Why do I feel like an 'illiterate' even though it's the same language?
Ever had this experience?
It's like a North Indian going to Chennai, confidently walking into a restaurant, only to stare at terms like “Liang Zai” or “Fei Sha Zou Nai” on the menu and instantly feel like all those years of education were a waste. Even though it’s all written in the same script, why do the combinations seem like gibberish?
This awkwardness of 'same language, different meaning' is actually a curious moment experienced worldwide. It reminds us that language is far more than just words in a dictionary; it’s a living, breathing culture, vibrant with everyday life.
"Two Wings of a Bird," but it sounds like 'Alien Speak'
I have a friend whose native language is Spanish. Recently, she went to 'Little Havana' in Miami to sample authentic Cuban cuisine. She thought there would be no problem, after all, Cuba and her homeland, Puerto Rico, are culturally like brothers, dubbed 'two wings of a bird,' and even their flags look like twins.
However, when she confidently picked up the Spanish menu, she was stumped.
She couldn't understand a single dish name on the menu, such as aporreado
, chilindrón
, rabo estofado
. She felt like a 'fake' native speaker, holding a Spanish dictionary.
What exactly was going on?
Every Dish Name, a Cultural Code
Only later did she discover that behind each of these strange words lay a story of history, customs, and life. They weren't isolated words, but tiny keys to Cuban culture.
Here are a few interesting examples:
-
"Moors and Christians" (Moros y Cristianos): This dish literally translates to 'Moors and Christians.' It’s essentially black beans and rice. But in Cuba, people use black beans to represent the darker-skinned Moors and white rice to represent Christians, commemorating a complex 800-year history in Spain. A simple bowl of rice, yet you’re consuming the memory of an entire nation.
-
"Ripe Ones" (Maduros): This refers to fried, sweet, ripe plantains. Interestingly, in my friend’s hometown, they call it
amarillos
(meaning 'yellow'). The same item has different names among neighbours, just like how we might call potatoes 'aloo' in one region and 'batata' in another, or tomatoes 'tamatar' versus 'tomato'. -
"Corn Tamale in a Pot" (Tamal en cazuela): If you assume this is the familiar Mexican tamale, wrapped in leaves, you’d be completely mistaken.
en cazuela
means 'in a pot.' This dish is actually all the ingredients for making tamales – cornmeal, pork, spices – simmered together in a single pot to form a rich, thick corn paste. It’s like a 'deconstructed' tamale, with every spoonful a delightful surprise.
You see, that's the charm of language. It's not a rigid set of rules, but a fluid, imaginative creation. Those words that confuse you are precisely the most authentic entry points to understanding a place.
From 'Not Understanding' to 'Connecting'
That moment of confusion is actually an excellent reminder: True communication begins with curiosity, not just language proficiency.
We often assume that mastering a foreign language will enable seamless communication with the world. But the reality is, we will always encounter 'last mile' barriers posed by culture, dialects, and slang.
Imagine, in that Cuban restaurant, if you could instantly grasp the story behind 'Moors and Christians,' wouldn't your conversation with the restaurant owner immediately become more lively and warm? You'd no longer just be a tourist placing an order, but a friend genuinely interested in their culture.
This is precisely the original intention behind creating Intent. It's not just a chat translation tool, but a cultural bridge. Its built-in AI translation helps you understand slang and cultural contexts that you won't find in dictionaries, enabling you to transcend the superficial layers of language and engage in truly deep conversations with friends from any country.
Next time, when you face an unfamiliar menu or a new friend from a different cultural background, don't be afraid of 'not understanding' or 'not hearing.'
Turn confusion into curiosity. Because true connection isn't about making the world speak in a way familiar to us, but about us bravely, and with the right tools, understanding their world.
Ready to embark on a more profound conversation?