Första i serien: Viola IlmaDen första gången jag bodde i New York var mellan 1976 och 1982, som barn, och då gick jag på UNIS, den United Nations International School. Där fanns bara en till person som pratade flamländska som jagAllright already, I relent. Tough crowd. Here is the translation of my Swedish homework for the week:
The first time I lived in New York, between 1976 and 1982, as a child, I went to school at UNIS, the United Nations International School. There was only one other kid who spoke Flemish like me, or so I remember. His name was Kore, and his father was an artist. We weren’t friends exactly, but our parents knew each other.
I thought Kore was a little wild, but I also felt a little jealous. His father died suddenly in 1977, and eventhough this was tragic, it seemed to me like he now had a very free life — that he could do as he pleased. And he lived in the exotic Greenwich Village, while my family and I lived in the boring upper east side.
In 1980 we were 11 years old, but while he knew about CBGBs and The Ramones, I still thought the B52s were a type of airplane. And when John Lennon was murdered in December of 1980 I did not know who he was, eventhough I had a favorite opera, Carmen, and a favorite conductor, Herbert von Karajan.
Kore’s father, Jan Yoors, had had a very interesting life. When he was 12 he had run away from home to travel with the Roma. Later he would write a book about the Roma, and it is to this day one of the few books that describes their life from an insider’s perspective.
During WWII he acted as a liaison between the Allies and Roma who were behind Nazi lines. In 1943 he was even arrested and condemned to death by the Gestapo, but managed to escape. After the war he went to London, where he learned the art of tapestry. In 1950 he went to New York, where he established himself as an artist. His life in Greenwich Village was bohemian, perhaps inspired by the Roma; he had two wives, for example. When Jan Yoors died in 1977 he left behind many full-scale tapestry patterns, which his wives continue to weave (interesting link, this one) to this day, in the studio in the Village that I visited in the 70s. Yoors’ art is perhaps not as hot as it once was just now — massive tapestries were all the rage in the huge lobbies of the skyscrapers that sprouted in the 60s and 70s, so perhaps they might now remind some of corporate art, even if I think they are very calming, peaceful works.
It must have been strange to be 12 years old and know that at this age one’s father had run away from home. Maybe that was why Kore acted wild, in my eyes. In the meantime, he too has become an artist. Like father like son, in the end.. Han hette Kore, och hans far var konstnär. Vi var inte kompisar, men våra föräldrar kände varandra.
Jag tyckte att Kore var lite vild, men jag kände mig också lite avundsjuk på honom. Hans far dog plötsligt 1977, och även om det var tragiskt, verkade han vara mycket friare än jag därefter. Han fick göra vad som helst. Och han bodde i exotiska Greenwich Village, medan jag och min familj var trygga på tråkiga upper east side.
1980 var vi 11 år gamla, men medan han kände till CBGBs och The Ramones, till exempel, trodde jag att B52:or var ett sorts flygplan. När John Lennon mördades i december 1980 visste jag inte vem han var, även om jag hade en favoritopera, Carmen, och en favoritdirigent, Herbert von Karajan.
Kores far, Jan Yoors, hade haft ett mycket intressant liv. När han var 12 år gammal hade han rymt hemifrån för att resa med romerna. Senare skulle han skriva en bok om romerna, och den är fortfarande en av få böcker som beskriver deras liv inifrån.
Under andra världskriget var han kontaktperson mellan de allierade och de romer som fanns i nazi delen av Europa. 1943 blev han anhållen av Gestapo, och dömd till döden, men han lyckades fly. Efter kriget reste han till London, där han lärde sig väva gobelänger. 1950 åkte han till New York, och blev en känd konstnär. Hans liv i Greenwich Village var bohemisk, som romernas; han hade, till exempel, två fruar. När Jan Yoors dog 1977 fanns många vävmönster kvar. Fruarna fortsätter än idag att väva dem i studion i Village, som jag besökte som barn i 70-talet. Hans konst är dock inte så populär som tidigare just nu. Stora väggbonader var jättepopulära i de Amerikanska bankernas lobbies på 70-talet, så nu erinrar det lite om företagskonst, även om jag tycker hans konst är helt rogivande.
Det måste ha varit konstigt att bli 12 år gammal och att veta att ens far hade rymt hemifrån i samma ålder. Kanske var det därför Kore var så vild. Jag hade ingen sådan förebild. Under tiden har han också blivit konstnär. Sådan far, sådan son.
Absolutely, I couldn’t agree more. Thanks for sharing.
Eeen de futur, eeet vud bebeetur vor non svenskas, eef yur blogg kon taynd seem ul tey ne oos traens lay shon. ick ick.
Excellent! What Matthew said!
Having critiqued your Swedish, it’s time to move on to your other languages.
There was only one other kid who spoke Flemish like me, or so I remember.
So in what way did you speak Flemish?
Thank you! You know/knew the most interesting people. Do you still keep in contact with Kore? I wonder what he’d say about you.
Matthew, the original is always better than the translation.
I did add the “or so I remember” bit because now that I think of it, I’m not sure his Flemish was all that good, actually. I think the thing we had in common was our Flemishness, rather.
Isn’t it wonderful? The worse my memory is, the better it gets.
I think what you mean to say is: There was only one other kid who spoke Flemish, AS I DID, or so I remember. Otherwise, it sounds like you’re referring to the quality of your Pleghmish, which, I would imagine, you remember as being excellent, seeing as you are a sort of Phlegm (when you want to be).
You’ll forgive the constant picking of grammatical nits. Aside from crusty babies, it’s all I think about these days.
Stefan
You should be so happy that so many of us read your site and care enough that we cannot unravel whatever language you happen to be writing in. You saw the translation the internet offered- nothing like your version at all.
You should read Stefan in the original Klingon.
Oh really Jame! Does he speak in that elegant and ruminative style of his of little Klingon classmates? Some whose parents were head honchos in the Starship enterprise diplomatic corps who had intersting hobbies?
I can just imagine…..
Matthew, You really are making grammar very unsexy these days. I used to be turned off by guys who have poor grammar but now I’m starting to think twice about guys who can’t tell me the difference between an adverb and an adjective.
When I originally read that sentence, I stumbled on the same thing but having spent enough time with Europeans and Americans with poor language skills, I’ve learned to overlook those things. Poo poo on you, Stefan writes very well in English though I do love your whatever message above.
Matthew: But it’s supposed to be a rushed translation. It was a rushed translation. Don’t you think I know what you wrote?
Michelle, how dare you damn me with faint praise.
That said, glad to have snide comments back on my blog. It was all quiet on the oestrian front for far too long around here.
Don’t you think I know what you wrote? Don’t I? I have no clue. Do you think you know what you wrote? I know English is your fifteenth language, but this is getting ridic.
BUT most important- have we all wished Stefan a belated yet very Happy Birthday?!!!!!!!!