Everywhere I go, people ask me, “How come you speak so many languages fluently?” “And why Russian?” “And what about Chinese?” Well, it all started…It all started as a little boy when I was taking a daily spin on my brand-new bike completely outfitted with the most modern equipment of handle bars and sparkled seat. Or could it have been the influence of the Ukrainian refugees working in the local neighborhood? On the other hand, my family rarely missed those weekend luncheon specials in the lonely Chinese restaurant where waiters drowned out the clangs of kitchen woks, shouting orders in Cantonese!
Then again, I did have a taste of salsa at an early age, hearing Spanish spoken daily on the playground amongst my spry little Latino classmates who had emigrated from across the ocean. Come to think of it, I can even remember being serenaded by my grandmom, who so musically vocalized in an old local dialect!
Getting back to the story, it all started…
I guess it all started as a little boy when, throttling my bike through the local cemetery, my eyes fell upon the headstone of a crypt.
“What are those? I’ve never seen them before,” I muttered to myself.
Thrusting back on the brake, I slammed myself to an abrupt halt and threw my bike down onto the fluffy green terraine to cut turf into my exploration.
“Strangest letters,” I exclaimed.
I couldn’t read much, but I tried my best to decode the writing—first names, then dates. Not able to progress any further, I scurried to my purple bike and beat it home in a sweat.
Barging through the back door, “Where’s the encyclopedia?”
Having found a musty ole’ dictionary, I removed it from the shelf and blew off the dust.
“There’s a chart in here somewhere,” I remembered. “Oh, yea. It’s under the heading ‘alphabets’.”
Scanning intently through the tables, I made my discovery.
“It’s not Greek…. Wow, it’s Russian!”
It was not long before I had memorized the entire alphabet, becoming the local amateur expert in Russian epitaph reading—at least of my age group, anyway! From there, it was off to the nearby bookstore to unearth any available Russian grammars, LPs[1], or phrase books.
Getting back to the story, it all started…
I guess it all started as a little boy when, throttling my bike through the local cemetery, my eyes fell upon the headstone of a crypt.
“What are those? I’ve never seen them before,” I muttered to myself.
Thrusting back on the brake, I slammed myself to an abrupt halt and threw my bike down onto the fluffy green terraine to cut turf into my exploration.
“Strangest letters,” I exclaimed.
I couldn’t read much, but I tried my best to decode the writing—first names, then dates. Not able to progress any further, I scurried to my purple bike and beat it home in a sweat.
Barging through the back door, “Where’s the encyclopedia?”
Having found a musty ole’ dictionary, I removed it from the shelf and blew off the dust.
“There’s a chart in here somewhere,” I remembered. “Oh, yea. It’s under the heading ‘alphabets’.”
Scanning intently through the tables, I made my discovery.
“It’s not Greek…. Wow, it’s Russian!”
It was not long before I had memorized the entire alphabet, becoming the local amateur expert in Russian epitaph reading—at least of my age group, anyway! From there, it was off to the nearby bookstore to unearth any available Russian grammars, LPs[1], or phrase books.
Follow the series:
Part 2: Cracks in the Berlin Wall
Part 3: Shifting Gears: from China to Eastern Europe
Part 4: Calm, Cool, and...Calamity?
Part 3: Shifting Gears: from China to Eastern Europe
Part 4: Calm, Cool, and...Calamity?
Part 5: Munching in Moscow: Part 5
[1] LP stands for ‘long playing’album, as opposed to the smaller records called 45’s. I just dated myself!
Photo Ukrainian National Folk Dance Ensemble by Yakudza GNU Free Documentation License at Wikipedia.
