Learning a new language is incredibly difficult but equally rewarding when you can use your new knowledge to communicate with people from other parts of the world. Like anything, learning something new comes with many mistakes. However, when it comes to language, mistakes can be a lot more detrimental! People share the times they accidentally said something humiliating in another language. This content has been edited for clarity.
Oops!
“I was on holiday in France in 2014 with my grandparents and my parents. I was 15 at the time. Since I’m very close with my granddad, we decided to have dinner out one evening just us two at a local pizzeria. My granddad’s French is close to non-existent, so I had to order for us. We both wanted mushroom pizza, so I called the waiter over and made some small talk before ordering our treats for the evening.
I got an A+ on my French GED, so I felt perfectly capable. Now, the French word for mushroom is ‘champignon.’ 15-year-old me got that word confused with ‘capote,’ which is slang for condom. I basically asked for two pizzas with condoms on them. The look on the waiter’s face was a mixture of ‘you’re British, aren’t you?’ and ‘god, I feel sorry for you,’ with about 20 percent of ‘what the hell!?’
Naturally, he completely burst out laughing and told me in near-perfect English what I had just ordered. My grandfather then burst into laughter for about ten minutes. Better yet, the waiter got some of the locals involved too and we all had a laugh at the 15-year-old who just ordered her entrée with a side of contraception.”
Got Milk?
“I was at my local shop before school one morning. I was buying some bread and chocolate spread to have for my breakfast. I handed over my 200CFA and took my bread. I suddenly remembered I needed some milk.
‘Jiymaa benn sow,’ I told the shopkeeper with confidence.
The shop was quite busy that morning and suddenly the whole queue went silent.
The shopkeeper politely replied, ‘Pardon? Qu’est-ce que tu veux?’
No, I was not being drawn into that trap. I had lived in Senegal for two months by that point and was pretty confident with my Wolof, I wouldn’t order in French!
‘Jiymaa benn sow,’ I repeated with a lot less confidence.
The whole shop suddenly burst into laughter. I was so confused. What had I done wrong? Finally, a man tapped me on the shoulder and explained with laughter that I had just asked the shopkeeper to sell me urine. It turns out the Wolof word for milk is ‘soow’ and the word for urine is ‘sow,’ essentially the same but a very slight difference in pronunciation. I brushed it off and we all laughed about it and I eventually got my milk.
But this is how languages are learned, by trial and error. One thing I learned in Senegal is if you speak to someone in their language, even if you make mistakes, they’ll treat you a lot better for it!”
Knocked Up
“Something to note: when you go to someone’s house or visit them in Britain, you will ‘knock them up.’ In the U.S.A., the meaning is of course very different. Likewise, to ‘give someone a ring’ in American slang means to telephone them. But it has a non-slang meaning as well like when people get engaged,
Back when Star Wars Empire Strikes Back was still in theatrical release, I was volunteering as an editor and writer for Bantha Tracks, the publicity club magazine put out by LucasFilm LTD. My assignment was to get an interview with Kenneth Colley, the British actor who played the role of Imperial Admiral Piett.
British actors are a lot easier to contact than U.S. actors. Within a very short time, I had his home telephone number. Calculating the time difference, I telephoned him at a convenient time and he picked up.
‘Ken Colley here, hello,’ he said.
‘Yes, Mr. Colley, I am calling on behalf of LFL and would like to do a telephone interview with you for Bantha Tracks about your recent role as admiral Piett. Do you have time to talk?’ I replied.
‘Really? Are you calling all the way from America?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I am. Would you like to–’ I started.
‘Well, here is some good luck! I will be in Long Beach California next week to begin filming a television special on Admiral Nelson. Could you travel there, by chance?’ he asked.
‘Why that’s perfect! I live only a short distance from Long Beach! When?’ I responded.
‘I shall be in town by Monday and filming begins on Wednesday. How about we meet on Tuesday? In fact, I’ll have a rental car, give me your address and I’ll knock you up!’ he said.
It took me a split second to realize what he meant. Thinking fast, I answered, ‘My telephone number is 555–555–5555. Before you knock me up, you’d better give me a ring!’
We both had a good long laugh! And yes, I got that interview. The poor fellow was incredibly sunburnt. He had spent the morning walking all over the place utterly not used to sunlight reflected off seawater. He looked very much like a lobster.”
Happy Birthday Sally
“I had a Filipino online friend who was going to celebrate her 21st birthday. In the online game I used to play, I asked another Filipino friend of mine if there were any words I could say to show my love and excitement in Tagalog.
‘You should say ‘Putang Ina, Sally!” my friend said.
‘Oh, what does that mean?’ I asked.
‘That is slang for I love you. You shouldn’t use ‘mahal kita’ (formal saying for I love you) since it will be boring,’ they replied.
‘Hm, okay. Cool, thanks!’ I said.
So the day came. We had been friends for almost a year then, so I wanted to make it extra special and make a video for her. Unfortunately, I don’t have the video anymore since my old phone is broken but it pretty much contained me saying this:
‘Sally, happy birthday! Thank you for being the amazing girl you are, and I hope everything you’ve wanted will be achieved! I’m happy to be your friend! Putang ina, Sally!’
Since I tagged her, the video also popped up on her friends’ timelines. Some of her friends commented:
‘This girl can’t be serious right?’
‘What a nice joke!’
‘That’s kinda harsh.’
‘You’re rude.’
I was so confused with their reaction. ‘Did I say it badly? Was my pronunciation wrong?’ I wondered. Then Sally messaged me.
‘Christina! Thank you so much for your wishes! I really appreciate it!’ she said.
‘You’re welcome! So happy you like it!’ I replied.
‘By the way, where did you learn that Tagalog word?’ she asked.
‘Oh, a Filipino friend I have online taught me that. So how was it? Did I say it correctly?’ I replied.
‘Yes, yes! Of course! It was just right! Please tell your friend, putang ina too!’ she said.
‘Sure! I’ll definitely tell him!’ I replied.
I later found out putang ina means ‘your mother is a wh*re.’”
Call Me Bob
“In 1962 I was 15, gangly, terminally shy, and massively embarrassed by life and living. I was on holiday in France with my French exchange student friend, Jean-Loup, who was four months older than me, cooler than the other side of my pillow, terminally sophisticated, and rich beyond belief. We were sitting on the beach outside his villa, Jean-Loup evenly tanned, me pink and blotchy, when the three most achingly beautiful girls I have ever seen sauntered up.
‘Hello, Jean-Loup,’ they smiled, ‘is this your friend from England?’
I was blushing scarlet, never having spoken to a girl who wasn’t my sister.
‘Oui,’ answered Jean-Loup nonchalantly, ‘tell zem your name.’
‘Je m’appelle Gwyn,’ I stammered.
I have never seen such a reaction. The girls collapsed on the sand in a tangle of long bronzed limbs, screaming — no, weeping with laughter, tumbles of blonde and black hair, flashing white teeth, fists pounding the sand in an effort to catch their breath, bubbling on the verge of hysterics. Jean-Loup had joined in as well. They were all helpless with laughter.
I sat there in total confusion, not knowing whether to join in, not knowing what I’d said, not knowing what was funny, and meanwhile breaking the world’s blushing record. It was explained to me later. ‘Gwyn’ sounds awfully like the French word ‘Gouine’. ‘Gouine’ means lesbian. Nothing could have been funnier to a fifteen-year-old girl. From that day forward, I preferred to be known as ‘Bob’ in France.”
The Cage Place
“I took Spanish all four years of high school and tested out of all but the top-level Spanish literature classes in college. In my work as a TA in the language lab, I regularly assisted Spanish students of all levels. I could do direct written translations that were checked by faculty supervisors and came out with high accuracy. My slang and swearing were well-fleshed-out, having picked up all of that from a non-English-speaking friend who always wanted to tell me at length how much she hated her boss.
Long story short, I was fairly confident in my Spanish. When I began my near-decade of work at a local hospital, the subject of second languages came up in the interview process and I provided the documentation that got me on the list as an on-call Spanish interpreter.
Even when we’re fairly adept, we lose our skills through lack of practice. Ordinary words, words that never gave us a moment’s concern, suddenly elude us. I recently watched it happen to a friend of mine whose English was stellar until she went home for a few months. When she returned, she stumbled and froze up and frantically consulted her iPhone app. And that’s exactly what happened to me, except it was in the nineties and no iPhone could save me.
I hadn’t translated for a month or so when I was called into the ER. A Hispanic man had been arrested and was handcuffed to a gurney where he was watched over by a police officer. The officer, arms crossed, wanted me to translate what would happen next.
I didn’t know what the patient had been arrested for but he was hurting and afraid. I tried to speak in a low, pleasant voice while the officer took him step-by-step through the booking process. The patient was nodding in understanding. We were all doing very well, I thought.
And then the police officer said, ‘And tell him, then we will transfer him to the jail.’
But I couldn’t remember the word for jail, cárcel.
I can remember it now. I could remember it five minutes after the event. It’s not hard. We even have the word “incarcerate” in English, which sounds just like it. But standing there beside that poor guy’s hospital bed, I drew a complete and total blank. I stammered and said, ‘I’m sorry. For some reason, I’m not remembering the word. He is going to take you to the police place. Not a station, the bigger one. I am so sorry. I’m forgetting the word.”
Both men looked at me in confusion– the patient because he was under the impression that I was incompetent and the police officer because I had said many extra words and he wanted to make sure I wasn’t adding opinions or anything.
I looked at the officer and said, ‘I’m sorry, I’ve blanked on a word. I’m trying to explain to him.’
And then I had a horrid moment of floundering and blurted to the patient, ‘I am so sorry. The place. The police cage place.’
I can’t tell you how wide his eyes got. The cage place? What the hell? He nodded, his mouth hanging open a bit. ‘Jail?’ he finally asked. I could have hugged the guy as I nodded. He must have thought I was a complete moron.
I turned to the officer again, ‘I’m sorry, I forgot a word and had to think of how to explain it. He understands, I just explained it badly. The interpreter at the jail will be a better help.’ They left and I spent the rest of the shift absorbed in self-loathing. How good at this could I possibly be if I forgot a word like jail? I was so badly shaken that I emailed HR to request to be removed from the list. I never translated at the hospital again. I didn’t deserve to.
To this day, my Spanish has gone into dormancy. I can read and understand it and if I concentrate, I can speak it. But I don’t go out of my way to let anyone know that. It was so embarrassing it was traumatic. I can still see that patient’s big, frightened eyes, and all these years later I’m kicking myself over my own presumption of being on the list in the first place.
The cage place. My god.”
Unlucky
“This is from my French teacher, but good nonetheless. French is known for having plenty of cognates with English words. For instance, adorable means the same thing in French as it does in English. Bizarre means bizarre. Festival? If you guessed festival, you’d be right.
So you’re an American college graduate who finished their French degree in France. The school you’re applying to work at requires an interview in French. No problem.
‘What does your first day on the job look like?’ the interviewer asked.
‘First, I introduce myself to the kids,’ was his response.
Something was off. The interviewer shot him a concerned look. After a tense moment, he burst out laughing. What’s wrong with introducing yourself to the kids? All he said was ‘D’abord, je m’introduis aux étudiants.’
The French term for a cognate word is a ‘vrai ami,’ meaning ‘true friend.’ Logically, there would also be a ‘faux ami,’ or ‘false friend.’ A word that looks familiar, but means something different. Unluckily for him, ‘introduire’ does not usually mean to introduce. In most contexts, ‘introduire’ means to insert. What he ended up saying was, ‘I will insert myself into the students.’
In case you were wondering, it sounds just as bad in French as it does in English. The word he was looking for was ‘présenter.’ If you ever find yourself needing to use French, beware of these faux amis. Don’t assume ‘je suis excité’ is a good way to express your excitement to anyone but your partner. And telling someone about a ‘chat’ you had will likely warrant a confused glare.”
Local Market
“We had a very extroverted family member visiting named Sol. He had rudimentary Thai and was eager to use it. He decided to make lunch for us at our digs in Chiang Mai Province. Sol walked to the local market, marched up to the chicken section, and politely announced the carefully rehearsed words he hoped would produce four chicken breasts, ‘Garuna, nom gai si chin, krap.’
Sol repeated the phrase for us, showing how he’d used gestures for emphasis. He bowed sweetly, held and jiggled both of his own breasts, made a convincing chicken sound, then held up four fingers.
The women behind the table covered their faces and tried to stop their giggles, then Thai-style, called their friends over and gestured that Sol should ask again. A good sport, he did, even more slowly, for emphasis. Much hilarity ensued, and Sol, being Sol, loved it and joined in, figuring his charm and fluency had shocked and delighted the young women into paroxysms of mirth. That’s what he told us, anyhow.
I said ‘Sol, exactly what did you say and how did you say it? Give us an instant replay.’
He gave the replay. We started to laugh too. Sol had said, with all the sound effects and gestures, ‘Please give me four chicken tits.’ Because a Thai would never think of any bird as having ‘breasts,’ there’s an entirely different word for it. We still ask Sol if he’s had any Thai chicken tits recently now that he’s back in New Rochelle.”
One Letter Off
“I’m not a native English speaker so I have committed blunders my entire life. I’ve gotten used to it so it doesn’t bother me anymore. However, one blunder stands out from the others. During my primary school days in Nigeria, I was one of the most brilliant students and had a good reputation as a Catholic. Teachers used to admire and praise me a lot and that really got into my head. I paraded myself as the best and sure got what I deserved.
One morning during the yearly random inspection of primary school by the ministry of education, I was called up to give a nice speech. This speech was supposed to show the investigators how academically sound the school was. Due to the fact inspections were usually never announced to schools beforehand, the teachers had no time to get any student ready to save their faces before the local ministry of education. So I was the supposed best.
Unfortunately, the measure of intelligence at that time was your proficiency in speaking english. The plan was simple — recite any of the lessons you have studied.
I did exactly as planned. I stood before the assembly of students and teacher and recited over five pages in my lesson notebook. When I finished, one of the invigilators asked ‘Are you through?’ I stood there speechless for a while then answered ‘No sir!’ The truth is I didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘through.’ He guessed so himself and proceeded to ask questions.
‘How many subjects were you taught yesterday?’ he asked.
‘Five, sir!’ I replied.
The teachers had already told me beforehand I should answer five if asked this question. But the truth was, the previous day, the teachers were too busy to teach, and we spent the day playing.
‘Nice. Can you tell me a topic you learned yesterday?’ he asked.
‘Yes. Erection, sir!’ I yelled.
Everywhere was calm. One teacher started the laugh, then the other with the guys from the ministry of education joining afterwards.
The investigator asked while laughing, ‘Who taught you that?’
I pointed to the young female teacher beside the principal. The laughter grew more this time.
‘What is the definition?’ the investigator asked.
I was happy to let those dumb people what an erection was. I defined ‘election.’
They started correcting me about the right pronunciation and I had to do a lot of repeat after me that morning.
I went home that day and asked my mother and lots of other people the meaning of erection. No one answered. They usually laughed and told me not to ask another person. ‘You’ll know when you grow up’ was the summary of what they said. Normally, Africans don’t tell children the meaning of such stuff. They believe you’re a bad kid if you know. Years after, it took me the dictionary to know its meaning.”
Learn From Your Mistakes
“I was in Madagascar and went up to a woman sitting with her child on the side of the road and asked, ‘Aiza ianao minono?’
Mind you, this was my first week in the country and I was eager to practice all the words I was learning. That particular day, I had learned the verb for ‘to live’ and wanted to apply it to a conversation, so I stopped to make small talk with the woman. I was trying to chat it up with everyone I came across. After a few successful(ish) sentences, I attempted to ask her if she lived around there.
Again I asked, ‘Aiza ianao minono?’
The verb I wanted to use was ‘monina’ but instead I used ‘minono,’ which means to breastfeed. So I basically asked her, ‘Where do you breastfeed?’
She took it well and cracked up laughing, knowing very well I wasn’t able to speak Malagasy. That’s when a friend of mine who was more advanced in the language told me the mistake I’d made. I was embarrassed but had a good laugh about it and looked at the positive—hey, I just learned another word! Needless to say, I never made that mistake again.
You see, the Malagasy language, though overall fairly simple, can be a bit tricky at times. All the verbs basically start with the letter ‘m’ and many words are near identical to one another. If you’re not careful, you can get yourself in trouble like I did that day.
The moral of the story is when learning a new language, don’t be afraid to make mistakes. Embrace the mistakes. Because there will be many. But that’s when you learn and grow the most.”
Language Barrier
“My wife is Russian and I’m Finnish. Even though we are from neighboring countries, our languages are completely different. When my wife met my parents for the first time while we were dating, there was some difficulty in communication as my parents don’t speak English. Two occasions are especially memorable.
We were having dinner and my mother had cooked fish as she had learned my wife loves fish. My wife was of course happy and thought that she should compliment my mother in her native tongue.
She said an the table in Finnish, ‘hyvä kulli,’ which translates to ‘good dick.’
My parents looked a bit shocked and looked at me puzzled. I almost spilled my drink on the table as I was trying to hold back laughter. She had tried to say ‘hyvää kalaa’ which translates to ‘good fish,’ but Finnish vowels are very difficult for her so she somehow managed to change it to something a bit different.
On the same trip, my wife was feeling a bit cold. My parent’s house is an old wooden house and gets a bit cold in the winter as they both prefer lower temperatures. My mom noticed and thought it would be nice to bring her socks made out of thick wool. She brought the socks to her and passed them over saying ‘sukat,’ which in Finnish means socks. In Russian, ‘suka’ means something like ‘bitch.’ My wife looked shocked and again I had to translate to both parties what just transpired.
As a bonus, last year we bought my dad a trip to St. Petersburg in Russia for his birthday and my mom also tagged along. My wife and I acted as guides and took them around everywhere. When we were at a restaurant in Petergof, we sat outside as it was nice out. There was a wasp that started circling around us and it particularly interested in my mom for some reason.
When the wasp buzzed almost to mom’s ear, she loudly exclaimed in Finnish ‘hui’ which is an exclamation Finnish people use when they get startled. In Russian, it means ‘dick.’ There were some Russian people at the other tables and all of them turned to look at us and the potty-mouthed grandma amongst us. This time it was my wife who was laughing and almost spilling her drink.”
