Half an hour into rolling around in the grass, I realised that my date didn’t speak English. We had met at a random bar in Leicester Square the night before and somehow I’d failed to understand that when he’d said he was Italian he had really meant Italian – as in born and raised, just moved to London, not a word of English spoken Italian. We had arranged to meet in Hyde Park on a steaming July afternoon and after several attempts at exchanging pleasantries with the aid of Google Translate, we’d given up and just settled for making out in the grass for the rest of the afternoon. I never saw him again after that day and really, how could I have?
Being able to communicate with anyone is crucial, but somehow even more so when it comes to people of different cultures. My encounter with the Italian man can be laughed off as harmless and maybe even a bit romantic. But usually – and sadly – it’s rarely the case that an inability to engage in fluid conversation with another person ends in kisses and funny little anecdotes.
Read the full article on the Gal-dem website.