New Haven Register (Sunday) (New Haven, CT)
Found in translation: My Russian experience
I was to be in Moscow with my brother Peter for the wedding of his grandson to a Russian young lady. The couple had met in Massachusetts as college students. My thought was to write an article different from typical travel pieces strung with syrupy words. Mine would be intriguing and filled with mystique experienced first-hand.
Weeks before leaving for Russia we had heard about the Russian Grand Express, an eight-hour midnight train from Moscow to St. Petersburg. Billed as a mustdo experience I thought of Agatha Christie’s 1934 novel “Murder on the Orient Express.” Perhaps I could spin a “Who Done It” tale of foul play on that train or in St. Petersburg itself.
On the morning the Grand Express neared St. Petersburg one of our group’s travelers walked into the dining car shouting, “So, when does the experience begin?” During the next three days of touring, I searched in vain for that elusive experience to write about as our group visited historical sites.
Having worked for an international hotel company, I had traveled to many corners of the globe. Russia was my 50th country. Every locale has had its treasures and St. Petersburg had its own riches. But it also had a sense of “sameness.”
My intent is not to be smug. But after a while all castles, churches and cathedrals seem to meld into one. And I no longer can separate the beauty of one from another. As I kept making notes, I wondered if I could come up with a story of foreign intrigue and mystery.
My mind began flashing back to past travel epiphanies I should one day write about. Certainly, this Russian experience would not be about this bustling city with the downtown area no different from a major American city on a sunny afternoon. Except for the facades of its buildings with a Baroque-like flavor from the 18th and 19th centuries.
Moreover, St. Petersburg’s sidewalk bistros, souvenir shops and other outlets also had a U.S. flair. The signages were in Russian but there were also McDonald’s and Starbucks. Those were in English.
On my flight home, I reconsidered plotting out a “Who Done It” mystery on the Russian Grand Express. Back in Connecticut, I dabbled with the title of Found in Translation. The idea was that more can be found in common than lost if people work at communicating.
English is not spoken widely in Russia. Yet with fingers and hand motions and translator apps on my smart phone, Russians and I spoke with each other. That’s how I got a pharmacist in Moscow to understand the medicine I needed.
Slowly the idea of people with different cultures and languages getting to understand each other came to me. I began to think of how often that had happened during this trip beyond the pharmacy experience. On the Grand Express, I used the translation app to thank the waitresses in the dining car for their fine service. Indifferent stares turned into wide mouth smiles. There were other such experiences. A few stood out.
American Express is not widely accepted in Russia. So, I began to rely on my bank card to pay for purchases and withdraw money (rubles) from the ATM machines. Because I rarely used that card and I was in a foreign country my bank canceled my withdrawals. How would I pay for my flight from St. Petersburg back to Moscow?
One option was to borrow money from my brother. But first I fumbled in explaining my predicament to Natalia, the hotel’s concierge. Her English was also limited. To my amazement, she used her personal credit card to buy my ticket. She was unconcerned about my repaying her.
My family and I were leaving from different airports in Moscow. Mine had few signs in English. I had over-packed and was overexerting myself carrying my luggage. I needed help. By then, I had lost my phone. A gentleman at a kiosk who spoke only Russian let me use his to translate my dilemma. Again, I was surprised. He left and returned with a cart.
On my trip home via a stop in Frankfurt, an 11year-old girl was sitting next to me. She and her mother spoke in Russian. I have flown close to 2 million miles and am familiar with most in flight TV equipment. Not with this one. With hand motions and broken English, the girl set me up with a movie.
There are instances when the deeper meaning of an incident, a moment in time, can be lost using ordinary language. My Russian experience reminded me that actions, interactions and human caring can transcend the spoken word.
Juan A. Negroni, a Weston resident, is a consultant, bilingual speaker and writer. Email him at juannegroni12@gmail.com. His column appears monthly in Hearst Connecticut Newspapers.