Lost in Translation
Twelve countries, nine languages…two of which I speak and understand. One of which I pretend to speak and understand. Though I manage to order coffee, and a (more than) occasional cheeseburger in our 3 Spanish speaking ports of call during my first semester at Class Afloat, I am limited to express myself in this beautiful language beyond ordering food, answering “muy bien” to “Como estas?”, and asking where the nearest bathroom is.
This proves to be a challenge as Christina and I get into a taxi in Cartagena, Colombia, and attempt to make our way back to the tall ship we call home. This gorgeous South American port is donned with two major marinas, and we try make sure our unilingual cab driver knows where to take us. Foolishly, we have not prepared in advance for this: our cab driver has no idea where we are asking him to go. In all fairness to him, our broken Spanish is pitiful, and of no help at all. This, however, does not keep us from trying.
Christina, confident that her summer travels in Peru, Bolivia, Chile and Argentina have given her a good understanding of the language spoken here, exclaims with enthused hand gestures “BOATA! BOATA!” to our perplexed driver.
I try to recall contents of my 20-hour Spanish course, and though I do not remember the translation of the word “ship”, I am fairly certain that it is NOT “boata”.
“Christina. You can’t just add ‘a’ and ‘o’ to English words to make them Spanish”
“Chantalle, I KNOW that it’s boata. This taxi driver just doesn’t understand. It’s for sure boata,”
In an attempt to help our situation, I take out my crew ID, and point to the severely pixilated image of the ship which is found at the back of the card, along with important telephone numbers, and the Sorlandet’s website. The taxi driver draws his attention to the latter, puzzled. This confuses us even more. Why is he tracing his finger along the ship’s website address? Does he think we are asking him to take us to cyber space?
Finally, after Christina and I’s hand gestures mimicking sails, after drawing a ship on a receipt, and saying words like “marina”, “puerto”, and, of course, “boata”, the cab driver says “Si, si, si”, and starts driving us somewhere… hopefully to the right place…no say?!
After a few kilometers, he turns a corner: lo and behold, we see the ship in the distance! We point to it enthusiastically, exclaiming ‘Si, Si!! Gracias, Gracias!”. We made it “home”, and find comfort in knowing that despite language barriers, we were still able to communicate, albeit in a primitive fashion.
By the way, “boata” is most definitely NOT the Spanish translation for “boat”. This allowed me to bask in “I-told-you-so” glory for a decent amount of time…about two days. However, I’ve already forgotten what this said word was. Unbelievable. At least I have my grainy Sorlandet graphic, and interpretive hand gestures to rely on in non-French or English speaking countries… for now, that is.
Cartagena is a must-see city for anyone traveling in Colombia, and it, just like all of its Spanish-speaking predecessors, makes me wish I knew how to speak the language fluently. I wish I spoke Spanish more than I wish that Pizza Hut delivered at sea… bold statement, but truth. Cartagena has everything anyone could possibly be looking for in a travel destination: History, great music, fantastic sights, beautiful art, and gorgeous people. The old fortified part of the city is my preferred destination here – it is reminiscent of a latin-flavoured Vieux Quebec. I spend most of my time in Cartagena exploring its buildings and shops, buying fresh mango from market vendors, and sipping Colombian coffee. A-mazing.
Colombia is our last port of call before the quick stop in Costa Rica, which means semester break for full-year students and teachers. Though most of us are staying on with Class Afloat until May, we have to say good-bye to some special people with whom much was shared over the course of the past few months. This group includes Christina, the medical officer who quickly became my closest friend on the ship. Creating solid links here is important…it is crucial to have a sounding board to voice your thoughts to while living out this opportunity. My travels thus far had been measured in days, or weeks, not months: this in itself has been an influential lesson. Add to that the fact that Class Afloat is intense on so many levels…and it is sometimes difficult to translate just what this all is, and what it all means.
In my contacts with people back home, most want to know which destination has been the most exciting, and the greatest to see. This is a difficult question to answer, partially because all of them are fantastic in their own respect…but mostly because Class Afloat has been much more than our selected ports of call. It has been life, it has been friendship, it has been love, and it has been learning. As cliché as it may sound, it has been incredibly fitting of one of those fridge magnet quotes that says something along the lines of “It is not the destination that counts, but the journey in getting there”. For myself, and the 65+ others along for the ride of this crazy adventure, the journey has been life-altering. I feel fortunate that I have another 4 months of exploring ahead of me.
It is with this anticipation for a second semester even better than the last that I arrive in Moncton to cold snow, and warm embraces for a few days worth of break. Seeing my parents and my sister at the airport is wonderful, and I feel so happy to be home. Add to that a surprise weekend visit from my best friend from Calgary, and my time home was perfect. All of the above, plus spending the next few days with more family, friends, and Tim Horton’s coffee is a good reminder of how fortunate I am – not only in my ship/travel life, but my home life as well.
After nearly a week in Moncton, I departed for Belize, where I spent a few days in good company before starting semester 2 in one of the most beautiful spots in the Caribbean. As I am writing this, we have just completed a service project in Las Terrenas, Dominican Republic. After this, we start our second crossing of the Atlantic by sailing north to Bermuda. I will try posting stories from our sails, and our time in Cuba and the DR then!
Love and hugs.
Chant.
This proves to be a challenge as Christina and I get into a taxi in Cartagena, Colombia, and attempt to make our way back to the tall ship we call home. This gorgeous South American port is donned with two major marinas, and we try make sure our unilingual cab driver knows where to take us. Foolishly, we have not prepared in advance for this: our cab driver has no idea where we are asking him to go. In all fairness to him, our broken Spanish is pitiful, and of no help at all. This, however, does not keep us from trying.
Christina, confident that her summer travels in Peru, Bolivia, Chile and Argentina have given her a good understanding of the language spoken here, exclaims with enthused hand gestures “BOATA! BOATA!” to our perplexed driver.
I try to recall contents of my 20-hour Spanish course, and though I do not remember the translation of the word “ship”, I am fairly certain that it is NOT “boata”.
“Christina. You can’t just add ‘a’ and ‘o’ to English words to make them Spanish”
“Chantalle, I KNOW that it’s boata. This taxi driver just doesn’t understand. It’s for sure boata,”
In an attempt to help our situation, I take out my crew ID, and point to the severely pixilated image of the ship which is found at the back of the card, along with important telephone numbers, and the Sorlandet’s website. The taxi driver draws his attention to the latter, puzzled. This confuses us even more. Why is he tracing his finger along the ship’s website address? Does he think we are asking him to take us to cyber space?
Finally, after Christina and I’s hand gestures mimicking sails, after drawing a ship on a receipt, and saying words like “marina”, “puerto”, and, of course, “boata”, the cab driver says “Si, si, si”, and starts driving us somewhere… hopefully to the right place…no say?!
After a few kilometers, he turns a corner: lo and behold, we see the ship in the distance! We point to it enthusiastically, exclaiming ‘Si, Si!! Gracias, Gracias!”. We made it “home”, and find comfort in knowing that despite language barriers, we were still able to communicate, albeit in a primitive fashion.
By the way, “boata” is most definitely NOT the Spanish translation for “boat”. This allowed me to bask in “I-told-you-so” glory for a decent amount of time…about two days. However, I’ve already forgotten what this said word was. Unbelievable. At least I have my grainy Sorlandet graphic, and interpretive hand gestures to rely on in non-French or English speaking countries… for now, that is.
Cartagena is a must-see city for anyone traveling in Colombia, and it, just like all of its Spanish-speaking predecessors, makes me wish I knew how to speak the language fluently. I wish I spoke Spanish more than I wish that Pizza Hut delivered at sea… bold statement, but truth. Cartagena has everything anyone could possibly be looking for in a travel destination: History, great music, fantastic sights, beautiful art, and gorgeous people. The old fortified part of the city is my preferred destination here – it is reminiscent of a latin-flavoured Vieux Quebec. I spend most of my time in Cartagena exploring its buildings and shops, buying fresh mango from market vendors, and sipping Colombian coffee. A-mazing.
Colombia is our last port of call before the quick stop in Costa Rica, which means semester break for full-year students and teachers. Though most of us are staying on with Class Afloat until May, we have to say good-bye to some special people with whom much was shared over the course of the past few months. This group includes Christina, the medical officer who quickly became my closest friend on the ship. Creating solid links here is important…it is crucial to have a sounding board to voice your thoughts to while living out this opportunity. My travels thus far had been measured in days, or weeks, not months: this in itself has been an influential lesson. Add to that the fact that Class Afloat is intense on so many levels…and it is sometimes difficult to translate just what this all is, and what it all means.
In my contacts with people back home, most want to know which destination has been the most exciting, and the greatest to see. This is a difficult question to answer, partially because all of them are fantastic in their own respect…but mostly because Class Afloat has been much more than our selected ports of call. It has been life, it has been friendship, it has been love, and it has been learning. As cliché as it may sound, it has been incredibly fitting of one of those fridge magnet quotes that says something along the lines of “It is not the destination that counts, but the journey in getting there”. For myself, and the 65+ others along for the ride of this crazy adventure, the journey has been life-altering. I feel fortunate that I have another 4 months of exploring ahead of me.
It is with this anticipation for a second semester even better than the last that I arrive in Moncton to cold snow, and warm embraces for a few days worth of break. Seeing my parents and my sister at the airport is wonderful, and I feel so happy to be home. Add to that a surprise weekend visit from my best friend from Calgary, and my time home was perfect. All of the above, plus spending the next few days with more family, friends, and Tim Horton’s coffee is a good reminder of how fortunate I am – not only in my ship/travel life, but my home life as well.
After nearly a week in Moncton, I departed for Belize, where I spent a few days in good company before starting semester 2 in one of the most beautiful spots in the Caribbean. As I am writing this, we have just completed a service project in Las Terrenas, Dominican Republic. After this, we start our second crossing of the Atlantic by sailing north to Bermuda. I will try posting stories from our sails, and our time in Cuba and the DR then!
Love and hugs.
Chant.
Merci pour les updates Chantalle! Makes me miss you even more...If that's possible! xoxo
ReplyDeleteThanks for taking time from your adventures to blog, Chantalle. I hope this has not become a niggling chore ("Gad ... I still have that *!!#? piece to write ... maybe people think I fell overboard ..."). We readers are living vicariously each escapade, and sending a big "shout out" to all the kids and crew. Fair winds to all!
ReplyDeleteXO/Judy