Hebrew Conjugations Gone Mad – Tech Speak in a Foreign Language

In the tech space in most countries, the English language rules. However, my experiences at work in Israel have really brought to my attention how a language can change through common usage. The following English verbs have crept into the Hebrew lexicon and allow for the full conjugation according to the rules of the Hebrew language. And maybe this is what I find interesting, that not only is the English word used, but it is altered through conjugation. Using the ‘real’ Hebrew word instead of the English word will get you a puzzled look from your conversation partner. Most of these words I have learnt at work, in the hi-tech sector, but many of them are used every day by non-geeks as well…

English	Phonetic	Hebrew
To configure (eg., a setting on a computer application)	L'kanfeg	לקנפג
To format	L'farmet	לפרמט
To filter	L'falter	לפלטר
SMS	essemess	אסמס
To interact with someone on Facebook	L’fassbeck	לפסבק
To be purged (reflexive)	L’hitpargej	להתפרג’ג'
To be made active	L’actev	לאקטב
To synchronise	L’sunchren	לסנקרן

Of course, many English nouns are used as well instead of their Hebrew counterparts. Nouns are a lot less exciting because it seems to be much more acceptable to use the ‘real’ Hebrew word rather than the English one. Additionally, the only ‘change’ they undergo is that they take on the Hebrew form of the plural rather than the English.  The interesting part is guessing whether an English noun becomes masculine or feminine – and this pretty much goes by feel. For example:

English	Phonetic	Hebrew
user/users	user/userim (masculine)	יוזר/יוזרים
host/hosts	host/hostim (masculine)	הוסט/הוסטים
periphery/peripheries	peripheria/peripheriot (feminine)	פריפריה/פריפריות
function/functions	foonktzia/foonktziot (feminine)	פונקציה/פונקציות

And then there is my very favourite adjective, found a lot in apartment rental ads, the word is “בילדאין” (bildin), sometimes written as two words “בילד אין” (bild in”, the second word, in Hebrew, is a negation word. So after spending quite a bit of time trying to figure out what the word “bild” meant, I finally realised that just like the term used in English for parking brakes in a car (hand-brakes) has morphed into the amusing “ham-brakes” in Hebrew, “bildin” is basically the English term “built-in” – referring to an oven or something similar in the kitchen. Go figure!

Of course, this is just the tip of the ice-berg, I could go on forever…

Out of Africa

Despite everyone still speaking French, Brussels, even if just for 60 hours, was a very pleasant change from Senegal. Although I thought I was getting away from the touts, the cheats, and the average person who simply wants to get your money - case in point, being cheated at the airport on the way out when I thought I was being nice by taking some Euros off a woman who I thought was given them as charity by arriving passengers and giving her CFA, only to find out later that she had substituted some Euro coins for similar looking worthless CFA coins – may be people like that burn in hell! – but back to the story. I was reminded, upon arrival in Brussels, that capitalism simply results in large, organised companies being evil and trying to rip you off rather than individuals doing it in a non-organised way. A coffee in a large cup at the coffee shop chain at the airport results in them taking it a little too literally – the cup is large, but the volume of coffee is slightly less than what would have fitted in the small cup. May that company suffer the wrath of the European financial crisis!

Saly - not quite Scarborough Beach

The local 'Picaso' taking my purchase (bargained from 60,000
down to 20,000 CFA) off the frame.

Saly is one of the resort towns of Senegal (the other one being Cap Skirring). It is a around 80km South of Dakar (which means anywhere from 50 minutes to 2.5 hours driving) and serves weekend holiday makers as well as Europeans on package holidays. It has sun, beaches, and clubs. My reason for going: the beaches. I wanted to get away from Dakar for a weekend, relax on the beach which would hopefully be nicer than the ones in Dakar, and just enjoy a quite weekend. Well, on Senegalese standards, it lived up to these expectations. Therefore, if you're in Senegal, it makes for a nice getaway - though I certainly couldn't recommend making an effort to specifically come here from another country - that, is something I don't get...

Oh, and don't watch the video below if you're planning on having fish for dinner...

A Cultural Divide

Since it would obviously be politically incorrect of me, and perhaps even racist by some, to generalise about negative aspects of a group of people based on their culture, I figured, since today was full of great examples, to write a post about the massive cultural divide between myself and 2 particular people – they happened to be taxi drivers in Senegal (although the latter, in a sense, drove a car and accepted payment for the ride, I’m not sure if he really was a taxi driver…) In case someone happens to misconstrue this as a generalisation about Senegalese (heaven forbid), I will throw in an example of the cultural divide between myself and a certain aspect of bureaucracy – the other person happens to be an Indian.

Stuck in Friday arvo traffic - downtown Dakar

Taxi!

So after deciding to take a weekend break at the seaside resort of Saly, I flag down a taxi after work to take me to the Gare Routiere, from where I will catch my sept-place taxi to Saly. The conversation with the taxi driver, before I get in, and following the standard pleasantries, goes something like this (I have translated in a way that I assume I would sound in French).

Me: I would like to go to the Gare Routiere. How much?
Driver: blah blah blah blah. Gare Hotel blah blah blah.
Me: No. Gare Routiere (this time, pronounced differently, just in case I got it wrong first time).
Driver: Blah blah blah. Gare blah blah. City blah blah?
Me: Not city. Near Point E. Before Place de l’Indepdance. I want to go to Saly. Sept-place taxi. Gare Routiere.
Driver: Ah, Point E. Ok.
Me: No, NEAR Point E. But Not Point E. Before Place de l’Independance.
Driver: Ah, Place de l’independance?

Senegal v2.0 – Since I have so much trouble putting this into words…

When people have asked me what things are like in terms of housing in Senegal, I have found it very hard to describe the situation. I still find it very hard to describe the situation. So moving into a new apartment upon my return from a 2 week hiatus, I decided a photo blog might be the easiest way to describe the situation.

Despite coming to an agreement with an agent regarding an apartment. I was to pay 20,000 CFA per day for an apartment I liked on the 3rd floor. Whilst in Australia, that all of a sudden became 600,000 CFA per month, with no partial months, making my rent essentially 23,000 CFA per day. What choice did I have? Well, apart from give the agent less of a commission (ie., tip). Then I return to Dakar, go to the apartment, and discover i have been given one on the ground floor. After a few bullshit stories in terrible English with some French and Wolof thrown on, I accept it because I literally do not have a choice. Now, to describe the place. On the surface, at a high level, it looks like a pretty reasonable place – it’s not luxury, but it does look OK. But dig a little deeper, and you learn a little bit about housing in Senegal. And keep in mind, this housing is some of the more western housing around.

The Kindness of Senegalese (and work..)

The friendliness and generousity of people in Senegal cannot go unnoticed. Unfortuntaely, with my limited (or should I say, lack of) French, the only appreciation I seem to be able to show is "merci", or the occassional "merci beaucoup". It just doesn't seem to do it justice.

Musings on Dakar - Part 1 (most likely...)

Welcome to Léopold Sédar Senghor  (Dakar) International Airport 

I have only been here a short time, but I have already noticed so many things that stick out to me. Some of them stick out because I have simply been transformed to a different climate, different culture, different language and different life. Others though, simply do not have explanations because in any context, they simply do not make sense. In no particular order, this is my list of impressions of this hot country of which I have only touched upon...

• The unofficial taxi driver coalition in Dakar believes that if enough of their members honk at you, you will eventually get in one of their taxis and pay for a ride.

• In terms of equal standards, accommodation costs are slightly higher than Scadinavia, yet taxi rides are about one-twentieth the cost, even though the cost of fuel is roughly the same (on the other hand, the standard of the taxis themselves, can't really be compared...)

• It is nigh on impossible to find a self-service laundrette. But there are plenty of "pressing" shops that will clean your clothes (I have a feeling they actually dry-clean...) at a handsome cost per item (a load of basic washing just cost me 16,800 CFA / $33)

A busy round-a-bout with 3 Nescafe vendors (2 seen here, partly
blocked by a ubiquitous yellow taxi)

• Instant Nescafe from a street-seller in a tiny plastic cup is the height of coffee culture, and can be found on every street corner.

• Forget Japanese, European and American cars, Iranian and Indian cars rule the roads here!

• Forget BP or Caltex, here we have OilLibya!

• Like most non Anglo-Saxon Western coutries, the people are some of the most warm, welcoming and genuinely friendly people ever. Spend a day driving a new colleague aroundn to help him find an apartment? No problems. Invite a relative stranger into your house for a meal? Of ourse. Whilst overfriendliness tends to raise alarm bells with me, the worst thing that is likely to happen here as a result is daylight robbery by the street-seller or taxi driver.

Bumper Cars in Dakar

Today I got a ride to my hotel with a Japanese woman in the office who happened to be leaving at the same time as me and heading in the same direction. When I mentioned that I thought she was brave to drive here, she told me that it's not so bad, and I only need to go to downtown to see 'bad' drivers. Wow! I've seen good-bad drivers (Israel), crazy-bad drivers (Bangkok), and now, scary-bad drivers (Dakar). There was certainly no need for the humanitarian aid agency I work for to have a rule about no driving when on deployment, there is no chance in hell I would chance it here!

Tasting Torino

Our four nights in Turin were meant to ease us into the holiday spirit prior to snow-boarding. However, both of us managed to come down with pretty bad colds which, if I were at home, would have been a great excuse to stay home in bed. However, I am not one to waste a good holiday, especially when it involves eating. I got the low-down on what to eat and where to eat it from a colleague of mine, and was ready to take all of his suggestions on board...

Piazza Castello and the Royal Palace

Dear Denmark

Dear Denmark,

It is time to be 100% open with you - I'm not sure this relationship is for life. That's the short, blunt, story. The long story though, is that I have not given up yet, and I want you to understand what might happen and why...

Silence is Golden

I have just returned from a weekend trip with a bunch of friends to Helsinki. We went over there for a birthday party and an all 'round good time. We stayed at one of the Omena Hotels - a chain renowned for the sex trade due to the lack of reception and therefore lack of witnesses. Apart from getting punched in the eye by the guy sleeping next to me in the middle of the night, our hotel stay was rather uneventful. The weekend itself was filled up a really great party, a few hours walking around a city which I don't think has changed that much since last time I was there 8 years ago and a visit to the island fortress of Soumenlinna - a 20 minutes ferry ride from downtown. Of course, there was also an evening in a sauna thanks to our local Finnish hosts. The sauna involved a 20m (literally) ferry ride to the island on which it is located, a lot of sweating and relaxing, and then feeling like my feet were going to fall off my legs after going for a dip in the ice cold (well, not literally, but it felt this way). All in the spirit of good health!

My impressions of Helsinki: well, some of the stereotypes definitely have validity...

• Most people in the street look like they are going either to or from a funeral - smiling at strangers or being talkative (when sober) is possibly frowned upon.

• 

  Looking down the barrel of a canon on Soumenlinna Island
  

  Finns like drinking. I thought Danes liked it, but Finns really like it. Walking through downtown Helsinki after midnight, you struggle to find someone who isn't drunk.
• There are lots of crazies about.
• Food isn't their strong-point. This is perhaps a common theme in the Nordic Countries, and Finland isn't any different.
• The more the same vowel can be repeated consecutively in a word, the better. Bonus points if the vowel has dots on top of it.
• Finnish is impossible to understand, even a little bit.
• Turning the traffic lights off during the night at the less major intersections in the capital is an acceptable way to save the planet.
• The Finns are a damn friendly bunch of people who are very hospitable - it's worth your while getting to know one! (or more...)

Popping Over to Plovdiv

I managed to fit in two lovely day trips during my short stay in Bulgaria (or rather, two day trips were fitted in for me).

The first was to a city in the centre of the country called Plovdiv - described as one of the most beautiful cities in Bulgaria. Well, to be perfectly blunt, with Sofia as my reference point, it wasn't going to be hard to beat. Turns out, Plovdiv really is a rather beautiful city with its own special character, and an amazing old city that has a well preserved Roman and Turkish influenced architectural side to it. Enough for a day trip, perhaps even an overnight trip - but definitely a city you can spend a few hours wandering around aimlessly in...

 

Making A Jewish Mother Proud - Bulgarian Style

This typical train station is indicative of my overall impression of
Communist buildings in Bulgaria...

Well, it seems like Jewish mothers have some competition - Bulgarians! Never would my mother be so proud of the way someone extended hospitality towards me and worried about me so much more than one would think possible, than with my friend and guide in Bulgaria.

Mineral water springs in the centre of the city - the locals are constantly
filling up water bottles to take home so they can enjoy the good minerals.

The warnings I got prior to and during my trip made me think I was entering the third world: Don't cross the street when the green man appears without first checking for cars (only to have my guide cross at a red light instead). Don't go north of this street, it's very dangerous. I wasn't allowed to walk around by myself at night. Warned about getting ripped off left, right and centre. Concerned that there were lots of ugly buildings around. Worried that I would be too busy and get tired. Concerned that there was more to see and do. Very tiring. But wow, what an absolute pleasure! My experience in Bulgaria could not have been better, and despite all the bad things I had heard from my friend, the country was a pleasant surprise for me.

Yet another great photo, thanks to my guide & photographer. This is the old mineral bath house

Hitler Would Turn Over In His Grave (aka Frankfurt Has Left a Sour Taste in My Mouth)

Up until a couple of hours ago, I didn't have much but good things to say about Frankfurt. But having just been ripped off in broad daylight in such a way that I wouldn't expect anywhere apart from when I would be an obvious tourist in a third world country (or perhaps when taking a taxi in Sweden...), I now think differently.

Frankfurt has its very own Maggi Noodles restaurant!

The Spanish Revolution

My first real taste of Spain was all I had hoped it would be. I think I got a bit of a whiff of the culture during my travels in South America, and getting to know some Spaniards quite well during my time in Copenhagen imparted nothing but positive impressions, so I was eager to visit. Well, I most certainly was not disappointed. My good friend Carlos invited me and his house-mate Nico, to join him on a trip to his home town, Madrid. We had 4 full days there and did not waste a moment...
Within a couple of hours of arriving in town we were off to the city centre to watch a flamenco show and eat our first of many tapas meals. Amazing! The music and dancing was fantastic, and although put on for the tourists, I can't complain because it was a great introduction to the dancing and the music - definitely lively, definitely entertaining, and put together with quality food and beer, the night was perfect.

I am a number

A few weeks ago I finally joined the Danish brigade - I got my CPR number. A CPR number in Denmark is akin to an official identification proving that you exist, if you don't have one, you really struggle doing just about anything in this country, and I mean anything! I guess it is probably similar to a social security number in the US, but I have a feeling it is so much more important here. So I now identify myself with a 10 digit number which tells the world my birth-date and my sex. Most importantly, along with the CPR number comes an ID card which entitles you to free healthcare in Denmark (and throughout Europe), and something which I hope to make use of, free Danish lessons.

On a totally separate note, one thing so many of us expats notice here is that unlike English which is spoken in so many countries, with so many accents and variations, and there are always so many foreigners in English speaking countries speaking broken English, Danish is very strict. If you don't get the pronunciation 100% right, people seem to have no clue what it is you're on about. A perfect example of this was when I went to the bakery yesterday. I wanted to purchase some berliner kage (kage = cake). Berliners are pretty much the same as jelly donuts, but since donuts are foreign here, berliners they are. So I'm in my local bakery and I ask the lady if they have any berliner (I ask all this in English since they speak English so well). She looked at me and asked me what it is that I wanted. I said "berliner, berliner kage". Again, she just looked at me funny and implied she hadn't a clue what I wanted. She got a second person over and she repeated the word, then I repeated the word, and then the second person said, "ahhh, berliner!". Then told the first lady in Danish that I wanted berliner. However, you have to use your imagination a bit here because it's hard to convey in text - I swear that when they finally knew what I was talking about, the word they said sounded EXACTLY the same as not just what I had said, but what they had kept on repeating when they were trying to understand me! This is but one of a million examples of such an experience here...

2 shopping mistakes in as few weeks...

Although everyone here speaks English, nearly all signage is 100% in Danish. Supermarkets are no exception.

My first mistake was the first time I went to the supermarket. Looking for milk I purchased kærnemælk. Since all the cartons had the word mælk on them, I just had to decide which prefix I wanted. Since there was a high proportion of kærnemælk cartons and they also came in various percentages (fat content I assumed) I went home with one of them.

I discovered when pouring it on my cereal the next morning that it was indeed buttermilk. Argh!

Today I made yet another mistake. What I thought was fabric softener (pink, creamy looking, big bottle, smelling like fabric softener) ended up just being washing detergent. So now my clothes have all been washed twice, smell very strongly like flowers, and feel a little soapy!