I felt a bit funny buying it as I prefer, where possible, to read literature in the original, and was worried it wouldn’t live up to the English.

At which point I remembered it was written in French.

Duh.

Bought it anyway

This [...]]]> I made imeruli khachapuri (cheesebread) a couple of weeks ago. I’d made it before, under the watchful eye of various Georgian ladies of good standing in the khachapuri-making community. I’d also made it ‘flying solo’, with English flour and Italian cheese and only the running commentary of two small, doubtful children to guide me through.

This time, though, I’d rashly promised to show a couple of English friends how to do it, and performance anxiety was starting to creep in. I’ve always considered much of Georgian cuisine to be pretty straightforward at the conceptual level, but somewhat more challenging in terms of actual construction / execution. Ball of dough, ball of cheese: what can go wrong? Not much, apart from leaking, holes, irregular thickness, no cheese near the edges, total collapse at the flipping-over stage…

So I did what any sensible person would do in the absence of a Georgian lady of good standing, and hit YouTube for a brush-up.

And, of course, on YouTube nothing is as one would expect, and so, for your delectation: imeruli khachapuri in the Japanese stylee.

[Disclaimer: I know. It's not how you make khachapuri. I know. But it IS rather fun.]

Oh, and here are ours, as captured on camera by Nikki Pugh. No leaks.

But [...]]]> The other day I found a whole load of VHS films in a box. Among them were several of the very first Georgian films I ever saw. Back then I couldn’t really understand a word people were saying and, having not been to Georgia at that stage, didn’t really understand the ‘feel’ of them either.

But I liked the songs, so I was happy to find Tolia, from the film Tojinebi Icinian (Laughing Dolls)…

Still searching for my favourite Georgian movie song, mind you. One of the most beautiful, romantic songs EVER. If anyone guesses correctly I’ll buy them a beer.

Marvel at the foreigner tame the Georgian verb!

Or, maybe:

Watch the foreigner have her butt kicked by tense markers! Chuckle at her inability to [...]]]> I’ve been asked to write a guest post on a Georgian blog. In Georgian, that is. I’ve said I will. I’ve also agreed for it to be published unedited, uncorrected, unsanitised….

Marvel at the foreigner tame the Georgian verb!

Or, maybe:

Watch the foreigner have her butt kicked by tense markers!
Chuckle at her inability to put subject and object in the correct case!
Wonder at her idiosyncractic sentence formation!

And, finally:

Ask yourself how on earth she’s claiming to be a translator if this is her command of Georgian…

Maybe you sense a little trepidation?

The timing of this is perfect, in a sense. I’ve been wrestling for a few weeks now with the question of whether or not to publish posts in Georgian on this blog. It’s why I haven’t updated recently. But now it’s been decided for me. Thank goodness for that.

Why the hesitation? Well, give me a passage to translate into English and I’m happy and competent. Ask me to translate into Georgian, or to write in Georgian, and I’m alot less happy and less competent.

Now, I don’t have a particular problem with this. It’s to be expected. Georgian is not my mother tongue. I live in the UK. I don’t speak or write in Georgian on a daily basis. As a linguist I know all about the distinction between receptive and expressive language skills and I know that there’s often an imbalance between the two. Even with a grammatically straighforward language like French I would never claim mother-tongue fluency, so there’s no way I’d claim it for a more complex one like Georgian.

And I don’t. I don’t offer translation into Georgian. In the UK that fits in with professional standards for translators. You don’t translate out of your mother tongue because when you do you can’t guarantee quality. You make mistakes. You don’t use idioms in quite the right way. Your word order goes clunky. It just “reads wrong”.

Alot of people don’t get that, though. They assume that knowing a language means knowing it every which way. I’ve had clients almost demand that I offer translation both ways. They don’t see how it’s possible for there to be a difference in my levels of competence in the two languages…

And so I worry: if I write flawed Georgian will people infer that my understanding of Georgian – and by extension my translations out of it – will also be flawed? Substandard? I really hope not.

But anyway, as I said, the decision’s been made for me. And so I’ll write that guest post, and then hopefully I’ll write some more. It’ll be for fun and to better my Georgian. I’m not intending to suddenly start offering translation both ways. And if anyone asks why, I’ll get them to listen really carefully for the sound of Georgian blog-readers chuckling at my errors.

For language-learners this economy comes in very [...]]]> I like a good interjection. They’re undergoing a revival, I think, thanks to texting and hyperblogging. After all, why waste characters on a full sentence when one little word will do? Don’t know, don’t care, pretending you don’t care, can’t be bothered? Meh. Indignant? Pah! Catastrophic “email-to-wrong-recipient” incident? Ooops!

For language-learners this economy comes in very handy. I got through several oral exams and a two-week French exchange uttering little more than ‘Ah bon’ with varying intonation. You have a hotel room for tonight but with a shower not a bath? Ah bon… (hold on whilst I consider my options). Your sister’s hooked up with your boyfriend? Ah bon?! (amazement). I’ve failed my oral? Ah bon… (resignation).

Georgian interjections – Gawd love ‘em – express with a sensible vowel-to-consonant ratio what might otherwise demand considerable tongue-gymnastics and grammatical dexterity. Constructing a Georgian sentence is a labour-intensive, time-consuming and frankly high-stress endeavour. Georgian interjections, on the other hand, practically leap off the tongue. In addition, they encourage – demand, even – the kind of dramatic delivery rarely warranted by an English interjection, and that’s kinda fun. It’s hard to deliver “Oops” with too much understatement, but აუ! (Auuuu!) ვაა! (Vaaaa!) and ვაი! (Vaiiii!) need delivering with gusto, and if you can throw in some cheek-clawing or wave your hands around a bit, all the better.

So here are my favourites. I use them in English cos they just don’t translate. Next time you see them you’ll know what I’m talking about.

ეხ! Ekhhhhhh! – Resignation with a hint of regret
აუ! Auuuuuuu! – Admiration
ვაააა! Vaaaaaaaa! – Surprised delight and amazement
აბა?! Aba?! – Surprise
აბა?? Aba?? – Appeal, petition
აბა!? Aba!? – Encouragement
აბა!? Aba!? – Hint of threat…
აბა?!?! Aba?!?! – Sense of “Why so surprised? You’re stating the bleedin’ obvious!”

აბა’s quite handy. I use it alot…

I briefly toyed with the idea of basing a Masters dissertation around the Georgian interjection. I didn’t. A few years later someone else did. აბა?!?! What did you expect, woman?!

Ekhhhh!

And, ultimately: Meh.

ღამის პირველ საათზე რატომ ვცდილობ ჩემი ფიქრების ქართულად გამოხატვას?!

ვიხსენებ იმ დროს, ქართული ენის სწალვლა რომ დავიწყე, როცა ბლოგები არ არსებობდა და ინტერნეტი ჯერ კიდევ დიდი არაფერი იყო… ოქსფორდში ვცხოვრობდი მაშინ. ქართულს ვსწავლობდი, მაგრამ ქართულ წიგნებს ძლივს ვპოულობდი. ბიბლიოთეკაში ვიჯექი ხოლმე, ვეფხისტყაოსანი მაგიდაზე მედო, ან მარჯორი უორდროპის ლექსიკონი. [...]]]> (And yes, it’s in English if you scroll down…)

ღამის პირველ საათზე რატომ ვცდილობ ჩემი ფიქრების ქართულად გამოხატვას?!

ვიხსენებ იმ დროს, ქართული ენის სწალვლა რომ დავიწყე, როცა ბლოგები არ არსებობდა და ინტერნეტი ჯერ კიდევ დიდი არაფერი იყო… ოქსფორდში ვცხოვრობდი მაშინ. ქართულს ვსწავლობდი, მაგრამ ქართულ წიგნებს ძლივს ვპოულობდი. ბიბლიოთეკაში ვიჯექი ხოლმე, ვეფხისტყაოსანი მაგიდაზე მედო, ან მარჯორი უორდროპის ლექსიკონი. რაც შემეძლო, ვიზეპირებდი. საღამოობით გავდიოდი ხოლმე ეზოში, სკამზე ვდგებოდი, რადიომიმღებს მაღლა თავს ზემოთ ვწევდი. სიგნალს ველოდებოდი. მერე – უცბად – სულიკო. “ლაპარაკობს რადიო თავისუფლება”. სასწაული იყო. ქართული ხმები, ქართული ბგერები ჩემს ეზოში. ალბათ შინაარს ვერ ვიგებდი, მაგრამ მაინც ვიდექი ერთი საათის განმავლობაში…

დღეს სხვანაირია. ინტერნეტმა მოგვიტანა არა მარტო ტექსტები, სტატიები, საბუთები, არამედ ოცდაოთხსაათიანი ტელევიზია და რადიომაუწყებლობა. ‘შაბათის შოუ’ გინდა თუ საქართველოს სასამართლო კოდექსი, ყველაფერი გვერდზეა ლაპტოპის ეკრანზე. და, რა თქმა უნდა, ბლოგები…

კარგია. მაგრამ მართალი რომ გითხრათ ნოსტალგია მაქვს…

ჰოდა. ზიხარ შენს ოთახში, ქართულ ბლოგებს კითხულობ და უცბად კარგი აზრი მოგდის. მეც ხომ არ დავწერო ბლოგი ქართულად…?

ვაი!

Why am I sitting here at 1 a.m. trying to blog in Georgian?

Thinking back to when I started learning Georgian, we’d never heard of blogging and the internet was still really nothing to write home about. I was living in Oxford, supposedly studying Georgian but barely able to find any texts. I’d sit in the Bodleian for hours upon end, poring over 18th-century epic poems and arcane dictionaries with decades-old dried flowers from the foothills of the Caucasus pressed in between the pages. In the evenings I’d go into the garden and stand on a chair, a short-wave transistor held high above my head, straining to get a signal, waiting for that tinny jingle and then: “This is Radio Liberty”. An hour a night of rapid-fire Georgian and probably less than half of it understood.

None of that now, of course. The internet has changed everything. Easy access to Georgian texts, articles, websites. Online dictionaries. Podcasts with pause and rewind. 24-hour television and radio. Satirical sketch shows on YouTube and the online Georgian Civil Procedures Code side-by-side on your laptop. Twitter. And blogs, of course.

I sometimes miss the old days….

But anyway. You’re sitting in your room reading Georgian blogs when suddenly it comes to you: Why don’t I blog in Georgian too?

Gulp.