Lost in translation...
Assiduous readers of this blog will recall that I met my wife 14 years ago on a train in Germany, where she was pursuing her doctoral studies on Robert Musil..."I met my wife..."
How odd that can sound, for she wasn't my wife when we met ... a thought that could trigger a sequence of nonsequitors worthy of Eugène Ionesco in The Bald Soprano (La Cantatrice Chauve):
Mrs. Martin: That is curious! How very bizarre! And what a coincidence! I took the same train, sir, I too.For the complete English dialogue between this happy couple reunited after perhaps a momentary separation, if even that long, see here.
...
Mr. Martin: Then, dear lady, I believe that there can be no doubt about it, we have seen each other before and you are my own wife... Elizabeth, I have found you again!
But I digress. I initially intended to relate a simple anecdote about miscommunication between my wife and me.
We had been in a relationship for over a year when I took her to the Ozarks in 1993 to meet my rather extended family. Before going there, I had told her various stories about how isolated my hometown had been back when I was a kid, about the year that we got indoor plumbing, about the intense summer heat, about the still-wild areas...
Once we reached my hometown, I borrowed a brother's car and drove Sun-Ae around through the Ozarks in the Buffalo River area to show her the beauty of that part of Arkansas.
As she gazed out the window at the scenes passing by -- the rugged hills, the forests, the wildlife, the streams -- she said, "It's really nice."
In fact, she said this many times, as if somewhat surprised.
Curious, I finally asked her:
"Sun-Ae, why do you keep saying, 'It's really nice'? I told you that the Ozarks are beautiful."
"I expected a desert," she replied.
"A desert?!" I cried, astonished. "Why?"
"Because you said it was hot and that you had no running water when you were a boy," she explained.
At that, I had to laugh:
"Well, it is hot, in the summertime," I admitted, "but there's plenty of water. When I said we had 'no running water,' I meant no indoor plumbing ... no water faucets, bathtubs, toilets ... those sorts of things."And there is plenty of water. A mere twenty miles from my home, the largest spring in Arkansas breaks out of its subterranean labyrinth to form Spring River.
posted by Horace Jeffery Hodges @ 6:14 AM
6 comments
6 Comments:
How do you pronounce her name? I would assume it wasn't just a protracted version of 'Sunny'.
Pronounce it to rhyme with "Sunday," but remove the "d," and you'll be close enough.
Jeffery Hodges
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Ah, so I was correct in my first assumption. An exaggerated southern accent would pronounce the name 'Sunny' as 'Sunn-ay'.
Many, many years ago (ca. 1985), I had an Italian girlfriend.
One time, we were traveling down Highway 1 enjoying the Pacific coast scenery south of San Francisco when I saw an especially beautiful overlook where one could stop and gaze out at the ocean.
I said to my girlfriend, "Pull over."
She just looked at me.
I repeated, "Pull over."
Again, she just looked at me.
"Ivana," I cried, "pull over! Pull over!"
"Madonna!" she cursed. "Pullover, pullover! Why are you yelling at me about a sweater!"
Jeffery Hodges
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Speaking of long-lost loves, it's a pleasure to read your allusions. I don't think I've ever understood Ionesco, but I do enjoy him.
In this play, Ionesco was reacting to the textbooks that he was using to teach himself English. He claims that he wasn't learning much English but that he was learning a lot of useful things, e.g., that the ceiling is up, the floor down, the walls to the sides...
Jeffery Hodges
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