A Little Mistake…A Rose by Any Other Name
I have come to a pretty clear conclusion from my four months of travel in Asia -the name Shannon is not common, normal, or in some cases, even comprehensible. It’s completely normal in the United States…and Ireland for that matter!…but Asia is a whole other story. I dare-say that the theme for my journey over the past seven months could be summarized as “The Changing Names of Shannon” or, perhaps even more appropriate: “The Complete Bastardization of my Name.”
Where did this start you may ask? Well, in Australia actually. Shannon is a normal name there too, but whereas we have few nicknames associated with my name, Aussies shorten everything. Shazza is the nickname for Sharon and Shannon according to my Aussie friends…but because I could clearly communicate with the Aussies my disdain for nicknames -that was squashed pretty easily.
The Asian adaptations though are harder to correct.
In Laos and Cambodia introductions were often met blinking eyes when I said my name -some people wouldn’t even try. Others would enthusiastically repeat my name with emphatic nods and smiles and then seek confirmation. Conversations went as follows:
Hi, I’m Shannon!
Ah, Channon! Hi!
No, it’s Shannon actually, shhhhhhhh-annon.
Ah, Schaaannon.
Hmm. Um, well, no actually. Shannon, with a “SHHHH” at the beginning.
This could go on for, no joke, several minutes before I was forced to abandon all hope and just smile, nod, and ignore.
When I hopped on my flight out of Bangkok I these vivid imaginations of a whole country that may perhaps have the “sh” sound in their language.
And they did!
Sadly, though, they couldn’t master the “nnon” part.
Helen was lucky because a major Bollywood star from the eighties shares the same name -the Indians shared this little tidbit of knowledge nearly every time she introduced herself…apparently Bollywood Helen had a mean shimmy…have yet to confirm if Cousin Helen has the same skill.
Anyhow, Deepa, the woman who failed horribly at teaching us henna lessons, enthusiastically sing-songed my name as a greeting whenever we arrived at her house. The only problem…it wasn’t my name. What was funny about Deepa was that she could say my name properly with prompting and repetition.
…but then would immediately revert back to an echoing “SHELLEN!” by the next day…
It was hard to correct her after awhile because she said it with such conviction -she really thought she had it down!
The last of the notable name butcherings was at the hands of Amrit, the young man who ran our guesthouse in Pharping. On our first encounter with Amrit he was so stumped by my name that he didn’t even repeat it. Instead, he decided that Helen’s name was sufficient for the both of us.
For several days he would refer to me as Helen even though he knew full well that wasn’t my name…we were the “Helen” unit…a joint name for the two of us. Fortunately, it didn’t take him long to hear the other girls say my name enough to confidently begin deferring all issues and problems at the guesthouse to….wait for it….
Ssannon!!
I was greeted every morning with an enthusiast “Good morning, Ssannon.”
If I approached with a question: “Yes, Ssannon?!”
If breakfast was late: “Just two more minutes ok Ssannon?”
If we were late coming in at night (we rocked the boat with our curd runs at 8:30p): “Is that you Ssannon?”
It’s pretty funny in retrospect and Helen has been known to now pop out with any and all of these variations at some time during our trip…besides Helen though, the rest of you are forbidden…I don’t do nicknames unless you’re my mother…in that situation I have no choice since she birthed me…all others, not generally welcomed ;-)
