I went to a Shabbat dinner at a family's house here in Eilat. This family couldn't have been nicer. The dad drove me and my friend from our apartment building to his house since we'd never been there before. There are four sons and one daughter in the family, and still they made room at their table for us :)
My friend and I get into the car and we start making conversation with our host. "Where are you from?" "Do you have any siblings?" "Why did you want to come to Israel?" "How are you liking Eilat?" When he asks me [in English] where in the hotel I work, I confidently answer back in Hebrew, "Ani ovedet ba cheder prachim." In Hebrew, this translates to, "I work in the flower room."
Being the upbeat, friendly person that I am, I gave this answer with a smile on my face. Besides- it's not like we are talking about world famine... who doesn't find joy in flowers? The reactions I normally receive are either, "Wow! I'm jealous!," or, "So that means you get to work with flowers? Cool!" And then usually a conversation ensues about the subject.
But no, not this time. We quickly moved on to talking about something else. I didn't think much of it until last night.
It is now time to fast forward to last night.
Yesterday, this same family invited me to accompany them to a special Shabbat dinner 20 minutes outside of Eilat where we would be spending the evening with their extended family. I RSVP'd "YES" faster than a shooting star remembering back to the family's warmth and hospitality during the previous time I'd spent with them.
They picked me up and we arrive at our destination. It is a beautiful house in a gated neighborhood in the desert. No grass. No trees. No commercialism. Just dessert and the star-encrusted sky. We make introductions, mingle and then find our seats at the table.
Eventually amidst conversation someone asks me where I work and what is my job. Being in my mind the Hebrew expert that I am I confidently say to them, "Ani ovedet ba cheder prachim." The father of my host family looks at me as if he has just had an epiphany of epic proportions.
"Wait - like flowers???," he asks me. I couldn't understand why he seemed so stunned since I told him what I did in the hotel at our last meeting.
"When you came to our house last time, it sounded like you said 'pachim,' not 'prachim,'" he began to explain. Subsequently I learned a new word! Apparently "pachim" means garbage. This man thought that with a big smile, I had told him I worked in the hotel's trash room. I'm guessing he was a bit relieved to find out that the foreign vegan girl isn't weirdly happy about garbage after all. :-p
The moral of the story is that pronunciation is key in the Hebrew language.
The Hebrew "R" is the letter "ר" (resh). It's not pronounced like the English "R." Instead, it is slightly rolled, but not like the Spanish "R." It's a bit more silent, but not as silent as the French "R."
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| The letter "resh" in all it's glory. |
For months I have been practicing my resh and I know now that it's going to take a lot more practice until I master the delicate balance between saying whether I work in the trash room, or the flower room.
I guess I do have an American accent after all...
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