While I was in the Sierra coffee shop this late afternoon working on e-mail, in walked a little Kyrgyz girl who was simply a ball of fire and personality. I'm guessing she was about 12, and she claimed the name Elmira, though I think that she first gave me a different Kyrgyz name. She charmed and amused the barista. Finally she got the courage to talk to me. (My reading glasses gave me away as a foreigner. Nobody here wears reading glasses in public.) I had a hell of a time understanding her. First she asked, «Где вы пошли?», which means "At where you went?" in Russian, but what she was trying to say was, "Where are you from?" It was vastly amusing. Here she is from some little Kyrgyz town, but she has blown into Bishkek like a tropical storm, determined to make herself known. Eventually we were joined as well by two bartenders from the adjoining Barclay's Pub, who also couldn't stop laughing. She asked me ten thousand questions about my family and was decimated to learn that I wasn't married and had no children. When I talked about my niece and nephew, she confused the words with grandchildren. And then again when she heard me talk about «дочь моей сестры» "the daughter of my sister", she said, "Wait! You said you didn't have children!" The barista had to explain to her the "of" construction in Russian. It was marvelous. I had never encountered a child before whose Russian was so weak, and as a linguist it was great fun.

Then she wanted to know about languages. Do I speak English? Yes, I do. Do I have a sister? Yes, she lives in Canada. Where is Canada? It's north of America. (She didn't understand the last bit; the bartenders explained it.) Can I sing her a song in English? I can: I sang her the first verse of the theme to "Gilligan's Island." Then she told me I have beautiful eyes. Can't fault her there... Then she asked if I knew any other languages? Yes, Spanish. Can you sing me something in Spanish? I couldn't remember anything in Spanish, but I could recite "En enero hace frío..." which pleased her mightily. And can I sing in German? I can: I sang her Zigeunerleben. And then I coerced her into singing something, which she did supposedly in German, although I'd be damned if I could recognize a single German word. And the tune was Billy Boy. Well, of course, I had to sing "Billy Boy" in English. So it was an afternoon of singing and laughing with a child and a barista and two bartenders.

I love these moments. First off, it teaches a young Kyrgyz girl that foreigners aren't scary. Second, it teaches the locals (in this case the barista and the bartenders) that foreigners are kind to children and have a sense of humor and can take themselves not too seriously. This is one of the reasons I think that good-hearted bilingual Americans should travel as much as possible. If you aren't bilingual but you are still kind to all you meet, then you can still travel and make a good impression. But if you want to travel abroad and want everything abroad to be like it is in the US, then maybe you should stay home. You haven't grown up enough yet to leave the American womb.