It’s the letters that get stuck in the back of my throat that will stand in the way of me ever becoming remotely fluent in Azeri, or as Roza; the language teacher calls it “Azerbaijani language.” Teaching one’s tongue to make shapes it has heretofore never been called on to make can be challenging…..but I am determined to get enough of the local language to get by. Someday, I’d like to do better than that, but for now not having to thrust out a handful of assorted denominations in the direction of a store clerk would make me very happy. If I could extend my Visa cards, then Bank of America would spare me that embarrassment…..but unfortunately they don’t go many of the same places as I do anymore.
I had my first language class on Monday afternoon. Ali and I picked up Roza and drove down to the office where we ousted a pair of engineers from their office and my studies began. John brought me a cup of coffee to help me stay awake in class, and before I knew it I was learning to make the hacking sounds that would get me through a day in town on my own.
There are 32 letters in the Azerbaijani alphabet. When the Soviets were here the Cyrillic alphabet was in use. After they left, the Latin one was adopted with a few letters added to make up for the fact that all letters are pronounced and there are no combo sounds (as in “sh” and “ou”)……like we have in English. There are some significant differences in pronunciation, too. “C” is like our “J” and “J” is like the French, “Je.” There is regular “G” and the “G” with a hat that requires suspension of ones gag reflex to say properly. “G” with a hat is followed by “H” and next comes the indomitable “X” which is supposed to sound like the “ch” in loch…..but only if you’re Scottish. Cheating and making a “K” sound is not okay by Roza. The problem is the “X” comes at the beginning of a lot of words, so the only way to say it right is to get deep down in your throat and attempt to “hock” it up. “Xeyr” means no….so I have to work on my hocking. It sounds sort of like “hair”……..feels more like hairball. Ali told me, today, that Azeri words and Turkish words are the same but that Turks don’t use the throat sounds. “X” is pronounced like “H.” So, if that’s the case, and I might be understood without knotting my tonsils, I’m willing to adopt a Turkish accent.
I’ve had two lessons so far with my third to come on Monday. Roza gives homework, like writing dialog and memorization. She checks the homework. She takes this all very seriously. But she’s good, I’ll have to admit that much and she’s a very nice lady who’s proud of her language and excited to help foreign people adapt here in Baku. She told me that next Thursday the National Dance Troupe will be performing at the Philharmonic and offered to use her box office connections to get us good seats. And that brings me to the most important thing I've learned in the last five years.....that a box office connection is worth its weight in gold.
Today was grocery day and in the car, on the way to Cinar Market and Ramstore, I was showing off my new mastery of the numbers one to ten, the number one hundred, and the right word for half. I told Ali I could order my own things at the counters.....now that I had these few rudimentary skills at my disposal. I didn’t mean it, though. I really wanted Ali to order for me, but at the meat counter he just stood there waiting for me to speak up…..and after a brief international stand-off, I caved and asked for 300 grams of ground “dana” which is cow and 300 grams of large chunks of “dana” for soup. When we got to the bakery counter Ali was nowhere in sight and I found him hanging around the magazines at the front of the store. Twice I asked him to come back to the back with me and twice he said he’d wait there. I had to ask for my own little pastries today. I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt that he was so impressed with my language skills he felt I could handle it on my own, and not that he thought I didn’t NEED anymore pastries from the back of the store. Problem is I came back with a half kilo of sweets because I forgot between the meat counter and the bakery all of the words for three hundred grams. (That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.)
A little something in the way of local entertainment. It appears to be shot off of a TV but you'll get the idea...
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