I found the above article while searching for places in the world with the least number of English speakers per capita, coupled with the most extreme weather conditions imaginable (according to Gemini, Bulunkul has set a low temperature record of -63°F (-53°C) during one winter).
It contains the answer to an interesting problem, which simply stated is:
"How could someone potentially get help from complete strangers -- if both do not speak the same language?"
(You know, if you or someone you know is ever stranded in Bulkunkul, in the dead of winter!)
Here is that answer, as a quote from the article, in story form:
>"Eager to connect, I faced what seemed to be an insurmountable issue, a total lack of any form of communication. No common link.
On the afternoon of our second day, we were sitting in a circle with our host family, sipping yak’s milk tea while attempting to converse through gestures. We were searching for a common thread. After some time, I decided to bring out my Polaroid camera to take a photograph of the youngest daughter of the family. Hiding the developing picture in my hands, I kept blowing on the Polaroid, occasionally letting her peek at what was going on. To the young girl, it was absolutely magic.
Finally, I passed the image to her, and instantly, she rushed around the corner returning 15 seconds later with two of her friends. Frantically, she pointed from the picture to me, back to the picture, and back again to me.
A few minutes later, I found an eagerly excited but well-mannered queue forming around us. Over the next 48 hours, I took 120 photographs for the 306 people of Bulunkul.
Standing in what could conceivably be called the "town center", families were gathering quickly. First, it was mostly younger children that got involved. I would take a picture of one of them, and they would immediately run to grab their best friend. Their smiles were infectious, and their excitement spread like wildfire. But, before long, their parents and the other adults started getting involved as well. While their smiles were rarely as large on the camera, once the picture was in their hands, they often acted just as giddy as their kids. A few of them told me that this was the first photo they had ever seen of themselves. As a photographer, that might just be the most impactful thing someone can tell you."
I found the above article while searching for places in the world with the least number of English speakers per capita, coupled with the most extreme weather conditions imaginable (according to Gemini, Bulunkul has set a low temperature record of -63°F (-53°C) during one winter).
It contains the answer to an interesting problem, which simply stated is:
"How could someone potentially get help from complete strangers -- if both do not speak the same language?"
(You know, if you or someone you know is ever stranded in Bulkunkul, in the dead of winter!)
Here is that answer, as a quote from the article, in story form:
>"Eager to connect, I faced what seemed to be an insurmountable issue, a total lack of any form of communication. No common link.
On the afternoon of our second day, we were sitting in a circle with our host family, sipping yak’s milk tea while attempting to converse through gestures. We were searching for a common thread. After some time, I decided to bring out my Polaroid camera to take a photograph of the youngest daughter of the family. Hiding the developing picture in my hands, I kept blowing on the Polaroid, occasionally letting her peek at what was going on. To the young girl, it was absolutely magic.
Finally, I passed the image to her, and instantly, she rushed around the corner returning 15 seconds later with two of her friends. Frantically, she pointed from the picture to me, back to the picture, and back again to me.
A few minutes later, I found an eagerly excited but well-mannered queue forming around us. Over the next 48 hours, I took 120 photographs for the 306 people of Bulunkul.
Standing in what could conceivably be called the "town center", families were gathering quickly. First, it was mostly younger children that got involved. I would take a picture of one of them, and they would immediately run to grab their best friend. Their smiles were infectious, and their excitement spread like wildfire. But, before long, their parents and the other adults started getting involved as well. While their smiles were rarely as large on the camera, once the picture was in their hands, they often acted just as giddy as their kids. A few of them told me that this was the first photo they had ever seen of themselves. As a photographer, that might just be the most impactful thing someone can tell you."
My thoughts:
A picture truly is worth a thousand words!