My Adventures With the Swedish Language

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My Adventures With the Swedish Language

Forlåt mig, jag kan inte Svenska. (Forgive me, I can't speak Swedish).

I humiliated myself today at the local grocery store. After ringing up my purchases, the young man running the cash register noticed that I had chosen something that was "on special"- you know, an item on which you get a discount if you have a "store card". At the time I was distracted by my two little girls, who were arguing over nothing (as siblings do). The Swedish word for "card" (kort) is pronounced, dangerously, like something else and in my confusion, I thought the clerk asked me if I was ...er... "in heat". I am a bit reserved, so you can imagine my reaction. When the smoke cleared and all was explained, I felt like such an idiot that in the future I will be traveling across town to buy food. There is no way I could ever go back to that store again!

I married a Swedish man and moved to his native country almost two years ago. Since I am multi-lingual, I thought that learning to speak Swedish would be a "piece of cake". Boy, was I wrong! I knew I was in trouble when the first signs I saw in the parking lot outside the airport read "Utfart". The first part of the word was easy to figure-- "Ut" means "out", right? Imagine my relief when I learned that the other part of the word, "fart", means "quick". However, I knew my kids would have a field day with that one.

On the way home from the airport, Gunnar (my husband) asked the girls if they were excited about meeting "Farmor". In English, we say "Grandmother" or "Grandfather". That's okay, but it doesn't explain whether it is the paternal grandparent or the maternal grandparent. In Swedish, it is a much simpler system; "Farmor" literally means "Father's mother"- get it? You can understand who is being discussed without any further explanation. The girls, who were four and six years old at the time, giggled as they imagined a little old lady with a garden hoe and a large shady hat growing veggies and tending goats. Farmor Kerstin, who is the daughter of one of Sweden's most well-known politicians (and was a member of the Swedish Parliament herself) got a giggle out of that too.

It can be confusing at times. For example, there are many Swedish words for "finish" or "end"; the words "klart", "fardig" and "slut" (which is pronounced "sloot", by the way) can all be used for the same thing. I made Gunnar laugh out loud when, after seeing my first Swedish film, I asked him indignantly why the television called me a nasty name. You got it; at the end of the movie, there in big letters on the screen, it said "SLUT". Do you see where this is headed?

Even my kitty thinks I'm crazy. Where I grew up, one calls a cat by saying, "Puss! Puss!" Well, "puss" means "kiss" here. Even more confusing is that one of the Swedish words for cat is "kisse". I thought I would eliminate all possibility of a faux-pas by calling "kissa! kissa!" after him. He ran away like his tail was on fire and that's how I found out that "kissa" is the word that is used by small children in potty training. "Jag måste kissa!" ("I have to pee!") is what the little ones say when they have waited too long and must find a bathroom- NOW. Maybe Dexter thought I just wanted a urine sample, but in any event, he won't even come to me anymore.

Then there is cursing. In English, the majority of curse words are sexually oriented. In Swedish, they are religiously oriented. I was shocked upon hearing my eight-year-old stepson yell "skit!" ("sh*t!") repeatedly while playing a video game. It isn't a curse word here; it is just describing a bodily function and therefore not offensive to Swedish ears. However, if you call someone "djavulen" you are literally likening them to Satan. This one curse has the possibility of starting a personal feud that is bad enough to last generations. Maybe you can understand why I am hesitant to attempt to hold a conversation with anyone who doesn't know me.

In all fairness, I have to say that the fault is mine and not the language itself. Swedish can be a beautiful, lilting, sing-song language; my problem is that I just can't carry a tune! Sometimes I get so nervous trying to "mainstream" that I cause my own problems. But I am proud to say that as each day goes by, I understand a little bit more and that helps to build my confidence. Besides, my incredibly patient husband believes in me and his faith has convinced me that I WILL be fluent!

That is, until I had the nightmare...

In the dream, I finally learn to speak Swedish like a native. We return to rural Kentucky to visit my family and one night, I take my six-year-old (you know, the one at the "blurt it out" stage?) to the local carry-out to purchase some chips. While we are at the register, a mean, muscular Fat Lady with HUGE bosoms enters the store and Nila points; declaring loudly, "Mamma, titta!" ("Mamma, look!")

Nice knowin' ya. (Det var trevligt att känner dej---literal translation: It was funny to feel you....)

SLUT

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