Linguistic Foibles

Until 1953, Cambodia was a French colony. The French left a lot of things behind in Cambodia-- some not so great, in fact-- and one remainder is a bit of the language. Some older Cambodians still speak French, though many French speakers were killed during the Khmer Rouge regime's brutal genocide in the 1970's.

For my part, I spent four years in high school learning French. I never really used it outside of school, nor after I graduated (eight years ago now). While I've been trying to learn Khmer, the impulse to throw in a French word that I do know is sometimes overwhelming. I'm always tempted to ask for things at a restaurant and then toss in a s'il vous plait at the end. It's nice to know the language center in my brain is alive and well.

So all of this leads to a funny story. My apartment is on the second floor of a house, and the house is arranged in a kind of complex-- the homes are similar to townhouses, and arranged in two long rows, facing each other. This means that the neighbors all gather outside and know who each other is. I'm recognizable as the only foreigner, so I get lots of smiles and waves, especially from the kids. Recently, one of the other women in the complex was spending time with my landlords, and asked me (in Khmer) if I was French. I said no, I come from America.

Then, a couple of weeks ago, while my sister and brother were visiting, she approached us and began counting to 5-- in French. We humored her and I counted to 10 (some lessons last from high school, I guess!). Apparently this interaction has made us friends. She's also tried to speak to Deanna in French within the last week or so. Yesterday I was retrieving my motorbike from inside the house (where it's parked at night for safety) when she addressed me (she was sitting in the house with my elderly landlord, a very serious man who is a little weird). She began asking me questions (in Khmer) either about what month I came to Cambodia, or what province I came from in Cambodia (the words are similar, and without context, it's really tough to differentiate). I must have looked helplessly at the landlord, because he began to shake his head solemnly. Then, in a universal gesture, he pointed to his head, pointed to the woman, and frowned. I took this to mean, "She's crazy. Run away."

So, instead of doing what I wanted to do-- namely, laugh loudly at the whole situation and get my camera to capture a photo of his face-- I smiled, shrugged, walked my motorbike to the front of the house where Deanna was waiting to go to work, and related the story with glee.

I have no idea to say "crazy" in Khmer or French, but apparently I'm getting better at sign language.