I just spent two hours in a cramped and smelly copy shop to have a book copied. The annoying routine of opening and closing the lid of the machine and pressing the start button about 300 times is probably known to most of my fellow students. But here it was definitely worth the trouble because of the symbolic value of the language book. If the plan works out, it should free me from a very unpleasant situation. The following scene kept repeating itself during my first weeks in Maastricht:
I enter a shop, fully motivated not to behave like the masses of German tourists, as I am planning to live here for the next three years. Unfortunately, I do not speak Dutch yet, so I decide to try it with English. The elderly lady behind the counter gives me a disturbed look, when I ask for a hole puncher. Obviously she does not know what I am talking about, but she seems eager to help me.
I try to explain what I want, using all the skills I have gained in drama group, but my pantomime rather confuses the woman. We both try our best expressing how sorry we are for not speaking each other’s language, but the conversation won’t progress. Shortly before the shop assistant looses her nerve, I can’t help but change my strategy. So, let’s do it the tourist’s way:
“Sprechen Sie deutsch?”
"Natürlich. Warum haben Sie nicht gleich gesagt, dass Sie Deutsche sind?”
Well, because I feel unpolite, assuming that everyone speaks my language when I am in a foreign country. The fact of not knowing which language to pick, English or German, confuses me. But I do not know how to explain this sentiment to the woman who hands me the hole puncher with a warm smile.
“Ähm, Thankuwel”, leaves my mouth before I can shut it. While I leave the shop my cheeks turn red. But the knowledge of having the freshly copied Dutch workbook in my bag reassures me.