So there we were my blessed little daughter, my protector, and me enjoying the sunshine of a warm noon day on the Marori esplanade when my daughter spotted what she loved, a dog! It was a tiny Yorkshire terrier nestled in the arms of a young boy. The boy was sitting at a table alone at a busy outdoor restaurant. Olivia approached and began making every petting motion and gesture imaginable desperately trying to intimate that she wanted to pet the little canine. But the boy just stared back with his big blue eyes and continued to do what my daughter so wanted to, pet the dog.

It was at this time that I, the interlocutor, decided to call Slava for a quick little Russian lesson.

          "Slava," I asked. "How do I say? Can I pet your dog?" After some minutes of Slava slowly and patiently repeating the simple phonemes I think I got it.

          "Po gla dit. Po gla dit." I repeated into my cell phone until Slava was satisfied that I could be understood. Ok, I thought to myself now it is time for action. I walked to the table opposite the boy surrounded by four adults whom I ASSUMED to be the boy's parents. I approached the large balding man closest to the boy and began my career as a failed Russian translator.

          "Po gla dit. Po gla dit," I inquired. The man’s eyes became big and round and with out a moments hesitation he began uttering something in disgust.

   "Obviously we have a little misunderstanding here," I responded (in english). Something a real translator would have no troubles ironing out. But I in my fledging translator state did not understand. And I might add, neither did he!

          Now I may not be the coolest bottle in the Russia vodka chiller but when I looked up I noticed that the boy's mother had arrived at the table next to us with a treat for her child. Olivia was now petting the dog and I was coming to the realization that there is a lot of homophobia in Latvia. Wow, this guy really had the wrong idea. He stood up puffing his chest and I retreated quickly and summoned my protector, the mighty, cuddly, Olivia. I stood behind her hoping that obviously a parent of this beautiful child could not have meant what this man thought I meant.

          "Can I pet your dog?" No you can't pet my @#&!ing DOG! What dog? You fool! I later discovered that "Po gla dit" has many subtle meanings, none of them manly; to caress for example. “May I caress your dog?” Ok this is not good.

So let this be a lesson to you. Always travel with a translator or more importantly. A protector, thanks Olivia, you saved my skin on this one.