For English, Press 1, by Jane Tolbert

When I called the Istanbul hotel in June 2009 to talk to my sister, the recorded message said, “Press 1 for English,” which I did, only to hear a flutter of Turkish, none of which I understood. When I finally reached the receptionist, he told me, “Margaret is outside.” He didn’t say “out” but instead “outside.” What an interesting thing to say.

Anyone traveling abroad encounters these linguistic curiosities, an integral part of the “foreign” experience. The restaurant at a four-star hotel in Juan-les-Pins advertised its “mouse of lamb” on the noon menu. I have complained about the “préservatif” in American bread, only to learn the term “produits chimiques” more appropriately described our sandwich bread (much to the disappointment of the French).

But can translation software replace the human element? A group of us discussed bilingual job opportunities in tourism and multinational corporations. A real estate agent who spoke only French insisted bilingual employees were going the way of the slide rule—they were becoming obsolete. To test this statement, our hostess ran a French real estate ad through a free online trial for a commercial software translation program. The result was gibberish:

"Very beautiful 3 rooms through, stay in excellent condition with fitted kitchen open loggia. Cellar and parking for rent 50 € / month."

Another attempt to test translation software yielded this English translation of a Turkish thank-you note Margaret sent to her friends:

“Silver is the my Rize withdraws iciyorum is the you dusunuyorum. Skecleri cok cizgileri devamli calisiyorum! Cok sicak and cok a sharp fly are the here. Yusufcuk(hatirlamisin and dogum gunu like a present!) If she comes!”

When I sent Margaret the translation, she wrote, “This is nuts! I hope I don't sound this way to people in Turkey!”

What follows is her English account of her message:

“Nazli gave me some wonderful tea from Rize. And I said I was working on sketches...and I said it was hot and the pointed flies (mosquitoes) are here. I wish the dragonfly would come and eat the mosquitoes, and Nazli and Yusuf gave me
a silver dragonfly for a pendant for my birthday!”


Is globalization tending to homogenize cultures and languages, eliminating that sense of adventure in travel abroad? The challenges and angst associated with translation or conversation in a foreign language are offset by that afterglow that comes with understanding another person, or even the laughter generated when something is lost in translation.

I am not a linguist, and I have retained only two vocabulary words from a trip I made to Turkey years ago—Iki çay, or two cups of tea. But memories of the bus rides and attempts to communicate remain—there was that couple who assumed my sister was Kurdish because she is tall and speaks Turkish with an accent. When Margaret insisted she was American, the couple joked, “Ask your mother.” This poignant exchange provided such insight into the culture. Other times, I asked for translations. Some expressions were so beautiful, they left me breathless. “Bir tanem” means “my one and only.” But in the photo, does it refer to the scooter or a significant other (spouse or daughter or pet)? When Margaret returns to Gaziantep, a city in Southern Turkey, I will get her to ask.

Photo courtesy of Margaret Ross Tolbert
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