On Learning Languages

I have tried to learn a fair few languages in my day.  I can’t claim to be totally fluent in any of them, or even especially good at most of them, but I have learned a few things along the way.

In Paris, I learned not to be afraid to ask questions, even if I don’t know how to listen to the answer.  Questions I can remember asking in French include “Où sont les toilettes?”, “Où est La Jaconde?”, and “Il y a serviettes?”.  Only one of them produced an answer I understood all of, and that was probably because I asked my history teacher, who was indulging me.  Nonetheless, I was successful in finding both the bathrooms and the Mona Lisa, and in discovering that there were no napkins available at the fruit stand.

In Costa Rica, I learned that the absolute best way to get languages to stick in your brain is to practice them outside of a classroom environment.  I am so, so grateful to my host mother, Maria Eugenia, for encouraging me to practice my Spanish with her.  Some of my favorite experiences while there were having conversations that make more sense in Spanish than they do in translation.  I remember two such conversations, which I will write here:

1- Maria Fernanda (my seven-year-old host cousin): Emily, tiene usted un novio?
Emily (me)- No, solo amigos.
MF- Pero, tiene amigos guapos?
E- Si, unos!

2- Our guide in Tortugero, who told us a Costa Rican joke:  Que tiempo vamos a hacer hoy en Costa Rica?  Sol o lluvia!  (Es sol o lluvia, no es solo lluvia.)

In India, I have learned not to be afraid to sound like an idiot.  I mean that in the best possible way.  Sometimes, translating into Hindi is just too complicated for what I know how to say.  I might know some of the words, but I don’t know all of them and I’m not sure how to put them together.  The point is, though, that it doesn’t matter whether what I say is perfect or not.  People are generally pleased to help someone who is showing a genuine effort to learn their language, and in this way, I am able to communicate, even if I sound ridiculous.  The other day, for example, I was at a museum and I saw a wall of posters with pictures of deformed body parts.  The writing was all in Hindi, so I have no idea what it said, but I guessed that the posters had something to do with leprosy.  Instead of being confused about it, I approached the guard nearby, pointed, and said “Ye larka… leprosy ke sath?”, which means “This boy… with leprosy?”  I’m not actually sure what the Hindi word for leprosy is, but I guessed that the English one would suffice.  As it happens, it did.  The guard said yes and responded in Hindi, pointing to his face and shaking his head sadly.  I have no idea what he was saying, but at least I know that I was correct in thinking the pictures on the posters were of lepers.

Languages.  They’re fun.