Ok, I Confess...

Some things are difficult...like answering the phone.

My Persian is pretty minimal, and considering that I can't read the language in order to learn it, I've to listen and pick up what I already know in conjunction with new words - gauging the context to try to understand.
H, always an angel, consistently translates more complex conversations for me but when he's unavailable I'm left to my own devices.
The phone rings almost constantly since we've arrived. H's one and a half year absence seems to have left a veritable hole in the lives of many friends and family, and they call from morning til night: "Salam, chetori? To khubi? H kojas?"
I suppose I could just let the phone ring...but then, I'd not get to practice my language skills, which H's thirteen year old brother assures me is at least that of a five year old whenever I make fun of myself.

So, I just answered the phone - a friend of H's calling, Ali Someone (there are so many Ali's, my goodness!) and he asks how I am and I'm quite practiced at this little exercise so it goes well and I even manage to ask how he is in return. Then I try to tell him H is 'ballah' (up)...he asks me if I speak German.
Nope, not unless you count the bad words.
I ask "Parlez-vous Français?"
No dice.
I'm not even going to try in Kannada or Hindi.
So he does his best to recite his phone number in English and bids me khodafez.

In the meantime, H's darling mother is searching for a Persian primer for me....something along the lines of first grade should do just fine.