Gambits for Travellers
By E. ARNOT ROBERTSON LL the foreign phrase books in this country date from the time when the British abroad could afford to dispense with popularity : having prestige and money to back them, they needed to know only the vernacular for " These sheets are not clean. This window will not open. Bring me some hot water. Where is the manager ? " Nothing ingratiating.
Now that we require to be liked as never before, to offset the decline in our spending power, travel agents should supply a list of the key words and phrases whicn open local hearts in various countries, however unprofitable the tourist. Here is the beginning of my own invaluable private compilation, much of it gathered the hard way—by watching people who found these keys before me getting away with the berth, the ticket or the meal which I thought 1 had secured. Then I began, nervously at first, to rely on them. Popularity, I find, can practically be guaranteed by their right use in the right place. Cyprus. "Thembirazi" (it doesn't matter in the least) and " Siga-siga " (slowly-slowly or gently-gently). I can't be sure of the spelling, but in demotic Greek that is the pronunciation. " Siga-Siga," particularly, produces a beam, of incredulous delight on Cypriot faces when it accompanies a request of any kind. You don't get whatever you want any slower, because you weren't going to get it quickly, anyway. Cyprus may be physically in the Mediterranean, but in spirit, especially where time is concerned, it is much further east. You will get it eventually, though, with lots of jolly goodwill thrown in. One of my vividest memories of the island is of an American striding through the foyer of the Dome Hotel at Kyrenia, say- ing : " Now, look, I'm in a hurry—" when the place seemed unusually full of porters and waiters leaning up against pillars, and before the sentence ended there was nobody there at all but the two of us.
With " Thembirazi," though this can be very effective too, care should be taken over Easter. An over-courteous friend learnt the word from me and used it freely while sight-seeing on the Sunday morning, under the impression that the talkative crowds in the streets were apologising for jostling her. (As if they would.) This is the day when people assure one another in conversational tones that Christ has risen. To be told that it didn't matter in the least was not endearing. " Siga-siga " would have been much better. It is,. in fact, infallible. This is as well, because Cypriots at home cannot be cajoled by ordinary compliments, however sincere. They tend to outdo yours at once by one of their own, also directed to themselves. When I told a man who was just getting married that I thought his bride very pretty, " Yes," he said, " and she has a nice character, too, although for all-round purposes I prefer my own."
Holland. "Your sense of humour is so like ours." I can't imagine why the Dutch should respond so readily to this idea, but over and over again in Holland since the war I have heard 'the same phrase, said always with the same over-modest pride : " The Germans hated us, you know, when they were here, because we have the same sense of humour as the British." The Germans had far better reasons for hating them than that, the Dutch being the toughest resisters in all Europe. And it is not even a true, if insignificant, claim. Whatever sense of humour these stalwarts have, it isn't in the least British. I have only seen it functioning once. By some strange misunder- standing; an English trick cycling team was sent to Walcheren Island when there was a Kermesse at Middelburg. In Walcheren the whole populace moves everywhere on wheels : a builder cycles past you in the morning with a ladder balanced over one shoulder, two planks propped on one foot and his smallest child standing on the other, clinging to his thigh, being taken to school. A slightly older child sits on the handlebars, while the eldest, on the carrier behind, holds the cycle on which all three will ride home after school, if their return doesn't coincide with Pap's. The Dutch audience sat in dead silence, watching the English performers balancing in ballet positions on one wheel, pedalling with their hands, riding live machines at once, and stolidly they waited for the show to begin. It was one of the most embarrassing spectacles I have ever seen. As the only other English person present, I tried clapping %\ hat seemed to me the more wildly spectacular feats, but at once all heads turned wonderingly in my direction, and.the lonely noise made the situation feel worse, so I stopped. Then the cyclists, piled in a pyramid, rode mournfully out of the arena. After another long silence the Dutch realised that this was the performance, and. it was over. How they laughed, rolling around in their seats. Their enormous, tear-compelling merri- ment went on and on and on. It couldn't have been less British, but the similarity of our senses of humour is an article of faith which they are charmed that you should share.
Italy. "Tell me, when you were with the Partigiani—" Norway. "How nice to be back again among people who don't care about making money." This is the only one of the keys 1 can use with my whole heart. It is always delightful. Never shall I forget the bet canto distress of the Scala Opera Company from Milan, travelling on the wagon-lit train which leaves Oslo at seven every evening and reaches Trondheim at eight the next morning, when they discovered that not only was there no dining car, but the Norwegians could not be bothered to come down to the many intermediate stations to sell the hard-boiled eggs, gelati, and so on, that would have been forth- coming, of course, in Italy, at a price. They raged along the corridors—such lack, of civilisation ! Was it possible, when they were hungry, hungry, ready to pay anything ? And every night it must be the same ! Meanwhile, the Norwegians and the British aboard, made kin at once by Latin outbursts, sidled up to one another, muttering, " Got a biscuit in my compart- ment. If you'd care—? "
Iceland. " I had no idea you were still a tall and golden- haired people." No one else has either, I think, except the Icelanders. It is a long while since they were Vikings, and in the interval the whole world has grown noticeably swarthier. The majority of the Icelanders are small, dark runts, just like the majority of the British, but there never was a people who cherished more myths about themselves, and this is the favourite.
Canadians and Americans. " Someone told me you were a Canadian " (or American), " but I knew at once that you were an American " (or Canadian). I have never known who is the more put out by a mistake, nor does it seem to matter.
On second thoughts, this is too important a line of research to be left to travel agents and phrase book publishers : the Foreign Office should pursue it, if we are to be allowed to travel at all.
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