August 13, 2009

Thursday

Aug. 13, 2009

Today I got sick. Not really sick, just dehydrated. I made it to lunch, but by then I was already pretty dehydrated. I tried drinking several of the Dixie-cup servings of water that we get at lunch, but it made me nauseous, so I went to lie down in the shade, but it didn’t help much. I still had a headache, and was apparently pale when I woke up. I told one of my trench mates who speaks English, and asked him to talk to the trench leader, Andre. Andre drove me up to the convent, where I took a short nap under a fan and drank more water. After about an hour, I was able to join the people who were washing pottery in the shady courtyard. My partner was an Italian girl named Conchetina, (or something like that). She didn’t speak any English, and my Italian is still at a bare minimum, so we struggled to find a way to pass the time. We managed to talk about school, studies, languages, and our work, so the time was not ill spent. It was apparently rather amusing to watch, however, according to my American and Dutch friends at the other wash bin.

It made me think about languages a lot, though. Like how English wounds to non-English speakers. We all know how foreign languages sound to our own ears, but how does our native tongue sound to a foreigner? It’s a question that can be asked by anyone, but I don’t know that anyone really knows the answer. It’s kind of like wondering how you look to other people. The features area the same, but how they’re interpreted or perceived by others is different than our own self-images.

Enough with philosophy, though, time for bed. Tomorrow is a short day in honor of Ferreagosto. TGIF.