I spent the past few days Couchsurfing in Haifa. My original plan was to crash by a couple of nudists who live in the German Colony beneath the Bahá’í Gardens, but they’re having their house redone, so instead I’m staying with a New York-born Israeli and his bodyguard girlfriend. We’re not all getting naked together, but we have gone to hear a few local musicians, which I guess is just as good. Surprisingly, everyone here sings in English. Heavily accented Israeli English (“Ehmm, wat would you say eef I told you I lav’d you?”), but English. Meanwhile, here I am trying to learn Hebrew—not the easiest language for the Latin alphabet-based mind.
Hebrew is read right to left, and nine times out of ten, words lack the diacritical vowel marks which, for a new speaker, are absolutely necessary for pronunciation. It is assumed that the reader knows what vowel sounds (if any) to make after each letter, which is fine if the reader has the vocabulary of a five-year-old. Since I lack the vocabulary of a five-year-old, I resort to deciding arbitrarily what vowels to say. This works when signage is also in English or when I’m walking down the street reading signs to myself—Olly Bogit rather than Elie Baguette (you should go there, by the way, great chicken liver)—but it becomes problematic when I ask for directions. There is no Heshamevunaha railway station—it’s HaShmona—but I’ll keep trying.
Leave a Reply