Lost in translation?

How to break a language barrier with someone you love

Ok, so you’ve just discovered that there is a slight truth to the saying that there is no limit to love, finding yourself falling for someone who can barely say ‘how are you’ in your own language.

Even though you’re a guy and it’s officially against your nature to be idealistic when it comes to love this is not an impossible scenario, and you are allowed to think ‘we can do this.’

It doesn’t matter if you don’t understand how it happened. She’s exotic, you’re exotic, it just did, and now you have to deal with it. Here are some tips on how to make it work and how to get to know each other better.



1) Your language barrier is not a handicap

Remember this: Even couples who speak the same language struggle to communicate properly and understand each other. It doesn’t matter what your friends tell you. Only you can know how you feel about someone and what you need to do about it. Not speaking the same language might actually be a blessing rather than a handicap. Look at the bright side: more kissing and less verbal abuse during fights.

Be patient.


2) Talking louder does not help

When she doesn’t understand what you’re saying it really doesn’t help raising your voice, it will probably only scare her away. Keep the words simple and talk slowly. Stick to international words that she’s more likely to understand. Like communication (communicación, kommunikasjon)

(Information, información, informasjon)
Words that end with -tion in English are usually similar in other languages.

Aaaaah, ooooh and mmm are also great communicators and highly underestimated.


3) Be melodramatic, not self-conscious

Don’t be scared to make a fool out of yourself. Make facial expressions and play on emotions. We all know how to distinguish a happy face from a sad face and at least she’ll know how you’re feeling that particular day. Self-consciousness kills communication, not the other way around.


4) Get an Etch A Sketch

and save paper to show her that you’re green and that you care about the environment. Draw your favourite things so she gets an opportunity to get to know what you like, and cross an x over the things that you dislike. She’ll get the picture and return your drawings.

When you think it’s time for you to visit her country draw it (make sure you know what it actually looks like though) and a flying airplane on its way there.


5) Speak with your body, be the caveman

Make gestures, look at her, kiss her, hold her and touch her. Physical expressions like waving, pointing, touching and slouching are all forms of non-verbal communication. If you want her to hike the mountain with you, then just point in its direction and mimic a hiking walk. We all know the international body language.

And to really speak with your body get undressed. Find out where she likes to be kissed.

According to communication researcher John Borg human communication consists of 93% body language and paralinguistic cues, while only 7% of human communication consists of words. Who are the ones in same-language relationships fooling?


6) Arm yourself with a dictionary

Though it can be time consuming to look up words that are too hard to pronounce in the first place it can be worth making the effort. You can always point on it and make her help you with the pronunciation, enhancing your bonding.

A dictionary might also come in handy the first time you pick a fight. Remember to control your frustration and not rip out the pages. You might end up regretting it at a later stage.


7) Learn the language, win her heart

There is no better way to win a woman’s heart than by learning her language. There are plenty of online language courses no matter what language you’re pursuing: Chinese, Russian, Spanish, Norwegian etc. Many of them are actually free so being broke is no excuse, but no pressure. Yellow post-its describing different objects in your flat might also be a good beginning.

For some extra motivation you can always start by learning the names of her body parts.


8) Get a translator

Last resort if none of the above is working.

Modern Fable: Kitchen Table Conversation

After fifteen years together they had nothing to talk about. He would read his newspaper in the morning; loudly slurp his breakfast cereal and spill some coffee on his blue-striped shirt. On autopilot she would get up, reach for the kitchen cloth and wipe his shirt clean before rejoining him at the table. She would always sit opposite him, her eyes shifting between him and the main door. In the deafening silence all she could hear was the disturbing sound of the boiling kettle, the tictacking of the clock and his noisy mouthfuls. Oh, how she hated that blue-striped shirt, thinking that it looked like a pyjamas.

She knew the routine by now. Soon he would get up from his chair, wobble into the bathroom and get ready for his nine- to- five job. She would stay behind listening to the sound of the bathroom sink, the uttered ‘fuck’ as he would accidentally cut himself while shaving, and after that she would watch him exit with a white plaster on his neck and a slam. She would then ignore the slamming of the door telling herself it was just the wind, nothing else. And then she would continue suppressing the horrible feeling of loneliness that was consuming her, leaving the kitchen table; her breakfast untouched, knife and fork in the same place as before.

She would get ready for work, put on her make-up and while combing her curly, wild hair the screams from the crying canary bird, caged in the corner of their bedroom, would pin her ears back. Before feeding the canary, which was always hungry, she would gaze at herself, her eerie reflection, and ask for whom she was dressing knowing that the answer was no one.

At work, she would hate the whole idea of lunch breaks because she knew she would waste it chitchatting to colleagues pretending that she was happily married. Around five she would do the regular grocery shopping, walk quickly past the baby section of bottles and dummies at Woolworths, drive home in her fancy BMW, make dinner and wait. Wait for yet another silent dinner conversation and the kitchen cutlery’s heartless scrapping against plates.

Yes, life couldn’t have been better. At least it wasn’t Monday, because Mondays were the worst. After every weekend she dreaded the question of what they had been up to during the weekend. She would always make up the most mind-blowing stories of fishing adventures, mountain hikes and steamy lovemaking in the forest. Everybody at work envied her, but she knew that there was nothing to envy. She knew that she spent weekends alone, or together with her husband in front of the TV, but chose to lie because she couldn’t deal with the fact that her first real love had turned into dead love. The truth was that she had spent the last months in the guest room and she couldn’t really remember how her husband looked like without the blue-striped shirt, not even if she tried.

Somehow the cycle needed to be broken, but she didn’t know how and refilled his cup with coffee. She usually wouldn’t, but she wanted to keep him there a little bit longer for a change, even though his company was as close to nonexistent as it could be. He grabbed the cup without saying anything, not even a muttered “thank you,” and downed it in seconds. She poured another one, but this time it spilled over and the black coffee flooded the white kitchen table and his denim pants.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry,” she cried reaching for the kitchen cloth as she sat down on her knees to rub the stains off his pants.

“Thank God, the coffee wasn’t hot,” she said as she continued rubbing the stains away with hasty movements.

As she was doing that, two threads of curls fell down her face forcing him to look her in the eyes. Hesitantly, like a young boy who had never touched a girl, he led one of them behind her ear, caressing her earlobe softly between his fingertips. She looked beautiful like that; when she was blushing and didn’t know where to look.

“It’s ok. You couldn’t help it. These things happen, you know.” He answered overwhelmed by the beauty that he had just rediscovered.

He didn’t care about the coffee stains and grabbed her pixie-face between his hands as he bent down to kiss her. It was so long ago since their lips last met that they had both forgotten the rush of a kiss. It was like the first; sparks travelling with the speed of light, erasing any feeling of loneliness that she once harboured. She let go of the cloth and started kissing his ear, his neck. High on his cologne she unbuttoned his shirt, bit by bit. She couldn’t wait to throw that stupid shirt onto the kitchen floor. As her hands drifted down his bare chest he stopped them for a brief second, holding them gently in his and said:

"Honey let’s sell the house, go travelling and set the bird free."

We are all tree climbers

We live.
We think.
We eat.
We love.
We hate.
We sing.
We sleep.
We work.
We smile.
We cry.
We climb.

It came to me as an idea, as I was thinking of all the different trees we have to climb in life.
The love tree,
the money tree,
the career tree,
the sex tree,
the family tree,
the intellectual tree,
the tree of stupidity. (Yes, we all have our moments)

The list goes on, endlessly, in every possible way we find it useful to apply the tree metaphor.

In every tree we start at the bottom (except the stupidity one where some of us are already at the top from the beginning.) For some the route to the top is an easy escapade from the word “go”, while others have to struggle through jagged branches and unfriendly twigs. At times we find ourselves stuck, terrified and unable to move and if we don’t overcome the obstacles we meet we’ll only make it half way.

Not long ago, I was on top of the love tree. I was happy and naïve, moving oceans, mountains, countries. It was a wonderful feeling. What happened? I fell, badly, straight to the ground, literally, as a scooter in Greece went sliding. I hurt my knees. I have scars. And now what?

I’m scared of climbing. I’m scared of riding scooters. I’m scared of believing. I’m sure many can relate to this scenario.

How does fear serve us? What happens next?

We become wall-builders, and damn good ones. We trick ourselves into thinking that we don’t feel and we don’t believe. Believe in what? Love? What is that after all? Some of us upgrades to a fort. Others are lucky enough to meet someone who either has the ability to blow walls apart or make the wall-builders lower their defence. But, it takes a lot for a wall-builder to stop building.

I want to share some wise words from an amazing woman that I met through a friend one night, and hopefully some of us will put down our nails and hammers.

She asked me the question: What is the worst thing that can possible happen from opening up your heart to someone and getting hurt? She didn’t want me to answer the question, because she already had the answer.

Closing your heart.

It made me think of what happened to the little kid who would still climb trees or get back on the bicycle though her legs were covered in bandages and bruises?

Let’s lift our feet off the ground and climb. It’s feels so much better.