I have never doubted the value of knowing foreign languages, but I did not anticipate it would be so direct and effective.
During the uncertain '90s, when it seemed no one knew what tomorrow would bring, I made a small exception, since my two little ones didn't allow much room for variety in my daily life. Like any mother with children aged 3 and 5, my company consisted mainly of neighbors in the same situation, schoolmates from the neighborhood, or similar individuals whom you've known practically since deep childhood. From time to time, my neighbor from the adjacent entrance and I would hang out—the same woman who was also my sister's schoolmate. Lidka had recently returned from Morocco, where her mother had spent several years as a teacher. To keep her from getting into trouble and chasing local boys (Lidka is a strikingly beautiful specimen, worthy of a fashion magazine cover with the intellectual baggage of two research fellows and one PhD candidate), her mother quickly enrolled her in a UNESCO teacher training college for English. The college trained English language teachers who later worked in UNESCO programs, mainly in 'third world' countries. The catch was that instruction was conducted in French. Lidka's knowledge of French amounted to interactions with the housemaid and the shopkeeper at the nearby grocery store. The poor girl had to memorize between 100 and 200 words daily in both French and English. One way or another, she finished the college, and when they returned to Bulgaria, she could comfortably teach English, which she did. She gave private lessons and gradually earned the reputation of a teacher who works miracles with her students. And since mine is a small miracle, I will gladly share it.
From one chat to another on the bench in front of the building, I decided there was nothing wrong with learning some English. The price per lesson was quite reasonable, Lidka was in the adjacent entrance, so we got going with English. I'm not particularly familiar with various methodologies out there, but I know what hers was—words, words, words until you're dizzy. From time to time a little grammar, then again lots and lots of words. All those frighteningly many words, about a hundred a day, were repeated until you got the pronunciation right. After all, what's the point of knowing something if you can't pronounce it? Anyway, they won't understand you. Literally and figuratively, for a month and a half I studied English every day. I had a solid vocabulary, but we hadn't yet reached more serious grammar. And then an opportunity opened up for two or three months of work in Vlas. With the rampant unemployment of those years—not that it's better now—that was a super offer. Without much thought, I left the children with their grandmothers and set off with 'the gentleman,' who was also my children's father, to our southern Black Sea coast.
The work in Vlas was banally ordinary—a waitress in a small restaurant. Thank God, the trade school, aside from everything else, also gave such qualifications. It sounds funny, studying almost three years to become a waitress, but that's the truth. In the restaurant, a mother and daughter from somewhere near Strandzha also worked—wonderful women and great colleagues. The visitors were mostly foreigners—English and German. Daily misadventures with the language became routine. The biggest joke was that my English from a month and a half of studying was the best there. What can you do; the reality in our tourism isn't different even today.
There were two Englishmen who came regularly. They rarely ate; mostly they drank something. We chatted as much as my English allowed. They complained that the administrators in the hotel didn't speak English, that they were bored, that there were no entertainments, nothing interesting and stylish and Bulgarian, just the tired restaurant attractions they'd already seen. I shared this with Anito, my waitress colleague, and while we were clearing away the boredom of the two Englishmen, the idea was born to take them to the Strandzha village where her grandmother lived. Said and done. 'The gentleman' had no objection to taking us. When we proposed the idea to the Englishmen, they lit right up—they liked it very much. The next day we arranged with the owner for a day off and set out. Actually, I am a professional tour guide, but I've never in my life worked with tourists other than Russians. My knowledge of history, geography, landmarks, myths, legends, etc., is more than encyclopedic. At the risk of sounding conceited, I consider myself a highly qualified professional in this field. In fact, that's the assessment of tourists and tour operators I've worked for as well. But… it's one thing to have Russians across from you, and quite another to have Englishmen. What's the point of knowing so much when you can't say it? Well, somehow our two tourists got some information, crooked and awry. Actually, it was very funny. Just thinking about how long it took to explain 'donkey' and 'cloud,' and what pantomimes Ani and I performed while explaining that donkeys are an integral part of the Bulgarian landscape, makes me burst out laughing. Now I don't have to cry 'Ee-aw, Ee-aw,' because whether it's a Bulgarian donkey or an English donkey, it's all the same long-eared stubborn creature. And I don't have to draw shapeless puffs on glass either; I can just say cloud. But back then it was different.
When we arrived at the village, Ani's grandmother had prepared not only the feast but also various surprises that were unexpected even for us. Indeed, sometimes ordinary people have much more valuable ideas than a whole bunch of office parasites. The homemade grape drink with a magnificent vegetable salad was appreciated by all of us for the energy boost and mood improvement. Since the Englishmen didn't approve of stuffing themselves with the luxurious moussaka right away, grandma suggested we show them the farm. What joy they got from picking the ripest berries, the late cherries, and the early tomatoes—it's hard for me to describe. Well, the entire inventory and fruit and vegetable arsenal was available, so instead of me explaining what was what, they told me what it was called in English. When it came to the possibility of riding the donkey, those two went absolutely wild with joy, delighted like children. When grandma saw their enthusiasm and their great desire to ride the long-eared beast, she delivered the pièce de résistance. She disappeared for a minute and returned with two Bulgarian men's traditional costumes. When she handed them to the two Britons, they absolutely melted. It wasn't hard to convince them to put on the costumes. But what a sight they were! Big strong men were as happy as kids in kindergarten. Grandma also had women's costumes, so she equipped Ani and me as well. The Englishmen couldn't have all the fun; we had to be in style too. After a photo session lasting almost an hour, the Englishmen finally got hungry for the moussaka. The moussaka came with heavy red wine and plenty of homemade appetizers, all of animal origin. There's no need to ask how we explained what was what and what it was made of. I don't even want to remember how many nerves and effort it cost me. Finally, thoroughly tipsy tourists were stuffed into the car and we headed back. On the way we sang songs—Ani and I in Bulgarian, the two of them in English. We enthusiastically explained something to each other, with explanations and hand gestures taking anywhere from ten minutes to half an hour per word. Before we dropped the Englishmen off at 'Sunny Beach,' the two of them launched into a speech, from which we understood only that this trip of ours to the Strandzha village was the best thing that had happened to them in Bulgaria. Ani and I were bursting with pride. Such an assessment of our efforts… actually, what efforts? We were having just as much fun. If it weren't for my empty ignorance of English, we would have been much more satisfied. But the final moment amazed us both. The two pulled out some papers and handed them to me with various thanks. The papers amounted to 100 pounds!!! That for half a day!!!
Unfortunately, after a few days I had to leave Vlas and we couldn't take any more guests to Ani's grandmother. But for life I will keep the memory of how, with barely two months of English learning, I earned in half a day as much as one month's salary back then. Now, with time, I realize that if it hadn't been for Lidka and her super-interesting lessons, her ability to hook you, to make you relax, to not worry about making mistakes, the fresh atmosphere of her classes, I might never have dared to speak a language I barely knew.
This incident was revealing to me for two things. One is—no matter how minimal your knowledge of a language, your conversation partner's knowledge of yours is zero. If you're not afraid to speak, knowing you'll definitely make mistakes, nothing will get done. The second is—if you want to achieve something, don't stop learning, especially when it comes to the most used language in the world. Whatever you do, be sure that one day English will be necessary for you.
Now, when I enter the virtual classroom of 'Kabinata,' I have the feeling that my cool Lidka is across from me, patiently explaining the unimaginable idioms and phraseology of English. It's as if I hear her voice repeating something in various ways until I finally get it. I seem to see her devilish satisfied little smile when with visible pride I finally nail the proper pronunciation. Yes, only those who haven't lived through it don't know what pleasure it is to see an O.K. at the bottom under your test.
There are many ways to learn a foreign language. But I think the most pleasant is when you have friends across from you.