Losing Yourself in Translation

I spent my morning walk in Tel Aviv trying to figure out how to order coffee once I got to my destination. I kid you not. Until now, I kept things simple and ordered hafuch katan (literally, small upside-down coffee). I ordered that because I knew how to say it, not because it was the coffee I wanted. What I wanted is an iced Americano with tons of ice and a splash of almond milk. I practiced saying it in Hebrew to myself and out loud, over and over.

Photo cred. Kaffee Meister

Unfortunately, since my return to Israel, my insecurities have multiplied. The concern over language loomed large in my thoughts, particularly following the tumultuous whirlwind of my health the past few months. My grasp of Hebrew, once sturdy like Jerusalem stone, now feels tenuous, fraying at the edges. Though proficient in reading and writing, my Midwestern tongue betrays me with its stubborn accent, echoing the distinctive inflection of Tony Romo on a football Sunday. The elusive rolling R's remain beyond my grasp, serving as a subtle reminder to others of my linguistic limitations.

Despite my history of accomplishments, the trivial act of placing a coffee order now feels daunting.  A 22-year-old barista, exuding an air of effortless confidence, takes my coffee order, oblivious to the internal complexities it stirs. I also order a smoked salmon sandwich. I do a mini-dance when she does not respond to me in English.

With a sense of quiet resolve, I offer my name for the order—'Anna.' The nuances of my given name, 'Anne,' often morph into awkward mispronunciations. 'On' simply won't suffice here; 'Anna,' with its graceful cadence, feels oddly fitting, reminiscent of Eastern European charm.

Carefully choosing a spot with the least number of discarded cigarette butts between the wooden planks, I make myself comfortable. From my spot, there is an unobstructed view of the Mediterranean. Everything tastes better by the sea, particularly near a lighthouse.

Something as mundane as ordering coffee serves as a vivid reminder of the delicate balance I navigate between my past self and the present moment. I cannot help but smile at the realization that, at this stage of life, I am still honing the art of ordering coffee and losing myself in the translation of it all.

Lost in Translation, 2003

Deep down, I feel I embody the essence of a stylish, confident older woman. I don't find humor in stereotypical "old lady" jokes; instead, I take pride in reaching this milestone age. Could it be that my moments of uncertainty aren't just about getting older, but also about the challenges I face—like surviving a near-death experience, adjusting to life back home after living abroad, or feeling scared during wartime?

Contemplating our collective human journey, it is evident that we have all encountered situations that chip away at our confidence. Own your insecurities, challenge yourself everyday, and order your coffee. Humans are fascinating.

Have a confident week,

Dr.Annie K.