By Helvi Oosterman.
Foreigner’s Woes…
Years ago you actually had to go to ‘The Office of Births and Deaths’ to get your certificates, no on-line quick fixes in those days. So off I went to town, by bus and in my best attire.
Before setting my foot in the office, I whispered a little prayer: Dear God let the nice young apprentice clerk to be there today. No such luck; it was the dragon herself manning the boot; the fat lady that is. The word obese had not yet crept in our vocabulary or collected on our hips or thighs.
She was a large stern looking woman with equally forbidding looking glasses. As fairly new to the country I had practised what to say and how to say it: Could I have a birth certificate for my child, XXXX Oosterman; I added Oosterman with double ‘o’…
That was a mistake; she thought I was talking about double ‘w’. Those were kept close to the floor at the bottom of her huge filing cabinets, and she would have to bend down and she wasn’t very bendable. I could see that this could get very unpleasant, so I quickly uttered: Oosterman with two o’s, o, o…
Oh, oh, Oosterman, she muttered relieved. This was much better as the o’s were housed quite high in cabinet hierarchy, no unnecessary unsightly bending needed. Still, heart in my throat fearing further problems, I squeaked: It’s Oosterman with one ‘n’, not with two…like in German.
I don’t think she heard or understood me. Thank God
Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle 
H, still here. Reading the posts with pleasure. Can’t comment on all of them but be assured I do read them all.
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Hung, as I did not see you here or on Unleashed, I thought you might have gone to Indonesia to interview Chapelle…. 🙂
I wonder why Maddie has deserted us?
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I don’t think Maddie has deserted us, Helvi… I think she’s just a bit busy saving the planet… and more power to her!
She did drop into the Dot yesterday, very briefly, just to say ‘G’day’; I think she’ll be back as soon as she has a little more spare time.
But it’s amazing how much one does miss any of our friends when they do take a break from the Pigs’ isn’t it? I think it shows just how much of a sense of community has developed in this wonderful, virtual pub. Who’d have thought such a thing was even possible in e-space?
BTW, if Maddie doesn’t claim the honour of submitting the 500th post at the Dot, would you care to do so yourself? Last time I looked the score stood at 498…
And where’s Julian? Haven’t seen him in ages…
🙂
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asty, I was obediant and got the number up to 500!
Now Voice can delete some of the old ones and we can use the dot as a drop in centre,a market place or a coffee lounge…yes?
Forgot to log in as H, ignore the doppelganger, alter ego on the side!
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Finnish language looks harder than it is. Prepositions become word endings. On the table becomes one word,’ poydalla’.
Also the verbs indicate and include who or or how many, so I,You or we etc all become part of the verb.
So simple, isn’t it?
Ok, let me show you again. Everyone on the table first.
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And then there was -still is really- the problem of the european numbers, particularly the 1, the 4 and the 7.
Beaurocrats know everything so they mustn’t be told where they’re wrong; and, in any case, what does it matter if some bunch of european peasants think they’re wrong. What they put down with their mighty, unerring quills and what they stamp with their thunderous big stamps is correct and will stay correct till the end of time.
So the little bureaucrat wasn’t even listening to the little Greek man with the broken English when he said he, thebureaucrat, got the numbers all wrong.
My Certificate of Naturalization (oh, the nomenclature of the day!) now insists that I was born on the 27/4/1945 (couldn’t even get the 5 right!) and for years afterwards I had to persuade the various bureaucracies that it is th4 24/7/1945! The trouble I went through because of that little -no let’s use a real insult, here- le peti, petit bureaucrate refusing to listen to a little greek peasant who dared entered his office… sans un penne et sans un stamp de sceau! Comment osent il!
Greece, alas, in the thick of the fire and smoke of WWII (or ever before, I am told) never issued birth certificates with the whole date of birth noted thereon. Just the year -if you were lucky and if it so happened that the Town still had a Town Hall and a Mayor was still standing. But that, too was a boring story for the petit bureaucrat.
All the best with the migration process, you oosters!
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Atomou, you know, it’s no longer ‘Speak French Day’ and there’s no need for you to continue to speak French if you don’t want to… if I have answered your posts from yeterday in French today, it was solely for the sake of practice and out of love for the language…
🙂
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asty, if we start speaking French ad/or Finnish like gez on ato’s blog, we might frighten the last few posters away.
There is only a handful of us left here; what happened to Maddie, Jayell, Voice, Emmjay and Hung?
I was pleased to see granny, someone new.
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“Atomou, you know, it’s no longer ‘Speak French Day’”
NOW he tells me! I’ve spilled blood over them words, I’ll have vous sais!
Right, back to Greek then ey?
Ouzo!
Baklava!
Kalimera!
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asty, I forgot to tell you that Raili Simojoki, who writes on Unleashed about men and feminism has Finnish names, both first and second, so definitely Finnish background.
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I’m not surprised that Raili Simojoki has Finish names, Helvi; that red hair of hers is a dead giveaway of her Scandinavian origin… The fact that red hair is so prevalent in Europe (and even the rest of the world), really shows how far the Vikings spread Scandinavian culture…
I’ve been having quite an interesting discussion with young Raili on her ‘men and feminism’ blog over at Unleashed… Is that why you mentioned her?
🙂
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Gerard and I were having a Finnish Day, that’s all…not too many natural red heads in Finland…
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The less some people know, the more they seem to ‘know’…
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The bureaucrats could learn a great deal from the ancient guy called Socrates who said, “the reason the oracle said I am the wisest man on earth is because it knows that I know that I am not wise!”
And the thought came to pass through my mind: Do these bureaucrats know as much about themselves as they do about others? Hmmmm?
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ato, some years ago another bureacrat told gez firmly: Your name is Gerhard.
He protested, albeit very timidly: It says here on my Dutch birth certificate that my name is GERARDUS, and this saint’s name is in everyday language Gerard.
I don’t think he was able to convince the stubborn clerk about his own given name.
I was trying to be helpful and suggested that perhaps the Aussie diminituve form ‘Gezza’ could be adopted. He looked at me dismissivly…
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Don’t you just love the way bureaucrats know more about you than you do yourself? Bloody marvellous innit?
😉
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Is that you there Helvi on the left of that picture. The tall slim one?
Still clearly recognizable.
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