There once were 5 men from Copenhagen...

Flemish ... Isn't that the language of Denmark?

How would I know? I'm a typically ignorant, globally-challenged American, kept in that style due to the whimsically current standing of my motherland in the world community. The only country we touch that doesn't speak English is Mexico, and even then most of us don't deign to habla es-pain-y'all. In Europe most everyone is multi-lingual, and they make an effort at it. No, not us Americans, unless perhaps it's Yankee and the situation involves what passes in this country for beer...

So I opened my work day today with a conference call that included 5 Danes in Copenhagen, plus one more who lives in the U.S. I wondered whether language or accent was going to be an issue, and much to my surprise (and pleasure) they understood and spoke English quite well. Of course, it didn't hurt that the topic of conversation was computer-eeze, geek-ism and bit-o-byte, all of which are clearly universal, so we got along swimmingly for 50 minutes.

My one and only challenge was Roman. Not as in numerals. Not as in noses. As in the guy, the primary programming geek, whose name was 'Roman'. He was mostly silent, contemplative (right!), and ethereal - essentially a typical geek - but at one point about 2/3 of the way through the conversation, the others asked him to weigh in. 'Yes', was the first, and woefully inadequate answer, so he was prodded further. What followed was a fluid litany of nouns and verbs, half swallowed gutturally, only somewhat resembling sentence structure, emanating power and pride. My initial reaction was to choke back a chuckle - after all, here's a Dane named Roman trying to speak English - that seems like a train wreck waiting to happen. But let's be brutally honest here - when pressed, he could adequately attempt to meet me on my own language court. I couldn't even groan in Flemish - or whatever. Roman 1, privileged American weenie 0.

And as if to drive home the helplessness of my situation, at one point I was expounding vividly on a particular techno-brain-bubble, and it was apparently running right on by the Roman legion. So, Tommi (at least I could spell his name) starts speaking in squeaks, yaks and burtles, which are rebounded by Roman with what must have been humor and eloquence as everyone on the phone starts to laugh. Except me. The village idiot. Then, as if to save me from my own self-humiliation, Tommi translates back a very astute response.

Maybe I'm being a little harsh, but it is rather sad that those of us in this country, in general, don't make an effort to learn the languages of others. We certainly don't need to be completely fluent, as Roman showed me today, but we should be able to show at least an effort to be conversational. I couldn't do that. It felt shameful.

Oh, and of course a short trip to the Wikipedia points out that I am truly ignorant - they speak Danish in Denmark (duhh....).