I like to get my hair cut at the same place by the same Korean barber; it’s enjoyable because he’s learning conversational English, and I find it interesting to get an outsider’s perspective on picking up the language.
He explains, “When on break, I listen to customer.” He points at various barber chairs, “Overhear conversation. Pick up words.”
I nod, “Any other ways? Like the radio?”
“No radio. Also TV. Tried listening to Friends. No understand – use slang.”
Empathetically, I could see how this would be a problem, especially with the double meanings and catch phrases. However, he had an ingenious solution.
“Instead, watch cartoons with son. Words simple. Words slower.”
It made total sense. Shows intended for children took things at a better pace and used a more trivial vocabulary.
“What cartoons do you watch?”
He hung his head in immediate shame. “SpongeBob.”
Quickly recovering, he mentioned that he had some problem pronouncing certain animal names.
“Could you give me an example?”
“Yes! You teach me.” He then took a deep breath: “Re-zeh-da.”
“Come again?”
“RÄ“. ZÄ•h. Dăh.”
“Is that English?”
“Yes. No can pronounce.”
“Can you describe the animal?”
“Uh, it has a head…”
“That’s a good start,” I jest.
“It has craws…” (I assume he meant claws, as he made gestured talons with his hands.)
“Is it a Lion?”
“No.”
“Tiger?”
“No.”
“What’s the first letter? R?”
“No. Reh.”
“L?”
“Yes, yes! Reh.”
What’s the next letter?
“Eh.”
“E?”
“No, eeeeeh.”
“I?” By this time I pulled out my iPhone and was typing the letters out.
“Yes. Next is zeh,” and he drew a big squiggle in the air.
“Z?”
“Yes!”
I’m looking down at the iPhone. ‘L-I-Z.’ “Not an O, it’s a Z?” He affirms.
Oh, I get it — LIZARD. The moment I saw the word, he brightens. I also see what’s going on. He can’t pronounce L, and it’s coming out as R. And he can’t pronounce ‘zard’ as one syllable, so he drifted the soft a into an soft e, and added a third syllable to account for the d on the end.
We try a few times, “Lih-zard” “Re-zeh-da.” “Lih.” “Re.” “L-i-h.” “Reeeeee.”
At this point a young Korean girl, also a barber, comes over with her hand over her mouth giggling. She doesn’t speak much English, but she says Lizard perfectly.
Apparently, she learned how to say it, and “taught” him a new word to torment him all day in order to watch him go through a linguistic nightmare, knowing his determination to get it.
It reminded me of the Prell shampoo reference in Drawn Together, where Ling-Ling describes his new shampoo as his worst lingual enemy, asking how “Plerr” can give his hair such shine and body yet leave his soul with shame and embarrassment.
For the record, I saw no “Plerr” in the barber shop.