurich. Apparently, some of the tram routes have been altered for the time being to give way to construction work.

Then I saw an orange billboard with texts written in German. And since my husband was not with me at that time and is now enjoying his week-long group hiking holiday somewhere in the mountains, I had to figure out on my own the meaning of this very important notice. I tried to, but failed. The only words I understood were “Linien 11 und 14″ (tramways 11 and 14). I was pretty sure there was an instruction somewhere to take an alternative route. I looked around to see if there was someone who could help me. I spotted a man wearing a Zueri-Linie orange vest. He was clearly from the tram company.

ME: “Excuse me. I don’t understand the billboard here. My German is not so good. Can you please help me? I need to take tram number 11 on the way to Bucheggplatz.”

ZUERI-LINIE MAN: (Explains something to me in rapid Swiss German)

ME: (Switches to High German) “Ich verstehe nicht. Mein Deutsch ist nicht so gut. (I don’t understand. My German is not so good.)”

ZUERI-LINIE MAN: (Rambles again in Swiss German and uses his right hand to show me which direction to go to)

ME: (Decides to feign understanding to stop the linguistic agony, after realizing that there was no point in continuing this kind of Q&A session that was not going anywhere) “Ah, okay. Thanks a lot.”

I then crossed the street and walked towards another tram stop past the bridge, following the hand direction of this kind Swiss man whose oral production skill in English may be as bad as my German speaking capability.

Upon reaching the other tram stop, I then saw another tram company employee wearing an orange vest. I didn’t hesitate to approach him.

ME: “Excuse me. I need to go to Bucheggplatz and I usually take tram number 11. But there seems to be a change in the route this time. May I know where I can take tram number 11?”

ZUERI-LINIE MAN 2: “Ok. See that tram stop over there?”

ME: “Where there’s a bench with people sitting on it?”

ZUERI-LINIE MAN 2: “Yes. You wait for tram number 11 there. You have to cross the street here because you have to take the tram going in that direction (using both his hands to show me the right way).”

ME: “I see. Also, Vielen Dank! (Ok, thank you very much!)”

It feels good when speech is not hampered by any form of language barrier. I’m all for effective communication devoid of complicated comprehension challenges.

RANDOM TIP: If you’re a new expat in a country where you don’t know the language/s used, always bring with you a portable dictionary (e.g. German-English/English German) or its mini electronic version. It will come in handy someday, who knows?

Apr

21

Toddler Rules

Filed Under Family & Friends, Israel/Jews, Motoring & Transportation, The Philippines | 10 Comments

That’s my three-year-old niece Yannah posing beside her grandma’s small, yellow car parked in the family garage-cum-garden in the Philippines.

One lazy afternoon, during my recent month-long vacation in Manila, we played a pretend-we-are-driving game using my Mom’s reclining chairs. I let her “drive” me to places — to Quezon City, to Cavite, and to Tagaytay — with imaginary seatbelts securely in place which she had insisted on. Unlike most Filipinos who loathe seatbelts, my US-born niece has a great love affair with seatbelts. She has been trained well by her parents to follow the rules on road safety.

At one point, Yannah asked me: “Tita (Auntie), can we drive to Switzerland?”

“Not really,” I responded with amusement. ” We have to take the plane. But we can drive around Switzerland when you go visit me there one day. However, we have to watch out for those electronic police radars. We cannot drive there the way we do here in the Philippines.”

“Oh, okay,” she muttered as she stared at me blankly. She understands the concept of seatbelts, I know. But that of radars’? I doubt it.

“Let’s take the plane to Israel then.” (Yannah, together with her engineer-parents and her baby brother, will fly to the Holy Land next week and stay there for 20 months. Her knowledge of Israel exists only because the whole family will be transported once again to another foreign land.)

“Is Yaya Glo going with you to Israel?” I asked her about her nanny Glo who’s in her mid-fifties.

Pausing for a bit, Yannah replied, “Um, no.”

“Why?”

“Old people are not allowed to visit Israel,” replied my niece who’s accustomed to making her own rules.

I then asked her if Grandma and Grandpa could join her in Israel. She said “no” because “Grandma’s too dark” and “Grandpa’s sick” (my Dad has Parkinson’s Disease).

“How about me?” I challenged her. (I really want to revisit Israel, one of my favorite countries in the world.)

She answered my question with a question, “Are you old already?”

“Not really,” I meekly responded, though I do feel old sometimes (especially when I’m here in law-crazed Switzerland). “Ok, drive on.”

We then resumed our make-believe driving game.

Ah, the innocence of children. And the rules they make — funny and endearing. (Although I fervently hope my niece won’t become a legislator someday for obvious reasons.) I’m pretty sure Yannah had nary an idea of what I was talking about when I mentioned to her Switzerland’s electronic police radars.

But then again, she’s just a child. No need to stress her out with complicated talks about the purpose of those dreaded and super precise radars (i.e. to catch motorists who violate traffic regulations and fine them accordingly). No need to explain to her that constantly looking at the car speedometer can be a stressful driving experience. No need to share with her that Swiss police fines can be quite hefty.

Life is complicated as it is. Let her be a child with her weird rules. And let her aunt, who’s losing a considerable amount of hair by the day, deal with Switzerland’s plethora of rules and regulations intended for grown-ups.

RANDOM TIP: Have fun with kids. Don’t discuss rigid Swiss laws with them. They have rules of their own.

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