How astonishing it is that language can almost mean,
and frightening that it does not quite.
This is how I feel on a regular basis in Thailand. There are so many experiences when words do not suffice. I spent an hour at lunch with the girls attempting to train my ear to the five subtly different ways to pronounce "ha". One way means laughter, another means the number five and one way is a bad word. Honestly, it sounded like someone reading a funny text message. Ha ha ha ha ha.
As I sit in the office alternating between writing my blog, editing Khun Usanee's oral presentation for the AIDS conference, figuring out how her new phone works and looking at henna tattoo parlors, I can't help but think- where are the words to describe this city, or this "orange juice" I've been given?
Freshly squeezed oranges, no pulp and sweet like Tang, with a taste of the salty sea as the liquid glides over your tongue. Like kettle corn popcorn and salt water taffy, my tastebuds are perplexed. It's like eating candy in the ocean.
When language wont suffice, what a beautiful thing it is to have friends where you need no words. With just a look, all is understood:
Jack Gilbert continues...
...the words get it all wrong.
We say bread and it means according
to which nation. French has no word for home,
and we have no word for strict pleasure. A people
in northern India is dying out because their ancient
tongue has no words for endearment. I dream of lost
vocabularies that might express some of what
we no longer can (...) My joy is the same as twelve
Ethiopian goats standing silent in the morning light.
O Lord, thou art slabs of salt and ingots of copper,
as grand as ripe barley lithe under the wind's labor...
Keep learning, keep reading, keep enriching your mind.
Slabs of salt and ingots of copper,
ABA
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