My first clue should have been his amiable nature and willingness to converse with a complete stranger. My second clue should have been the greedy look in his eyes as he careened his face right up next to mine to speak. By the time this old Slovak man was going in for his third kiss on the cheek, I was pretty sure that what was happening was in fact not a standard “cultural experience.”
Now I don’t walk around Tisovec offering kisses for a song, but I have been getting pretty used to the geriatric crowd or the cleaning woman at school planting one (or two) on my cheeks at the conclusion of our meetings. The parting peck is usually accompanied by a big bear hug and some term of endearment such as “ahh, moja!,” which basically means, “Oh, mine (feminine).” It’s like saying ‘that’s my girl,’ or something. Just as you would never deny food or beverage from someone when you are a guest, shutting down the hug after it has been offered might be received as borderline offensive—it’s a cultural thing!
Let it be known I don’t give it away on the first date either. I had met this older man in the street the day before as I was booking it home between class periods to pick up a few things and string up some wet laundry for drying. I was wearing heels so the “click-click” of my shoes on the pavement had distracted and entranced him long enough for me to catch up, whereupon we stumbled through a quick conversation in Slovak.
When I saw my little friend again the next day a look of familiarity registered on his face and he altered his course to come and meet me. We exchanged greetings, he sort of chuckled (I presumed at my efforts to speak Slovak) all the while proceeding to position his face mere inches from mine. My gaze fixated on his two front lower teeth, both of which were severely deteriorated by a gnarly case of gingivitis so that only discolored nubs remained, his tongue passing back and forth over them as he worked his jaw. Suddenly, just as I was thinking about how this man did not understand the concept of personal space, he went in for kill number one. I reacted quickly by deflecting him to the cheek (his aim may have been a little off…) then immediately retracted my head and inquired as to the shopping he had recently done—“Mate zelenina?” (you have vegetables?). He scrutinized his apples and squash for a moment before looking up and smiling, and readying himself for approach number two.
At this point the wheels were turning, and I was starting to connect all the dots—usually I’m stoked to get a “dobry den” (good day/hello) out of people I don’t really know, especially the older generation. I’m not sure if I have elaborated on the disposition of most Slovaks, but in a nutshell they’re not the most friendly bunch towards strangers, and don’t walk around doling out random compliments and greetings to those they don’t know. In fact, I think I’m more accustomed to receiving grimaces than kisses out in public.
After a little more small talk (the smallest, seeing as we had almost exhausted my Slovak lexicon and his closeness was really starting to creep me out) I guess he thought the third time would be the charm. At this point I was positive something was amiss, so I backed out of there as quick as I could exclaiming, “nie, nie—to je fajn, dovidena, dovidena” and getting gone. I don’t think we were on the same page about what sort of relationship we had.
So maybe I put myself in a kind-of sort-of compromising situation. But I was just trying to mingle with the locals—If you want to speak a new language, you have to speak the new language. If I sit around all day waiting for someone to initiate an informal Slovak lesson, I’m a’ be waitin’ a long time. Like I said above, the old Slovaks who don’t know me aren’t that interested in getting to know me—at least not until I expose some connection—and since I work at a “bilingual” gymnasium most people tend to be more interested in leveraging my native English speaking-ness than making sure I am progressing with my efforts to learn their language. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of people who have been willing to help me work on my Slovak, but only because I put myself out there and bumble through broken sentences—I’m pretty sure ‘ako sa povie (how do you say)’ is my most commonly used phrase. Adults think it’s cute, elementary school students have perhaps proved the best teachers, and the students in the gymnasium seem a little more willing to give English a shot after I butcher phrases in their mother-tongue.
So I’m not going to stop trying to communicate with whoever I can, but I think I am going to institute a ‘communicate with your words, not with your face’ policy.
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