LOST IN TRANSLATIONThe first thing I noticed when I arrived in Honolulu, Hawaii just two weeks after my nineteenth birthday, was the smell. It was fresh, clean and exciting. And when I finally cleared customs and the doors opened to the outside, I noticed that everything was clearer and brighter. The skies were bluer, the ocean absolutely bluer...even the leaves on the trees were greener. Everything was crisp and clear.
But clarity was far from what I would use to describe my first foray into the world of Americanisms and culture. I do need to preface this observation by stating that at 19 years old, despite never having the opportunity to see outside of Manila, Philippines, and speaking only English that I learned from school with my thick Philippine accent, my English was impeccable-- that is, that my verbs agreed with my subjects, my vocabulary made me sound intelligent and my knowledge of American culture, adequate. At least that's what I thought. After all, I watched American movies, read American magazines and 0bsessed about American television. I was so wrong.
The first indication that I was woefully handicapped linguistically happened on my third day on US soil and on campus. I was attending a Friday activity when an American-- a nice young man---introduced himself to me. We hit it off magnificently. After the event, he asked me for a date. I was flattered. Of course, I've never actually been on a "date"...an American "date" like on television. Filipinos just don't date the same way and in my home, I wasn't allowed to do so. So sneaking out was de rigueur if you wanted quality alone time with a boy. I was so excited at the prospect of a real "date" with a nice young American.
"You wanna do something tomorrow?"
" You mean, like a 'date'?"
"Yeah!"
"OK! What shall we do?"
"We can take a walk down the beach, talk...maybe watch the submarine races."
"Really? I've never been to a submarine race before."
He was a bit taken aback. I was envisioning being on some look-out point overlooking the ocean and there would be people sitting on beach chairs. The water would be clear and there would be small submarines all lit up under the clear ocean water and we can watch them "race". I imagined banners and hotdog stands. It sounded exciting to me. I was beside myself with enthusiasm.
"I'd love to go watch the submarine race with you!"
He had a bewildered smirk on his face. I thought he thought I was cute. In retrospect, he probably thought I was a dumb oaf...not a good thing for someone like me who was a national science scholar!
Later that night, my roommate told me what a submarine race was and I think I turned all colours of the rainbow.
The date went well but I found him boring so there would be no second date. But I would never forget old Duane of the submarine races.
Which brings to mind another incident.
I was driving around with a boyfriend one day just having a really interesting conversation. We were on Kamehameha highway with the ocean to our left and the beautiful Ko'olau mountain range to our right. He was regaling me with stories about his experiences having lived in Rarotonga though I was hypnotized by the scenery outside and was really not very attentive to his account . Then he said something that perked up my attention:
"Well, Christie, that was all water under the bridge."
So I quickly turned both right and left to look for a bridge. He didn't notice but my mind went somewhere, already confused because I couldn't find the bridge he was talking about. And dang it. I. Wanted. To. See. That. Bridge!
But that's not the worst of it.
I had been dating this one guy who shall be named nameless to protect his ego. He was really very nice and generous and I just wanted to be nice also since there really was no reason to be otherwise. Besides, I was going to Asia for an extented time during the summer which was in a couple of weeks. We went on several dates. Now, it's important to say that again, I was only 19 and he was much older at around 23 or so. During the course of our time together, he began talking about his future and how he wanted to "settle down". Our conversations, though not fully accurate, can be characterized like this:
"I would very much want to settle down perhaps find a house and a new car. What do you think about that?"
"Splendid! That's a great idea!"
"If I bought a new car what color would you prefer?"
"Hmmmm.....green is always a nice color."
"I'd really love to have children as soon as possible."
"That's a great idea too!"
"What do you think about living in Kahuku or Haleiwa?"
"I think those places are great!"
Thus went our conversations throughout those couple of weeks before I left for Japan. Of course, I saw other guys too during those couple of weeks though in retrospect since he wasn't a student, he wouldn't realize that I was still dating other men.
At the end of the Asia tour, he showed up at my house in a brand new green Datsun to ask me if I wanted to go for a drive. I went.
As we were driving, he began to talk about going to a nice spot so he can"ask me properly". Of course, I had no idea what he wanted to ask me and if I had the answer to whatever question he had at that time, I would have been happy to give him the correct response. Plus I knew I could give a lot of good advise about life and such and as long as it had nothing to do with nuclear physics or advanced calculus, I had a lot of answers.
"Will you marry me?"
"Whoa.....what?"
"Will you marry me?"
Stammering, I was almost angry at his audacity.
"You know, I'm only 19 years old and don't plan to get married for a long time."
"What do you mean? You were all for it before you left for Asia."
"What? I don't remember saying that I wanted to marry you nor did that thought ever occur to me!"
After a spew of words from him, I realized he was mad. So I hopped back to the car and asked him to take me home. The drive home was uncomfortable as hell. He was mad and I was confused. And I was being scolded like a 12 year old girl. The nerve!
Lost in translation? Boy did I learn a lot.
And by the way, after watching the submarine races, all these experiences are now water under the bridge. My subjects, genders and verbs still agree, I only have a slight Philippine accent and my vocabulary is much more enhanced with all the cliches, isms and American parlance I dare need. It's all as easy as pie and I can insert a cliche at the drop of a hat. Yeah...whatever floats your boat and whatever tickles your fancy. I am as American as apple pie even if I've been there and done that too.
But clarity was far from what I would use to describe my first foray into the world of Americanisms and culture. I do need to preface this observation by stating that at 19 years old, despite never having the opportunity to see outside of Manila, Philippines, and speaking only English that I learned from school with my thick Philippine accent, my English was impeccable-- that is, that my verbs agreed with my subjects, my vocabulary made me sound intelligent and my knowledge of American culture, adequate. At least that's what I thought. After all, I watched American movies, read American magazines and 0bsessed about American television. I was so wrong.
The first indication that I was woefully handicapped linguistically happened on my third day on US soil and on campus. I was attending a Friday activity when an American-- a nice young man---introduced himself to me. We hit it off magnificently. After the event, he asked me for a date. I was flattered. Of course, I've never actually been on a "date"...an American "date" like on television. Filipinos just don't date the same way and in my home, I wasn't allowed to do so. So sneaking out was de rigueur if you wanted quality alone time with a boy. I was so excited at the prospect of a real "date" with a nice young American.
"You wanna do something tomorrow?"
" You mean, like a 'date'?"
"Yeah!"
"OK! What shall we do?"
"We can take a walk down the beach, talk...maybe watch the submarine races."
"Really? I've never been to a submarine race before."
He was a bit taken aback. I was envisioning being on some look-out point overlooking the ocean and there would be people sitting on beach chairs. The water would be clear and there would be small submarines all lit up under the clear ocean water and we can watch them "race". I imagined banners and hotdog stands. It sounded exciting to me. I was beside myself with enthusiasm.
"I'd love to go watch the submarine race with you!"
He had a bewildered smirk on his face. I thought he thought I was cute. In retrospect, he probably thought I was a dumb oaf...not a good thing for someone like me who was a national science scholar!
Later that night, my roommate told me what a submarine race was and I think I turned all colours of the rainbow.
The date went well but I found him boring so there would be no second date. But I would never forget old Duane of the submarine races.
Which brings to mind another incident.
I was driving around with a boyfriend one day just having a really interesting conversation. We were on Kamehameha highway with the ocean to our left and the beautiful Ko'olau mountain range to our right. He was regaling me with stories about his experiences having lived in Rarotonga though I was hypnotized by the scenery outside and was really not very attentive to his account . Then he said something that perked up my attention:
"Well, Christie, that was all water under the bridge."
So I quickly turned both right and left to look for a bridge. He didn't notice but my mind went somewhere, already confused because I couldn't find the bridge he was talking about. And dang it. I. Wanted. To. See. That. Bridge!
But that's not the worst of it.
I had been dating this one guy who shall be named nameless to protect his ego. He was really very nice and generous and I just wanted to be nice also since there really was no reason to be otherwise. Besides, I was going to Asia for an extented time during the summer which was in a couple of weeks. We went on several dates. Now, it's important to say that again, I was only 19 and he was much older at around 23 or so. During the course of our time together, he began talking about his future and how he wanted to "settle down". Our conversations, though not fully accurate, can be characterized like this:
"I would very much want to settle down perhaps find a house and a new car. What do you think about that?"
"Splendid! That's a great idea!"
"If I bought a new car what color would you prefer?"
"Hmmmm.....green is always a nice color."
"I'd really love to have children as soon as possible."
"That's a great idea too!"
"What do you think about living in Kahuku or Haleiwa?"
"I think those places are great!"
Thus went our conversations throughout those couple of weeks before I left for Japan. Of course, I saw other guys too during those couple of weeks though in retrospect since he wasn't a student, he wouldn't realize that I was still dating other men.
At the end of the Asia tour, he showed up at my house in a brand new green Datsun to ask me if I wanted to go for a drive. I went.
As we were driving, he began to talk about going to a nice spot so he can"ask me properly". Of course, I had no idea what he wanted to ask me and if I had the answer to whatever question he had at that time, I would have been happy to give him the correct response. Plus I knew I could give a lot of good advise about life and such and as long as it had nothing to do with nuclear physics or advanced calculus, I had a lot of answers.
"Will you marry me?"
"Whoa.....what?"
"Will you marry me?"
Stammering, I was almost angry at his audacity.
"You know, I'm only 19 years old and don't plan to get married for a long time."
"What do you mean? You were all for it before you left for Asia."
"What? I don't remember saying that I wanted to marry you nor did that thought ever occur to me!"
After a spew of words from him, I realized he was mad. So I hopped back to the car and asked him to take me home. The drive home was uncomfortable as hell. He was mad and I was confused. And I was being scolded like a 12 year old girl. The nerve!
Lost in translation? Boy did I learn a lot.
And by the way, after watching the submarine races, all these experiences are now water under the bridge. My subjects, genders and verbs still agree, I only have a slight Philippine accent and my vocabulary is much more enhanced with all the cliches, isms and American parlance I dare need. It's all as easy as pie and I can insert a cliche at the drop of a hat. Yeah...whatever floats your boat and whatever tickles your fancy. I am as American as apple pie even if I've been there and done that too.
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