COLUMNISTS

Deidre Dare

I am one of these horrid expats who doesn't speak the Russian language. Well, of course I can say, "I want some champagne please" and "How much does it cost?" and things like that, but nothing much more sophisticated. Furthermore, my comprehension of Russian is just about nil.

I understand how terribly absurd it is not to know the language of the country I am living in, yet I still don't try to learn Russian. And I do realise that in certain circumstances (such as trying to call the police) it can even be dangerous not to speak the local lingo.

But, like most expats, I've never known how long I would stay in Russia and I always thought that by the time I mastered the language, it would be time to leave. Of course, the years pass and I'm still here, but I still don't know how long I will be, so I continue to think it won't be necessary to know Russian. 

Despite all that, last night at a party my expat friend Michael asked one of the security guards where the toilets were and was incapable of understanding the directions given, whilst I understood them perfectly and translated them for Michael, to his utter astonishment.

"How on earth did you do that?" Michael exclaimed, knowing full well my lack of Russian language skills.

I explained.

Basically, I have become a chimpanzee.

It is said that 93 per cent of human communication is non-verbal and, after almost two years in a country whose language I don't speak, I have become completely fluent in this non-verbal language. Chimpanzees (and other monkey types) don't need words and now neither do I.

I have devolved back into a primal state of monkey-hood.

So, when a non-English speaking gypsy-cab driver put his hand on my leg the other night, I got the message, though I pretended not to. I chattered on in English and just repeated, "I'm sorry I don't know any Russian" as he rambled on with words of love I could not understand. In frustration, however, he finally found enough English in his vocabulary to turn to me and say,

"I want to fuck you."

Thrown back into the world of verbal language, I had no choice but to pull out the most useful Russian word I know (besides "shampansky" of course): "Nyet."

"Da," he insisted. "I do want to fuck you!"

Hmm, I mulled, this was going to be harder than I thought. I searched my chimpanzee brain stem for a solution to the problem and came up with a light slap on my driver's errant hand.  Sometimes, non-verbal communication can be more effective than the verbal kind and both the driver and I laughed at our sudden mutual understanding and peaceful relations were restored for the rest of the drive to Novinsky.

Because of the fact that I can communicate fluently in Chimp, not knowing Russian has its advantages.

For one thing, you'd be amazed what you can get away with if you don't speak the local language. Sometimes it's just too much of a hassle for the Russians to try and explain to you that you're on the men's toilet line, and so you manage to avoid having to wait on the much longer ladies queue, for instance.

And then there are the unanticipated rewards of ignorance.

The other night I was at a new club ordering my champagne when the bartender suddenly said something to me that I simply could not interpret in Chimp. She had the bottle in her hands, but had not yet opened it. Was she asking me if I wanted her to open it? Was she asking me how many glasses? I was at a rare loss.

Exasperated, the bartender turned to the owner of the club, an Australian expat (who had a whole Brad Pitt thing going on), and explained to him in Russian whatever it was she was trying to tell me.

"What does she want?" I asked the cute owner, with a flirty little toss of my hair.

"1,700 roubles!" he answered with a flirty little smile.

Two nights later I found myself on a rooftop terrace with Mr. Seventeen Hundred Roubles, drinking champagne, eating prawns and watching the sun set.

Sometimes it pays to get lost in translation. And it always pays to get lost in the beautiful brown eyes of a strapping Aussie man.

xxoo, DD

Deidre Dare's novel "Expat" and "Moscow Moment" video reports can be viewed at: www.deidredare.com