In honor of Valentines Day, my family descended upon the beach. We brought a kayak for thrashing through the high tides and green apples, cheese and dark chocolate for snacking. An influx of Russian tourists (in addition to the run of the mill Japanese brides and hipsters) have invaded Tumon of late, and today I heard their language for the first time. I have something of a love affair with languages and characterizing them. My Mom and I were talking about how I've always liked words (in addition to names. I can't count how many times I've sworn to name my very lucky future child after one of my name whims. Right now, I like 'Salem' for a girl) and the way that they sounded. I had a notebook on hand at the beach, so here are my Russian language observations.
At first I think she's speaking English, but she's taken the words to a fun house mirror, she's resized and stretched them to fit the shapes of her tongue and teeth. It's Russian. She asks her daughter something and to me, her question falls somewhere in the free space between sound and expression shared by two people who trade in different tongues. It sounds like she's taken her words to a butcher, to burst the slabs of meat through with wire hangers. Geographically, Russia edges off of Asia, and I can hear something of Asian languages, the falls and rises, in her speech. Her children are miniatures wearing pink bandannas and when they talk to each other the language reminds me of Japanese animation: whimsical and a little violent.
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