Virtual Laughter.

When you learn a language the text books and dictionaries can only take you so far.  For the most part, those prove to give you the basis of the understanding the language.  But, as anyone who speaks multiple languages can tell you, really learning the language comes from use and conversing with natives.  The expression that natives always know it best certainly rings true . . .  Such is the case with Turkish.

A few years back a friend, who I had just met, was being discussed to me by someone else.  She was a few feet away, and someone (I can't remember who) wanted to know how we met.  This person kept calling my new friend Pembe.  Um, pembe means pink.  So I was utterly confused because I knew my friend as

Gözde.  So, in my slightly inebriated American mind, I kinda thought pink was some kind of slang name for women . . . you know, kinda like peaches is used in the American South.  Now that I think back on it, I bet I either came across as a blathering idiot or an absolute drunk.  Drunk is more fun, let's go with that. 

Point: Gözde's first name is Pembe.  I learned this fact about two weeks ago.  

Laugh.  I am.  But, my Turkish blunders get better.  

Last night in a conversation on Facebook a friend put a status up about the possible loss of İbrahim Tatlıses.  He had been shot in the head and was in critical care.  Short end, my friend Can had posted this status and I asked if it was a recent loss because his original statement said something about a sad loss.  My weak Turkish needed a little clarification and reinforcement.  We conversed, and then his friend Umut piped into the party.

This is where I should tell you that İbrahim Tatlıses translates to Abraham Sweetvoice (tatlı is sweet and ses is voice).  Umut is also the noun form of hope.  Anyone seeing where this one is heading?


Umut made, what I now know to be, a common joke about Abraham Sweetvoice and Can responded with "Umut defol."  Before I translate those last words I should make a note about Turkish grammar. 


Turkish grammar doesn't follow the same rules as English.  Commas don't have the same hard functioning rules as they do on this side of the ocean.  So, in English that statement would be written "Umut, defol."  Some Turks will write it that way too.  So, that missing comma confused me more than my bad Turkish.  I translated it as loosing hope, since translation requires a bit of flexibility.  This translation came from my dictionary and own usage.  Snicker.  Someone said that's what I get for using Google translation, but the translator is worse as it said "get out of hope."  Yea, that makes a lot of sense. 


Then Can's friends started clicking like on my comment, which asked "Does 'Umut defol' mean loosing hope?"  


I had moved onto other things, so I wasn't following the conversation as translation takes me awhile.  But then Can told me what "Umut defol" meant and said that my comment was hilarious.  Yup, I had inadvertently made a joke and didn't know it.  So what does "Umut defol" mean?


Umut, get lost.   


Ha ha ha ha. 

Upside, I now know how to use the word defol and I'm funny in any language.  Or, in this case, I'm the butt of virtual laughter.