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Ting Bu Dong
Thursday, July 7, 2005-10:00 PM
I need one of those translators like heads of state have the next time I have dinner with Natasha and her parents. I need someone to sit behind me, out of the way, just over my shoulder, and translate what they're saying in real time without me having to divert my attention.
Before I thought I could understand what they're talking about when they speak dialect by putting together the Chinese words I recognize with their body language, facial expressions, and news of the day. Today, I didn't understand a thing.
Natasha will start off with a passionate monologue that I constantly think is two sentences from being over. Five minutes later, she's still talking like a locomotive.
Then I'll start hearing my name pop up here and there, and I get even more worried. Eventually, I just forget about it and start paying more attention to my food.
Next, I look up and see Natasha's eyes tearing up. I'll ask Natasha, "What are you crying about?"
After I've asked the question two or three times, she'll get around to answering me. "I'm moved."
It doesn't take much to "move" Natasha. I ask her anyways, "What are you so moved about?"
"The fish."
I know I shouldn't even ask. "What's so moving about the fish?"
"My mom made the fish."
I know her mom made the fish. Her mom made all the food. After this, I might as well not ask any more questions.
"What's so moving about your mom making fish?"
"Nothing," she'll say wiping the tears from her eyes.
I'm still not sure whether this tendency to become so moved by ordinary daily events is a blessing or a curse.
But the next time Natasha starts saying something I can't understand and tearing up, I won't get too worried. It might just be the fried ricei or sweet and sour frog.
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