A Gyro in Wroclaw

When I went to my cousin's wedding in Wroclaw, Poland, my cousins decided to take me to a local "Gyro" restaurant.

The place wasn't large but was clean.  The name was something like "New York Cafe" and the "Gyros" served were unusual compared to the gyros I had in Paris and in Baltimore's Greektown.

The gyro had corn, pickles, and cabbage in it and the sauce, which I assumed would be tsatziki, was something else.

It turns out, it was something like this...






It was delicious, but I was unprepared for it to be different.  Now, looking back it makes sense as being a bit of a "fusion food" gyro made to appeal to Polish palates.  This is, after all, done by all ethnic groups when cooking in a different country.

When I showed my Greek bosses the flyer from New York Cafe and told them about it, they started ranting about how "nothing was sacred with those people" and started yelling in Greek.  I don't know what that was about, I won't even pretend to care.  After all, Greek is not Polish is not West African.

Na razie...

Or, perhaps, I should say Smacznego...

Greek Is Not Polish is Not West African

When I worked for a Greek family a few years ago, I had a few times when words from Greek or another language would be discovered to be similar to a word in Polish.

One day, my Greek boss was on the phone talking very loudly to a customer.  I knew the customer was an older Greek gentleman, having met him before myself.

From his office, I heard, "Rucha!  Rucha!  Ochi!  Rucha! (blahblahblah Greek words)  Ru-cha!"

The first time, I didn't pay attention, I had a lot of work to do.

The second time, I blinked, turned and shook my head.  No, I heard that wrong.

The third time, No, it must mean something else.  Those Greek words sometimes don't sound the way I think they do, especially with an American accent.

The fourth time, No, No, I'm hearing this right, I think.

After a few minutes of hearing this word again and again, I couldn't take it anymore.  I walked into his office and said, "Excuse me, but can you please tell me what Rucha means in Greek?"

He stopped, glanced at my very red blushing face, covered the phone's mouthpiece and said, "Clothes.  Why?"

I started laughing, shook my head, and said, "That's not what it means in Polish.  OK, thanks."

I later explained to him what it meant when he wasn't on the phone.

There is a rhyme, a very ugly one, in Polish.  Mucha rucha karalucha.  I don't want to translate it...

I suppose this was the equivalent of when I was yelling at a man on the phone from a country in Africa who's nickname was Mouni.  A group of Greek men came in the office mid-conversation, paused, looked at me with confusion and then smiled, saying something in Greek to each other while laughing, and went to meet with one of the Greek family I worked for. 

Later, I was told that "Mouni" in Greek means a particular body part.  Super, no?

It explained why those Greek men wanted me to eat lunch with them later that day.  And asked if my blonde hair was natural.  I have to wonder what they thought with me wearing a wedding ring and saying that.  Or, perhaps, it's better not to wonder.

Have you ever had a situation where an innocent word in one language was taken to mean something inappropriate in another language?

Na razie...