When I was 3 or 4, I visited Crete with my parents. During that time I was sent to a holiday club, where I made friends with a Russian girl despite us not being able to understand each other.
The Sun beats down on my head, and I babble excitedly at the brightly coloured towers in front of me, gushing out cool jets of water and sending people flying through the air, screaming in delight. My tiny two-piece swimming costume squeaks as I waddle over to where Dad is standing, more grumpy than amused despite being in a land of joy and colour.
"Can I go on the waterslide?"
He couldn't care less, so I take the silence as happy agreement and sidle over to splash into a world underwater, ignoring the foreign chatter around me - it is a visit without words, as in this mysterious place I don't understand their words.
It doesn't bother me in the slightest, and I take the thrill of plunging into sparkling azure without even a thought in the direction of the fact that I can't understand anyone around me.
Crete is a beautiful island full of waterparks and glowing stone, where I can roll around in emerald grass and for once bask in Mum's laughter and smiles that are becoming rarer by the day. But it's not all swimming and tumbling down slippery slopes, and I find myself abandoned in a scary room with a dazzling red carpet and hard plastic chairs; my parents are nowhere to be seen.
"Holiday Club," are words I've heard them saying through the day, and I didn't take any notice but now I wish I had. Chills run up my spine and I decide that a Holiday Club doesn't sound like somewhere I want to be at all.
But before I can make any protest, I make eye contact with another girl sat next to me - she looks to be about three or four, around my age. Her chestnut curls glimmer in the light, fuchsia pink jacket discarded on the floor beneath her, and she beams a dazzling smile.
We're best friends now.
I smile back. "Hello?"
She makes a noise in return - perhaps she hasn't grasped the concept of speech yet? - and I giggle.
When Mum finally comes back, we are babbling happily to each other. "Mummy, I've made a new friend!"
She smiles and turns to my friend's parents, also having trouble communicating with them which confuses me. Mum can talk to anyone. Even the mean parents.
"Russia?" she gestures, and they nod, smiling. I don't know what Russia is, but it sounds very nice.
"Mummy, she can't speak."
"She can speak, she's from another country. She's speaking another language."
"Oh. Can I speak another language?"
She laughs at that. "When you're older you can."
The next few days pass in a blur. It doesn't matter about the language barrier, because she's nice and happy and she smiles at me and we hug each other. I've made a new best friend and I didn't even need words.
The Sun beats down on my head, and I babble excitedly at the brightly coloured towers in front of me, gushing out cool jets of water and sending people flying through the air, screaming in delight. My tiny two-piece swimming costume squeaks as I waddle over to where Dad is standing, more grumpy than amused despite being in a land of joy and colour.
"Can I go on the waterslide?"
He couldn't care less, so I take the silence as happy agreement and sidle over to splash into a world underwater, ignoring the foreign chatter around me - it is a visit without words, as in this mysterious place I don't understand their words.
It doesn't bother me in the slightest, and I take the thrill of plunging into sparkling azure without even a thought in the direction of the fact that I can't understand anyone around me.
Crete is a beautiful island full of waterparks and glowing stone, where I can roll around in emerald grass and for once bask in Mum's laughter and smiles that are becoming rarer by the day. But it's not all swimming and tumbling down slippery slopes, and I find myself abandoned in a scary room with a dazzling red carpet and hard plastic chairs; my parents are nowhere to be seen.
"Holiday Club," are words I've heard them saying through the day, and I didn't take any notice but now I wish I had. Chills run up my spine and I decide that a Holiday Club doesn't sound like somewhere I want to be at all.
But before I can make any protest, I make eye contact with another girl sat next to me - she looks to be about three or four, around my age. Her chestnut curls glimmer in the light, fuchsia pink jacket discarded on the floor beneath her, and she beams a dazzling smile.
We're best friends now.
I smile back. "Hello?"
She makes a noise in return - perhaps she hasn't grasped the concept of speech yet? - and I giggle.
When Mum finally comes back, we are babbling happily to each other. "Mummy, I've made a new friend!"
She smiles and turns to my friend's parents, also having trouble communicating with them which confuses me. Mum can talk to anyone. Even the mean parents.
"Russia?" she gestures, and they nod, smiling. I don't know what Russia is, but it sounds very nice.
"Mummy, she can't speak."
"She can speak, she's from another country. She's speaking another language."
"Oh. Can I speak another language?"
She laughs at that. "When you're older you can."
The next few days pass in a blur. It doesn't matter about the language barrier, because she's nice and happy and she smiles at me and we hug each other. I've made a new best friend and I didn't even need words.
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