|M.C. Escher's Tower of Babel|
Sure, I felt decidedly American when I spent a few weeks as an exchange student in France, but I was never completely out of touch with those around me. I could understand snippets of conversation here and there and make appropriate apologies for my American gaffes (is there a plural of faux pas?). My grade school French was passable enough for me to ask for directions and buy Nutella crepes and came in super-handy when my host family accidentally ran over my foot with their Audi.
Denmark, on the other hand, is like a linguistic broken refrigerator. There is this constant humming, droning noise that probably means something but I haven't yet figured it out. For the first week or so it gave me a slight headache but my brain has become comfortably numb to it by now. Which makes the English that creeps into my auditory stupor that much more startling. Sometimes it's a conversation between a couple of university students or an expat parent speaking to their kids.
Jimmy Kimmel illustrating that context is everything
So I guess I shouldn't have really been suprised when I came across the cover of this month's Eurowoman magazine on the Danish newstands.