Language Barriers

So, I have some language barriers here. Apart from the people I go to school with, and a handful of people that work for the language institution at which I am studying, nobody here speaks English. Not even four fifths of the people I share a home with.

This is problematic for obvious reasons. But never is it more so than when I want to communicate my appreciation to my host family. Today my host mom and two sisters went down by the shore of the Gulf of Gemlik. It is very pretty down there - the shore is lined with big rocks and a wide walkway runs a long length of it with a few playgrounds and brick outdoor grills here and there. Günce and Nehir ran to the nearest playground, and after a trip or two down the twisty slide I sat on the rocks next to Gönül.

One might expect us to chat. One would be on the right track, but one would definitely be neglecting the fact that Gönül speaks almost no English, and I speak but a smattering of Turkish. We sat there awkwardly for a couple of minutes. I looked at her, she looked at me. She held up a bag of sunflower seeds and offered me some in Turkish. I said evet, only because holding up a bag of sunflower seeds and pointing at it pretty effectively communicates what you're getting at, even if your words are not understood. I took some and popped a handful in my mouth, and she burst into laughter. What? What did I do? I thought. Then she took a seed, carefully wedged it between her front teeth, and bit down, simultaneously sucking the seed out of the inside. (Bear in mind, Turkish sunflower seeds bear little resemblance to American ones. I don't know why.) I shrugged, and pulled an empty shell out of my mouth and flicked it on the ground. She laughed even harder.

We spent the next hour alternating between laughing hysterically and looking up words in my Turkish/English dictionary. There is something truly hilarious about not being able to communicate with someone. As long as you're not in dire straits and there's no reason for the language barrier to be a serious issue, it's actually pretty fun trying to find every means necessary of getting across something as simple as "I want more seeds." All I can manage at this point is "Daha istiyorum." (I want more.)

We talked about the sea. We talked about seagulls. We talked about rocks. And by "talked about" I mean we said things like "There is the sea." "There are seagulls." "There is a rock." Sometimes I'd look up a word and try to pair it with the one or two verbs I happen to know from wandering around Turkish towns for the last week, and I still won't manage to relay my point. That's when she just throws her head back and laughs, and I throw my arms in the air and say "anlamıyorum!" ("I do not understand!"). She laughs at me every time I say "evet," "tamam," "çok," or "az," because they're the only words I'm really sure of at this point.

I'm glad she's entertained. I'm glad I'm not the only one who finds this whole situation simultaneously hilarious and infuriating. I mean, all she wants to do most of the time is feed me, and even THAT can be a chore. Despite the fact that Gönül is Jane Goodall to my chimpanzee-like state, we seem to have a very basic understanding of each other. I can tell by how much we end up laughing like idiots.