Lost in translation

By Daniel Schaaf

A day at the lake

Today (Wednesday 21 June) has been a day we had all been looking forward to. It was actually announced that we would have swimming possibilities (so everyone actually brought swimwear, contrary to all other days where underwear had to suffice) and we went to visit a lake close by, which was much needed after the long, warm days prior. Upon arrival, Anne informed us that we could rent some of the water bikes for a couple of euros. After patiently waiting until Levin returned from his long-lasting swimming adventure, I suggested that we should try to get the rowing boat and go on the water, play some songs on the speaker and really just live peak life. As it turned out, the rowing boat was the only one that was not available for rent, as it was owned by an older man who was lying on the side of the lake, right next to us. However, this could not stop Levin, as he - through sign language and a few English words - got the man to take us on his boat (thank you Levin). Now I could easily write this entire blog post about how the man was constantly correcting Levin’s rowing skills (not mine) while babbling away in a language we did not understand (was it Bosnian?), but this is not going to be the focus of this post.

 

Kurnizan

Our friend (whose name we did not capture due to language barriers) seemed to be greeting everyone we saw on our adventure with the same word: kurnizan. I should note that I have no idea how it is written, am unsure what it means (no, Google did not work) and even local people whom I have asked about the word remain clueless. However, this is maybe also part of the charm. Let me elaborate. First, we rowed to the other side of the lake, where we could buy a beer (can I say this, AUC?) for ourselves and our friend. He seemed to be quite impressed that Mara took one as well, which he emphasised by saying kurnizan a couple of times.

The Swiss connection

We went back on the lake and came across another boat, which Levin identified as a Swiss model(?). I still don’t really know what he meant but it was enough for him to shout “Swiss Swiss!” to the two people on the boat, and they promptly turned around to ‘connect’ the boats and start a chat. We had no way of communicating with them, as there was once again no language that we could all speak. Actually, this is not really true. We could just say kurnizan, of course. I must add, our skipper also nearly only communicated using this word. I find it difficult to express the extent to which this word was used. Our skipper would say 4-5 words, then say kurnizan two times, and the other skipper would be laughing loudly, responding by saying kurnizan kurnizan. We stayed with the other boat for quite some time. At some point, the other skipper got out a Vuvuzela-esque thing and randomly started making loud trumpet-like noises. I am laughing as I write this, as this adventure had been, by a long shot, the most random occasion of my life. Our friend also got on their boat, put on a life jacket, and trumpeted. 

A lesson learned

I am so surprised by the amount of fun we could have, without having a single word of language in common (or actually, a single word). I feel like this has been an important takeaway of this moment, that a common language was not required for us to have a good time together. Additionally, it was a very inspiring moment because it showed me what amazing experiences you can have if you just talk to people you don’t know. Normally, I do not go up to people I don’t know, for reasons I don’t even really know about myself. But after this day, I think I understand the value of socialising better, as this was an adventure that I would have never wanted to miss.