Campus - Reutlingen - University - Magazine - Hochschule ...

40
27 …all Greek to me…
27 …all Greek to me…
Oui, Je meine Ja. Oh man! Yes!”
-…all Greek to me….-
You hear it on the streets, in bars and
coffee shops, at the train station and on
the bus, on the job and in classes. It’s
that murmur, that collection of sounds
that starts off indistinguishable, finally
growing sharper in its unclear jumble of
letters and words. That mélange of sounds
representing foreign friends and foreign
neighbours from around Europe and
beyond; people switching between
languages, native and foreign; remarkably
communicating with whomever they meet,
despite the country of residence and its
established official tongue.
While standing at a corner waiting to
cross the street, another frequency rises
above the noise of passing cars, trucks
and buses, “Que tengas un buen día.”
The listener grins at hearing this Spanish
exchange in a non-Spanish speaking
country.
Browsing in the grocery store, “Je déteste
champignons!” echoes through the
produce section, the French revelation
not even raising an inquisitive eyebrow
from fellow shoppers.
Sitting in the park, enjoying a clear day,
reading a book I hear, “And these grounds
were once walked by famous German
writers such as Hölderlin, Hesse and
Goethe!” What becomes obvious after a
couple of sentences, is that English is
not the native language for either party
involved in the conversation but instead
a common ground allowing both parties
to get their respective messages across.
Sounds representing much of the Western
World found in this otherwise “very
German” section of Germany. An
international mix of culture and language
nestled in the sleepy Neckar Valley. But
what happens when this international
mix from around the globe collides in
one place; the first day of classes in the
language department of the European
School of Business?
The students filed in and slowly took a
seat. This was English class but in reality,
which language would dominate this
international setting? Would students be
diligent and try to speak English? Would
they fire questions at me in German,
French, Spanish, even Italian? The room
is silent with that uncomfortable stillness.
No one knows what’s coming next and
frankly, no one wants to ask; probably
because they don’t know which language
to ask in and most importantly, which
one will escape their lips.
“Let’s start with roll to see who’s here,”
I begin. “Giovanni.”
“Here.” So far, so good; English. No
embarrassing language faux pas yet.
“Jens.”
“Here.” Ahhh, the sweet ring of English;
I think we’re all starting to relax.
“Claire.”
Oui, Je meine Ja. Oh man! Yes!”