Art by Markus Koljonen

Studies have shown that for expats, language learning actually requires more calories, because doing so is such a workout. You flex your brain cells, you work out your tongue, and your pride most certainly takes a hit.

I’m always starving after meeting with my language helper.

But the process of language learning is really quite remarkable. I’m not nearly where I want to be, but I understand surprisingly a lot. Going to Thailand for two months last summer, then being extremely pregnant, then giving birth, then having a newborn, means not a lot of energy is left for learning a very difficult language. And yet, I understand a lot. Weird how that works.

Today, I met at a cafe with my language helper, and we reviewed placement prepositions (in, on, under, on top), dishes and silverware, restaurant etiquette, and cultural cues when visiting friends over food. We also did a basic review of numbers in regard to time and dates. It takes an enormous amount of mental concentration, because here, they write the time militarily (21:45), yet say it in the am/pm sort of way (nine o’clock). Actually, they don’t even say it like that – it’s always “a quarter until ten.” So you look at it written “18:50,” and you need to remember to say it “ten till seven.” In another language whose sentences are spoken in the opposite order of English.

At one point I laughed and said, “I’m sure this is funny for you. You probably learn this in grammar school.” She responded with, “No, we learn it before kindergarten.”

Another fun challenge is the word for “on top” sounds an awful lot like under, and the word for under sounds an awful lot like on top.

I’d say one of the best surprises is watching Chickpea pick up the language. She’s not in any sort of formal training, other than interacting with our house helper once a week, and yet she understands so much more than we give her credit for.

The other day, a stranger asked Chickpea in the local language how old she was. Without batting an eye, she answered in English, “Three.”

And the other day, we had repairmen in our home, working on our newly-acquired air conditioner (we’re high rollers now – two air conditioning units!). She came to me and said, “Mommy, those men are speaking English.”

I said, “No, Chickpea, we’re speaking English. They’re speaking [local language].”

“Oh.” She then went to them and said, in a perfect accent with no hesitation, “One, two, three, four, five.” In the local language. And then turned around and walked out of the room. I’m sure they thought she was nuts.

posted: 08 July 16
under: culture