A Language Puzzle

Here's a puzzle, or at least it puzzles me. My knowledge of Greek, and of Italian, is just about sufficient to make me a nuisance. When I try to speak either I stumble, I falter, I grasp for words, to the extent that the transaction takes twice as long as it would if I didn't try at all. But the response of the Italians differs from that of the Greeks. The Italians, once they see what is up, will just default to English--often bad, but better than my Italian, and at least they seem to know how to improvise and muddle along. Or worse, they just rattle along in Italian, ignoring the fact that I'm catching one word out of three.

The Greeks, by contrast, will go along with the game. If I want to practice, they will help. I rented as hotel room once from a lady who answered every one of my phrasebook phrases with a phrasebook response of her own. A few years back I spent a week on the Isle of Spetses and dined at the same little rooftop cafe every night. The proprietor figured out pretty quickly what I was up to, and every night turned into a lesson. But he was always a model of tact: he spoke slowly, enunciated clearly, introduced new words at a measured pace, and all the time pretended that I really knew what I was doing.

What's going on here? Does it have something to do with a tradition of hospitality--i.e., that you don't screw around with strangers? I have also, for example, found Greeks to be among the most honest of hosts--a Greek restauranteur once chased me down the street because I had overpaid him by a factor of ten ("you must be more careful with your money," he scolded). I don't mean to romanticize here; Greeks can drive you nuts in their own ways. But for this kind of tact and courtesy--and honesty--I'd give them high marks.