Opprosti, Samo Anglesko
Going on one week into life in Ljubljana, these three words have been the key to opening the door to communication with my new Slovene compatriots. Opprosti, samo anglesko, meaning "sorry, only english," is a way of quickly indicating that I do not speak Slovene. Indeed, as I have discovered, the three word phrase is also far more helpful than merely saying, in english, "sorry, only english." This seems to be due to a number of converging factors: there are only two million people in Slovenia and three million speakers of Slovene in the world, learning to speak Slovene is seen as the duty of all those born in this small adriatic nation, tourism, i.e. foreign visitation, has exploded here in Slovenia over the past decade, and english, along with german, are the dominant second languages of Slovene society. Together, this means that saying you only speak english in Slovene is a far more respectful means of communicating the concept than saying it in english. I did not fully realize this before my arrival but, armed with pretty much only that phrase in the first few days of exploration around my apartment, I was soon to discover it.
During my first foray into a super market here (always a treat for food-system intrigued me!), I was contemplating the pasta sauce shelf when a small old woman to my right began speaking and pointing towards a high shelf out of her reach. I realized that she was speaking to me in the hopes of gaining my assistance in securing her desired jar of sauce. Back in the US this would have been the least meaningful moment. I would have been happy to help but I would have forgotten the act soon after accomplishing it. Here though, on my first full day in a Slavic-language speaking nation, this is a moment that I had been fearing and mostly trying to avoid. Such an odd feeling, that. Though living through moments like these in cross-cultural interactions, ones that open up feelings of inadequacy, anxiety, and trepidation, is about as healthy a practice as I can imagine in our xenophobic close-minded modern existence, that does not make the moment a pleasure to experience. Indeed, these are the nervy little micro-moments that we often strive to avoid. For some reason, this shit is scary! Fortunately, what happened next in the super market is exactly what often happens and what makes these interactions worth pursuing.
Upon my realization that I was the target of a small old Slovenian woman's quickly spoken requests for assistance reaching a sought after jar of tomato sauce, I promptly broke out my well-mentally practiced get-out-of-jail-free card, "Opprostite, samo Anglesko," I said. (Opprostite being the more formal version of Opprosti.) Nothing happened. She continued to gesticulate and jabber on about which sauce she wanted. She may have even gotten a little annoyed at this point: I mean, why wasn't this guy just helping her with this simple little thing she seemed to be thinking. So, I conceded the point to a certain extent and opted to instead just try and help her, thinking now that that might be the most direct route to her satisfaction and my release from the call of duty. I followed the point of her finger with my eyes and reached up for one of the jars that she seemed to be pointing towards. Wrong again. Now, with confusion bordering on consternation, her tone shifted to indicate to me that I had selected the wrong jar. I replaced the jar, caught a word in her speaking that I then saw printed on the jar next to the one I had chosen, and handed her the new jar. She was pleased, though still speaking to me. Needing to explain myself, I made eye contact and said, "samo anglesko, opprostite." Her head-thrown-back burst of laughter shattered the moment. I instantly started laughing as well, realizing how much I had surprised her. We really laughed hard and looked at one another for a few more seconds before parting ways with her still talking to herself, or maybe to me but now without the intention of me understanding what she was saying, about how funny it had all been.
Only upon a similar interaction with the woman at the cash register did I put together quite what had made the moment so funny to her. Upon my recitation of the magic three word phrase to the cashier following a question to me stated in Slovene, the cashier too started laughing. She then excitedly told the next cashier down that I had just said, "sorry, only english, in Slovene!" (which I was able to understand by the order of the restated phrase and intonation). As I left the store, it clicked that the old woman had not only been surprised to find that I did not speak Slovene, which I suppose is a nod to my general appearance being pretty similar to the norm here, she had also been clearly almost shocked to hear me announce, in Slovene, that I only speak English.
The general tenor of this interaction has since repeated itself numerous times. Whenever I am able to fit my slowly expanding knowledge of Slovene into conversation, such as "Jaz sem Jedd" (I am Jedd), and the other person I am speaking with realizes that I actually only really speak English, there is a certain amount of excitement/gladness in their responses. Knowing that there are many parts of the world where this is not the case, i.e. peoples that would rather not have to listen to you butcher their language, I realize how lucky I am to be in a country where the opposite appears to be the case.
Slovenia is a young nation. Having gained independence and sovereignty in only 1991 and having joined the EU in 2007, a significant portion of the national psyche is still focused on proving/establishing themselves in the EU/international community. Perhaps in contrast to this process, or at least in parallel to it, there is a strong sentiment and concern in regards to preserving Slovene culture in the face of globalization. Though few American english speakers born past the 2nd generation in the US (including myself) can comprehend the importance and fragility of language as a preserver of culture, there are countless examples of this stark reality globally. Slovenes are as aware of this as they are of the creep of English and German into their lexicon.
Though the best possible outcome for my learning of Slovene is far from fluency, I am encouraged by my brief forays into the language so far. I can envision a future where I can exchange pleasantries with a stranger. This seems a worthy goal for now. The perks of being a white male from the US are countless and rarely more on display than during international travel. Clearly, though unfortunately, I could get by here without trying to learn the language at all. There is enough english going around and, seemingly, enough leeway given to tourists that my behavior would be accepted to a certain extent. That my first week has provided me with a glimpse into how fun and rewarding learning more of the language would be is the best possible motivation to keep me pushing against the outer edges of my linguistic comfort zone.
Each day here has seen my bubble of "safe-space" growing as I explore new areas and learn the city-layout, grow more comfortable asking questions when I cannot figure something out on my own, and expand into the idea that, for the next year or so, this is home. Given that I have not even been here for a full week, the future seems bright.
Only upon a similar interaction with the woman at the cash register did I put together quite what had made the moment so funny to her. Upon my recitation of the magic three word phrase to the cashier following a question to me stated in Slovene, the cashier too started laughing. She then excitedly told the next cashier down that I had just said, "sorry, only english, in Slovene!" (which I was able to understand by the order of the restated phrase and intonation). As I left the store, it clicked that the old woman had not only been surprised to find that I did not speak Slovene, which I suppose is a nod to my general appearance being pretty similar to the norm here, she had also been clearly almost shocked to hear me announce, in Slovene, that I only speak English.
Slovenia is a young nation. Having gained independence and sovereignty in only 1991 and having joined the EU in 2007, a significant portion of the national psyche is still focused on proving/establishing themselves in the EU/international community. Perhaps in contrast to this process, or at least in parallel to it, there is a strong sentiment and concern in regards to preserving Slovene culture in the face of globalization. Though few American english speakers born past the 2nd generation in the US (including myself) can comprehend the importance and fragility of language as a preserver of culture, there are countless examples of this stark reality globally. Slovenes are as aware of this as they are of the creep of English and German into their lexicon.
Though the best possible outcome for my learning of Slovene is far from fluency, I am encouraged by my brief forays into the language so far. I can envision a future where I can exchange pleasantries with a stranger. This seems a worthy goal for now. The perks of being a white male from the US are countless and rarely more on display than during international travel. Clearly, though unfortunately, I could get by here without trying to learn the language at all. There is enough english going around and, seemingly, enough leeway given to tourists that my behavior would be accepted to a certain extent. That my first week has provided me with a glimpse into how fun and rewarding learning more of the language would be is the best possible motivation to keep me pushing against the outer edges of my linguistic comfort zone.
Each day here has seen my bubble of "safe-space" growing as I explore new areas and learn the city-layout, grow more comfortable asking questions when I cannot figure something out on my own, and expand into the idea that, for the next year or so, this is home. Given that I have not even been here for a full week, the future seems bright.
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