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You know... it's about time I had an appropriately embarrassing story to write about here. So! I spent this morning looking at apartments. I got up, and headed back up to Andersonville, where I met with these apartment-finder guys. I was afraid of them, but they were super-nice, and I saw three apartments. All of which were nice, but not super-nice. And so I chatted a bit, got a rental application, and went on my way to my noon appointment.
Noon appointment was with guy-named-Iulian-(whose name I thought was Julian)'s father who speaks no English (that was a lie, he knew about five words). Judging by Iulian's accent, and his name (which I thought was Julian), I assumed he was Spanish. I figured, hey, I can learn enough Spanish to get myself through seeing the apartment. (Basically "Hola, estoy aqui para ber el apartemento" and "so liente, no hable espanol." Getting this straight involved a last-minute call to one of my friends at home, who laughed at me, mocked my accent, and then spelled things for me.) I rang the buzzer at noon, and he let me in. At the door on the top floor, stood a shortish happy-faced man who didn't look Hispanic in the least. This SHOULD HAVE BEEN MY FIRST CLUE. I mumbled my apologies for only speaking English, and thanked him in Spanish. He smiled and nodded, and started showing me around. The tour was largely a game of charades, which got complex enough to tell me where I was supposed to take the garbage, and I'm pretty sure I gave the dish-washer a thumbs-up, because by that point I was super-flustered, having gotten very confused when there were doi refrigerators and not dos... and that there were two refrigerators. Eventually we moved back into the office, where he asked me to sit down, and I continued to sort of look around awkwardly, and attempted to tell him, in Spanish, that I liked the apartment. The conversation from there went something like this... (Oh this is so embarrassing.)
Me: Er... uh. Me gusta... el apartemento.
Man: ::blank stare::
Me: Er, um... sorry! Uh, I really don't know Spanish.
Man: ::odd look::
Me: No habla espanol?
Man: Spanish? No! Romana! American, right?
Me: (Omg omg omg, I am an idiot. Romana? ...Gypsies? Time Lords? ...Rome?... Italy. Italian!) Oh! Oh, no wonder. Yeah. Ha. I don't know a word of that! Wow.
Man: You know... uh... Nadia Comaneci. ::complex hand motions indicating gymnastics::
Me: Ohhhh. (What? The gymnast? What is going on here?) Yes, I know of Nadia Comaniche (yay, Americanized pronunciation, this is so embarrassing).
Man: Yes.
Me: Um... tu parles francais, peut-etre? (Crap, that was disrespectful. Crap. Vous.)
Man: ::blank stare:: No...
Me: Ah. ::nervous arm flailing:: It's the only other language I know, sorry! ::half-mumbled:: Worthatry.
Man: You call my son? ::points to the sign on the window::
Me: Er, yes, I called him already.
Man: ::gesticulates more:: Call my son. He speaks... perfect English.
Me: Yes, all right. (What am I going to say to him?)
Man: ::points to window::
Me: ::shows phone number in phone... calls son:: Er, hi, Julian?
Iulian: Hello, yes?
Me: Hi, er, Iulian, this is [evilhippo], I'm at the apartment.
Iulian: Hello, yes? What?
Me: This is [evilhippo], I'm at the apartment, er, I was wondering (say something useful!) how much do utilities usually run?
Iulian: What?
Me: (Omg, my reception is not this bad!) Er, yes, I'm at the apartment, with your father. I like it. How much do the utilities usually run?
Iulian: I am busy, can you call back later?
Me: Oh, right, um, sorry. Sure. Fine, yeah. ::hangs up... even more embarrassed smile:: He's busy.
Man: Oh, work, yes. Call at 5. ::draws five on the table::
Me: Right, er, thank you. ::nervous hand-wringing::
Man: ::leads back towards door:: Water. ::draws on arm::
Me: (Water? Did he understand the utilities question?) Water?
Man: Walking.
Me: ...(What is going on here?!) Walking?
Man: Yes, walking. ::points east:: That.
Me: Oh, the lake. Yes, I walked there already. It's... very close.
Man: ::nods, smiling::
Me: ::at door:: Uh, thank you. Again. And, er, sorry ::mumbles:: I don't speak... yeah. ::not mumbling:: It was nice meeting you.
Man: ::nods, smiles, stands at door to see off::
The worst part was that I didn't even figure out it was Romanian until I was walking around afterwards. I continued to think it was Italian! Wow. Hello, world, I am a stupid English-speaker, and all other languages sound the same to me. (Okay, I can tell French from Spanish, and Chinese from Japanese, but that's it. Everything else? Apparently the same. Romanian! Freaking Romanian! He might as well have spoken Basque! I feel like such a... I don't even know. Wow. And yet I still want the apartment.)
Noon appointment was with guy-named-Iulian-(whose name I thought was Julian)'s father who speaks no English (that was a lie, he knew about five words). Judging by Iulian's accent, and his name (which I thought was Julian), I assumed he was Spanish. I figured, hey, I can learn enough Spanish to get myself through seeing the apartment. (Basically "Hola, estoy aqui para ber el apartemento" and "so liente, no hable espanol." Getting this straight involved a last-minute call to one of my friends at home, who laughed at me, mocked my accent, and then spelled things for me.) I rang the buzzer at noon, and he let me in. At the door on the top floor, stood a shortish happy-faced man who didn't look Hispanic in the least. This SHOULD HAVE BEEN MY FIRST CLUE. I mumbled my apologies for only speaking English, and thanked him in Spanish. He smiled and nodded, and started showing me around. The tour was largely a game of charades, which got complex enough to tell me where I was supposed to take the garbage, and I'm pretty sure I gave the dish-washer a thumbs-up, because by that point I was super-flustered, having gotten very confused when there were doi refrigerators and not dos... and that there were two refrigerators. Eventually we moved back into the office, where he asked me to sit down, and I continued to sort of look around awkwardly, and attempted to tell him, in Spanish, that I liked the apartment. The conversation from there went something like this... (Oh this is so embarrassing.)
Me: Er... uh. Me gusta... el apartemento.
Man: ::blank stare::
Me: Er, um... sorry! Uh, I really don't know Spanish.
Man: ::odd look::
Me: No habla espanol?
Man: Spanish? No! Romana! American, right?
Me: (Omg omg omg, I am an idiot. Romana? ...Gypsies? Time Lords? ...Rome?... Italy. Italian!) Oh! Oh, no wonder. Yeah. Ha. I don't know a word of that! Wow.
Man: You know... uh... Nadia Comaneci. ::complex hand motions indicating gymnastics::
Me: Ohhhh. (What? The gymnast? What is going on here?) Yes, I know of Nadia Comaniche (yay, Americanized pronunciation, this is so embarrassing).
Man: Yes.
Me: Um... tu parles francais, peut-etre? (Crap, that was disrespectful. Crap. Vous.)
Man: ::blank stare:: No...
Me: Ah. ::nervous arm flailing:: It's the only other language I know, sorry! ::half-mumbled:: Worthatry.
Man: You call my son? ::points to the sign on the window::
Me: Er, yes, I called him already.
Man: ::gesticulates more:: Call my son. He speaks... perfect English.
Me: Yes, all right. (What am I going to say to him?)
Man: ::points to window::
Me: ::shows phone number in phone... calls son:: Er, hi, Julian?
Iulian: Hello, yes?
Me: Hi, er, Iulian, this is [evilhippo], I'm at the apartment.
Iulian: Hello, yes? What?
Me: This is [evilhippo], I'm at the apartment, er, I was wondering (say something useful!) how much do utilities usually run?
Iulian: What?
Me: (Omg, my reception is not this bad!) Er, yes, I'm at the apartment, with your father. I like it. How much do the utilities usually run?
Iulian: I am busy, can you call back later?
Me: Oh, right, um, sorry. Sure. Fine, yeah. ::hangs up... even more embarrassed smile:: He's busy.
Man: Oh, work, yes. Call at 5. ::draws five on the table::
Me: Right, er, thank you. ::nervous hand-wringing::
Man: ::leads back towards door:: Water. ::draws on arm::
Me: (Water? Did he understand the utilities question?) Water?
Man: Walking.
Me: ...(What is going on here?!) Walking?
Man: Yes, walking. ::points east:: That.
Me: Oh, the lake. Yes, I walked there already. It's... very close.
Man: ::nods, smiling::
Me: ::at door:: Uh, thank you. Again. And, er, sorry ::mumbles:: I don't speak... yeah. ::not mumbling:: It was nice meeting you.
Man: ::nods, smiles, stands at door to see off::
The worst part was that I didn't even figure out it was Romanian until I was walking around afterwards. I continued to think it was Italian! Wow. Hello, world, I am a stupid English-speaker, and all other languages sound the same to me. (Okay, I can tell French from Spanish, and Chinese from Japanese, but that's it. Everything else? Apparently the same. Romanian! Freaking Romanian! He might as well have spoken Basque! I feel like such a... I don't even know. Wow. And yet I still want the apartment.)
