Lost in Translation

As I'm certain anyone who has traveled abroad (or maybe just to southern Texas) can attest to, ordinary, every day phrases and words are often those that are mangled the worse.

When a few of Kyle's co-workers spotted me playing with the dogs, they asked Kyle why I kept throwing the "plate." I heard labs and sheep dogs everywhere sigh in frustration that their beloved frisbee was not popular in KZ.

After joining the "best gym for Westerners," it was required that I pass a health assessment. The doctor (no more than a regular employee in a white lab coat) spoke little English and my Russian had/has a long way to go, so we conversed using a computer program where he would type in Russian and the English translation would pop up. I was instructed to eat a diet of carbs. Check. Fruits and vegetables. Check. And plenty of squirrel. What the heck! After my uncontrollable laughter subsided, I knew that the doctor meant protein. Come to find out, the Russian word for squirrel is only 1 letter different from protein.

Almaty has a large population of stray dogs. Many of the dogs live at residences such as apartment complexes or businesses and they are communally looked after. They sleep outside, rummage through the trash and drink out of puddles. They are a pretty sad bunch but seem to be no worse for the wear. Such is the case with "Scrappy," the dog that lives at our temporary apartment. He's scruffy and adorable and could definitely handle himself in a doggy rumble. When he's not asleep in the garden, Scrappy dutifully follows the guards around the complex. He also moonlights as spider-man, some 20 feet up. Someone forgot to tell Scrappy that he is not a cat. Definitely lost in translation.