The Art of Communication, or, Caveman Russian for the Idiot American

It was a banner night on the survival front.  At about 1915, I called Cory Wanamaker, our awesome neighbor, and asked him to give me a ride to the mall.  We navigated the not-quite-rush-hour traffic and worked our way there.  Along the way, he shared a great story he heard of the time a colleague was driving with the US Ambassador’s wife and they got pulled over.  A cantankerous police officer asked, or demanded, rather, papers from the passengers.  It took about three seconds for his face to turn five shades of white, two more seconds for him to hand the papers back, and they were on their way.  Good times!

But back to me!  We were at the mall to get a doggie crate for Sasha the wonder puppy.  We found one that was the right kind, but it was too small.  We dragged a nice saleslady over to the crate, pointed at it, and said, “Bolshoi?”  And she brought out a ballet company!  No…bolshoi means big.  She said, “Odin moment,” and a Norse God briefly appeared!  No…odin means one.  (No more bad puns, I promise).  Eventually, a large crate in a box appeared.  I asked, “Kolka stoit?”  We got another “odin moment” and she disappeared in back for a while.  She reappeared with a printout that had the number on it, and I said, “Nyet.  Spasibo.”  I grabbed a different crate, walked to the front, paid for it, and left. 

THEN…it was off to the eyeglass store.  I gave the lady at the counter my best “Ya ponimayu tolka nimnoga parusski” (I only understand a little Russian), put out my hands with the broken glasses, as if I were making an offering to the Gods, and said, “Help?”  She picked them up, accepted the offering, and demanded tribute.  She found the price list, pointed to the correct price, and I said, “Da!  Spasibo.”  I then pointed at my wrist, also pointed at the clock, and raised my eyebrows.  She said, “Dvasta/treesta minute.”  I understood “dvasta” as twenty, assumed “treesta” was thirty, and “minute” was fairly self explanatory, Russian accent and all.  God bless cognates! 

I wandered the mall for about 15 minutes, came back to the store, and the glasses were done.  I said, “Bolshoi spasibo.  Do svidaniya,” and walked out.   And that was that.  I might have slipped in a few more, although I doubt it, but the total Russian words for the evening…13.  It wasn’t quite, “Me Tarzan, you Jane!” but that’s only because my language skills aren’t that sophisticated yet.  Baby steps, and all that.

Next:  ordering food at a restaurant.  We’ll have to go out for Thanksgiving, right?