Showing posts with label Fear. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fear. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Hello, I Have a Reservation!

“Bonjour, monsieur.” I said to the counter man at Gare du Nord in Paris. “Deux billets, s’il vous plez, a sens, a Bruxelles.”

My traveling companion marveled at my “command” of French. I explained that I only knew enough key phrases to be polite and earn a smile of thanks instead of the well-practiced dirty look reserved for the “Ugly American.” Our two one-way tickets from Paris to Brussels in hand, we hopped the TGV and shot out of the French capital like a bullet for our 90-minute ride to the capital of the European Union.

When it comes to communicating in a different language, visitors are often mortified at the sound of a foreign tongue, losing all sense of place in trying to decipher the well-meaning "gibberish" flying their way.

Relax. After the welcome by the hotel desk clerk one of two simple questions will follow: do you have a reservation and/or how do you spell your last name. They might seek an opinion about the weather or the flight over if they sense you are conversant but otherwise nothing more than that. Tourists seem more comfortable and are sometimes treated better when they start the conversation instead of having it pulled from them – yes, we have a reservation and the last name is Johnson.

Locals and tourists alike do not expect to hold a conversation on global warming or to exchange views on the last election. At the same time a simple request for a last name at the front desk might as well be a request to quote the Pythagorean Theorem.

Still intimidated? Write it on a piece of paper and pass it across the counter with the credit card and a smile. They’ll get the hint, hand over the keys and point to the elevators. Next.

Nothing is ever fool proof. At a Kentucky Fried Chicken in Japan it took forever for me to figure out the extremely polite counter girl was simply asking me if I wanted my meal to go or dine in!
Any fast food worker in the world will ask this no-brainer but it temporarily threw me for a loop. That little question was not listed on the pictograms showing the various menu choices designed for the gaikokujin (foreigners) that even the Japanese have grown to use and love.

My own advice kicked in after the third time she’d asked the question and we both laughed over the big “D’ohhh!” Pointing at the floor, the universal sign for “here” I took my hard-earned meal upstairs to an empty table overlooking the street and enjoyed a very good chicken dinner in Japan.

Every cab driver, waiter and retail clerk in town will know exactly where your pigeon French, Mandarin, Afrikaans or Arabic came from - the back of a guide book. They will love and thank you just the same for going at least that far in - wait for it - helping them to do their jobs and keep each of you on your respective way. In the time it takes an overseas flight to make the crossing at least one flight attendant on board can help you practice getting and understanding directions to the Kremlin.

That’s what you’re going to Moscow for anyway, right?

Gotta go!

Friday, July 10, 2009

Overcoming The Fear of Going

Mom did not want to go to Hong Kong with me. I was going on assignment and had the opportunity to show her a part of the world that previously wasn’t even on the radar.
“That’s alright,” she said, her way of saying no. The battle was joined.

“I can’t speak the language.” Neither can I.

“I can’t read the language.” In most of Europe and Latin America one can simply pick the words out of a translation dictionary. Not so much in China. Still, I wasn’t giving in.

All of our childhood Mom dragged us around Europe because “I want you to see it” she would say, keen to take advantage of living overseas as a military dependent and not losing the opportunities most people only ever dreamed of. We locked horns again as I used her own argument against her but she was equally dug in.

“I don’t like the food.” This is Hong Kong, I say, with people and food from all over, including a fantastic German Biergarten I’d been to on previous visits. Tactical mistake: Mom knew all about good, wholesome German food.

“Why don’t you take me back to Germany with you the next time you go?” I pretended to capitulate, said good-bye and hung up the phone then picked it back up and dialed a second number. This would be all too easy.

“When do we leave? What? She’ll go.” An hour later Mom calls me back.

“I hate you.” We chuckled. I knew what or rather who would get her to go and to also be a traveling companion to her while I was at work.

The clinical details of the instinctive human fear of the unknown are better served elsewhere. The simple truth is that traveling to an strange place even in your own country can be very intimidating. Mom, as do we all, feels safe in her world; China was simply more foreign and unfamiliar than anything she'd experienced to that point. I knew, however, that “Take Charge Auntie” would look after them both. One day, trying to be nice, I got more than I bargained for.

“Hey, Mom, Auntie. What’d y’all do today?”

“Nunya!” they both said, breaking in to fits of giggles. They ended up having a ball, so much so that they almost missed the flight home later that week from shopping! Why?

“W-, we went back to that jewelry store we liked but couldn’t decide if we really wanted those two pieces and we went back thinking we’d have time but the manager was late opening the shop and we really did want these last two things and... well, at least we had a good time, right?” Sssssssmooch!

On the carpet before me were two of the women who raised me, heads down and pouting, ankles turning like teenage girls trying to be cute and then wanting to kiss me to make it all better. Mm-mm-mm.

Whaddya gonna do? We went back, of course!

Gotta go!