mercredi, mars 16, 2005
in the waiting line
Today in Cognitive class we started learning about language. Dr. Standing is fascinated with the subject area, so he talked at length about the history of language. We reviewed the origins of language by reviewing a language tree showing how so very many current-day languages originated from the same roots.
For whatever reason, that made me think about the long day spent in the Prague airport recently. Airports in Europe are a great place to people-watch, and to hear languages you've never heard before. Even though so many of them are meaningless to you, you learn to differentiate - i.e. Dutch does not sound like Czech.
Because we were in that line-up for so long, there was a type of kinship that developed between all of us in our section of the line. Directly behind us was a Dutch woman who had lived in South Africa for quite a while (I talked to her quite a bit). She spoke English with a very interesting accent. In front of us was a young man who I assumed was Czech, but noticed later that he was speaking a very choppy version of English with another Czech woman (maybe he was from Slovakia instead?). That was an interesting thing, too - seeing how everybody defaults to English, because it is indeed the common, universal language.
At one point I came back from fetching coffees and there was a quiet French woman behind us who gestured at me that she could hold something while I struggled with getting the cream and sugar into my coffee. Later her husband caused quite the ruckus when he became physically aggressive with the ticket agent; they called over the police and military to deal with him.
When anyone needed to leave to visit the washroom, make a telephone call (in a desperate attempt to get tickets changed without having to deal with the eternity of a wait), or fetch food, we would each hold the other's place in line, keeping an eye on their luggage, and gently nudging it forward as the line inched along. All without the benefit of a common language.
When we finally did get out of the line and were getting ready to check our luggage, in my haste to move from the line to the check-in counter, I forgot my backpack on the floor. But a kind man had taken notice and was already handing it to me as I came back to retrieve it. He was Asian, and did not speak English either. | ¶ 5:15 p.m.
For whatever reason, that made me think about the long day spent in the Prague airport recently. Airports in Europe are a great place to people-watch, and to hear languages you've never heard before. Even though so many of them are meaningless to you, you learn to differentiate - i.e. Dutch does not sound like Czech.
Because we were in that line-up for so long, there was a type of kinship that developed between all of us in our section of the line. Directly behind us was a Dutch woman who had lived in South Africa for quite a while (I talked to her quite a bit). She spoke English with a very interesting accent. In front of us was a young man who I assumed was Czech, but noticed later that he was speaking a very choppy version of English with another Czech woman (maybe he was from Slovakia instead?). That was an interesting thing, too - seeing how everybody defaults to English, because it is indeed the common, universal language.
At one point I came back from fetching coffees and there was a quiet French woman behind us who gestured at me that she could hold something while I struggled with getting the cream and sugar into my coffee. Later her husband caused quite the ruckus when he became physically aggressive with the ticket agent; they called over the police and military to deal with him.
When anyone needed to leave to visit the washroom, make a telephone call (in a desperate attempt to get tickets changed without having to deal with the eternity of a wait), or fetch food, we would each hold the other's place in line, keeping an eye on their luggage, and gently nudging it forward as the line inched along. All without the benefit of a common language.
When we finally did get out of the line and were getting ready to check our luggage, in my haste to move from the line to the check-in counter, I forgot my backpack on the floor. But a kind man had taken notice and was already handing it to me as I came back to retrieve it. He was Asian, and did not speak English either. | ¶ 5:15 p.m.
