Time Enough

12 months, 12 languages

1/27/2011

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  My friend Mary asked me to come up with twelve languages I'd like to learn and where I'd like to go to learn them.  It's taken me a while to get back to her, but I think I've finally got it.  My strategy was to get as many etymologically and structurally different kinds of languages as possible, while at the same time trying to get the most out of my efforts.  Hence, learning Hindi so that I could later 'claim' Urdu, and learning Serbian so that I could immediately claim Croatian.  I also played it pretty conservatively on the phonological systems, opting for the non-tonal language in a family of mostly tonal languages, and preferring languages with fewer vowels.  I've found I enjoy learning a language so much more when I can actually hear the words from early on.  

Without further ado and in no particular order, 12 months, 12 languages:


1.       Portuguese, Brazil

        a.       It sounds like fun, and would be interesting to compare to Spanish.  Plus, I secretly want to be a bossa                    nova lounge singer. 

2.       Romanian, Romania

        a.       A lifelong dream.

        b.      The Romance language with heavy Slavic influence.

           c.       It was the only Romance language crazy enough to retain the case system.

3.       Turkish, Turkey

        a.       Mary made it sound so fun, and I'm excited to look for Arabic cognates.

        b.      Vowel Harmony sounds like something I want to try.  A real challenge.

4.       Quarani, Paraguay

        a.       I’ve heard good things about the ‘guays.

        b.      It’s HIGHLY AGLUTINATIVE! 

        c.       Nasal Harmony, but otherwise close to the Spanish sound system

        d.      Along with Spanish, the official language of Paraguay.  88% of the population speaks it, INCLUDING a                 large portion of non-indigenous people-  socio-politico-linguistic anomaly in South America and, arguably,             the world. 

        e.      A Tupí language… a cute word that lends itself well to many jokes.  Now excuse me, I have to pee.

5.       Haitian Creole, Haiti

        a.       My students are all Haitian and they are lovely people.

        b.      It sounds like so much fun to speak.

        c.       I want to learn a creole. 

        d.      This way, I don’t have to learn French.  Awesome.

        e.      I feel like everyone should do something for Haiti, so maybe this would open up that path for me.

6.       Tamazight, Morocco

        a.       The only known language with no limit on consonant clusters!!!

        b.      Syllables don’t need to contain a vowel!!!!

        c.       There are only 3 vowels.

        d.      The Tifinagh looks like top secret ancient code.

         e.      It’s a minority language.

        f.        It has a root system.

7.       Hindi, India

        a.       I’d like to learn the alphabet

        b.       Since I already know the Arabic alphabet, with a little work I could tag Urdu onto the language list.

        c.       It’s an Indo-Iranian language, and I secretly dream of becoming a world-renowned Indo-European                     Linguist.

        d.      Good food, and my friend Mary Carroll made it look like a lot of fun.

        e.      Non-verbal communication.  It has distinguishing gestures that I want to learn how to do, like the head             roll.

8.       Russian, Russia

        a.       Aside from the Cyrillic Alphabet, the TV looks pretty good (We get a Russian channel at my gym).

9.       Tswana, Botswana

        a.       I read the Ladies’ First Detective Agency book that Andy left after he visited Morocco, and the author                 made Botswana sound fascinating. 

        b.      Subsequent online research confirmed that Botswana is fascinating.

        c.       It’s a tonal language, but only has two tones, so I think I can handle that.

        d.      It’s a Bantu language.

10.   Serbian

        a.       AKA Croatian.  Two! Two languages for the price of one!  Yes, I want to learn this language just because I         can turn around and count it as two.

        b.      Cyrillic Alphabet

11.   Ainu, Hokkaido, Japan

        a.       Two birds with one stone: a language isolate and an endangered language.

        b.      Generally simple sound system (5 vowels) but they do have pitch accent.

        c.       Written in Japanese Katakana and/or Latin alphabet. 

12.   Korean, Korea

        a.       Unique alphabet

        b.      Similarities to Japanese (Jap: ichi, ni, san, shi, go= Kor: il, e, sam, sa, o).  I love discovering patterns, so I         think this would be a real treat.

 

 

Runners Up: Finnish, Wolof, Khmer, Pennsylvania Dutch (Because you have to recognize the local)


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What do I mean?

3/3/2010

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Picture
El Jadida, Feb 2010
What does my smile mean?
And what about my eyes?
If all these words are true
Then all the truths are lies.

What does my presence say?
And what about my socks?
It seems we say plenty,
While no one really talks.

When I speak your language,
Are my ideas mine?
Are they of the people,
the state or the divine?

And when I speak of trees,
Do you see palms or oaks?
And when I speak of friends,
Do you see me or other folks?
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Más vale tarde que nunca

2/13/2010

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I finally figured out what that guy said to me three weeks ago.

I was paying for my meal at bus stop on the way to Rabat.  The waiters were very nice and chatty, and I was flattered when they asked if I was Syrian (we were speaking Arabic.)  As I said good-bye, one of the waiters said what I thought was "Welcome to Islam".  Not sure what to do or say, I just smiled piously and hurried onto the waiting bus.  I immediately told my roommate and travel buddy Mary that I think I had been extended a welcome to Islam.  As the bus continued, I become more puzzled by the man's comment, and wished I had asked him to repeat what he had said or clarified somehow.  By the time we arrived in Rabat, I was pretty convinced I had misunderstood the man, but still had no idea what he actually meant.

This afternoon I went out to do a little shopping.  As usual, I greeted the store keepers with a friendly "Assalamu 3laykum", to which they invariably reply, "wa 3lykum assalam."  On the way home, I repeated this call and answer to myself, practicing the sounds and enjoying the difficulty of pronouncing them.  I began thinking of other phrases that contained the word "salam" (peace).  There are many, but one in particular popped into my head.  "Tariq Assalam".  Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle fit together.  Then man hadn't welcomed me to Islam.  He had said, "Tariq Assalam.  Marhababik", which means (drum roll please!) "Bon Voyage. Welcome (to Morocco)." 
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On listening and speaking

1/29/2010

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I always wondered what kind of langauge learner I was.  In linguistics classes, I learned that there are traits a good language learner has, and I would always try to figure out which category I fell into.  There was the category that seemed to imply that (pardon my paraphrasing) extroverts made better language learners.  It always depressed me a little.  I don't think I am an extrovert.  Sometimes, I prefer listening to talking.  I would pressure myself in language situations to be more outgoing and talk as much as I could.  But when, for whatever reason, I didn't have the energy to do so, I would feel guilty about wasting a good opportunity, and not being a better language learner.  This has been going on inside my brain for years, but just the other day, while walking down the street, I remembered another thing I learned while teaching Spanish at the University of Pittsburgh.  Listening comes before speaking.  To be a good speaker, you have to be a good listener.    If you are super active all the time and speak at every opportunity, when do you get to listen?   

I am not about to write a theory of second language acquisition based on this experience, but it does make me feel more justified in my approach to language learning.   All roads lead to Rome.  The important thing is to keep walking.
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Pardon my tirade

12/4/2009

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I just realized that one of the hardest things about being in Morocco is the language ideologies.  It’s not like the US and Japan don’t have their fair share.  It’s just that in Morocco, there are a lot of languages about which to have an ideology.  My genuine love for all languages and my background in sociolinguistics make me extremely sensitive to these issues when they come up in conversation.  I can’t help it.  My reaction is both emotional and logical, coming with equal intensity from how I feel as from what I have read.  (Maybe because of that I don’t think people will ever really get it.)  It really drives me insane sometimes.  How can a well-educated, multilingual person tell me that “the Moroccan way of speaking” is so easy you just need to be around Moroccans to learn to speak it, and then tell me that the language has no rules?  Can you imagine trying to learn a language that had no rules???  Yeah, good luck learning that one.  It would be impossible.  What would you do?  Memorize endless amounts of dialogue and then recite them from memory when the occasion arose?  All languages have rules, people, even languages that lack the prestige or power to be called a language.  And that brings me to another big thing: one nation = one language = one big 19th century European nation-building propaganda.  The Spanish don’t own Spanish, the French don’t own French, and Americans aren’t rationed English as the only language they are allowed to speak with any authority.  Also, authority: native speakers aren’t the only ones who have it.  They don’t own the language either.  If you don’t have any idea what I’m talking about, then ask me.  Ask a librarian.  Think about it while you are standing on your head.  Because at the moment I feel like I am shouting the gospel truth in hell’s busiest intersection.  No one’s getting it, and no one’s really listening.  Repent! Repent! 

By the way, it is true that “the Moroccan way of speaking” is so easy that you just need to be around Moroccans to speak it.  Unfortunately, as in all the world’s languages, that offer only applies to learners between the ages of 1 and 13.  I guess we adults will just have to start memorizing…

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Intermediate Highs

12/3/2009

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  I think my brain has its own sick sense of humor, especially when it comes to learning languages.  Once, while trying to describe the rules of the game Freeze Tag to my dear Saudi friend, I accidentally replaced the word for “touch” with “lick” in Arabic.  I remember my friend’s expression as I described the neighborhood children running around trying to lick each other until the street lights came on.  Then there was the time that I accidentally said “sex” in Arabic instead of “body”.  The strange thing is I don’t think I had ever learned the word for sex before.  But my brain managed to put it together and have a good, long laugh at my expense, along with the rest of the people at Arabic club that day.  To be honest, I’m still not sure which is which.  I just try to avoid the topic.  My good friend Iyad would always tell me, “Alaina, whenever you make a mistake, it never comes out as nonsense.  You always manage to say another word with a completely different meaning!”  I have always chalked it up to Arabic’s enormous vocabulary.  It seemed to me that pretty much any sound combination possible had been assigned a meaning, an incredible feat considering the language has 7 distinct letters that to an English speaker all sound like t or d.  Lately, however, I have come to realize my brain has a much keener sense of humor than I do.  My theory is that it comes from that innate language ability that humans are born with.  During those rare moments when I let my guard down and I stop thinking about where the adjective goes and what tense the verb is in, great, creative, funny things come out.  The ice breaks and the person I’m talking to warms up a bit too.  It's like we are both being entertained by some third party.  And then I realize I am having so much fun, and it’s all coming, almost effortlessly, from somewhere inside me.  Somedays, it's good to be intermediate. 
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