I have named her Talks Like Waterfall. She has short blonde hair, fashionably square glasses, and she smokes. She looks good in blue jeans. She is a waitress at Pizzeria Roma. While I sit writing she comes in to the bar area to smoke and relax. While she is there she will turn to me and unleash a torrent of czech. (Although for all I know she just babbling at me to mess with my mind.)
Normally when she does this I just feel stupid. I don’t know the words she’s saying, but the message is You’re still here and you still don’t know czech? Only tonight it was a little different. She came into the bar and despite the fact I knew she was going to waterfall me I was glad to see her. I gave her a smile and she said “czech czech blah blah dobrý veÄer”.
I was so surprised to understand anything she said I almost didn’t answer. “Dobrý VeÄer” I said back. Good evening. She smiled.
It’s only fair to assume she throws the czech at me to mess with me. She has every right to test me, and to expect me to make some effort to learn the language of the land. Still, she doesn’t make it easy. I was at the bar with Fuego the other night and the czech she threw our way was too fast for him to pick up, and he’s pretty fluent. Talks Like Waterfall does not necessarily want to be understood.
Really, though, she does want to be understood, but on her terms. She wants me to prove I’m not passing through, to prove that I’m willing to commit to a new language and a new culture. She is challenging me. The possibility of knowing the meaning behind the waterfall is enticing. How sweet the day when she unleashes her torrent and I can answer back with a stream of my own.
It’s too bad she smokes, though.