The first surprising fact about phrasebooks is that you hardly ever find what you want to say in them. Of course if you read them from cover to cover you will be able to note down some expressions which will be very useful in many situations. Two I have just noticed in the last few seconds while writing this are I am not used to this and Is this a local or a national custom? These are both the kind of thing you can want to say about a dozen times a day when travelling. But phrasebooks suggest the idea that when you find yourself in a situation you will be able to turn to them and find a way to deal with it. This, I think I can say safely, never happens.
Perhaps you would like to receive coins as change. Your phrasebook will tell you how to ask for smaller denomination notes but will offer you nothing about coins. Perhaps you would like to say "this is poor quality", your phrasebook tells you instead how to say "this is very good quality". This is obviously due to the fact that there are just too many possibilities to cover. Perhaps the odds of finding something useful would be improved if people began to produce specialised phrasebooks – say Tibetan for Parents with Toddlers, Faroese for Old Fogies, Wolof for Worriers, etc.
But still I do wonder what the reasoning is behind the inclusion of some of the content. I once went to Egypt with a phrasebook published by the people who produce those travel books which are constantly warning you to beware of the locals. I recall that there was one page which had a series of questions which included: "What do you think about endangered species?". I had really set my mind on asking that, but I never got drunk enough. (By the way, some phrasebooks also have the phrase: "I am drunk". Theoretically, this may be useful, but what are your chances of finding it and being able to read it out if you actually are drunk?)
On the same page as the question about endangered species, there was also "Is there a pollution problem in Cairo?". I fearlessly – no, not fearlessly, bravely - asked this in Arabic of a taxi driver and in return I was treated to a tumultuous ten-minute speech of which I understood only the last two words, which were, in English, "No broblem" . I never tried that again, since I discovered that the traffic in Cairo is exciting enough without having your driver turn round to you every twenty seconds to emphasize an important point. I also have a Bengali phrasebook which also instructs you how to say "What should be done about endangered species?" and you can also ask the same question about deforestation, hydro-electricity, the ozone layer, toxic waste etc. and etc. So obviously there is a belief that these are kinds of question you are likely to want to ask in Dhaka as well as Cairo.
You may want to ask them, but my Egyptian taxi-driver example illustrates a major problem: you are not going to understand the answer. Phrasebooks are full of questions it is pointless to ask because of that snag. Here are some examples I have taken from the many books I have: How do you play backgammon? Is there anything I can do to help?What will you be when you grow up? When is the best time to go? or even simply Can you tell me the way to the station? I really cannot imagine any intelligible follow-up to "What do you think of endangered species?" unless you are having a conversation with a very talented mime.
Of course there are questions that assume a simple answer, a yes or a no and sometimes you do get one. But not in most cases. If, to take a random example, you ask "Is the museum open every day?", you are much more likely to have someone answer something like "Only on months with an R in them", "Nobody has ever known the answer to that question" or "This is not a museum, it's a model jail".
When I was a schoolboy I remember that there came a day when I realised that teachers weren't really more intelligent than other people, they only had textbooks with answers in the back. I wonder whether there also might be Teacher's Phrasebooks with all the answers inside. They probably keep them under the counter in bookshops and won't sell them to ordinary people like me. They would seem to me to provide the only realistic way of using a phrasebook: you read the questions and a local reads out answers which you can follow in your own copy.
I have an old French-German phrasebook which seems to operate on this principle. It doesn't have a date but from the way people behave it must be about 1905. Here are some very short extracts.
M. Hey! Gardener ! Where are you?- Good grief, he's stretched out behind this hedge! Is that your idea of work?
G. Ah! Sir, I was only having a little rest. I have been working all day.
M. What have you done today?
G. I've cleared the caterpillars from the fruit trees, pruned the overgrown branches, trimmed the hedge, turned over the manure.
M. Do you think we will have a lot of melons this year?
A. I've been waiting all day for this tailor and I have so much business to attend to. I'm fuming. If I could get hold of him now, I would...
T. (Enters, carrying Mr. A's suit)
A. Ah! There you are ! I almost lost my temper with you !
T. I couldn't come earlier and I had twenty people working on your suit. Would you like to try it on?
A. Yes, hand it to me. Do you think it fits?
T. I would dare a painter with his brush to paint a better fit.
Nearly every aspect of life is covered. You will also be able to learn how to deal with a servant who insists on waking you up at six a.m. when you would rather sleep in, the way to proceed in order to fend off an unwanted visit to your theatre box and you will be informed of the advantages of gymnastics ("it extinguishes all passions except for love of country and glory"). It is a fascinating book and you will be able to have an extremely interesting holiday if of course you manage to secure the cooperation of the lazy and scheming lower classes.
But my favourite phrasebook is one which I bought on my first trip to Greece. It is an Italian-Greek phrasebook "Modern Greek-Italian Dialogues". It has lost its cover but I vaguely remember that there was a picture of an Euzonos (one of those Greek soldiers with skirts) intersecting a Bersagliere (one of those Italian soldiers with feathery helmets, who used to have to sleep with their bicycles). The author is one Al. Khatzimikhail. The Greek must be perfect because the Italian is appalling. The quality of the Italian is one of the reasons I like it so much (and I will try to reproduce the flavour of its strangeness). The other reason is the special kind of logic it exhibits . For example, on page one we find:
Where is the railway station for Berlin?
There are a number of very famous opening lines in literature – Call me Ishmael being the only one I can remember offhand – which shove you straight into the book but this is even better. It sets off so many questions all at once it is like a little bomb going off in your head. First of all, I have lived in Italy for many, many years and I can assure you there is no railway station for Berlin or even any railway station which specialises in trains which go North as opposed to West, East or South. Italian cities have Central Stations and all major trains leave from there. And from what I recall of the Greek railway system I very much doubt whether there is any station specialisation there either. But another strange thing about having this on page one is that if you actually manage to get a train to Berlin what are you going to do with the rest of the Greek-Italian phrasebook when you get there?
I'm not sure whether we do find the station for Berlin because the next thing we do is buy a ticket to Holland. However the author seems to have taken my point about the need to use the rest of the book because we specify "with a return" and two phrases down, we again say, "make sure it is with a return". We take a number of other forms of transportation of course. A ferry to Marseille. (Does it have a cinema, a swimming pool, music? In how many ports will it come alongside ? Waiter, I feel sick). Then we start looking for the "Olymbiac Aviation" offices (Aviazione Olimbiaca). We ask "will we be landing ourselves somewhere else apart from our destination?" and we call on the "Ostessa". (To me this sounds like a lady rushing around with a dozen foaming mugs of beer in her arms so I think "airmaid" is the most accurate translation.) I am very proud of this term and I hope that you will use it the next time you fly. We ask the airmaid: "Please, in what height are we flying?" to which the answer is the slightly alarming "In six thousand feet" then we ask her "Please a little cotton for my ear.". We seem to have problems travelling whatever we take. On the bus we need to sit in front because the bus is bad for us. (We also worry whether "the way is unequal").
Then we take the car. There isn't a normal section entitled "cars", only one entitled "Car- damage". So it is no surprise when we immediately have problems and have to look for a "Vulcalizer" because "our rubber rims are broken" (sono guasti i nostri cerchioni di gomma). Unfortunately we don't have a "reserve of rubber rims". Here we begin to realise that we are Greek, because we say that we are travelling from Greece to Italy and have lost the road (perduto la via). We also look for a Greek hotel, a Greek restaurant and later a Greek film (Good luck). In the hotel the waters aren't running, unfortunately. At the restaurant we ask for "an own plate" (un piatto proprio) and here we discover, I think, why we have such trouble with our stomach when travelling. We sit down and say: Please, give me a portion of legumes, beef, fish, chicken,lamb, green salad, soup, meat broth, rost veal (vitello rosto), chop, sole. and then I would like as supplement: Maccheroni,beans, cheese,olives, risotto,turkish cheese, fried potatoes. We also have fruit, desserts and a selection of wines.
We certainly don't do things by halves and whenever we buy something it is a kilo or two kilos. A kilo of beef, two kilos of veal, a lamb, a kilo of liver, two kilos of cherries at the herbage shop, a kilo of butter and (suspiciously) three kilos of soap. (Perhaps we slaughtered the lamb on the carpet).
Now something else unexpected happens. As I said it is increasingly obvious that we are Greek. When we are looking for a job we say that "you can get references from all the banks in Greece" and we are also male. We have been to the barber's (be careful with my moustachio) and "in a shop" we have said "I would like also for my wife a blouse, six knickers, three slips and two bras") so it is quite surprising when on page 87 we suddenly announce "I am pregnant". (Maybe it's just a misperception caused by all that food). I could quote many more interesting events but I would like to press on to what I feel to be the highlight of the book which is "fra inamorati" (between lovvers). Here it is almost in its entirety:
I would like very much to speak to you. Unfortunately I do not know your language. I am a foreigner.I would like us to make company together.Tomorrow will you be free?
(You can't help but admire a person who can seduce someone while reading from a phrasebook. It is no mean feat.)
I felt a liking for you from the first moment I saw you. I am fond of you (: I love you). I cannot find words to express this what I feel. You have beautiful eyes. you have beautiful body. I like you a lot. I am absolutely sincere. You are too harsh. I am in love. I am jealous of you. I hate you. I would like to know what you feel for me. A small gift. I will come and ask your parents for your hand. since I really care for you I want you to become my wife. What is your opinion about marriage? Would you like us to try through engagement? Do you think we would be happier if...we married? Since we love each other shall we make our home together? Do you like...children?
That wraps the courtship up. She obviously is a woman of few words. Maybe she just nods. Which may be a problem. Because the rest of the book is only days of the week, months of the year and countries and capital cities. After marriage there does not seem to be much in the way of conversation (although I did learn that the capital of West Germany was "Bohn"). But perhaps there is a volume two: Modern Greek-Italian Marital Dialogues.
But probably not: because as an ending it is just as experimental as the Berlin railway station opening. Having now read this work from cover to cover I realize that phrasebooks are not about communicating with people. They are really avant-garde forms of literature. So in view of this I am going to institute the Al. Khatzimikhail Prize for Literary Excellence in Phrasebooks. Send in submissions to: email@example.com.
In view of the larger reaction than expected which I got from the Cairo taxi driver, I have decided not to try out the Between Lovvers section experimentally myself. But if you would like to test it, I would be very glad to send you a photocopy of the pages involved. Please let me know if you accidentally get married.
(And, yes, I forgot to tell you that the gardener said that we will have a lot of melons this year).
The art of conversation isn't rugby,
I must remind myself at times,
or even shooting grouse, deer, moose or peccaries
If anything it is a bit like dominoes
with tiles you didn't know you had,
whose shapes do tricks with space and time .
Lay down a one and six, and see
it matched by six and twenty-seven,
but curving upwards forty five degrees,
and then, inside your sleeve, you find-
quite unexpectedly- you have a one and minus three,
which knows a hole through which to
slip back into yesterday.
If you play carefully it's very quickly interesting
and takes you out to places which you had not foreseen.
And in the end you find together
you have made a shape which you would
never have prospected on your own;
something which stretches
into every corner of the room, from 1391 to Tuesday next,
(it's hard work travelling to the future)
and runs out of the window along the beech tree's boughs
across the ocean to that famous peak in Darien,
and then comes back passing in between the square
legs of King Arthur's table, explores a badger's den,
stops off a second at the local pub
and then shins up the drainpipe into
the bowl of soup your neighbour is eating-
but he won't notice for he's watching television.
The art of conversation. Further reading:
Appreciating other cultures; 4-dimensional topology in daily life (with exercises,; Making love as dialogue .
Too often though I find myself apparently
innocuous, but sporting hooded reptile eyes and thinking
"this bloke has gone on long, long, long, long, long enough it must be my turn
now". And when I sense a hesitation I tackle
just below the knees, no way that he can keep his feet,
and now I have the ball, and off I go.
It doesn't matter what you say just keep possession,
with your mouth,-
except it isn't really rugby, is it ?-
(and always forget)
because there is no line where you can score. So you
must just keep running, for if you stop to think then...
Well, fret and stare a bit,
and do what the song says:
pick yourself up,
brush yourself off and
start all over again.
Or better not.
Rugby is fine till age eighteen after which time
you really should appreciate contention will not
get you anywhere you really want to be.
The Art of Conversation: Chapter 3- There is no score
So some of us take up shooting.
Around the table, we load our guns,
then just as the first...
"sentence" is what I was going to say,
but they never do get to their end,
always shot down by barrages of wit. Some people
even down each other's sallies on the fly.
I have seen photographs in which
sterling lords, silver nabobs and pensive servants,
stare from behind a pile of carcases above a
caption reading: 34 tigers, 200 mallards,
6 mahouts, 98 partridges and a passing pear tree
and noticed the glazing on the gazes of the pounds
and bobs, who seem to be groping for a question
they have spent their whole lives trying to locate
inside their heads with no success, which is,
politely phrased, What do I think I'm doing ?
And sometimes after dinners full of wit
I've felt the same. Amazing just how clever
we can be. Such a display of marksmanship.
But could some of those riddled and limp sentences
have had something to say ?
The Art of Conversation: Chapter 2 - Wit is a condiment.
Stopping in time can be an art as well and cleverness
is not too good at it. It has a dozen forward gears,
begets inventions by the score, but never has heard
of reverse. So when it gets you stuck inside
a swamp (and think of all the catastrophically ingenious ways we are),
it gives a thumbs-up, blows kisses at its own reflection
in the rear-view mirror, steps on the pedal
and plunges further in and deeper down.
We should mark off one day, at least , on which we all decide
we shall abstain from glibness and the arrogance
of thinking that we know, on which no one shall make a speech,
and we restrict ourselves to asking for the salt or similar conceits -
a day for listening, on which we shall give time
to children, who sometimes seem to be wiser than
we'll ever be again, consider the stories
deep in the eyes of animals, track the sounds
made by the growing of the grass,
(not that preposterous, we've never really tried),
stand next to rivers, fountains, under rain and hear the songs of
places water has been on its endless travels
or think of all the winding wisdom trees have stored
within their rings from ages
well before our great-great-great grandparents
learnt to walk. Breathe quietly. That's it.
The Art of Conversation: Chapter One – Your Ears.
Phillip Hill 2007
Listen to the poem
(This poem is included in my book The Observation Car which is available at http://www.lulu.com/content/2588218)
I often think about this peculiar painting of the Annunciation by Lorenzo Lotto. As you can see, God doesn't seem to have much confidence that the angel is going to carry out his instructions properly and Mary is just about to exit the canvas. (I'm sure there must be a never-discovered version where she has already hopped out). But most of all, I think about the cat which has jumped up in panic. What set it off? Just the sight of a big thing with wings ? Some angelic smell ? Or do angels move air when they come down and land ?
This one certainly seems to have come down fast. It looks to me a bit like a gymnast trying for a good score when exiting from a somersault. Perhaps overdoing it a bit and so appealing more to the crowd than to the judges. And thinking of that gave me the idea of organising the first Metaphysical Olympics. For the time being we only have one event - Gymnastics for Angels or Gymnangelastics.
One advantage in having angels compete is that they probably don't take steroids. However there are also some problems. It is to be hoped we will never have to subject any to sex tests. And then there is the small matter that they don't seem to turn up as often as they used to. Because of this, I have decided that we are going to judge the event by the way they perform in pictures of the Annunciation. Specifically, we will be focusing on how well they landed.
So here are some of the favourites as well as some of the outsiders in the Gymnangelastics event. Dutch and Flemish painters are unfortunately under-represented because most of them seem to prefer to depict the angel as it walks in through the front door or else have it comfortably seated as if it had been served a cup of tea before bringing up the delicate subject it was called upon to discuss.
(click to enlarge)
Beautiful wing position (and beautiful wings), hands in expressive but not overly flamboyant position. However the angel has not been able to completely check its forward motion.
Big disappointment here from Botticelli, who surely must have been considered a contender.Very bad form in general, everything pointing in different directions and looking very unstable. Perhaps just about to tip forward onto the ground or grab Mary's garb.
Knees somewhat too far apart, hand gestures not perfect, robe not completely under control and wings in in-between position, but all in all a very impressive performance. Might just be a surprise medallist.
A completely different approach: flamboyant and deliberately rough-edged.
Walk on the wild side
Seems to have knocked a number of the house's walls down and to have involved the holy spirit in a stuka dive.
Spectators advised to stand back.
And then of course there is Lotto. Pretty good but something is not kosher. I have great confidence in the intuition of cats and until the issue is clarified Lotto will suffer a one-point deduction.These are of course my personal opinions. I am no expert on gymnastics or angels, so you might want to contribute your own scores.
By the way, I took all these pictures from a fantastic resource - The Web Gallery of Art where you can organise your own exhibitions by searching by keywords. Searching for "Annunciation" gave me 540 different paintings. You could, for example, try and find all the pictures of St. Sebastian they have. (Perhaps useful for an archery event at our Olympics).
Listen to this (Dinah Washington- This Bitter Earth as she sang it in 1960 )for thirty seconds or so.
Now listen to a few bars of Max Richter's "On the Nature of Daylight".
Now hear how Max Richter combined them. I think you will listen all the way to the end.
And I have nothing to say.
Start with the and.
Select a photograph of someone you have
lost or crossed,
shared days then parted ways with
and watch it softly
(think of a gaze on tip-toes),
five minutes for each side,
first at the picture, then
at the picture gone,
turning slowly, clockwise,
like time itself
until you have
a good emulsion in your mind.
Put in a bowl,
add rainbow root,
a fork in the road
and set aside.
Now for the sweet.
Chop up some thyme,
add mint to it
and store in a dish,
you'll use it near the end.
Pick two or three of your best
snip off associations
which may have sprouted with the years
and dust with your favourite colour.
Pour on a glass of
(K301 is good ),
note by note,
until the music is all
You'll know it's ready
when you find you're smiling.
Put in a pan with rum and essences of Eden
and cook as gently as you can.
Don't stir, you mustn't change
While this is going you can
make the sour.
Over a big bowl shake
out a dictionary, concise
until you get the hang of it,
and pick out
all the words
you never should have said
if there are any turgid ones
prick with your conscience -
they will deflate a little.
Roll them together with a rolling pin
until you get a paragraph,
shape into a loaf
which you will cut
with your sharpest knife
into accusing finger shapes.
Use biting winter wind
Add some tart wine or
something equally ungrapeful
and then fry furiously -
two minutes or
until you hear them snap
Drain well. Place in a serving dish
Pour the emulsion on.
Add all the herbs to
the sweet memories and
arrange them around
the side of the dish.
The freshly minted thyme
will make them taste brand new.
Serve straight away.
Unlike revenge it's best
when piping hot.
Then at the table-
on top of everything
of (almost too much)
Phillip Hill 2007
Listen to the poem
(This poem is included in my book The Observation Car which is available at http://www.lulu.com/content/2588218)
Some time ago I posted an article on my liking for random walks, in which I outlined an insanely complicated method to get to places you weren't planning to see. Recently I found another way to go to randomly explore the world, without getting up from my chair.
A few days ago, as I was preparing to leave for Prague, I tried to find some information on the city’s railway station. I can’t remember why, I have been to so many places (at least virtually) since then. I happened on a page with a 360 degree spherical picture of Fantova kavárna or Fanta’s Café, originally the main hall of the station as it was built in 1871 by the architect Josef Fanta. The picture was on a website called 360cities.net which, I have discovered, is a wonderful tool for random travelling.
I soon ended up in other places in Prague, my favourites I think being the Bethlehem Chapel, a medieval crane and the wonderful Strahov library, where the picture is so detailed that I am quite confident that I will one day spot a bookworm about to take a bite out of one of the ancient volumes.
I have found it very difficult to stop travelling on 360 cities and have discovered a lot of places I had never heard of. My suggestion is to start from a city you went to a long time ago or one which you have always dreamed of visiting. Take your time with the pictures, look around and up and also down (count the cigarette butts or see if someone's dropped a coin) and when you have finished go somewhere else in the vicinity by clicking on one of the white arrows you will see. There may be other photos in the vicinity which aren't linked, though. For example, I spent a long time on the square outside the Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg without finding an arrow which would take me in, so I had to search for the museum to find pictures of the interior.
When you have seen enough of a place and if, like me, you like random travelling and walking, click on the green globe icon you'll see among the white arrows which will take you somewhere “far far away” and start looking around the new place it lands you at.
Here are a few of the places and situations I wasn't looking for but ended up looking up and liking:
A lovely tree in France,
Casa de los Azulejos - Mexico City
Monterosso in the Cinque Terre - Italy
A dog watching a goose cooking somewhere in Germany
A bay with fishing boats in Vietnam
The night sky in Chilean Patagonia
The forest of ten thousand peaks, Guizhou, China
Someone's greenhouse in Texas
A storm brewing over the Himalayas in Nepal
Something entitled "Hotel Ship Wreck Dance Hall" in Szeged, Hungary - (not quite sure what happened here)
Coral reef fish in New Caledonia