Recently I met the head of a local tennis association, one Irina Shirinkina. Her last name translates as "fly," as in the fly on one's pants, and so I catalogued her as "Lady Fly" in my messy Russo-English mind.
Now, I have been thinking about a column on "talking" last names for sometime, but can't get past the reality that it would have little practical use. So I let Lady Fly inspire me in a more survivalist direction: i.e. what you do when you see that someone's ширинка (fly) is расстёгнута (undone).
How do you signal your vis-a-vis without attracting too much attention from others? Well, the simple way is to say, "у тебя ширинка расстёгнута" ("your fly is undone"). But that's too easy and banal. The generally-accepted humorous euphemism is – "закрой свою калитку" ("close your wicket gate"). And by accepted I mean sanctioned by Nobel Prize laureate Mikhail Sholokhov. Witness the scene from Поднятая целина (Virgin Soil Upturned), at left. In the episode, the forgetful Yakov Lukich runs into grandpa Shchukar (дед Щукарь) after getting hurriedly dressed and rushing out of the house, puzzled by the smiles of women who pass him on the street.
- Стареешь, милушка Яков Лукич? - участливо спросил он, останавливаясь. - А ты молодеешь? Что-то по тебе не видно! Глаза красные, как у крола, и слезой взялись. - Глаза у меня слезятся от ночных чтениев. На старости годов читаю и прохожу разное высшее образование, но держу себя в аккурате, а вот ты забывчив стал прямо по-стариковски... - Чем же это я забывчив стал? - Калитку дома позабыл закрыть, скотину пораспускаешь... - Семён закроет, - рассеянно сказал Яков Лукич. - Твою калитку Семён закрывать не будет... Поражённый неприятной догадкой, Яков Лукич опустил глаза долу, ахнул и проворно заработал пальцами…» "What, you getting old, Yakov Lukich?" he asked, sympathetically, stopping in the street. "And you're getting younger? That's not what I see when I look at you! Eyes as red as a rabbits, and you're tearing up." "My eyes are tearing up from nighttime reading. In my old age I have been reading and pursuing higher education, but I haven't let myself fall apart, while you seem as absentminded as an old man…" "How exactly have I gotten forgetful?" "You forgot to shut your gate and the cattle is escaping…" "Semyon will shut it," Yakov Lukich replied absent-mindedly. "Semyon will not shut your gate…" Suddenly guessing at the unpleasantness, Yakov Lukich lowered his gaze, gasped and quickly set his fingers to work.
- Стареешь, милушка Яков Лукич? - участливо спросил он, останавливаясь.
- А ты молодеешь? Что-то по тебе не видно! Глаза красные, как у крола, и слезой взялись.
- Глаза у меня слезятся от ночных чтениев. На старости годов читаю и прохожу разное высшее образование, но держу себя в аккурате, а вот ты забывчив стал прямо по-стариковски...
- Чем же это я забывчив стал?
- Калитку дома позабыл закрыть, скотину пораспускаешь...
- Семён закроет, - рассеянно сказал Яков Лукич.
- Твою калитку Семён закрывать не будет...
Поражённый неприятной догадкой, Яков Лукич опустил глаза долу, ахнул и проворно заработал пальцами…»
"What, you getting old, Yakov Lukich?" he asked, sympathetically, stopping in the street.
"And you're getting younger? That's not what I see when I look at you! Eyes as red as a rabbits, and you're tearing up."
"My eyes are tearing up from nighttime reading. In my old age I have been reading and pursuing higher education, but I haven't let myself fall apart, while you seem as absentminded as an old man…"
"How exactly have I gotten forgetful?"
"You forgot to shut your gate and the cattle is escaping…"
"Semyon will shut it," Yakov Lukich replied absent-mindedly.
"Semyon will not shut your gate…"
Suddenly guessing at the unpleasantness, Yakov Lukich lowered his gaze, gasped and quickly set his fingers to work.
There is also an even more poetic idiom, закрой свою голубятню (close your pigeon coop), which dates to the 1950s or 1960s, when there was a pigeon coop in every Moscow courtyard.
Delicate situation number two. Suppose during a meal you are telling a joke or a funny story, and suddenly you realize the next passage is not for the weak-stomached. The Russian insertion is "не к столу будет сказано" ("this may not be a topic for the dinner table"), and then you can continue with your story. If your companions don't appreciate your crude joke with its less-than appetizing details, they will sarcastically retort, "Приятного аппетита" ("Bon appetit!")
Situation number three. How about the Russian equivalent for "I have to see a man about a dog (horse)," the euphemistic non-sequitor to poorly disguise that one needs to seek out a rest room? The Russian equivalent is cходить до ветру – literally "go to the wind," though "go catch the wind" would be more poetic and a tribute to Scottish singer-songwriter Donovan's "Catch the Wind" (1965). According to one internet dictionary of Russian phraseology, cходить до ветру is defined as: вежливый вариант выражения "сходить в уборную" (a polite alternative for the expression, "go to the bathroom").
This idiom was coined long ago by Russian peasants, who did not have indoor plumbing and had to справить нужду (take care of business) in the open air. Today, the phrase мне надо cходить до ветру or, the shorter version, мне надо до ветру is immensely popular with Russian tourists traveling about the country by bus, as a way of announcing they are getting off for a toilet break.
Feel free to use it in similar circumstances here, should you find yourself on a bus sans facilities. Just make sure to close your калитка after you are done taking care of business.
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