I was recently at an exhibition in Antwerp, Belgium, and I was approached by an older gentleman from Morocco named Mahmoud. We were having a nice conversation when an old friend of mine from Varna, Bulgaria, George Stephanoff Belev, walked up behind me and was looking over my shoulder. So I turned and introduced the Moroccan gentleman to George. The Moroccan immediately turned back to speak with me, hurting George’s feelings a bit so George interrupted him with the very little French in George’s arsenal. “
ÇA va?” George asked Mahmoud, which is like “Howdy do?” in French. Most educated Moroccans speak French quite well, but George was placing the emphasis on the wrong syllable which seemed to confuse our North African friend as he had that hurt look which screamed “What the hall is this moron trying to say?” The man looked at George for a short while with his puzzled gaze and turned back and continued speaking with me.
George cringed because he thought he was being ignored so decided to give it one more go.
“ÇA va?!?” George interjected again and this time the Moroccan turned toward George, realizing that George had actually been addressing him in French so he cut loose en français and gave George a two minute spiel about his company and his hometown in Morocco, Casablanca. George stood in front of him with his head tilted to the right like a bewildered bird dog. His mouth was drooping and agape. When George realized Mahmoud had finished his elevator speech he snapped to attention and said “BRAVO!” then paused for a second and continued “So could you now translate what you just told me into English for our American friend because they don’t speak no other languages!”
George should have been a politician.
