When I was in Europe several years ago, I needed no one to interpret for me. I didn't require a handbook--even in the most remote places. No Bulgarian to English translation for this chick. Because everyone there spoke English. Well not literally everyone. Not the random five-year old child in Brussels. That's not what I mean.
But everywhere I went from Paris to Rome to Zagreb, there were a ton of folks who knew English. And I don't mean that they knew basic, tourist instructional English either. I mean, they know how to expertly conjugate verbs and how to hold a decent length conversation. I mean that they actually read and write in the language which has become as prevalent as the Euro.
And it's kind of a shame. I mean, because I so wanted the rich experience of distending my comfort zone, (as opposed to expanding it :) I wanted to work hard to understand my European fellowman. I wanted that thing.
I wanted to feel that I'm awesome because I can survive in a land where everyone speaks something foreign and where I am a guest. On my best behavior. I wanted to be different.
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