Lost in Transliteration

My eNgLisH is bROke, but my Hebrew is worse. For three weeks prior to my internship, I was in an ulpan class for five hours a day. The word “ulpan,” I’ve learned to discover, is just a fancier name for “complete waste of time.” In three weeks I’ve learned only three words: kafe, Anglit and zayin. Which translate to: coffee, English and penis. You know… the essentials.

Anyway, it’s not such a big deal not knowing any Hebrew. I’m able to get around just fine with English. Like today, when I had to stop at the currency exchange to convert my dollars to Shekels…


So I was walking down Alenbi St., looking for the best exchange rates, when I spotted the store pictured above. (Study the photo as it will be referred to often in the upcoming story). The double-sided sign sitting on the stoop of the entrance really enticed me to exchange my money here.

“I wanna get cange,” I said.

The teller looked confused.

“What?” he asked.
“I wanna get cange.”
“What’s this cange?” he asked.
“You know, converting my American dollars to Shekels,” I replied.
“You mean change?” he said.
“No, cange. Like your sign says.”
“I do not understand.”
“Hold on one sec,” I replied.

I went back outside and looked at the sign again. But my attention went from the double-sided sign to the sign at the bottom of the window. I looked at it closely, and then went back inside.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I would like to get some chang.”
“Change?”
“Yeah, chang.”
“I don’t understand what you mean chang. Where you from?”
“America.”
“Is word chang in English?”
“Yeah, but it is usually associated with the Asian culture.”
“So why would have chang here?” he asked.
“I dunno. But it’s advertised outside.”
“Would you like change?” He sounded frustrated.
“Hold on just one more sec.”

I walked back outside. And after rescanning the two signs, I looked up at the sign above the store. “Ahhh... Change” I mumbled under my breath, suddenly now realizing what the teller was talking about.

“I’d like to get some change,” I said with a smile on my face as I slapped a hundred dollar bill on the counter.

The teller stared at me for a couple of seconds.

“You’re an ignorant moron.”

Alright, so he may not have said that. And I have to admit, much of that story was embellished. And by embellished I mean completely fabricated. But you probably picked up on that when I said I slapped a hundred dollar bill on the counter. Everyone knows my wallet has never seen a hundred. But seriously, there's a bigger issue at hand. As frustrating as it is speaking with Israelis – whether it be trying to practice your Hebrew or just getting by in their hurried English – they make more of an effort with language than we do. I feel it’s a moral responsibility to learn the native tongue of the country one’s living in. But I haven’t taken any initiative. After the three-week ulpan class finished, I haven’t looked at any notes whatsoever. I loaded the Rosetta Stone Hebrew disc onto my computer, but I have yet to install it. So if the teller actually would have called me an “ignorant moron,” he would have been right.

The point is: Israelis’ bROke eNgLiSh is light years ahead of any bROke language Americans fail to learn. The fact that they even have a sign in another language – even if "change" is spelled three different ways – is a significant advancement from anything I’ve seen in the States. We’re spoiled in that every other culture revolves around our needs, and we don’t take the time or exert the energy to reciprocate when we have the opportunity. This is exactly what so many foreigners have a problem with when it comes to American culture, and I think our culture really needs to cange.

So after I’ve completely mastered all the dirty words in Hebrew, I’m going to continue to practice my Eevreet…