I immigrate from the Netherlands to Canada when I am sixteen. I marry a Canadian several years later, and quite a few years after that, we go to visit my extended family in the Netherlands. My husband does not speak Dutch and my family is too shy to speak English, so I do a lot of translating.

One day, my uncle and cousin take us for a scenic drive. My cousin speaks almost non-stop, giving a World War II history lesson. I’m getting more and more frustrated about having to try and translate the torrent of information. At one point, we stop at a local fast food restaurant, and he continues talking. I finally say:

Me: “Okay, I am not translating anything for the next thirty minutes. I need some time to relax and maybe have my own thoughts in my head, so stop! No more!”

He turns around and looks at me.

Cousin: “That’s okay. I will just continue in English.”

And he did. Apparently, he had lived in London for some time and spoke English just fine.