English

I was four when my father put me in an english school. I learned the language slowly, and I was fourteen when I finished the conversation course, after the basic, intermediate, advanced and post-advanced levels. When I was sixteen, the house cleaner my family had at the time said she needed my help opening a “file” in the computer. She pronounced it as *fi-lé*. That was when my mother decided I should teach the house cleaner english, and that was when I started teaching the language.

When I was eighteen, I came home to live with my parents after a year on the streets, and since my father was very much disappointed on me, I wasn’t getting any money out of him. I started giving cheap english lessons to my friends at college in order to get some bucks. But it was nothing – most of the lessons were about the verbs “to be” and “to have”, since everyone’s english in Brazil is mostly awful.

When I was twenty-two, I was the best replacement teacher at my college, and I finally started charging good money for my english classes, even though my biochemical and chemical classes were more popular. When I was twenty-four, it happened: a german girl at my german classes heard me talking in english and told me that it was simply perfect. I, of course, doubted her, but she then suggested that I took the TOEFL and saw it for myself. I never did, but I was confident then about my english.

When I was twenty-five, I got into university, and being surrounded by undereducated students helped me get an endless list of potential english students. And then it started: I began with few students, of a lower level, and in one year I had a waiting list for classes and was teaching high-advanced classes. When I was twenty-six, a friend of my mother – a native-speaker of english, told me again that my english was perfect, and that I had the accent of a New-Yorker. This time, I took the TOEFL. And I aced it.

Now, I am twenty-eight and I am travelling around the world. I have finally believed that my english is good. I make many mistakes, regarding spelling and prepositions, but nothing that a native-speaker wouldn’t mistake either. I talk to people from everywhere, and I just know my english is awesome. Native-speakers usually stick to talking to me, since I’m the only one that gets the jokes that involve a great understanding of the language in order to be understood. If I talk to someone that really talks english, I have no problems getting what I need. A german guy actually turned me down because he couldn’t believe I was brazilian – my english was just too good. Five minutes ago, an american from California just told me: “I can’t believe you’re not noth-american! I could swear you were from New York or something!”.

I feel cool. Proud of myself. I can talk anywhere, with anyone I want. They won’t always understand me, but rules dictate they should, for english is the universal language.

***

What bad english could do to you...

... no internet access...

I asked for the password to the WI-FI connection in a hostel in Czech Republic. The lady told me, “It’s em-ow-a-one, all written down”. Ok. So I thought, the password was “MOAONE”, since I supposed “written down” meant that the number one should be written in letters. Got no response from the server. I tried “MOA1” and many variations of that, including “M0AONE” thinking that maybe – as though it seemed like a long shot – the lady knew that the number zero could be pronounced as *ow* in english. Nothing. Three days of frustrating attempts to get on, I finally begged the receptionist to write it down. It was “EMMA1”.

... no getting out of your own room...

I had a japanese roomy in Austria. One day, I asked her, when she was leaving, to leave the door open because I’d be out in a minute, and I had given my keys to another roomy. I said: “Would you mind leaving the door open? I’ll be out in a minute!”. She said “okay”, in that heavy japanese accent. She smiled, said goodbye and left. And closed the door. I had to call the reception, because the door would only open with a key, and I had none. I was stuck in the room for almost one hour.

... no contact lenses...

I was trying to buy contact lenses in Zurich. I was talking to the lady in charge of contact lenses, inside the shop. “Do you have lenses exactly like these?”. She looked at the box I had in my hands and said that yes, she did have them. “Can you sell them for me?”. The answer was no. Why? She told me they weren’t the same. And then I told her, “But you just told me they were the same, right?”. The answer was yes. “So, can you sell them?”. And she said, “No. Because they are different.” Okay then. No contact lenses for me today. Yuppie.

... no getting where you want to...

I had to ask for directions in France. I hadn’t a map, but if I had, I would have seen that the market I wanted to visit was five blocks straight ahead. I asked three different people for directions: an old lady in a shop told me to turn right and take the train; the young boy in MacDonald’s told me to turn right, walk two blocks, then turn left and walk three more blocks; the police officer said I should go back around two blocks. I didn’t believe any of them, and I tried all of the suggestions. Two hours later, when I finally gave up on finding the market, I actually found it. By myself.

... not entirely sure birthday parties...

I got to know a spanish girl in Italy. Her birthday was coming, the next week, and she wanted to tell me which day it was. Her pronunciation indicated to something between Tuesday and Thursday. When I asked her if it was the day before or after Wednesday, she answered: “No, it’s next week!”. We threw her a party on Tuesday. But we were never sure of the actual day of her birthday. We didn’t try asking her for numbers. She could only count to ten.