Rushin' in Russian, or: on matters linguistic and delicate

You might well ask, "But Rory, what language are you always conversing with locals in to obtain such wonderful and genuine experiences?!"  Well, the answer you'll be happy to know is the local lingua franca, Russian.  Yes, I speak Russian.  Isn't that interesting and unique?  Well, I always thought it was interesting and unique until I went to university and learned that not only am I neither interesting nor unique, but that other people have not only heard of Russian, and actually speak it fluently and don't just have a really good grasp on the different vegetables and household items that I thought was tantamount to fluency.  This massive deflation of ego is similar to finding out that there is more to the French language than the complete lyrics to "Je suis un pizza."  You heard it here first.

Something that really tested me linguistically is when I tried buying one tomato and one cucumber and a woman screamed at me and her co-vendresses that "this tourist" is only buying ONE tomato and ONE cucumber and I had to justify this by saying that I yes, I am single and I will be dining alone.  THANK YOU for pointing this out to everyone in the market. All in Russian.  This is immersion.

So that's right, I was speaking Russian.  But before you get excited, let's convert the quality of Russian I was speaking to something comparable in English.  Hmm, I can't.  In fact, if the situation were reversed and someone burst into a cafe I owned in Canada boldly demanding something in a tongue that only vaguely resembled English, I would be concerned.  I would be concerned that this person was wandering around Canada alone and is probably a danger to himself.  This is why everyone wants to talk to me, because they want to ensure that I don't die.  There is a little light left in this cold, dark world.

This was another linguistic triumph for me.  Not only did the lil imp running the place think I was a total hottie, but all her guests thought it was great that they could say whatever they wanted to me and I would just smile and nod and pretend I knew what was going on because if you know how to conjugate most verbs in Russian on paper and say at least phrases then you must be fluent.  Two $0.75 half-litres of beer and a massive headache later, my Russian lesson for the evening came to a close.

My Russian actually improved tremendously in my time in the Caucasus, no doubt thanks to a great travel book I bought called "Hello!" which was published in 1991, in Tbilisi, for businessmen and women travelling to English-speaking countries.  It allowed me to do a reverse lookup of a lot of key phrases, like "I'd like to futher collaborate with you on this," "I'm afraid I am not of the same mind as you," and "Do you know where I can send a fax?" though unfortunately I don't know how to ask HOW I can send a fax because that is knowledge that died out sometime in the mid-1990s.

I didn't speak with these people, and they weren't even speaking Russian, but I can't believe that this is what you're focusing on in this picture.  Look at what is going on. I can't believe you're sitting there reading a blog when people are out there living. 

And for those of you who are dying to know how well-received the Russian language is in Georgia, it's fine.  Use it.  2008's little Putin-Saakh-Attack didn't necessarily deter the everyday Georgian's willingness to communicate with foreigners in the only other language they know.  For they most part they have nothing against Russian people themselves, but aren't as keen on Russian tanks rolling over their villages.  Perhaps a bit pick-and-choosey, but we all have our preferences.