In the land of limited vocabulary

As mentioned in my last post, being an alien in another country and language, I have some idea of what it is like to handicapped by a limited vocabulary.  But what is it like to have an incomplete grasp of your own native language?

Last year, while on her quest to get into further studies (a quest that is ongoing by the way) one brave and fiesty orphan spent a whole day wandering around the city, asking everyone she met how she could find the POLITIKA on Boriseva.  When she finally returned home, unsuccessful, and explained how she had spent her time, we had to point out to her that there is no such building as the POLITIKA. 
    “What you were looking for is called a POLYCLINIC {local-speak for a medical clinic}” 
In all her 18 years of living, she had never heard this common word before, but had latched on to the familiar sounds in the word and come up with politika! (Unfortunately for her, there is also no street ‘Boriseva’ – she had misheard Mariseva!)

More recently, this past summer, little G came home from her first day at her new work.
   “How is it?” we asked. 
   “Good” she said, “but I want to work at a bank.” 
My colleague and I exchanged confused looks.  A bank? Where did that come from?
   “What do you mean?” we probed “What’s wrong with the restaurant?” 
It was time for a confused look on little G’s face. 
   “Nothing. I just want to work at a bank there.”…
Confusion reigned for several more minutes before the issue was resolved.
   “Ohhhhhh! A BANKET!” we finally intuited.  “You want to work at a banquet”. 
   “Yes – that’s what I said! A bank!”
Imagine how completely confuddled and befused she was when a few weeks later she was introduced to the BANKOMAT (local-speak for ATM)!  Poor girl.  I still don't think she really has those three words straight!