I really can’t avoid it anymore, it has become too much of a hindrance and embarrassment. Here I am, my fifth or sixth time in Germany (and my third long term stay), and the German I know is practically non-existant. Sure, most people speak English here, but less than you might think. And it makes me feel too guilty to make people translate everything for me. So I have started learning, and in case you are wanting to learn a language, I discovered a pretty awesome website for doing just that. It is called busuu.com, and I am really loving it. They offer a lot of different language courses, they run you through these really helpful exercises and lessons, and all the basic stuff is free. If I get to the point in my language learning where I will want to pay for some advanced stuff, I will probably go ahead and do so, I am that happy with the site. They also have an iphone app that runs through most of the same exercises and is likewise pretty sweet. While I don’t expect to become anything like fluent in my few weeks here, I actually have a much better expectation of what I will be able to accomplish, largely thanks to this site and my own guilt-and-frustration induced motivation. So ultimately, that makes me kind of happy. If I could change one thing about the site, it would probably be the visual design, as it looks a bit like a workbook one would have used in grade-school, but that is a small quibble given how great the instruction is.
The NY Times has a fascinating article this morning on a subject that I have given some thought to in the past, and have discussed with my polyglot friends at length. Namely, does language shape how we think? The author gives many compelling examples (and some counter examples) but the upshot is that yes the structure and vocabulary of our language can indeed influence to a significant degree how we see the world. One of the things I love about language is how lyrical and fluid it can be. Learning other languages, I have noticed how different we can be as people in those languages. It is as if we are playing the role of a Frenchman or Spaniard, and with friends of mine who speak multiple languages, we can confirm that the personalities we have in one language do not always line up so neatly with those in others and our native tongues. This is due to so many things. When we learn a language, we are very much influenced by those around us who are native speakers, and we pick up many of their mannerisms and choice of vocabulary. We also are in a different time and place in our own lives when first mastering communication in another tongue. And then there is the image of how we should speak floating in our heads, as imaginary and subjective as could be, but still an ideal we fix upon. Tie all these elements together and you have the making of a personality. And that personality may not always agree with your other ones. In some ways we are living in another world when we speak another language well, and that is quite a feat of magic, to be able to live several lives. One becomes most aware of these differences when they are pointed out by others, or when we need to translate something that really has no good equivalent in the other language. Sometimes I will be deep in a conversation in another language, and catch a glimpse of my other self. I sense the difference, but not necessarily how it “reads” to other people. For me the greatest value in learning other languages is that it forces us to conceptualize outside of our normal headspace, and expands not only our understanding of what is possible, but our connections to other people. It allows us to erase the hard edges of “other” and break down the fictitious wall between “us” and “them”.
One of the surprising and wonderful things about my neighborhood is that Spanish is spoken everywhere, on the street and in every shop and restaurant. I knew of course that some Spanish would be spoken here, but I had no idea how pervasive it is. It is spoken more than English. This mostly gives me a great opportunity to practice, and the people at the local hardware, laundry, and (of course) Mexican restaurant are really nice and helpful when it comes to improving my Spanish. In many other places (the shoe store and Radio Shack for example), they will switch from Spanish to English with me, even if I have heard them speaking Spanish and speak Spanish to them, which is a bit of a shame, as it leaves me wondering if my Spanish was so bad they felt the need to speak English, or if they just feel it is easier. In any event, I have learned (at least, according to the woman at the hardware store) that the majority of Spanish speakers in this part of Manhattan are Dominican and the next biggest group Mexican, with a fair amount of Puerto Ricans thrown into the mix. And there are a fair amount of word differences between the groups, which makes things even more interesting.
Just an FYI for those of you IMing in multiple languages. In English (or at least American English) form, we have our “lols” and occasional “hahas” to denote that we are laughing (or at least want the other person to think we are). In Spanish (or at least in Mexico, Peru, Spain, and Argentina) they tend towards imitating the sound of laughter (like our occasional “haha”), rather than saying they are laughing (like our “lol”) and thus will use the phonetic (for them) “jaja” or “jeje” when indicating delight. Brazilians, I have been learning over the past few days, will abreviate the Portuguese word for laughter (riso) and always put it in the plural “rs” (and sometimes “rsrsrsrs”) which is like saying “laughs” (or “laughslaughslaughslaughs”).
Anyone else out there with special knowledge care to share what some other languages use for this purpose?
Of course, the much derided smiley is universal. :)
At breakfast this morning I met a fascinating trio. An Argentine visiting from Barcelona, a Brazilian woman who lived many years in France and now runs a pousada in a small beach community south of Recife, and a French man from the Alps region. The French man spoke French and English, the Brazilian woman spoke French, English, Spanish and Portuguese, and the Argentine spoke Spanish and English, although he understood some French. So the conversation bounced between all of these languages and it was a lot of fun spending a little time with this group, evaluating how central the concept of saudade is to the identity of Brazilians, discussing music and travel, etc. I said my goodbyes and headed back to my room to pack, as I am headed back to Sao Paulo. I will meet my cousin Josh there in a few days and we will travel to Rio by rental car, stopping at several places along the way.
Speaking another language, such as Spanish, is not just about the words one uses. It is as much about the context of usage, and the “normal” ways in which something is said. And that usage can be very different from country to country, so that even if all the individual words are understood, the collection of them, falling outside the norms of expression, may not be. Witness (what should have been a simple) conversation at the bakery a few minutes ago:
“Hi, I’d like to buy a slice of one of your tarts”
“Ok, what kind?”
“What kinds do you have?”
“Meat, Chicken, Vegetable…”
“What kind of meat is in the meat tart?”
“Pieces”
“But what kind of meat? Beef?”
“Chopped into small pieces, with some vegetables”
“I understand it is in pieces, but WHAT KIND of meat is it?”
“Meat. It is meat. I don’t know what you mean…”
“What KIND of animal is the meat from?”
“Oh. Cow.”
“Thanks.”
Today at lunch, my friend Thomas pointed out to me incredibly (subsequently verified on the internet) that the Spanish word for “handcuffs” is “esposas“, the singular form of which (esposa) means “wife”.
I have to say, the Spanish word for railroad, Ferrocarriles, is one of the most difficult words to pronounce. I will consider it a major language victory if I ever am able to roll my r’s properly.
Many years ago in college, my friends and I would discuss an idea for a party that we never executed. The idea was that at the door to the party, everyone would be required to put on a blindfold, and spend the next couple of hours at the party meeting and talking to people without the aid of sight. Then at one point in the party, everyone would take off their blindfold and see the people that they had been talking to. The idea of course was that we all make a significant number of judgements about people based on nothing other than their appearance, and it would be a refreshing exercise to interact without this particular filter. Would we have picked the same people to talk to had the blindfold not been present? Or would we have retreated to our tried and true visual shorthand?
In a similar way, I have noticed that here in Mexico I have on a kind of blindfold, albeit linguistic. Since I am still in the fairly early stages of learning the language, a lot of subtlety related to slang, nuance, class, gesture and the like is lost on me. Because of this, the friends I have made here are a pretty divergent bunch. I am not at all certain that they would like or even get along with each other. I was aware of this phenomenon in France many years ago when I was in a homologous situation learning the ins and outs of the language. It takes a number of years in a culture before we make shorthand judgements of people. I am probably applying some of my American ones to people in a possibly inappropriate way here (although less inappropriate than applying these same filters in India for example, as Mexicans and Americans firmly share Western culture).
There is no doubt that we develop this shorthand over many years and for many good reasons as a kind of social self-protection mechanism. But it is just as true that we develop many of these traits for less than savory reasons, to bring us closer to the people that match our backgrounds, race, ethnicity, political world view, gender, religion or other. Human beings have a tendency to want to have their identities reinforced, strengthened, justified and validated. But look how much we are missing in the process. Although the effort is larger, sometimes the greatest rewards come from reaching out to the other, the unfamiliar, or even the frightening or hated. Being here in the preliminary phase of cultural imprint and understanding, I am lucky indeed to be wearing the blindfold.
I am used to online chatting (via AIM and the like) being an exercise in reduction, contraction and abbreviation. And for the most part that holds true here in Mexico, with one little odd exception. The word for “yes” is “si”, but in IM conversations a lot of people will write “sip” to mean the same thing. I guess it is kind of like saying “yeah” or “yep”, but it seems odd in the context of an IM to go for longer rather than shorter words.
