That’ll do, donkey

Well, that’s pretty much our trip, dear readers.

For the foreseeable, we are just mooching around Singapore before heading home. Despite our glacial return to New Zealand, Sarah is suffering from jet lag. Hopefully, that will have abated by the time we get there.

So I guess, all that’s left is to give a big picture perspective.

Germany was a bit tedious. They are very focused on confronting their past, rather than whitewashing it. A noble goal, but a bit of a downer for tourists. I’ve said it before: 

• They need to focus tours on the historical self-flagellation, or on fun-seeking tourism, but not both.  Certainly not on the same tour.

The Iberian Peninsula (Portugal and Spain) is an amazing history lesson for Catholicism. I never realised that for so long being a Catholic was the only Christian option, and for most of that, it was the only religious option. Someone who is less of a philistine than me would have taken more from the trip.

Sarah found the Northern Spain tour, which basically went from the Montserrat monastery across the top to Santiago de Compostela, following a major Camino pilgrimage trail, to be quite a moving and spiritual experience. Even if the tour guide couldn’t organise a piss-up in a brewery.

Switzerland made us homesick for Queenstown and the Southern Alps.

France was a nice collection of tourism hilights.

Something the French tour guide told us resonated with me: 

• Always greet someone in their language. We were told to say bonjour and merci at every opportunity. This would endear you to the locals, and they would be more accommodating to you than to the ignorant poms or yanks who start every interaction with “Do you speak English?”
• We heard this from all tour guides, encouraging us to learn a handful of useful words for each country. Unlike the euro, there is not a universal language for Europe, if you discount English.

This philosophy resonated with me for one reason:

• I disagree with it!

Think about it… you have been practicing to say bonjour like a local, so you unload it on some poor unsuspecting shopkeeper or waitress. If you did a halfway decent job of the accent, they think you’re a local too. Great, right?

No. Disaster!!

They break into a conversation, and you suddenly look like a complete moron. You didn’t understand a word. 

Now you’re both embarrassed, and the local is fucked off.

You conned them. You scammed them into thinking that you were someone you weren’t. That’s called identity theft, and it’s illegal in most places you can think of.

Here’s my suggestion:

Approach the local with the same cheery demeanour, but instead of saying hi or hello in their language, say it in yours! You have achieved the same friendly greeting, but you have also telegraphed that you speak English, not their language. If they speak English, they will decide if they want the conversation. If they don’t speak English, they can let you know. Either way, you have been friendly and attempted an honest conversation. Your chances of a successful interaction are vastly improved.

Or you could say bonjour so badly that the local will take pity on the simple fool’s wooden attempt at their superior language.

You choose.

That’ll do, pig…