Photos: author

My only experience of life in a Xhosa village is of a walk with a friendly woman in the Transkei, who took us back down to the beach, along a thorny, dense thicketed path. We had gotten lost on our attempted hike, and were trying to make it back to our seaside hostel, The Kraal, without walking shoes.

She walked the entire path without any shoes either, but I didn’t see her flinch. This experience gave me a profound respect for the rural Xhosa lifestyle and attitude. After all it’s a similar upbringing the revered Nelson Mandela would have had in the village of Qunu, which is also part of the former Transkei.

Xhosa, or IsiXhosa, is one of South Africa’s eleven official languages, and is predominantly spoken in the Eastern Cape region, including the former Transkei and Ciskei areas, where Mandela and former president Thabo Mbeki were born. According to South Africa Info 17.6% of the country speaks Xhosa.

Xhosa culture is typically represented in the rural areas of the Ciskei and Transkei, where herds of cattle sleep unperturbed on the quiet beaches and ladies grind maize on concrete next to turquoise painted rondavels, or thatched huts.

In the rural areas traditional ceremonies are still practiced, including the rite of passage into manhood by young men, who leave their villages for a certain time and undergo circumcision. After this ceremony they wear ochre-coloured clay on their faces to signify that they have undergone initiation. Mandela describes his own initiation ceremony in his autobiography, The Long Walk to Freedom.

However, migrant labor has also lead to an urban representation of Xhosa culture, which is largely characterized by the idiosyncrasies of township life, including a community spirit and social gatherings such as chisa nyama (literally “hot meat”, or barbeque, also known as braai), which is eaten together with pap (porridge).

Unfortunately, the nature of South Africa’s past, and the diversity of its population has prevented linguistic assimilation to a large degree. Even people like myself, who have spent their entire lives in the country, still don’t understand all the languages spoken around them.

Xhosa, like the other eleven official South African languages, has been influenced and shaped by hundreds of years of migration, colonialism, apartheid and the discrepancy between rural and urban life. As a result of previous apartheid legislation, areas like the former Ciskei and Transkei were declared “independent” states in an effort to isolate ethnic groups.

However, this “independence” also created a lack of infrastructure and high levels of unemployment, which means that many people from these areas have left for cities like Cape Town to look for work. More and more people in South African cities like Cape Town speak Xhosa, and so the need for people to learn the language in these areas has increased.

There are several language schools that specialize in Xhosa instruction, such as Xhosa Fundis in Woodstock, Cape Town, which offers an intensive six-week course- with ample time to practice Xhosa’s characteristic “clicks.”

Apart from classroom instruction, and online learning, other language schools, such as Ubuntu Bridge offer what they call Xhosa Culture Tours, and Language Immersion Opportunities. These can be a one-night stay in a Xhosa home in the informal settlement of Khayelitsha, or an extended stay in traditional Xhosa village in the rural Transkei or Ciskei for up to 10 days.

Both Xhosa Fundis and Ubuntu Bridge also offer corporate or team building packages, which cater to adult learners in an organizational context. Language schools like these also make an effort to introduce aspects of Xhosa culture, such as the difference between life in the rural areas, or ezilaleni, and in the “townships”, or elokshini.

You can try to study via CD’s, books and classes that will teach you the grammatical nuances, because like any other language Xhosa is complex. According to the UCLA Language Materials Project there are also several dialects of Xhosa, which include Ngqika, Gcaleka, Mfengu, Thembu, Bomvana and Mpomdomise.

Or, as I experienced while trying to learn Spanish with only a phrasebook in South America, another way to study Xhosa is to take a hands-on approach. One way of doing this would be to get involved in the local community outreach, by volunteering to teach at understaffed schools in the Cape Town area or in the rural areas of the Eastern Cape.

There are numerous volunteer organizations that operate within these areas; however, SHAWCO which is based at the University of Cape Town (UCT), is one of the better-known ones. The organization is run by students who volunteer to assist learners in the surrounding township areas, so it offers an ideal opportunity to improve your Xhosa language skills.

Whether you take an academic or immersion approach, I think learning Xhosa, and any one of the other eleven official languages, is a valuable skill and one that I, as an English-speaking South African, hope to acquire myself. I feel that growing up in a segregated country has limited my experience of life in my own country: something I hope to change.

Photo: unojofuerte

If you’re planning on working or volunteering in the fields of human rights, development, education or politics in the region, Spanish will get you by, but nothing will open doors like acquaintance with the local indigenous dialect. Many of these languages involve a way of thinking and looking at the world vastly different from that of Spanish, and an inadequate understanding of these differences necessarily inhibits communication.

The Aymaras in Bolivia, for example, approach logic in a completely different fashion , assigning values of “true”, “false” or “uncertain” to each statement. Unlike in Spanish or English, they are able to logically derive conclusions from uncertain premises in a mental leap completely beyond the capabilities of those accustomed to thinking like a European.

Beyond the practical benefits of increased understanding or deeper cultural travel, these languages pose a fascinating study of the human capacity for language and provide a unique mental exercise for those already comfortable with European languages.

While hundreds of the languages in the region are in danger of dying out, or are spoken by so few people that your reasons for learning would have to be pretty specific, many governments are beginning to make at least token efforts towards the preservation of some of the major languages in the region. Here’s where you can learn the big three and why you might want to.

Quechua

Famous as the language of the Incan empire, although it actually predated them, Quechua is still spoken by around 8.5 million speakers across Brazil, Bolivia, Argentina, Ecuador, Colombia, and, of course, Peru, where it is the second official language. While in reality a language family, with several dialects and languages, some mutually intelligible, some not, a good place to start is with the Quechua of Cusco or Bolivia. Highly similar to each other, together they have the greatest number of speakers, and the small amount of surviving literature and theater of the Incas is in this dialect.

Quechua is quite easy to learn. It’s entirely regular, with no adjective agreements or indefinite/definite articles, although you’ll have to wrap your head around a totally unfamiliar vocabulary and a few extra sounds. The most challenging, and fascinating, aspect of the language is its system of evidentials. Each sentence must be qualified by what your source is for that piece of information, and how much you’re willing to commit to it being true – whether you saw it with your own eyes, heard it from a reliable source, are inferring or speculating. If only they’d introduce something like that on the Internet.

Photo: Sabor Digital

Where to Learn Quechua

Cusco or Bolivia are the best places to learn. Keep in mind the Bolivian regions around La Paz and Lake Titicaca are Aymara-speaking, so if you’re keen on Quechua you should base yourself in or around Sucre, Cochabamba or Potosí. Many Spanish schools also offer Quechua, or you can track down private lessons – expect to pay between US $3-4 per hour (possibly less in Bolivia).

Aymara

When the linguist Ludovico Bertonio was studying Aymara in the early 17th century, he became convinced the language was too perfect to have developed naturally – that it’s remarkably regular pronunciation, extraordinary fertility and articulateness, and its ability to handle abstract concepts could only be the work of gifted creators.

Many also argue that some form of Aymara was the so-called “secret language” of the Incas, used for private communications between the elite, while the empire at large spoke Quechua.

Whether you subscribe to that theory or not, Aymara is a fascinating language, not only for the mind-bending logical structure mentioned in the introduction, but also for the sheer fact it managed to survive to still be spoken by over 2 million people today in Bolivia and the adjacent regions of Peru, Argentina and Chile. When the Spanish arrived, they tolerated the use of Quechua as a kind of lingua franca between their Indian workers while suppressing the use of other indigenous languages, and most of this century was characterised by hispanization programs which sought to “unify the nation” of many South American countries under the common tongue of Spanish. Despite all this, and despite its total lack of a dictionary or literature, Aymara lives, and the Bolivian government now caters to speakers with radio programs and official language status.

Where to Learn Aymara

Again, the Spanish schools are a good place to begin – stick to the Lake Titicaca region in southern Peru and Bolivia, or head to La Paz.

Guaraní

Paraguayan Guaraní is unique as the only indigenous language in South America which is also spoken by non-indigenous people as their mother tongue. The first of the South American indigenous languages to be awarded official status in 1992, Guaraní is now spoken by 95% of Paraguayans, most bilingual with Spanish, although the indigenous tongue tends to occupy a more rural, informal, intimate space. Textbooks tend to be printed in both languages, bilingual education is gaining strength, newspapers have Guaraní editions, and many politicians are Guaraní speaking. Even Paraguayan Spanish contains a large number of Guaraní loan words.

For those planning an extended stay in the area, Guaraní is an indispensable window into a more personal sphere of Paraguayan life.

Where to Learn Guaraní

Nearly 5 million people across Paraguay, Bolivia, Argentina and Brazil speak some form of Guaraní, however, varieties may be mutually unintelligible so it’s vital to consider where you plan to use it most. For Paraguayan Gauraní, many of Asunción’s Spanish schools also offer courses in Guaraní.

Community Connection

Looking to meet other travelers, language learners and expats based in South America? Check out Matador Travel’s South America page.

Feature photo: sara~Photo: bonnie-brown

During our first-day introductions, I listened intently as my classmate spoke in Spanish, hoping her accent wouldn’t be as good as mine. That’s just the kind of person I become in a classroom. The corners of my mouth turned upward as I heard echoes of an unidentifiable Western European language in her otherwise solid Spanish. My smile disappeared, however, as she explained that she was from Switzerland, where multilingualism was the norm. I couldn’t tell whether her accent was French or German because she spoke both, as well as English and Spanish. Although she may have ciphoned some of the air from my temporarily inflated ego, she reinforced my decision to continue working on my Spanish even though I finished my last college Spanish class five years earlier.

I’ve never understood why so many people who excel in a language in high school or college slam the brakes on their journey before reaching the final destination of full fluency. Perhaps cultural narcissism keeps many Americans from realizing how beneficial bilingualism is. I’m a typically ego-centric American in many ways, but I’ve always looked forward to the day when I can call myself truly fluent in Spanish. One key step in that path was my recent five-week series of classes in Mexico City, where I discovered some do’s and don’ts that aided my quest for fluency.

1. Make Mistakes

My experience at International House began as many language-school first days do: with a short written quiz and a conversation in the target language, both meant to determine at which level the student should begin. That first conversation included an important question: the coordinator wanted to know what my goals were. My priority remained clear throughout my trip: to make mistakes.

It sounds weird, but I knew that if I could become more comfortable making a fool out of myself, I’d make some major strides forward. I didn’t want to chicken out and revert to English when interacting with a bilingual person. I wanted to actually learn from my mistakes, which had always been difficult for me. To learn from the mistake, you have to focus on the positive possibility and not the negative present (or the fact that the person next to you is mastering language number four).

Almost halfway into my trip I was feeling much steadier linguistically and culturally. I was comfortable getting around my neighborhood, riding the metro, dealing with laundry, and tipping people. However, I completely misunderstood someone every single day. This was as aggravating to me as restubbing a toe, but I’d remind myself learning from my mistakes was the point. Besides, mistakes or faux pas often lead to some sort of new, beneficial realization.

Mexico City, Photo: author

2. Let the Teachers Teach

The youngest of my three teachers at the school was the most entertaining and the most frustrating, mostly because she challenged me to avoid the path of least resistance. She often complimented me on my level but urged me to look up synonyms for words and phrases. “Buscar, buscar, buscar,” she would say, encouraging me to befriend a thesaurus and “search, search, search” for new ways to express myself. “With a language as rich as Spanish,” she said, “there’s no excuse to keep repeating the same words.” At my level, I was able to explain myself fairly easily, but to become truly fluent I’d need to master the nuances of the language and continue expanding my vocabulary.

Toward the end of one class that I had been enjoying, I got awfully defensive. After immediately snapping, I stopped arguing, listened, thought about it and realized her point was correct. Yes, I was overusing the transition es que (“it’s just that”) and, yes, it really does suggest that one is trying to make an excuse for some behavior, which was not exactly what I was trying to convey. At the advanced level it’s easy to stick with words and phrases that are comfortable and sound colloquial, but it’s a trap. “Buscar, buscar, buscar,” I thought.

3. Know Who the Boss Is

At a language school, the teacher is the teacher, but the student is the boss, the one paying for the service. Most schools make this fairly clear, especially during the first class, when a good teacher will ask what the students wants to focus on. I fell into the trap at one point, finding myself dreading completing another set of exercises. Then I suggested we shift focus to conversation for the rest of the class. Not only did my mood immediately lift, but I learned more because I was more engaged. Learning in a classroom as an adult sometimes presents fluctuating power struggles, but those who can allow themselves to be guided while remaining in control of the overall experience gain the most.

4. Don’t Limit Learning to the Classroom

As much as I took away from the classes, I probably learned an equal amount from informal teachers, from taxi drivers to waiters to random passersby. I would try to eavesdrop while enjoying my many cafés con leche at coffee shops, chat with the guesthouse owner about my day (and, ocassionally, my grievances with the language teacher), make small talk when purchasing items and even offer to help struggling tourists communicate with locals.

Another reason to embrace learning opportunities outside of the classroom: A teacher is not mistake-proof and is just one of many voices. It’s important to take what your teacher says seriously and not get defensive or argumentative, but if you’re surprised by what he or she is telling you, check with others, with informal teachers you meet every day. After all, why else would you immerse yourself in a culture that speaks the language you’re trying to master if not to take full advantage of the classroom that extends beyond four walls?

Community Connection

To read more about language learning, check out 7 Tips for Learning a Foreign Language on the Road, 10 Steps for Becoming Fluent in Less Than Six Months, and Matador’s Language Learning Focus Page.

Feature photo: boyke bader Photo: Brian Giesen

“Learn Indonesian? What for? The only words you need to know are terus, berhenti and putar balik. Continue, stop, and turn around,” said my expat colleagues between snickers and high fives. “You know, for the taxi drivers.”

I could have lived in the expat bubble by eating in restaurants, hiring an English-speaking maid and hanging out with ‘my’ kind, but I wanted to be able to eat at roadside stalls and order without pointing. I wanted to have conversations with taxi drivers beyond “continue, stop, turn around.” I wanted to understand the jokes my Indonesian colleagues forwarded to each other, and I wanted to be able to speak to a certain cute girl in customer service.

When I first went to Indonesia in mid 2005, I had not expected to need (far less to want) to learn the local language. Like many Indians, I had been brought up to believe that all “educated” people speak English. The only other country I had visited previously was Malaysia, where English enjoys a similar status.

It was hard for me to imagine someone with a university education unable to speak English and to not be ashamed of the fact. I was surprised to walk into fancy restaurants and top hotels and to not be addressed in English. This reduced status of English was new and fascinating; my understanding of the world had taken a severe wallop.

I bought a couple of Bahasa books and found some online vocabulary and grammar exercises. My first goal was to learn the numbers, ask the cost of things, understand the response and pay the right amount.

Photo: boyke bader

I met this goal quickly, and I thought, “This language is easy! There are no verb tenses, no strict rules on word order and not even plurals.” In most cases you just repeat the word and it becomes a plural. Slowly I learned enough to try and talk about inane stuff with my co-workers, and avoid ordering genteng (roof tiles) instead of kentang (potatoes) at a restaurant.

I was arrogant and (probably) insufferable, and thought myself better than my expat colleagues for making an effort. I boasted about having “learned” the language in two months. I would pre-plan conversations and prepare sentences beforehand to show off my Bahasa skills. Things went fine for a while, but pre-planned conversations can only go so far. Indonesians have no qualms bursting out in laughter when a foreigner makes a mistake in Bahasa. I reached a point where I could communicate in many everyday situations, but I couldn’t make out a single word when people spoke to each other in Indonesian.

The truth became clear to me when one day, after I had had enough of the laughter and bit back, one of my local friends quipped, “I’m sorry, but you sound too much like an airport announcement.”

“Or a newsreader,” another chimed in.

I had always assumed that I couldn’t understand Indonesians because they spoke faster when speaking to each other, but that was not the case. A German intern who had moved to Indonesia after four semesters of studying the language back home explained to me that difference between textbook Indonesian and colloquial Indonesian is massive.

Speakers add suffixes, drop suffixes, and use words not found in a dictionary. Words are often shortened, sudah becomes udah or even just dah, and the word lagi is used in a hundred different contexts. Anda, kamu, lu, bapak, ibu, mas, mbak, saudara and kau are all different forms of the pronoun “you,” yet while anda is supposed to be acceptable in all situations you will rarely hear it spoken between two Indonesians in an everyday conversation.

Indonesian turned out to be a lot more complicated than I originally thought.

I gave up on my language study books and started reading Indonesian blogs, tuned in to the trendy FM stations and filled my MP3 player with Indonesian songs. While I couldn’t tear myself away from my favorite English TV shows, I started watching Indonesian shows every now and then. I wasn’t making any tangible progress, but I felt I was doing my best to “immerse” myself.

Photo: jensen_chua

Things started changing when one of my colleagues invited me to be the fourth player in a doubles tennis match. He was the quiet guy at work and I never expected to have much contact with him out of the office, but he turned out to be a very knowledgeable and encouraging guy with the patience of a mountain and opinions on everything. He was also like a human auto-complete. While I struggled for the right word, he’d come up with suggestions that sometimes fit, and sometimes led me to form ridiculous sentences that sounded correct but ended up meaning something I hadn’t even remotely intended. Either way, I was learning.

Earlier the same month I was introduced to a law student who had no patience for English. We got along immediately, but communication between us was painfully slow and full of misunderstandings. Nevertheless, I was determined to communicate in Bahasa. Sometimes I’d have to break off mid-sentence to look up a word in a dictionary. Progress was rapid, though and within a few weeks I needed the dictionary less frequently during our conversations.

By using the language with friends and colleagues, I was making rapid progress, and after a while I didn’t even realize how far I had come. One day I went over to a friend’s place and a show called “Empat Mata” (Four Eyes) was on. I was able to understand a lot, and I even got some of the jokes.

By 2007, life had settled into a routine and I was itching for more. I wanted to expand my social circle and learn something new. I searched for a class that was close to home and had convenient timings. I found a French class. I was quite confident in Indonesian, but learning a new language through one that I had just learned seemed a bit intimidating. Feeling both nervousness and excitement, I signed up. It would be the ultimate test!

When I walked into the institute the evening of the first class, my would-be classmates were all gathered in the café outside the classroom, getting to know each other. There was one other foreigner, an Italian who worked for the UN and wanted to prepare for his next assignment in Geneva. We were all talking in Indonesian, and he was mentioning how impressed he was with Jakarta’s skyline. The word for skyline, however, escaped him, and he looked around for help. None was forthcoming.

“Garis langit?” I offered hesitantly, making a literal translation.

“Ohhh garis langit,” the group nodded.

I beamed. I knew then that I would get by.

Community Connection

Do you have a story to share about learning a language? Check out our Call for Submissions: How You Learned a Language

Photos: author

“Man, you are so weird.”

This was the rather dispiriting response from Kim, my new Danish flatmate, after telling him that I would be spending the coming year in Denmark trying to master his native tongue. Unfortunately, similar remarks (all in English) were common during the first few weeks of my Erasmus Study Abroad program in Århus.

Danes found it laughable that anyone would want to learn Danish, especially a native English-speaker like me. If a league table existed for the most popular Scandinavian language Danish would come bottom. Certainly it lacks the sexiness and sing-song qualities of Norwegian and Swedish, but is no means the ugly language that many make it out to be.

Looking back on it now I was fighting a losing battle, as most Danes speak English fluently, due to excellent schooling and a strict diet of American and British TV. If anything, they were learning from me, and saw my arrival as an excellent opportunity to keep their English fresh, the swines! This was not how I had imagined things going at all.

After two years of intensive university study my Danish should have been a hell of a lot better, but for some reason my grasp of it was still very basic. The prospect of living and studying in Denmark itself, therefore, was terrifying. Never mind the inevitable homesickness – how was I going to survive for a whole year with a toddler’s Danish?

“Ah, you’ll be fine. They all speak English over there, don’t they?” my friends would say.

“Yes, but that’s not the point!” I responded, shaking them in frustration.

What was the use of going abroad to learn a language and using English as a safety net? I had to master it for my university degree and I wanted to master it too. No matter how scared I was at the prospect of sounding stupid, I was determined to leave Denmark fluent.

You will understand then how frustrated I was during those opening weeks, with my aspirations slowly fading before my eyes. My insistence to speak only Danish with my flatmates had been a miserable failure and to make it worse my German friends (also fellow exchange students, who were all taking courses in English and had not planned to learn any Danish) were already fluent.

My courses at university were hardly inspiring either and left me feeling totally bewildered and dizzy, as I only concentrated on what was being said, rather than the context of the lessons. At that point it was very tempting to give in and merely revel in the careless joy of being an Erasmus student, but suddenly everything changed.

One night some friends and I found ourselves down at the student bar down by Århus harbour. We had heard there were some local bands playing and were keen to go along. The music was awful, the kind that focuses on making ears bleed rather than being entertaining, and I found myself retreating to the bar with a ringing head. While ordering a Tuborg I noticed a girl stood next to me, suffering like myself.

“De spiller alt for højt, hvad?” I shouted across to her.

She smiled and nodded, removing a finger from an ear to shake my hand and introduce herself. She was called Marie and agreed that the band in question would have us all deaf by the end of the night. After introducing myself and letting her hear that I wasn’t Danish, an amazing thing happened: breaking national law she did not immediately switch to English but carried on speaking in Danish, and even better, expressed no great surprise that a foreigner was speaking her language. I resisted the urge to hug her and weep tears of gratitude, and we continued our conversation long into the night.

Making my first Danish friend changed everything. Although I never said anything, Marie understood that I was not in Denmark just for the Erasmus parties and that I wanted to come away with something more lasting. Therefore, right from the beginning English was banned by an unspoken rule between us. Even if I was struggling to find a word or put a sentence together she refused to let me take the easy way out.

Instead she showed great patience and let me work it out for myself. The one time she did correct me caused her much hilarity. We were in a post office together one day and, unsure as to where the queue started, I asked a man

“Er du i koen?”

The man looked at me as with alarm and it turned out I had actually asked him whether he was “in the cow”, rather than the queue.

“‘Køen’, not ‘koen’, dear”, Marie sniggered in my ear.

One night a week Marie would invite me over for dinner in her cozy flat and we would talk about all sorts of things until the early hours. What was so refreshing about this was that it didn’t feel like some sort of pre-arranged language tuition session. It was something real. It was everyday life. Finally I had fit in.

The more time I spent with Marie the better my Danish became and the more my confidence grew. I realized that doing workbook exercises and learning grammar by heart can only teach you so much and that best way to learn is to get out and meet people and just talk, talk, talk.

For a few months I had been going to a language school in town and found myself in the advanced class, which was full of Lithuanian snobs who were already fluent but who only turned up to show off. Rather than listen to them titter at my mistakes I realized that spending time with a local was a far better and cheaper way to learn.

Now that things had finally got moving I slowly began to immerse myself in the language. University classes became easier to follow and I started reading a newspaper everyday, looking up words I did not know and writing them down on note cards.

Pretty soon I could read the whole paper without the help of a dictionary and words I had never noticed before started appearing everywhere. I also listened to the radio on and soon got hooked, so much so that one day I had a visit from a radio licensing officer who demanded payment for a license.

I got in a lot of trouble for that, but at least I got some practice out of the angry words exchanged! I was even dreaming in Danish at this point (always a good sign, I’m told) and on a few occasions responded to an English friend’s questions in Danish without realizing it.

As my confidence grew I found it easier to strike up conversations with people. I made another friend called Kristian at a party who shared a love of football and we would spend literally days watching every game on TV, chatting away happily and occasionally yelling at the referee with an array of eye-wateringly strong Danish expletives.

Not every day was a good day for me in language terms. For some unknown reason I suffered from temporary Danish amnesia. One day I would be discussing the news with Marie and Kristian, and the next I couldn’t even understand the simplest questions put to me.

It was as if something in my brain had been temporarily unplugged and it used to get me really down. Infuriatingly on days like these my flatmate Kim would suddenly choose to speak to me in Danish, and when he perceived I hadn’t a clue what he’d said he would laugh in my face.

“Oh yeah? Well you’ve got a girl’s name!” I always wanted to shout at him.

Fortunately days like these were rare.

Leaving Denmark was incredibly difficult. By the end of the academic year it had started to feel like my home and I was on the very cusp of being fluent in the language. On the plane home I got talking to the two girls next to me. They had noticed my Roskilde Festival wrist band and we laughed about how muddy and fun it had been. Eventually one of them asked me why I was going to England and I replied:

“Jeg skal hjem” (I’m going home)

“What?!” one of them shrieked “We thought you were from Århus!”

If ever there was a time for a high five, that was it.

Feature Photo: gopal1035 Bengali books, Photo: romana klee

The list of which languages are considered critical changes over time as economic and political situations change and develop, but often these languages are radically different from English in grammatical structures, sound systems and writing systems.

While learning these languages can take considerable more time and effort than learning languages more closely related to English like French, Spanish or German, studying them can make you eligible for funding options like the Critical Language Scholarship or the National Security Education Program (NSEP) and open up travel and career opportunities you may have never considered.

Having studied three of the following languages myself (Arabic, Hindi and Urdu) in addition to advanced French and elementary Spanish, I can tell you that it does take determination and discipline to get started with a critical language. Not only do you need to learn a new way of moving your pen, a new way of reading and how to produce foreign sounds from places in your mouth you never knew existed, but you often need to learn to wrap your mind around a different way of thinking, a different worldview.

I was both boggled and fascinated by recognizing how the English system of family terms (mother, father, sister, brother, aunt, uncle, cousin) is so sparse compared to the Urdu’s dozens of terms differentiating each family member and giving them each a different status: mother’s sister, father’s sister, mother’s sister’s husband, older sister, younger sister, father’s older brother’s wife. I still can’t get them all straight.

As of 2010, the following 13 languages are listed as critical languages. If you’re thinking about studying a new language but haven’t decided which one, factors to consider include where the language is spoken, how many native speakers and second language speakers it has, and what types of jobs are available for professionals with knowledge of the language.

Arabic, Photo: Radar Communication

1. Arabic

While the term “Arabic” refers more to a language group with 30-odd distinct varieties within it, students who want to learn any dialect of Arabic start by mastering Modern Standard Arabic and then move on to specialize in a particular spoken dialect like Egyptian, Lebanese or Gulf Arabic. More than 221 million people speak some form of Arabic, and there is a demand for Arabic linguists in intelligence services, consular services, international NGOs, the airline industry, the military and business.

2. Azerbaijani

Spoken in Azerbaijan and in pockets of other Central Asian countries, Azerbaijani has 6 to 7 million mother-tongue speakers and about 8 million second-language speakers. It’s an Altaic language related to Turkish, so studying it would pair well with studying Turkish language and culture. It is written in both Cyrillic and Latin script, meaning that if you’re already literate in Russian it won’t be hard to get started with Azerbaijani. On the job front, opportunities are more limited than with more widely spoken languages like Arabic, but if you plan to live, work with an NGO or do business in Central Asia it would be a good language to study.

3. Bengali

Also known as Bangla, Bengali has more than 110 million native speakers and a further 140 million second-language speakers. It’s spoken not just in Bangladesh, India and Nepal but wherever Bengalis have migrated, so you can use Bengali language skills in the US, UK, Canada, Singapore and the UAE among other countries. As an Indo-European language, its structure is closer to English than many of the other critical languages, although to be literate you need to learn Bengali script. Bengali language skills would be particularly useful if you plan to work with NGOs or business in South Asia.

Japanese & Chinese, Photo: chinnian

4. Chinese (Mandarin)

As the official language of Chinese schools, in the year 2000 there were an estimated 840 million first-language speakers plus 178 million second-language speakers. While some varieties of the language are not mutually intelligible (meaning speakers can’t necessarily understand each other), more and more Chinese young people are now only being taught the standard variety rather than regional dialects. Considering roughly 1 out 6 people in the world speak Chinese and China is a huge market for economic growth, career opportunities for Chinese linguists can be found in almost any field.

5. Hindi

Hindi is spoken as a native language throughout northern India and is used as a trade language in much of the rest of the country. It is mutually intelligible with Urdu, Pakistan’s national language, although while Urdu uses the Arabic-style script Hindi uses Devanagari script. There are over 180 million mother-tongue speakers in South Asia and many more in countries with large Indian immigrant populations like Canada, Uganda, Fiji, the US and the UK.

6. Indonesian

Known as Bahasa, this Indonesian language has about 23 million speakers in the country and among Indonesian immigrant communities in the Netherlands, the Philippines, Saudi Arabia, Singapore and the US. It’s written in both Arabic and Latin script and its vocabulary is highly similar (an 80% cognate rate) with standard Malay. If you can already read and write in Arabic script or speak Malay, you’ll have an advantage picking up Bahasa Indonesian.

7. Japanese

Spoken by 122 million people, Japanese is written with a syllabary, a system of symbols that represent syllables rather than individual sounds. Although it’s not related to Chinese, it is heavily influenced by it, and in order to be proficient in Japanese you will also need to learn a large number of Chinese characters that are used as loan words in Japanese. If you want to use your Japanese outside of Japan, consider academic jobs, translation, international business, language tutoring for students of Japanese or serving as a guide for Japanese tourists.

8. Korean

Classed as a language isolate, the Korean language does not share a lineage with any other known language. It is spoken by 66 million people and written in Hangul script, a system of syllabic blocks. Within the US government, there is a high demand for Arabic, Chinese and Korean speakers.

Russian, Photo: A Journey Round My Skull

9. Persian / Farsi

An Indo-European language, Farsi is spoken in Iran, Afghanistan, Tajikistan, Qatar and some areas of Uzbekistan. Written in Arabic script, it has about 23 million speakers throughout the region. Due to the tense political relationship between the US and Iran, Americans who study Farsi can look for jobs in the government sector, intelligence services, journalism, political analysis (“think tanks”), and the military.

10. Punjabi

Punjabi is a good choice if you enjoy learning different alphabets, as Western Punjabi is written in Arabic script (like Urdu) while Eastern Punjabi is written in both Devanagari (like Hindi) script and Gurumkhi script. In India, many of the 28 million Eastern Punjabi speakers are Sikhs, while in Pakistan the majority of the 62 million Western Punjabi speakers are Muslim. Punjabi learners will need to master different greetings and terms of respect for interacting with different religious communities.

11. Russian

Although the Cold War days are long behind us, Russian is still deemed a critical language. There are over 143 million Russian speakers in Eastern Europe and Central Asia, and Russian is a useful trade language in these regions. It is a Slavic language and written in Cyrillic script.

12. Turkish

Good news for Turkish language learners is that since the late 1920s the language has been written in Latin script. Turkish is spoken by more than 50 million people in Turkey, Bulgaria, Cyprus, Azerbaijan and Iran. The majority of Turkish speakers Muslim and there are some Arabic loan words used in Turkish.

13. Urdu

While only about 10% of Pakistan’s population speaks Urdu as a native-language, it is used as one of the official languages in education is spoken as a trade language throughout the country. Urdu has over 104 million speakers in Pakistan, India and in Pakistani immigrant communities throughout the world. Studying Urdu pairs well with studying Hindi, as on a conversational level there are only minor differences. Urdu is written in Arabic Nastaliq script.

Community Connection

Which of these critical languages would you be most interested in studying? Let us know which one(s) and why in the comment section.

Feature Photo: elgarydaly Photo: Ed Yourdon

I arrived in Cusco four months ago. After a month of classes, finding a local boyfriend, gradually saying goodbye to all of my English-speaking friends, holding a job that required me to speak and understand Spanish shouted over a blaring rock band and fighting my way through the intricacies of contracts and business plans in my second language, my Spanish improved faster than I’d ever hoped.

But for all this, for days passed entirely in Spanish, about a month ago I realized that I wasn’t rocketing upwards anymore. I’d plateaued. I suppose this is an entirely natural stage in the language learning process – when you are working from a broad base of knowledge, the chunks that you gain each day necessarily form a smaller percentage than they used to.

But I miss the rush of daily improvement, so these are the steps I’ve taken to bring my learning back up to speed:

1. Back to basics

I took my last Spanish class about two months ago and hadn’t glanced since at all those notes that have been uselessly clogging up my hard-drive. The knowledge was there, I figured, it was just a matter of practice, practice, practice.

But you can’t expect to continue to improve on something without a firm foundation, so each day I review a few topics, then hit the web to find as many exercises as I can. The result? Turns out I’ve been messing up the imperfect and preterit tenses again (and nobody bothered to correct me, see #6), but a quick review and a few hours of practice and I’m feeling good.

A fraction of the web’s free grammar practice offerings for Spanish learners:

* Trinity University, Texas has an good collection of Spanish grammar exercises
* Spanish Language and Culture with Barbara Kuczun Nelson is pretty and helpful, with four modules on the dreaded imperfect and preterite
* Study Spanish provides a fairly comprehensive amount of free material – you’ll need to join to gain access to anything beyond the preliminary grammar exercises, but the tutorials are quite informative and verb drills helpful if you’re struggling with conjugation

A quick Google search will turn up a wealth of resources for students of any language.

2. Dig out the flashcards

I’ve found myself reaching for a few words recently, gesturing frantically at objects that I’ve known the name of since early on in my Spanish learning, but that I don’t use much in daily conversation. It’s embarrassing and disheartening. I’ve worked too hard to acquire this vocabulary to let it slowly trickle through my fingers, so it’s back to the flashcards – five minutes a day, just to keep everything fresh.

A great, open-source program for flashcards is Anki. It keeps track of how easy or difficult each card was for you and spaces it out accordingly, letting get the most out of a minimal time commitment.

3. Read, read, read

It’s perfect for building vocabulary and reinforcing grammar, and a great way to immerse yourself in the culture. Diving into the daily newspapers or the glossy magazines is good for the Spanish and for impressing local friends with your familiarity with current events and pop culture.

As for books, there’s such a wealth of incredible South American literature that I’m a little giddy every time I look at the growing collection of unread treasures on my bookshelf. Finishing Love in the Time of Cholera in its original and beautiful Spanish was a tremendously rewarding experience, and One Hundred Years of Solitude was one of the reasons I started to learn Spanish in the first place. My lovely commemorative edition sits by the bed, waiting until I have the free time to do it justice.

4. Flirt with another language

I used to think there simply wasn’t room in my brain for another language at the same time as Spanish, but language acquisition is a skill best developed through challenge and through taking a step back, looking at the overall shape and structure of a language, not always burying yourself in the nitty-gritty of tenses and sentence structure.

I’m playing with Portuguese at the moment, a half-hour or so on Rosetta Stone when I get the time, and the process of starting anew is helping me to see more clearly the patterns and logic of Spanish. It sharpens my language acquisition skills and keeps me interested and engaged in the process, while the inevitable comparisons and contrasts between two such similar languages reinforces my knowledge of Spanish while I’m learning something different.

5. Set a goal

I can read a book, hold a conversation, toss in street-cred-earning bits of slang. This was about as far as I hoped to reach when I started learning. I need something new to shoot for, something more than just a vague “to speak better”.

So I’ve set a few new goals, a few more stars to shoot for. Number One: a new and shiny exercise book on Advanced Business Spanish to be completed (and won’t it be a joyful day when I finally understand offhand all the jargon my accountant spits at me). Number Two the plan to sit for my DELE later this year, and all the frantic study that entails.

6. Keep those free teachers honest

Now that I can communicate just fine, a lot of the helpful corrections from my circle of friends and the boyfriend have tailed off. I understand them, I’m able to get my point across rapidly and easily, and nobody wants to break the flow of the conversation to pick on my choice of tenses or mangled pronunciation.

So I’ve had to remind them all that I don’t just want to be understood, I want to be fluent – and how they hell did they all manage to let my blatant overuse of the imperfect tense slide?

Photo: dave.wolanski

Carrie, an American reader desperate for advice, submitted the following question to the Non-Expert:

I recently started dating a British guy. I think he’s cute, but maybe it’s just that he has an English accent. How can I tell the difference?

Carrie did not know if she was actually physically attracted to her British beau or if she was blinded by his accent. The way a person speaks can change our opinion of him, whether it be in a negative or positive way. According to Merriam Webster dictionary, an accent is “a way of speaking typical of a particular group of people and especially of the natives or residents of a region.”

Technically speaking, every speaker has an accent, but we generally perceive people who speak differently than we do to have an accent. Different standard dialects within languages can be considered different accents, although even within a particular country or city you can find dozens of different speech patterns and ways of speaking.

If you search “hot accent English,” the first hits to come up are American women discussing British men. Years of James Bond, the royal family, and American women’s fantasies of marrying rich British lords and residing in English country homes have bolstered the image of the sexy Brit. The Austin Powers movies totally play in to the stereotype that women cannot control themselves in the presence of men with British accents. The Non-Expert writes to Carrie:

When it comes to the attractiveness of British men, American women are simply incapable of rendering a proper judgment. Bad teeth, the unibrow, Guinness bloat, doesn’t matter; hell, we think Tony Blair is hot. Studies have proven that British accents are, in fact, the number one cause of hot women dating nerdy men.

Men are also in on the fact that American women like British accents. Author and NPR commentator Paul Davidson writes:

As just a normal American guy, there are just some things I can’t pull off. If I were to walk into a bar, spot a girl on the other side of the room, approach her and say, “You are quite fetching, so much so that I could just eat you up!” you would throw a drink in my face. But with an English accent? You would want to have my children. As just a normal American guy, if I were to offer to walk you across the street you would sack me in the face with your designer Kate Spade — but with an English accent? You would accept and then call all your friends to tell them the story about the debonaire English chap who proved to you that chivalry was indeed, not dead.

It seems well established in pop culture that American women just cannot resist the British accent. During my undergraduate days at UMass-Amherst, fellow linguistics major Galina Lastovkina and I decided to do some sociolinguistics experiments to see which accents UMass students found sexy.

Photo: Newsbie Pix

We recorded samples from native speakers of Spanish, Portuguese, Romanian, Chinese, Korean, Thai, Japanese, German and Russian. Using focus groups and questionnaires, we had groups of men and women between the ages of 18 and 28 listen to the samples and rate how attractive they thought each speaker would be based on the recording. We also asked the listeners to guess the native language of each speaker and tell us what accents they thought were sexy.

What we found was interesting. Both male and female listeners consistently gave higher ratings to speakers who sounded more native-like. For the speakers who were rated as “most attractive,” listeners often guessed them to be from countries like Canada, England, or the United States where English is a native language.

For the male listeners, four of our five female Asian speakers came in as the four “least attractive.” While the men were not very successful at guessing these four women’s native languages, 90% of the guesses offered were for Asian languages. There was a high correlation between the perception that a speaker was from North America or Europe to a high attractiveness rating.

When asked what accents are sexiest, 80% of the women included Australian in their lists. One focus group was quite upset that a survey of sexy accents did not include Australian, British, Scottish and Irish men. They informed us that there was a Scottish boy in their dorm whose accent was “much hotter than any of those [the samples].” The Romance languages cracked the hot accents list with 20% of the girls each mentioning French and Italian.

Galina and I expected the women to be wild about the British accent, but it seems we are moving from seeing prestige and attractiveness in men with manor homes in the U.K. to wanting men to be from the more “adventurous” country of Australia. American women prefer mountaineers, world travelers, surfers and crocodile hunters to polo players, so Prince Charles better get ready to step aside.

The men rated Russian #1: egor.gribanov

Are Australian men the new cowboys for American women? According to UMass college students, they are. With Australian backpackers starting to make their way around and have more contact with American travelers, the accent and the men are gaining popularity. Australian men may also gain some points by addressing every woman they meet with terms of endearment such as “love.”

Among the men, there was no such consensus. The focus groups referenced certain pop stars or actresses when giving their answers: “British definitely. I love those Spice Girls, especially Posh.” For the guys the accent seemed like it had to trigger a visual representation of the girls. One guy said he thought Hispanic/Latina accents had a hot reputation because “you can picture scantily clad women…going out dancing.” The female focus groups didn’t even talk about looks; they only talked about how sexy the men sounded.

So what makes us think a certain accent sounds sexy while another accent is revolting? In our study, people rated accents that sounded more familiar and native-like as attractive while they rated accents that were markedly more foreign (and more difficult to understand) as less attractive. Perhaps this stems from our desire to communicate intimately with those we have romantic relationships with, but perhaps these ratings also tie in to our own preconceived notions and stereotypes about different ethnic groups.

What about you, which accent do find sexiest in English? Which accents do you find unattractive? Do you think we tend to find accents closer to our native languages as attractive?

Photos: Flying Suitcase

I thought my Hindi was workable.

Hindi isn’t my mother tongue, we didn’t speak it at home, but I followed basic conversation – thanks to Bollywood blockbusters I watched every weekend – and I knew the devnagri script, again learned at weekend classes that my parents insisted I attend. With one foot already in the door, how hard could it be to pick up Hindi?

Why Hindi

My family repatriated to India when I was in the ninth grade. This meant a new school, new friends, a new academic culture, and new subjects – for the first time Hindi was a part of my curriculum.

But that wasn’t all. Ninth grade is a scary time in an Indian school. The tenth grade public exams are among the most competitive, high-pressure exams in the country. A student’s performance determines the course of his future education, and preparations begin a grade earlier.

It wasn’t just formulaic filmy plots, but grammar and literature, breaking down verses and analyzing poetry in a language still alien to me, right before the most important exams of my life: that’s what I was getting into. With much bravado and hardly a clue, I assured my parents I could handle it. They found me multiple tutors, and took to prayer.

In the Classroom

My first Hindi class began with a poem that I didn’t follow. The next lesson it got worse – I was asked to read out a verse.

I couldn’t. I was okay with simple individual words but what was I supposed to do with those half alphabets that merged with complete ones or the dots that crept over or next to a word, changing its pronunciation without warning? And what was I supposed to do when these words followed each other masquerading as a couplet.

I struggled and stammered through the lines. The suppressed giggles around the classroom, little squeaky sounds hurriedly shoved back in, were hard to miss. Worse was the teacher’s glare. Her scrunched eyes and angry brows said we would never be friends.

Photos: Flying Suitcase

I hated it. My anglicized Hindi became a standing joke. My handwriting was as bad as a second grader’s, my spellings were worse. My essays came back more red than blue, my answers ended before they started, and dialogue with the teacher extended to an elaborate Ji Maam and Nahi Maam (Yes Maam and No Maam). I failed the first two Hindi exams that year.

How I Actually Learnt Hindi

My parents found me a fantastic tutor. She found a way through to me.

Unlike the school teacher, she had no contempt for English, the rival language. Instead she used it to clarify concepts and to break down rules. The first few classes she asked me to write paragraphs in English, and then translate those ideas into Hindi.

With each paragraph the content grew a little bit stronger, and I grew a little less uncomfortable. It opened up a lot more space for learning.

We spent the lessons chatting in Hinglish, a Hindi-English mix. Somewhere along the way I also picked up grammar, deciphered what the kavi (poet) actually meant, and learned spellings. It helped me develop much needed conversational skills.

I could now talk to the grocer, the rickshawalas and the old aunty on the first floor without breaking into hives. The accent was still there, it was still funny, but I wasn’t as afraid.

She used pop-culture references as props; Hindi became accessible. I followed more of it on TV, which in turn helped me get used to the language. I watched movies with an ear out for words from my text book.

I followed the context and used them in my answers. I began to understand the poetry behind the Bollywood songs I so loved, and to my surprise enjoyed it.

And she sourced the workbooks for common ground – stories and lessons I’d covered before in English; Hindi became familiar, even fun. With time my grades started picking up. I passed an exam, and eventually cleared the Ninth grade with a respectable 55%.

Making Peace

Photos: Flying Suitcase

The next year was intense, spent entirely at tuitions and in textbooks. The possibility of flunking the year hung over me, a sword with schizophrenic matras and ambushing chandra bindus. On the day of the final tenth grade exam I was a walking heart attack. Before the paper the school teacher said, “Neha, no student of mine has ever failed in the 10th. Don’t be the first.”

I did pretty well in the exams, scoring a neat 76 (one more than I got in Math). I consider it one of my greatest achievements. But the scars ran too deep. It took years to overcome that initial aversion to Hindi (I switched to French in college).

But I did. Today the fear is gone – only the words remain, and of course that damn accent.

Feature Photo: romana klee Photo: tore_urnes

Confusion over the linguistic heritage of Urdu is evident in the comment section of our recent article about the world’s most beautiful languages. While more than one person remarked that the Urdu language is poetic, nobody could agree on where it came from. Matador intern Neha suggested it shared roots with Farsi, while blogger Ameya said that “it’s pretty much the same language” as Hindi. A third person, calling himself or herself the “Indo-Euro language expert” disagreed saying, “Urdu isn’t the same as Hindi…Urdu is in fact almost a mix of Hindi/Farsi.” The Urdu Language website claims, “Urdu vocabulary contains approximately 70% Farsi and the rest being a mix of Arabic and Turkish.”

So who’s right? Where does Urdu come from and what other languages is it related to? Languages cannot be “conglomerations.” When linguists describe language groups, they talk about language trees. Every language has roots. It has sister branches with which it shares common ancestors, and just because it absorbs some vocabulary from another language doesn’t mean that its fundamental structure is changed. For example, our use of Japanese words like “sushi” and “karaoke” doesn’t mean that English is closely related to Japanese.

Hindi script, Photo: tanvi_s19in

Languages and Dialects

Urdu is technically classified as an Indo-European language on the Western Hindi branch of the language tree. It does not only share roots with Hindi, but linguists actually classify Hindi-Urdu as one language with four distinct dialects: Hindi, Urdu, Dakhini (spoken in northern India) and Rekhta (used in Urdu poetry).

Dialects differ from each other in the same way languages do: syntax (structure), phonetics (sounds), phonology (systems of sound changes), morphology (systems of grammatical changes) and semantics (meaning). Two ways of speaking diverge into two different languages due to the degree of difference rather than the types of differences.

Think about American English and British English, or even different dialects of English within your own country. Speakers may use slightly different grammatical structures, sound a bit different, and sometimes use different words to mean certain things, but they can still understand each other most of the time. Two ways of speaking are said to be two dialects of the same language when there is mutual intelligibility, meaning that the two speakers can understand each other.

I’ve crossed the Indo-Pak border multiple times, and as long as I remember to swap Salaam alaikum for Namaste when greeting people and shukriya for dhanyabad when thanking people, nobody in India ever questioned my Hindi. At the intermediate level, I experienced 100% mutual intelligibility. I could understand Hindi speakers, and they could understand me. Most people in India asked me where I had learned Hindi, and when I responded that I had studied Urdu in Pakistan they were surprised.

Languages and Political-Cultural Identity

Hindi and Urdu both originated in Delhi and have roots in Sanskrit. After the Muslim conquest by Central Asian invaders in the 11th and 12th centuries, the new rulers learned the local tongue. These rulers spoke Persian and Turkish and wrote their languages in the Arabic Nastaliq script, so when they started speaking Hindi-Urdu they wrote this new language in the Nastaliq script as well. By the 16th century, it had developed into a dialect of its own termed Urdu with a prominent literary culture revolving around the royal court.

Because it was used by Muslim rulers and became largely used by the Muslim population, a number of Farsi, Turkish and Arabic loan words made their way into Urdu. Hindi, on the other hand, retained its religious and formal vocabulary from Sanskrit and utilized the traditional Devanagari script. Nowadays, a Muslim Urdu-speaking imam and a Hindu priest may have difficulty discussing deep theological topics with one another due to these differences in vocabulary, but for normal conversations they would be able to understand each other just fine.

Pakistani border guard, Photo: tore_urnes

Why are some people so insistent that Urdu and Hindi are different languages? And why have people in Pakistan and INdia been brought up to think that way? Language and culture are so intertwined that people groups often use language to define themselves. In Pakistan, the myth that Urdu comes from Arabic, Farsi and Turkish is prevalent, and bogus claims like Urdu vocabulary being “70% Farsi” are common.

I’ve talked with dozens of Pakistanis about Urdu and Hindi, and many insist that Urdu has more in common with Persian and Arabic than it does with Hindi. When I ask them how they can understand Bollywood films and Indian TV, I’m usually just told that it’s because they “watch it a lot” and hence have “learned Hindi.” Objective analysis seems a casualty to the desire for a strong political, social and cultural identity as a separate, Muslim nation.

From a linguistic standpoint, the idea that Urdu is more closely related to Arabic than Hindi is simply ridiculous. Urdu is more closely related to English, French or even Welsh than it is with Arabic, and Urdu itself is only the native language of about 10% of the Pakistani population. Most families who speak Urdu as their first language emigrated from India during the 1947 partition.

Over 60 languages are spoken throughout Pakistan, and over 400 languages are spoken in India. Many of these languages form what linguists called a dialect continuum, a group of dialects or languages that gradually fade from one to the next across geographic areas. Arabic is also technically a continuum of several languages and sub dialects that differ progressively from each other. While a Jordanian person and a Lebanese person may understand each other just fine, an Egyptian will have much more trouble understanding a Moroccan because these “dialects” of Arabic are not mutually intelligible and are so different from each other they are classified as different languages.

Due to a shared cultural, historical and religious heritage, Arabic is considered as one language by many of its speakers even though they may not be able to understand the several different varieties of Arabic throughout the region. All these “Arabics” do share a common linguistic ancestor, but they have differed so much from each other over the centuries that it’s more the notion of Arab unity that continues to bind these languages than the similarities between them.

Similarly, in South Asia it is more the idea that Urdu and Hindi are different languages that represent different cultures that prevails over their linguistic similarities as sister dialects. We often choose to believe and promote what makes sense in our worldview, and when people come in and question the way we define ourselves or our culture we aren’t very likely to change the way we think about things.

Do you know of any other situations where dialects are considered separate languages or several languages are considered to be dialects of one language? Share in the comments section.

Community Connection

Traveling to India or Pakistan? Find out why you should learn Hindi-Urdu and What Not to Do in Pakistan.

Photo: weeta

South Africa

Though the first language of many white South Africans is English, don’t be fooled into thinking that means you won’t need a translator. Certain phrases whose meanings no longer have any relation to their American equivalents have seeped their way into the national vocabulary.

“Epic fail” is used 100% more frequently than I’ve ever heard it in the United States. “Hectic” refers to anything from a dance club to a T-shirt. And if anyone tells you that they’ll do something “now,” you better be ready to wait a while. “Now” means pretty much anytime in the future. “Just now” might mean soon-ish, or it might mean they really just want to get rid of you. If they say “now now,” you actually might be in business!

Courtesy of: Leona Rosenblum

Brazil

While speaking to a friend back home in Portuguese, he asked me: “Está ficando com alguém lá?” “Ficar” means lots of different things, but its basic meaning is to remain or to stay. So, I replied, “Sim com uma familia.” (Yes, with a family.)

I had just told him that I was making out with a family. Ficar com (with) is to make out. Ficar em (in) is innocent. If you don’t want to make people think rather badly of you, you can say, “Fico na casa de uma familia.” (I’m staying at a family’s house.)

Courtesy of: Christina Briscoe

Britain

A linguistic anomaly in England, rhyming slang supposedly developed as an idiom of resistance in the rougher parts of East London – to confuse the cops and unwanted outsiders. The idea is to substitute for one standard English word a different rhyming word or phrase, then shorten as necessary.

The “Wight way to rabbit,” then, would be “the Isle of Wight (right) way to rabbit and pork (talk).” You might also hear someone ask you to take your “plates off the Gable,” that is, your “plates of meat (feet) off the Clark Gable (table).” I’ve actually heard people use rhyming slang quite a bit in London. Try it out yourself, but only in the right company.

Courtesy of Marshall Worsham

Japan

One of my jobs at the school where I worked in southern Japan was writing letters to students each week. I had up to 80 student journals to read and respond to, and students were often amazed at the massive pile of notebooks I’d be working through at lunch.

They’d often make a strong-guy gesture (flexing a bicep) and say, “Fight!” This confused me at first, but I soon learned that it was a rough translation of the Japanese “Ganbatte!” meaning, roughly, “Do your best!” or “keep it up!” Or, if one is attending a sporting event, “go team!”

Makes you feel like a champion every time you hear it. Even if you’re just pushing a red pen.

Courtesy of: Saleem Reshamwala

Malawi

To travel like a local, forget the names listed on the map. The capital Lilongwe is known colloquially as “Ls” and Blantyre, Malawi’s largest city, is “BT.” These epithets make sense. But a more peculiar moniker belongs to Zomba, which Malawians call “Texas.”

No, Zomba is not enormous or fiercely independent or inhabited by large numbers of cowboys on horseback. But as the colonial-era capital, Zomba had a disproportionately white population. Never mind that those whites were British — apparently nothing evokes visions of whiteness like Texas, and thus the designation.

Courtesy of: Rebecca Jacobson

Community Connection

Add your Insider Tip to Glimpse. Applications for the Fall 2010 Glimpse Correspondents Program are also now open! Have you applied yet?

Photos: author

Nick Rowlands:

I love Farsi – it’s mellifluous and haunting. I really like Siwi too (a Berber language spoken only in the Siwa Oasis near the Egypt-Libya border) which is also very sing-song.

It’s funny, though, because so much seems to depend on who is speaking! I lived in Poland, and some Poles sound like they are chewing gravel when they speak, whereas some speak in such a beautiful, soft cadence that it turns my legs to jelly. Now I’m wondering how much this correlates with my perception of the speaker.

I also like Egyptian Arabic. It’s by no means a beautiful language, and it often sounds (especially as spoken in Cairo) as though people are shouting at each other, when in fact they are simply having a conversation. It is, however, slangy, adaptable, and full of rich, earthy expressions. My favorite one translates as “If hair was important, it wouldn’t grow out of your arse” (I’m bald)!

Dannbob:

I love Lebanese Arabic; it’s much softer than other Arabic dialects and they sprinkle in French and English along with it.

jclum3:

I have to say both Portuguese and French are my favorites. Both are beautiful to hear and speak. I love the way they make your cheeks feel after a long conversation.

Photos: author

But I have to disagree with a lot of you; I’m not a big fan of Arabic. My mother is Middle Eastern so I grew up on a bit of it when family was in town. Way too aggressive for my taste. But I guess it’s an acquired taste; that’s what my mom used to say.

Neha:

My vote goes to Urdu (I’m not sure but I think it’s close to Farsi; I think they have the same roots). The language is lyrical and tailor-made for poets; even the blandest statement sounds rich. And then there is French. But more than French itself, I love the French speaking English. Absolutely delicious!

Sara C:

Farsi, in my opinion, is the most beautiful language I don’t understand.

I also love Hindi – I feel a weird familiarity with it, and it’s probably the only language where, suddenly, without any formal instruction, I started to realize, “hey, I understand what they’re saying…!”

Oh, and Welsh. It’s not “beautiful”, per se, but I find it extremely quirky and fascinating – kind of like what someone else said about Egyptian Arabic. Slangy, informal, and a little bit hobbit-ish. My ears strain to figure out what kind of hilarious joke they must be telling.

Telse:

Lithuanian and Ukrainian sound soft and melodious. I also love hearing Finnish speakers. I don’t understand any of these languages, but they still sound beautiful.

And German will always have a place in my heart. Not exactly melodious, but it sounds so COOL!

pastor_riel:

I was waiting to see if anyone mentioned Romanian…my favorite language! It sounds so beautiful! It’s a blend of strong, confident Slavic tempered with the passionate, rhythmic flow of a romance language. In short, it sounds pretty damn sexy when spoken. And listen to how they roll their rrrr’s!

Community Connection

Please share your perspective on the world’s most beautiful language in the comments below. For me, it’s Spanish every time, because I feel like a kitten rolling around in a big pile of catnip every time I speak it. It’s flexible and full of energy and when I speak it the words come flying off my tongue before I know I’m sayin’ em.

All photos by Anne Merritt

In the weeks before I moved to Thailand for an ESL job, I sank myself into guidebooks, memorized tourist phrases, and tried to piece together the basics from the other side of the world. Tonal language? I thought, sure, I can do that.

It didn’t work at all.

When my new boss met me at the Bangkok airport, I greeted her with a proud “suh-WAT-dee-ka,” pronounced just as my Lonely Planet phrasebook wrote it.

Nada. Her brow furrowed, as if she was reading the syllables that hung awkwardly in the damp air between us. I tried again.

“Hello!” She laughed. It was a gentle, amiable laugh that I would learn to love. “Your Thai sounds so good! Yes, yes, sa-wat-DEE Ka. You’re learning already!” It was the sort of kind white lie you tell praisingly to children.

First, there was food

In my first week, word spread quickly that there was a new foreigner in tiny Ayutthaya. Fellow expats, Anglophilic Thais, hair-gelled young men and bored housewives would introduce themselves with a standing invite to grab a bite together. My mind was swimming with culture shock, new names and faces to remember, and of course, the food. The dizzying, wonderful food.

Fruits that I had never seen before became breakfast staples as I gaped my way through the food market each day for juicy rambutan and dragonfruit. The nearby night market became a post-work hangout. I would watch the quick-handed cooks, asking a shy “nee alai?” for every new dish. The answer would come, a pattering of syllables like rain, lost on my ears. I would nod, pretending to understand, and order a plate.

I carried a notebook everywhere, its pages flecked with food stains and warped from constant touch. I scribbled every new food word, and recited them like a nursery rhyme as I walked to work. Glooay, mamuang, tangmoe.

Soon I could order vegetarian food, ice for my soda, less spice, more spice, the check (chek-BIN). I could compliment the cook, thank the waiter, ask for change. I could even have the usual small talk with other diners. “Where are you from? Why are you in Thailand?”

They were the same questions every night, the same questions anyone would ask a foreigner, alone and off the tourist trail. You speak Thai well. “No,” I would joke, “I only speak Menu.”

Then, there was slang

My Thai friends were a cheery group studying English at the local university, and we would meet often on the bar street. There, they would feed me everyday Thai words, and I would try to parrot their tones. Their pub talk wasn’t exactly the stuff of a formal language class. My little notebook was filling up with footnotes: * = only use with friends; ** = crass; *** = use only in dire emergencies.

It was a whole new kind of language learning. I had studied French in school, the proper textbook form of a language that you could use politely with a postman or mother-in-law. With Thai, I was learning bits of proper speech and bits of street talk, each section of the language stirring and overlapping in my mind.

At one point, a local man started following me around town in his truck, um, pantsless. I stood up to him by sputtering all the relevant Thai words that came to mind. “I don’t like that! I don’t want that! You terrible man!”

Later, I reenacted the confrontation to my friends, who collapsed in laughter. “Come on, it was scary, I was being harassed!” I moaned.

“Your sentences are so simple, like a child,” they told me. “To him, you sounded just like a toddler with a dirty mouth.”

Then, the rest

My fellow expats were a well-traveled bunch, and no strangers to immersion language learning.

“You have to use it constantly, even if you don’t know much!” Lisa told me, gabbing with every taxi driver and barman with her growing vocabulary. “Do you like swimming?” “How old is your brother?” “Is that a fork?” Her house was covered in post-it notes when a Thai friend came over and labeled everything. Gaa on the teapot, khohm on the lamp, dti-ang on the bed.

“Learning the written form helps you understand the tones,” Nicole said, as we dragged language textbooks to a cafe. The waiters, ever amused, would lean in to listen as we tried to speak tonally, tried to abandon the inflections that English speakers so naturally use. One gave us Thai names. “You are Thai now,” he said. My name, Nam-phon, meant “rain.”

My learning was slow, discouraged sometimes by the tones, the way one syllable could mean five different things. Sometimes when speaking a simple sentence, a shopkeeper would shake her head firmly, calling to a nearby friend that a falang was trying to order. The “foreigner blinders,” as we called it. She had assumed that any words coming out of a white girl’s mouth would be incomprehensible. Often, with my garbled tones, I’m sure they were.

English always found its way to me, not just my language but the novelty of my foreignness. Children would stare as I walked by, yelling “Hel-lo! Hel-lo!,” then running away like kids at Boo Radley’s doorstep.

Sometimes, vendors would call out to us in scraps of English gleaned from western radio. “Yes, okay! Rock and roll! Very beautiful! Come on baby light my fire! Everything I do, I do for you.” The English language itself a gimmick, a part of the salesman song-and-dance.

I wanted to learn Thai, in part, to cross that divide, to get beyond the tourist label, to get more than an arm’s length insight into the culture. Living there, I never became fluent in the language, though I learned enough to get around and have a chat. Living there, I never became fluent in the culture either, forever scratching my head at the tiniest daily events.

The popular Thai expression “jai yen” means to have a cool heart, to stay even-tempered. Calmness, especially in the face of frustration, is a key trait in the Thai mentality. When I struggled for words, when Thais giggled at my poor pronunciation, I tried to keep a cool heart. Sometimes, my friends told me, it’s all you can do.

Feature Photo: heydee Photo: Joel Bedford

I learned to speak Spanish with middle-aged women and food instead of teachers and books.

My first lesson was in Mexico with Carmen, my first host mother. Carmen watched and supported me through culture shock, food poisoning, and the end of my first relationship.

I went to Guadalajara with almost no knowledge of Spanish. Carmen spoke no English.

By the end of the month I spent with her, I understood almost everything she said.

Carmen seemed to understand that I was young and green and error-prone. She walked me through this initial, naive phase with patience and tolerance that would have a lasting impact.

She made me sandwiches that I never ate, opting instead for cheese quesadillas and chicken enchiladas in posh but affordable restaurants.

Her daughter, Sandy, spoke to me in very correct English and placed cutouts of Spanish verb conjugations in my room. They decorated my walls and I, suffering from information overload, ignored them and read my American books instead.

Photo: oliveralex

Mexico was frightening to me. I spoke little Spanish and my culture, background, and the news told me that I was in a dangerous country. The air quality was decidedly bad and traffic was terrifying. Once I took the bus too far, missed my stop, and ran until I found a hospital, where a doctor spoke to me in English and called Carmen so she could pick me up.

When we got home, instead of chiding me for being upset, Carmen poured me a glass of Manzana Lift and told me that she, too, often felt overwhelmed in cities she didn’t know.

Little by little, with her help, I gained confidence and began to find my way.

I went to the beach on a weekend trip. On my second day there, my then boyfriend called me and said that he was done being in a relationship, that I was the problem, and that it all needed to end. Two years with my first love, albeit a chaotic and painful two years, were over.

I felt so lonely that instead of taking in the beach, I found a French-Mexican fusion café and wrote. I filled notebooks with loss. When I came home, I explained what had happened. Carmen told me “No te mortifiques, Anne” or don’t torment yourself. She said that I was very young and everything passes.

I don’t understand how I was able to communicate with Carmen. I had no formal Spanish training but from early on I understood what she was saying. We had a bond that transcended linguistic logic.

On my last day in Guadalajara, I rode the bus downtown and watched the rain. I felt the first pangs of regret and nostalgia. Regret that I had to leave Mexico, and nostalgia for a place I was just beginning to understand.

It was almost a year after Mexico that I shared a table with another Carmen, in Valparaíso, Chile. This Carmen was letting me stay with her before I left South America to go back home. She told me stories, mostly.

Photo: Alain76

Carmen said that sacks of potatoes and dried meat had filled her childhood home in Concepción. Her father believed that the family should have food in abundance so that they would always be prepared for guests and whatever life should happen to offer.

Among other acts of charity, she rescued street dogs and kept them for periods in her spare room. Since Carmen’s landlord mandated that she only have three dogs, she rotated them on walks and put smaller pups in a plastic bag until she had crossed the street without attracting suspicion.

She was a woman of profound dignity. Carmen lived in the heart of Valparaíso, and told me that she liked to be with “the people”. Her husband had left years before, and she shared her apartment with her young professional daughter. She was endlessly giving but would not tolerate injustice in any form, be it poverty or small acts of tactlessness.

I spent one week with Carmen on a stopover between Argentina and the United States. Most of my friends had already left Chile and so I had very little to do. In between visits to the ocean and cafés, I drank tea and ate meals with Carmen.

Daily rituals extended hours beyond their normal durations as we talked about everything from her divorce to my nebulous future. She encouraged me to be open and to travel everywhere I could so that when I was a teacher I could make an excellent curriculum for my students.

Those afternoons with Carmen perfected my language skills in a way no classroom could. I never formally studied Spanish. My school was living rooms, protests, boat rides, and the street.

I remember the word for ice cream by recalling the vendors who board buses in Chile and shout, “¡¡Helado helado!!”

I know Catholic prayers because I watched as an old man burned coca leaves and repeated blessings on the Day of the Dead in a northern village. To this day, when I feel shame, sadness, or grief I comfort myself with my first real phrase in Spanish – No te mortifiques, Anne – the refrain of Mexican Carmen.

In my suburban high school I was tested so often that to this day I can complete almost any assessment in under half an hour. In college I wrote papers about Marxism and Medieval Literature. And while I rarely recite Chaucer or speak of the dialectic, Spanish is something I use every day and will never forget.

I learned it my way, in the way that was the most meaningful for me. The language holds texture, smells, rhythm, and history, and so it is in my mind and my body. Above all, I owe my fluency to mothers, meals, and living rooms. And especially to two women named Carmen.

Photos: author

I was in Turkey for three months this past autumn to train with Fire of Anatolia, an iconic professional dance group in the country. Fire of Anatolia holds the Guinness World Record for fastest dance performance at 241 steps per minute.

I think the dancers should hold another world record: speaking Turkish at a million words per minute.

I knew I was in trouble from the moment I stepped into the first rehearsal. I wasn’t worried as I watched the dancers vigorously stomp on the cracked hardwood floors. I spent half my childhood inside a dance studio. Kicks, stomps, and turns are not foreign to me. Where my talents do not lie is in translations, conjugations, and cross-cultural communication. By the time I’m forming full sentences abroad, it’s usually time to leave. I’m the linguistic equivalent of a dancer with two left feet.

Beer, Icky, Huge

This time around, I tried to take things one-step at a time. Step one: counting. You can’t be a dancer if you can’t count, and you can’t learn a foreign language without crunching numbers. Lucky for me, dancers only need to count to eight.

During my first official lesson with Fire of Anatolia, the instructor Sinem tried to teach the routine while counting in English. She kept tripping over her words and counting in the wrong direction. She turned around to face the class, filled with twelve other anxious foreigners like myself.

“We are going to learn counting in Turkish right now. You are going to have to learn it sometime anyway, “ Sinem said.

I watched the eyebrows of my fellow dancers raise.

Sinem began counting: Bir, iki, üç. I didn’t have much trouble remembering those numbers. ‘1,2,3,’ in Turkish sound oddly similar to three English words: ‘Beer,’ ‘Icky’, ‘Huge’. However, as the numbers went up, my confidence crashed.

“We move to the right at the ‘beach’ count?” I inquired. Sinem corrected me. I was to move my arms forward on ‘beş,’ meaning five. I hadn’t felt this perplexed in a dance class since I was six years old.

After two long hours, our group started making progress. We were dancing, singing, and counting in Turkish. Still, we were in no way graceful. Our dancing was off balance, our singing was ear curdling, and our number pronunciation was indecipherable. It’s a good thing Sinem only had to teach us how to count to eight.

After that lesson, my group proclaimed that particular choreography the ‘number dance.’ Now and again, you’ll still catch me going through the moves when I need to brush up on my Turkish numbers.

After counting to eight eight million times, I noticed numbers weren’t getting me far beyond the rehearsal hall. That’s when I bought a small notebook from the corner store. I scribbled down all the words I knew. It took surprisingly little time, maybe five minutes. I glanced down and realized the words barely filled a page.

I couldn’t believe it. I had been hanging out with Turkish people everyday, but I could not form a single complete sentence. I faced the truth: I’d gotten lazy. I lived in a hotel where people spoke English. I let my Turkish friends practice their English with me but I didn’t do the opposite. That’s when I decided it was time to kick things up a notch.

The Comprehension Stage

I learned more Turkish during the following week than I had during the entire first month. I spent the breaks between classes sipping Turkish tea with the dancers while they taught me new vocabulary and phrases. I frantically wrote it all down in the notebook every night before bed. Suddenly, I had three pages of words.

At first, the words looked more like a dance syllabus. I knew how to say right and left, arm and leg, foot and ankle. I learned how to ask questions. When is rehearsal? What time is it? Where are we going? Lastly, in a dancer’s world of diets and calorie counting, I learned one very important phrase: ‘I am hungry.’ Ajictum.

I will admit I had to stare at the words and repeat them ten times before I actually remembered them. Slowly but surely though, I set foot onto the stage of comprehension.

On the bus back home from a performance one night, I listened intently as our instructor Apo spoke in Turkish to the other dancers. Apo uttered only a few sentences, but he spoke as fast as the bus careened down the road.

Come on Meagan, you know this, I thought. I managed to decipher ‘six’ and ‘go.’ Somehow, I figured out that there were six dancers missing, but we were going because they were coming later. Thank you, context!

An Audience Of One

The next major step I took was the decision to have a ‘conversation’ with someone who speaks absolutely no English.

That unsuspecting man was my new best friend at the hotel in Istanbul. Sid cleaned my room almost everyday. His round, smiling face would always greet me at the door. During our first meeting, he grabbed my cheeks like my grandmother, and wouldn’t stop saying how beautiful I was. “Choc Guzelle,” he said. He always left tokens of affection in the form of extra hazelnut stashes, packages of Q-tips, and seven pairs of slippers.

As the rain fell outside in Istanbul, Sid and I did the linguistic dance. Sid motioned to the unmade bed. ‘Hayir’, I said, meaning no. I didn’t want Sid to make the bed. I told him in Turkish to come back in two hours. I was about to proudly say goodbye when Sid whispered a word I couldn’t quite understand.

Wait, I thought. I think I know this word. He just said wait! He moved over to the bed, sat me down, and whipped open his wallet full of photos like any proud father would. I asked every question I knew how to ask in Turkish. Who? How many? How old? In a few minutes, I felt like part of the family. I learned that Sid has four children: three boys, and one girl. I did not utter a single word of English.

That’s when Sid spotted my Turkish notebook sitting on the night table. He motioned for me to show it to him. I went to open it and he snatched it out of my hands. He laughed at my spelling, then noticed I had English words written next to all the Turkish words he recognized. The lesson began. He would say the word I had written down in Turkish, and I would say it in English.

Sid: “Nereye gediyoruz?”

Meagan: “Nerede Gediyoruz?” Oh wait…”Nereye Gediyoruz.” Now your turn, Sid. In English: “Where are we going?”

Sid: “Wa ge ba godun?”

I just smiled and nodded my head. He made the effort. After all, I know what it’s like to be syllabically uncoordinated. We said our goodbyes and took our bows.

I felt like I had come leaps and bounds. Before I came to Turkey, I relied pretty heavily on my sign language ability to communicate in a foreign language. The ‘I have to pee’ dance is fairly universal, after all. Now I could move beyond the body language. I could just sit down and talk with my new Turkish friends.

Performing with Fire of Anatolia and dancing for audiences made up of thousands was a still a thrill. However, finally having an audience of just one felt just as exhilarating.

Photos by the author.

East Africa is a beautiful place to visit, or even live for a while. Knowing a little bit of Swahili before you go will endear the people toward you and start your trip off right.

First things first, learn your greetings:

Saying ‘Hello and Good Morning” are a must in East Africa. You would never start a conversation without a sufficient greeting.

Even when my friend found me screaming on my bed, trying to kill a huge spider, he first said “Kelly how are you? How was your trip to Tanga? Did you sleep well?”.

I answered all three questions before he would even start to talk about the spider.

Jambo – “Hello!” A friendly “Jambo” goes a long way.

Destinations

Community Connection to Kenya

Habari – Also “Hello / Good Morning.” Use this one when speaking with older people.

Nzuri – “Beautiful / Good / Nice / I am fine.”

Shikamo – Literally “I hold your feet.” This greeting is for your elders. Young children will often mutter Shikamo under their breath when you walk by. It may sound like “Sh…ooo”.

Marahaba - The reply to “Shikamo”. Literally translated to something like “ I am delighted, I don’t get that every day.”

Other useful phrases that will come in handy:

Asante – “Thank you!” You will use this word the most in your conversations.

Sana (very) Used as in Asante-sana- Thank you VERY much.

Pole- “I am sorry for your misfortune.” This applies to everything from getting chalk dust on your clothes, to tripping, dropping an item or sneezing.

Pole pole – “Slowly, slowly.” Everything is pole pole in Africa.

Chakula- “FOOD!” If you hear this word, walk towards the place you heard it.

Photos by the author.

Nydio / Hapana – “Yes and No” respectively. Some phrasebooks will tell you that hapana is rude. It is not. As long as you don’t say it forcefully, you are fine. I haven’t heard another word for ‘no’ since I have been here.

Hatari - “DANGER!!!!!” This could be a snake in the road or a warning about an endemic in the area. Take note and proceed with caution.

The three main websites I get up-to-date information from are the following. Make sure to check them regularly, as conditions change rapidly in East Africa.

CIA Word Fact Book- Tanzania

Center for Disease Control

Lonely Planet

Feature Photo: ctd 2005 Photo: aemaeth

Matador is sponsoring a sweet contest for language lovers and learners at the Spanish-English conversation exchange site Lenguajero. If you’ve ever wanted to be an internet language rock star, here’s your chance – read on for more info. Below is the press release from August Flanagan, Lenguajero’s owner:

Lenguajero.com is running a community based audiocast contest in which Spanish and English speakers from all over the world will submit a 4-8 minute long audiocast (mp3 format) about one of these topics:

1. Something interesting in your local culture, local slang, or an
interesting place in your city or country.

2. Your favorite…book, movie, hobby…(you decide).

Members of the Lenguajero community will vote for their favorite audiocasts, and the two winners (one English speaker and one Spanish speaker) will each receive a $75 USD gift card to the winners choice of Amazon.com, iTunes, or
Mercado Libre, as well as several fantastic language learning programs.

Lenguajero will also be offering the winners and runners up the chance to record and publish their own audiocast series that are engaging, informative, and educational.

The contest is running now, and ends at 11:59 p.m. April 16th, 2010. For more contest information, or to submit an entry go to the Lenguajero website.

There are already several fantastic submissions including a great 4 minute tutorial on all the different uses of the word “huevo” in Mexican Spanish.

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Yes, readers – that last one was from yours truly and her Mexican partner, testing out their podcast prowess.

The contest rocks as an opportunity to get yourself and your name out there if you have a language learning site, you love learning and exploring languages, or you just want four minutes of fame talking about your favorite movie.

Photo: Justin Beckley Feature Photo: Richard0

Still lives on the ancient speech
Still the ancient songs endure
-John Ceiriog Hughes

Mae hen wlad fy nhadau — the land of my fathers.

Except it’s not, because I’m not Welsh, so why, as people are always asking me, would I want to learn it? Especially when everyone in Wales now speaks English anyway (the days of the odd little old lady in the hills who doesn’t know a word of Saesneg are gone).

I learn it because I love the place, because I’m curious, because the sound of it to me is a song and not the ‘spitting’ that people make fun of. It’s songs and anthems, hills and the black slate cliffs down to the ocean. It’s poetry. It has a cadence which I find irresistible, as well as an earthy, real connection to the land and a utilitarian feel.

I moved to Cardiff to do a degree in English (“Arse-backwards, just like the Welsh,” grumbles my Irish mother), and along with my literature modules I signed up for a module of Wlpan, two lessons a week as an optional extra in the first year. We went from whispering strange words and trying to remember that ll is a letter of the alphabet and w is a vowel to writing a regular ‘What I did on the weekend’ piece, suitably censored.

I got all firsts, the only first grade marks I ever got, and the bilingual road signs and shouting rugby fans began to make a bit of sense.

After four years in cosmopolitan Cardiff, I was back in West Wales and immersed in a bilingual area. A Welsh teacher found me shamrocking Guinness and struggling to understand some farmers. He hired me to work in his traditional Welsh woollen mill — threading spools, winding bobbins and finishing thick rugs made of Welsh wool on hundred-year-old looms that shook the old building.

Photo: Mr. T in DC

“Arswd y byd!“ (the surprise of the world!) he would shout over the clatter of the shuttle whenever I deflected a shot of dour Welsh sarcasm with a perfectly-conjugated reply, all the mutations in the correct places (Welsh slides together, initial consonants blurring to make it run like a cold Preseli mountain stream). After a few weeks he refused to speak any English to me at all.

I remember spinning the bobbins, 30 at once on a machine at least 50 years old, while flipping flashcards and reciting the color and number rhymes taught to primary school kids. I remember reading the Western Mail. I remember tying endless knots in rug fringes, hands soft from the lanolin left in the wool, listening to BBC Radio Cymru, a few words from each sentence penetrating the soft hill fog of the fast, authoritative Welsh.

He took me to Rome to watch Wales versus Italy in the Six Nations. I watched the girls from Ponty Yn cael piss in the gutter, the Italians bemused but loving the atmosphere, and I untangled south Walian rhythms while trying to order a Peroni in Italian. I listened to my teacher and his brother, the Minister for Sport and Culture, discuss Welsh politics and Assembly gossip over one of the best Italian meals I’ve ever eaten in a little backstreet restaurant.

I got better. I found the courage to speak in Welsh to people who knew I was English and felt inordinate amounts of pride when they spoke Welsh back. I remember transactions in shops, totally simple, but totally understood, and the person behind the counter not even blinking. They think I really can speak it!

The pub was a great part of thing as it is a great part of rural Welsh life. One of the best breakthroughs was speaking Welsh when drunk and people still understanding me. (I think.) Once I joined in a rousing chorus of Calon Lân (Pure Heart), the most beautiful song in the world, and the Welshies looked at me in surprise (maybe just because I don’t have the Welsh talent for singing!).

Photo: Fotologic

I remember the frustrations of Wenglish — asking someone, “What’s the Welsh for tractor?” and being told, “Ur, tractor”. Is it, though? Wenglish means you can carry on with your conversation, because everyone shoves English words in where there is no Welsh word, or more likely because they just don’t know the Welsh word. But I want to know the right word for tractor. (In this case it is, actually, tractor…)

I remember the utter pain of being totally unable to understand someone. Some Welsh speakers, and not just the ones who speak ‘pro-pur’ Welsh, I can understand just fine, others I have no chance. Their accent, or just something in the way they use the language, loses me. How does that work? Mind you, there are some people I just cannot ‘get’ in any language… Two steps forward, one back.

I began to dream in Welsh, which I think is a mark of fluency. The poet in me loves the words, and starts to play with them more. It’s beautiful to find words that really suit their meaning, sometimes better than they do in English. Cariad is the best example — it means love, and the pronunciation renders it a caress in itself.

Or cwtch, which has no direct translation, but means ‘safe place’. It’s used like ‘cuddle’ — ‘come here and give me a cwtch’, or ‘cwtch up’. The tiniest house in my village is called Y Cwtch.

With Welsh you’re learning mythology, history, folklore, magic, tradition and geography as well as the language. You’re learning the pride of a national identity that was nearly wiped out but is now growing stronger.

There’s never an end to learning a language, so I can’t say I’ve learned Welsh, no, not yet.

Feature Photo: joiseyshowaa Photo: ahron

After the hour-long scooter ride to a scheduled appointment at a research center and a forty minute wait in the lobby, the secretary finally felt it was time to share that the coordinator was not coming in at all—our meeting was canceled.

Almost nine months into being here, I’ve come to find that in Bangladeshi culture people constantly talk, but no one communicates. Words are thrown around in conversation, but they are seldom concise and often add irrelevant information. Meetings that could have been accomplished with a five-minute phone call turn into an hour commute and a two-hour discussion that digresses from women’s empowerment to the freedom of jungle chickens. It takes my roommate ten minutes to tell me a thirty-second story. I’m constantly snapping at her, “Yeah, I get it—then what?”

Photo: ahron

This lack of communication goes beyond the obvious language barrier. I have learned enough Bangla to communicate my needs and am skilled enough in the art of charades to express to a waiter an order of vegetable soup without prawn. Yet he still argues for seven minutes that the taste will change. “Yes sir, I want the taste to change, I’m a vegetarian.” With the inability to express oneself concisely comes the inability to understand anything that is not repeated twenty times.

I believe the real miscommunication stems from this need for incessant repetition. If you don’t reiterate your needs at least three times, you’ll be misunderstood. As an ex-pat from fast-talking New York, it’s infuriating to have to repeat myself. Telling a rickshaw-wallah that I’m going to Karwan Bazar but ending up on Shatash Road made me late for a meeting. When I told my colleagues why I was late, they dismissed me, saying “You have to tell the wallahs four times.”

Alarmingly, what I found myself doing was adapting to another way that Bangladeshis communicate: through force. After I noticed we were heading in the wrong direction for several blocks, I then repeated to the rickshaw-wallah that I wanted to go to Karwan Bazar. He began mumbling under his breath that I made him go in the wrong direction, while I fumed that he didn’t listen in the first place.

At a turn, the wallah accidentally ran the wheel up a pedestrian’s leg. A typical Bangladeshi male stare-down occurred: the death stare with widened eyes, a raised hand, and a spew of curses so fast it sounds like an enraged auctioneer with a jawbreaker in his mouth.

After several seconds of this “masculine” throw-down as I screamed, “Go, uncle, move on,” I raised my own hand and smacked the wallah in the back to snap him out of his red-blooded trance.

I hit another human being. I resorted to violence, the sort of violence I am trying to combat in my work. In all reality, he didn’t even respond to my hand smacking his back. He just pedaled forward, yelling at the man behind him. But was it appropriate? Though it is culturally acceptable, should I have hit him?

Dozens of times in a day I see the standard “hand-raise-in-preparation-to-hit” directed towards children, women, beggars or lower class men. More often than not, the hand comes down on their cheeks, heads and backs. Physical violence becomes a straightforward method of communication—a straightforward method that their verbal expression lacks.

Photo: TMAB2003

It was pointed out by another expat that this is a preliterate society. According to UNICEF, Bangladesh’s literacy rate is 54%. For UNICEF, adult literacy is determined by the percentage of persons over 15 years of age who can read and write. This statistic can be skewed when people who can sign their name are counted as literate, even when they can’t read or write much else.

No matter how illiterate Bangladesh is on paper or in reality, many adults today never learned to practice comprehensive conversation. In societies with higher literacy, schools teach their students to be direct in essay writing and to clearly articulate their questions. A lot of adults didn’t have that opportunity in Bangladesh, and if they did, they were still raised by parents who didn’t. They were raised by parents who smacked them to make a statement.

This violence is still occurring—on the streets, in my friends’ families, even in safe homes for women and children. When a baby is crying, relatives raise their hand to teach them to listen. And I picked up on it. Humans adapt to their surroundings, but I am not proud of this moment of adaptation. This cultural habit and form of communication is something I can’t accept and I don’t want to mimic. I refuse to believe that hitting a baby will help it listen better. Violence perpetuates violence, and it’s a cycle that should end.

It’s a given that communication goes beyond verbal expression. It involves facial expresions, eye contact, charades, sign language and physical contact. Gently patting a child’s head says “Hello, sweetie.” Smacking would fall under physical contact communication—but it is invasive and violent. Violence will ultimately be redirected elsewhere—perhaps back to you.

As my rickshaw drove away, I saw this negative side of Bangladesh culture I was adapting to. I want to assimilate into this culture but I refuse to absorb a negative trait. Cultures are ever changing and pluralistic, and I’ll assert that ending smacking as a communicative expression would be a positive change for this culture.

There are better cultural characteristics that I could pick up on: patience, for example. Luckily I still have three months left for that.

Photo: Fotos China de Jorge Santiago

Dear Abroad Readers,

You, I believe, are language learners. You’re at the very least language curious. You try and wrap your mouths around the tones in Mandarin and fearlessly stake your dignity on the precarious pronunciation of a phrase of Japanese slang. You tackle Arabic, Portuguese, Swahili, Spanish. You have, as I’ve realized reading our fierce and committed comment threads, deeply entrenched and passionate opinions about language learning.

I want to hear your stories about struggling with new languages, stumbling forward and finding your identity, your voice, your comfort zone and finally, ultimately, your fluency in another tongue. You don’t even have to be “fluent” in an academic sense, speaking clearly and smoothly with few errors; you can simply have learned how to navigate another language and how to understand and make yourself understood.

I want the stories of how you went from gaping uncertainty to those intuitive leaps of understanding, those breakthrough conversations (even if it was just, finally!, ordering a beer correctly) and what tricks, strategies, or unconscious tactics you used to get there.

Please try to keep submissions under 1,500 words, and avoid Beginner’s Insert Language Here study tips. I want to hear personal, individual stories about the journey you took to learn a language. Think of it as a linguistic travel narrative, charting your itinerary and your explorations into the foreign conjugations and word orders.

Send submissions to sarah@matadornetwork.com with “How I Learned _______” in the subject line.

Cuidense mucho,

Sarah

Photos: author

I first arrived in Juarez, Mexico in 2001 for an “interview” which I found out later was merely a formality. My company had already decided to transfer me from Michigan to the Mexican plant.

I wanted the international assignment so I could learn to speak Spanish like a native. Never mind that Spanish fluency was a requirement for the job, and mine was barely conversational, verging on basic, poor, and weak. I told them I was fluent.

My soon-to-be boss was American so we conversed smoothly in English until his convertible stopped at the guard shack outside the plant.

“Ok, we’re going to test your Spanish. Tell the guards you don’t have a visa because you are not here to work. You just have an interview today.”

I panicked. What was the word for interview?

It came to me just in time. I stuttered out in broken Spanish, “No voy a trabajar. Solo entrevista hoy.”

The guard smiled at my attempt and opened the gate.

I glanced at my future boss, hoping he hadn’t noticed my dismal language skills. He gave a slight nod of approval. Phew, I passed the first test.

Through my enthusiasm I somehow convinced him that I could effectively supervise a production line (having never worked in a plant), that I could engineer air conditioning compressors (I barely knew what one was), and that I spoke Spanish fluently (after four years of high school Spanish, I had forgotten most in the years since I’d graduated).

I started my job in Mexico the following month.

The first year was the hardest. I struggled to provide direction to the Spanish-speaking operators on my production line. I knew next to nothing about the machines, I was a young female in a country still relatively male-dominated, and I could barely communicate. I was so unqualified rumors spread that I must be related to the American plant manager to have received the job.

I managed to read Spanish at a snail’s pace with dictionary in hand, but listening and understanding was practically impossible. Quick conversations cluttered with slang sounded nothing like the slow, clear language tapes we had listened to in class.

Hand signals and drawings seemed more effective than speaking. When they didn’t work, I pleaded mas despacio por favor (slower please) and mande? (what?). I repeated these so many times that by the end of the first month my mande sounded perfectly Mexican. Only several thousand more words left to conquer.

My blank looks often encouraged operators to repeat the same foreign word louder. Louder was equally confusing and more frustrating.

I recalled my elementary school teacher’s lesson about training your pet to do tricks. She said a puppy won’t understand the word “sit” until you show them what it means (push their backside down while repeating sit). Otherwise, if you just keep repeating the word louder and louder, you might as well be saying “zucchini” instead of sit. It is equally ineffective.

I felt like the dog. Zucchini. Mande? ZUCCHINI. Blank look. ZUCCHINI!!! Frustration.

Little by little I started catching on, although mistakes were still frequent.

One day I told my co-worker that I had eaten sobres for dinner. She laughed. “Sobras, not sobres!” Sobras are leftovers. Sobres are envelopes. Envelopes, yum.

Other similar words threw me off. Pulgadas are inches. Pulgas are fleas. You can guess which one I used as units of measure.

Some took advantage of my innocence and lack of understanding. One worker suggested we call oval-shaped scrap parts huevos, or eggs. Yes, egg-shaped! I was so excited that I understood what he was suggesting. I exclaimed that we had lots of huevos. How many huevos have you seen? Can you hand me those huevos? Only later did I find out the dual meaning of the word; saying huevos is like saying balls or nuts in English. Red-faced, I announced to the operators we would now call those parts ovalados.

By 2003 my fluency had increased to the point that my co-workers would joke and say, “You speak English as if you were an American!” It was a huge compliment that they implied I was Mexican.

Yet reminders that I wasn’t continued to appear. I still just hummed along to the Mexican birthday song, Las Mañanitas, while everyone else sang the words.

By late 2003 I married my husband, a Mexican native. In conversations with his family, I realized how much my Spanish vocabulary revolved around work. While I could dominate an hour long conversation about machine problems, I could barely talk for five minutes with my mother-in-law about cooking.

I also learned that a few of the Spanish words I used regularly did not actually exist. They were close enough that people knew what I meant so no one ever said anything. Luckily my husband’s son, with typical childhood bluntness, did not hesitate to correct me.

Before I could get words like obviosamente out of my mouth, he would interrupt exclaiming, “That’s not a word! It’s obviamente!” I learned so much when people stopped being polite. When I asked my husband why he had never corrected me, he said he thought my mistakes were cute.

My first haircut in Mexico reminded me again how little Spanish I knew. I reverted to hand signals using finger scissors to show how much to cut. Later I learned words for bangs and layers and split ends and how to specify cut length in dedos (finger-widths) instead of inches (or fleas).

I also learned how they ask if I dye my hair. I am asked every time. I would never choose poopy-brown color hair dye, not even to match my poopy-brown eyes, but I guess it contrasts with the beautiful black hair of typical customers.

By 2007 I felt confident in and outside of work. I could watch Spanish movies and understand even the details. But I was still learning common sayings, analogies, jokes, and references to famous Mexicans.

Now, in 2010, I feel completely comfortable in Mexico and I rarely think about Spanish as a second language anymore. Speaking is effortless. But there is always more to learn. Just as I learn more vocabulary in English each year, I learn a few new words every week in Mexico. And I will always make mistakes.

People often ask how I learned Spanish. They remark how fluent or natural I sound, even though I know there are words I don’t pronounce quite right.

Recently, a particularly social cleaning lady began stopping by my office often to chat in Spanish. She had heard me on phone calls in both languages.

After a few weeks she asked, “How did you learn English?”

I laughed. “Do you mean how did I learn Spanish? I took Spanish classes in high school, but really I learned more from practice after I started working here in Mexico.”

Her jaw dropped. “You’re not Mexican?”

Community Connection

Do you have a story about how you learned a particular language? Send it to Sarah@matadornetwork.com with “How I learned _______” in the title.

Feature and Above Photo: orazal

In Stendhal’s “The Red and the Black,” the heroic (but mostly tragic) Julien is the petty bourgeois son of a carpenter who, through a mixture of luck and intelligence, obtains a promising job that under normal circumstances would be beyond his reach. During a period of illness Julien’s boss, the Marquis de la Mole, suggests that Julien come visit him wearing a blue suit as opposed to his usual black cleric’s garb.

To Julien’s surprise, the day he shows up wearing the blue suit the Marquis treats him like a totally different person. Suddenly, he finds himself being spoken to respectfully, thoughtfully, as a friend. Class boundaries and other social delimiters suddenly dissipate.

I think that on an subconscious level, my decision to leave Los Angeles for Paris came very much from a desire to shed my cleric’s robe and try on a different personality, in a place where no one would be able to pick out, like, the Southern Californian inflection in my speech, spot my Mexican-American background, or judge me by my (suburban) area code.

Photo: david.nikonvscanon

Consciously, I had quite simply decided to go abroad to become fluent in French. My imagination having been piqued by years of fervently watching Mais Oui instructional videos and practically every film by Truffaut, the obvious choice was Paris. I would have none of Aix-en-Provence or some other Francophone country.

It had to be Paris. And so Paris it was.

Since I’d waited until my senior year of university to study abroad, I was slightly older than most of the other international students I met upon arriving. This became obvious through my choices to live alone instead of with a roommate, to not get together with “everyone” at the American Bar once a week, to take regular courses at the University of Paris instead of special classes for American students. The unexpected byproduct of my independent spirit was that suddenly I found myself completely isolated; which, as it turned out, wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

There was probably nothing more exhilarating during those first few months in Paris than flinging open the windows to my first floor apartment and smelling the fresh bread and coffee wafting upstairs from the shop just underneath. From my perch I could witness all sorts of Parisian action on the flagstones of my quaint street. My neighbor and her musician boyfriend would be playing the piano and laughing.

Photo: Did_

Soon I learned how to navigate the metro, how to proudly boast that I lived in the Bastille for a scandalously low price, how to keep away from certain clingy streetwalker types who didn’t care if you had a boyfriend (invented or otherwise).

I realized I would have to drop my West Coast ways after repeatedly misjudging the weather (for me a sunny day meant I could go out without a jacket). I learned how to ask for a baguette in the bakery without undergoing too much anxiety.

But winter inevitably came. My classes were spent oscillating between confused frustration and overexcited reverie ―I was lucky to be able to understand enough to get a paragraph of notes out of a two-hour class session.

I spent a week in the middle of winter without electricity or hot water, because of an Electricité de France website error. My landlord was forgetful and flippant, and suffered from what appeared to me to be bipolar disorder. Also, I was inconsolably lonely.

The silence of winter in Paris when you live alone and have only a few friends and no family is unnerving.

I began to drink alone. But I also watched films, wrote in my journal, got to know myself better. I started to frequent the panoply of museums and galleries that Paris offers. My Louvre was the Centre Pompidou; I spent every spare minute I had in the temporary exhibitions and film screenings. I went to concerts on the outskirts of the city by myself via the infamous suburban trains, called RER. I discovered the maddening meaning of the word grève, or strike, when all my classes were canceled for a month and a half straight. Just to remind anyone who might be too academically motivated, the entrance to the university was blocked by a 6-foot-tall barricade of chairs and tables.

I repeated phrases I overheard in the metro to myself in my empty apartment. Every day I carried a notebook with me and, stealing glances at my fellow passengers, jotted down phrases from the books they read on their commute to work or school or gilded lives I would never know anything about. I convinced myself that this was the only way I could ever know what they were thinking.

Photo: FunkyFlamenca

It never occurred to me to actually try to speak to people, much less in French. It seemed that the new personality I’d been looking forward to trying on was that of a misanthropic loner, who had to hype herself up for 10 minutes before working up the courage to make a simple phone call.

Needless to say, my French skills weren’t exactly improving that winter in Paris.

My expenses, although minimal in comparison with some decadent semester abroad students I knew, were also adding up to more than what I’d expected. So, I thought, that’s what roommates are for.

When a group of the semester abroad students who’d been working at a technical school as English teachers were getting ready to fly back home, leaving a number of job openings, I saw my opportunity and seized it.

Although I didn’t realize it at the time, teaching English was also going to be my best opportunity to speak French.

Arriving at the technical school, which I’ll call “Omnitech” I realized the job, deceptively simple on the surface, was much more complex when seen up close. In the entire school, which was located on the outskirts of the city, there were only a handful of girls.

The whole student body, it seemed, was made up of socially hesitant post-pubescent techies, whose genius for programming was surpassed only by their reluctance to speak English. We, the English teachers, or “Suzies” (incidentally all attractive young women) were expected not only to bring them out of their shells, but to get them ready for the English test they would be taking in the spring.

In order to facilitate the process we Suzies were required to take the students, who signed up for classes voluntarily, on excursions into the “real world.” This could be anywhere from a movie to a museum or even a bar. The only requirement was that the class had to be held in 100% English, 100% of the time.

Responsible for reinforcing this was our patriarch, who I’ll call “Ed,” a vociferous Santa Claus-esque character with an affinity for innocently hitting on any Suzie who bothered to pay the slightest attention, in a “fatherly” way, of course. I avoided Ed at all costs, and was appalled at how many of my fellow Suzies were willing to bestow their charms on him.

Also surprising were the stories I started to hear about the high turnover at Omnitech due to teachers allegedly going against the rules. I also heard about Suzies who took things farther with some of their pupils, and would hold all their class sessions in bars, totally wasted.

Photo: Alexandre Moreau

Certain girls had reputations, and their class enrollment reflected this ―Omnitechies signed up by the dozens. To me it seemed so simple to just insist that everyone speak English, to be firm and offer interesting dialogue.

For my first class outing, I decided to take my class to a Dada exhibition at the Centre Pompidou. I uploaded my carefully worded class description, expecting a handful of art-loving students to sign up, eager to discuss the merits of Dada and the impact they would eventually have on the Surrealists.

To my surprise, arriving at my appointment at Rambuteau station about 15 nervous-looking guys were waiting patiently to peruse the exhibition that I’d already fanatically devoured about three times. After introducing myself and asking if anyone had any questions, I realized that everything I’d just said had been lost on my students, who were staring at me rather blankly.

“I think you have to speak more slowly,” a tall, lanky blond student with a very pronounced accent told me. “They didn’t understand anything. Most of them don’t even speak a word of English.”

I had, of course, labeled my Dada class “Advanced.”

Over the course of the next few weeks, I found myself lapsing into French more and more frequently during my classes. Some of my class sessions even included the consumption of alcoholic beverages. I found that this social lubricant could actually completely transform some painfully awkward students who just needed to relax a bit.

Luckily Francis, the tall blond student from the first day, and his best friend Romain — both of whom had excellent English skills — became my dedicated students, never missing a class and almost never asking me to speak French.

They began to fill me in on the workings of Omnitech and the dangers of getting on Ed the English department head’s bad side. Despite my rare encounters with Ed, I began to get the feeling he really didn’t care for me. Since I was a good teacher who got along well with my students, however I felt I didn’t have anything to fear.

One day, I witnessed for myself Ed’s explosive temper when he publicly berated one of the English teachers, who wouldn’t have any of it. She promptly told him to fuck off, and said she was quitting. But it seemed like the more disrespectful she was towards him the more facile he became. He asked her not to leave, and told her how valuable she was to him, words I knew I would never hear from Ed. I quietly resolved that I would leave Omnitech as soon as possible.

That time would come sooner than I thought, since right at the beginning of spring I met an engaging non-Parisian who was willing to discuss the implications of Dada in French. We met in a museum, and at first he thought I was Italian.

That first year was singular in that it permitted me to actually live in the moment. Although I ended up leaving Paris two years later my first year there was probably the most interesting; there was that certain immediacy that you can only experience when you know what you’re feeling won’t last.

In a way, it didn’t. Although there would be more Paris moments, never again would I step so completely outside of myself for the first time, feel so disoriented while learning a new language, learn how to overcome a fear of the Other by reaching out in a foreign language.

For that brief couple of semesters in Paris, I personified that other, blue suit-wearing person I had envisioned from the start: adventurous, independent, a hazy past…possibly Italian? And then, as the years went by, I became more and more Parisian.

Feature Photo: alcino Photo: visual panic

So, you have mastered Spanish and are ready for the next linguistic challenge. Do you learn Chinese, Arabic, or Pashtun? Language acquisition (LA) is like any other skill, the more you practice, the better you get.

Before committing to a thousand hours of Chinese classes, try honing your skills with a smaller step towards Portuguese. This way, when you do commit to some of the more complex languages, your language learning ability will be well-practiced and streamlined.

Portuguese is a logical next step. It is different enough from Spanish that you will learn new LA skills, but so similar that you will be fluent extremely fast.

cstrom

Not convinced about learning Portuguese? Read the following paragraph in Portuguese from the Brazilian magazine Veja, edition 2120, Year 42, No. 27, Panorama Section. Then read the Spanish.

Portuguese:

Condenado a 150 anos de prisão o financista americano Bernard Madoff. Aos 71 anos, ele é o autor confesso de um dos maiores golpes da história. Madoff montou um esquema de pirâmide, no qual remunerava clientes antigos com o dinheiro dos novos, sem produzir rendimento reais. A eclosão de crise econômica no fim de 2008, revelou a fraude.

Spanish:

Condenado a 150 años de prisión el finaciero americano Bernard Madoff. A los 71 años, el es el autor confesado de uno de los mayores golpes en la historia. Madoff montó un esquema pirámide, el cual remuneraba clientes antiguos con el dinero de los nuevos, sin producir rendimiento real. Al comienzo de la crisis económica al fin de 2008, reveló la fraude.

See how close they are to each other? About 30% of the words are the exact same in spelling and/or pronunciation. Another 25% are close to each other. Without knowing any Portuguese, you can probably read 50% of this paragraph. It helps to read it out loud, since some Portuguese words may look a bit different but sound close to Spanish. Imagine what a few hours of focused study, applying the following suggestions, could achieve for your Portuguese fluency.

The tips here are broken into vocabulary, grammar and pronunciation comparisons between the two languages. Before moving further there is a quick hint to keep in mind. When looking at Portuguese, new, funky letters like ç ã â à õ may confuse you. Normally these symbols are extremely important and may change the meaning of a word. However, at the beginning, ignore them.

That’s right, Portuguese teachers the world over just cringed. But we want rapid language acquisition, not perfect fluency. Ignoring these letters at the beginning will not greatly affect your reading comprehension and only slightly your speaking and listening skills. Just remember that the letter Ç has the same sound as the English S in SALE.

Vocabulary

The first area to compare between Spanish and Portuguese is vocabulary. Since with some simple hints your Portuguese comprehension will increase dramatically, most of this article is about vocabulary. These hints are divided into sections on word endings, false friends and true friends.

Word Endings

Here are word endings (followed by a sample word) in Spanish and their Portuguese equivalent. You will see the close similarities in both words, once you understand the ending equivalents.

Spanish Portuguese

-ción, sección -ção, seção

-sión, prisión -são, prisão

-able, saludable -avel, saudável

-dad, universidad -dade, universidade

-miento, descubrimiento -mento, descubrimento

-gia, tecnología -gia, tecnologia

Look for these and other word ending similarities as you learn Portuguese. Understanding these word ending equivalents will help you make the connection between the Spanish words you already know and their Portuguese counterparts, increasing your vocabulary immediately.

pedrosimoes

False Friends

False friends are words that look the same or similar, BUT have different meanings. As an example, in Spanish the word años means years, but the word anos, without the tilde, means anuses. The Portuguese word for years is anos, exactly like the Spanish “anuses”. You can see where confusing the words may be embarrassing. Other examples follow:

* Dos in Spanish is the number “two”. For Portuguese dos is a contraction of de and os, or “of the” (de los in Spanish).
* Mudar in Portuguese may mean “to change” while in Spanish it is only “to move”.
* Estufa in Portuguese may mean “greenhouse”, but in Spanish it is always a “stove”.
* Graça is “grace” or “free” (de graça) in Portuguese but “grease” or “fat” in Spanish with the word grasa.
* Conosco in Portuguese is “with us”, but in Spanish conozco is “I know”.

There are also false friends between Portuguese and English. The Portuguese word time is written exactly like the English time but the meaning is completely different. In Portuguese time means team. Looking for false friends will help you avoid common errors as you transition to Portuguese fluency.

True Friends

True friends are words that look or sound the same or similar, AND have the same meaning. An example of a true friend between Spanish and Portuguese is the Spanish word comenzar. In Portuguese it is almost the exact same, começar. When you say them out loud, the similarity is even more obvious. Other examples, this time between written English and Portuguese, are crime=crime, film=filme and present=presente (as in a birthday present).

Here are a few other True Friends between Spanish and Portuguese:

Spanish Portuguese

un, una um, uma

ciudad cidade

cada cada

frecuentar frequentar

cabello cabelo

Comparing the two languages, as in our magazine excerpt above, you will find that true friends are extremely common.

Pronunciation

Reviewing Pronunciation differences between Portuguese and Spanish is the next step in rapid Portuguese fluency. By learning just a few Portuguese sounds, your listening comprehension will increase drastically, as will your spoken Portuguese.

Here they are:

o R at the beginning of a word is an English H sound, as in Hat
o words ending in a vowel and M, as is viagem are really closer to an N sound in pronunciation, like viagen
o The Portuguese ganhou has a similar pronunciation to the Spanish ganó, and both mean the same.

Spend a couple hours learning other pronunciation differences between the two languages. This will drastically raise your level of listening comprehension and spoken fluency.

Grammar

For Grammar, much of the Spanish Grammar is again the same or similar in Portuguese. Sentence structures are close enough that in the beginning you may assume they are the same.

The usage of verb tenses is almost always the same. Written verb tenses are similar, as for example with the Spanish Imperfect tense ending in -aba for AR verbs, like compraba or pintaban. In Portuguese, this tense is written -ava or avam (pronounced similar to -avaN). Compare other Spanish and Portuguese verb tenses to find similarities. You will learn verb tenses much quicker this way than by studying each verb tense alone in Portuguese.

In Spanish the articles un and una have the same gender as the noun. For instance un zapato or una casa. In Portuguese, with um and uma, the rule is exactly the same. For two of something, dos in Spanish, there is no gender difference, dos gatos or dos casas. However, for Portuguese, there is a difference. The number adjective is “conjugated.” For example, dois sapatos or duas casas. Fortunately this only applies to the first and second numbers. After that, there is no gender differences for numerical adjectives.

As you continue to learn Portuguese, keep looking for more examples to add to the above sections. Within a couple months you should be mastering your third language. Once you are fluent in Portuguese and are ready for language number four, think about Italian. You are already 20% fluent, I bet.

Photos by Meanest Indian, an exceptionally talented photographer.

Could you get around India without knowing Hindi? Sure, you could – especially in the cities.

English is one of the official languages and many people speak it as a second or third language. There are certain communities, such as the Anglo-Indians, whose people communicate primarily in English.

The post-colonial world has done many things for the countries that were colonized, and the widespread use of English is just one of them.

In India you will encounter many locals who are familiar with English: from roadside hawkers who sell their wares in functional English to the extremely fluent college kids who have been educated primarily in the language all of their lives.

Meanest Indian

Sure, you could do just fine in India without even a perfunctory familiarity with Hindi.

Should you bother with learning Hindi?

I say a hearty YES. Here’s why:

Hindi is the official language of India for a reason.

Nearly half the population speaks Hindi or its various dialects. It is the first language for many Indians, especially in the north of India.

From the official use of what is known as Standard Hindi to the various nuances of pop culture represented in mainstream films, Hindi lends itself to Indian sensibilities in the way perhaps no other Indian language does.

Hindi opens doors to other Indian languages.

Your knowledge of Hindi will help you understand other Indian languages from Bhojpuri to Marwadi.

Other Indian languages that do not form a part of the Hindi belt also share common roots with Hindi, so Bengali and Gujarati will also be within reach of the involved student of the Hindi language.

Meanest Indian

Hindi has a varied history.

At different times, Hindi has been different things. In the late Mughal period, for instance, Urdu and Hindi were synonymous with each other.

In the Middle East, the ancient language of Sanskrit was referred to as Hindi.

In its long years of existence, Hindi has encompassed aspects of Indian history and development in the way it has incorporated everything from Urdu to English words to its vocabulary.

Perhaps its most dramatic shift in importance had its beginnings in the later colonial stages, where it began to emerge as a national language: a Pan-Indian tongue in a very diverse part of the world.

Then there’s the poetry and prose.

Knowing Hindi will let you read in the original the wonderful literature, or sahitya created by writers in Hindi.

Not only will it give you access to the formal and printed literature in the Devnagri script, it will also give you an entry into the nuances of indigenous India. These nuances would otherwise be lost in translation if you had just been making your way around the country using English.

Take the plunge!

It’s easy to travel India and neglect your Hindi completely, but it’s challenging and rewarding to delve into the India beyond the backpacker trail, beyond too much ganja and too many stereotype-fueled misconceptions.

Destinations

Community Connection to India

Hindi will lead you beyond tourist traps into a real place with real people, whose lives and histories are diverse, complicated, and riveting.

Your attempts to explore Hindi are bound to lead to interesting interactions with locals, many of whom will be delighted and happy to help you along.

Hindi study will also lead to the discovery of other non-local travelers who are trying to learn the language.

Most importantly, learning Hindi will give you a much more coherent and perceptive experience of India – hopefully, the real deal.

Communty Connection

Shreya Sanghani and I shared a rooftop lunch in Kolkata thanks to Matador. Get connected to the vanguard of independent travelers through Matador Travel Community, and stay tuned for Shreya’s upcoming article on the best places to study Hindi in India.

- Tim Patterson

All photos by author.

I’ll admit. Whenever a foreigner spews a few words of Yòrubá to me, regardless of delivery quality, I instantly warm up, throwing them a cheesy grin of approval. This gesture shows they’ve made an effort to learn my tribal tongue, one of 521 estimated Nigerian languages they could have chosen from.

If they open up with Pidgin English instead, I instantly perk up. Speaking Pidgin transforms them from visiting foreigner into one of hundreds of well integrated expatriates in Lagos, Nigeria’s commercial capital. There’s a certain intimacy that this form of broken English emits; a down-to-earth, survivalist approach to everyday living and hustling in Africa’s most populous nation.

Pidgin English is extremely popular in most parts of Africa, particularly West Africa, and has been accepted as the de-facto language of blue collar trade and merchants. Pidgin remains the “great” equalizer – a way of communicating on a base level that cuts through bullshit.

Photo by author.

With roughly 250 tribes speaking 521 languages and dialects, English is the country’s official business language.

For citizens without easy access to higher education and white collar jobs, picking up a few words of English and mixing it with elements of their native tongues has been the default way of communicating across tribal cultures.

Variations of Pidgin English can be found all over the world, from the Caribbean to China, and each comes with its own library of everyday words.

As you travel across West Africa, the style of Pidgin spoken becomes more familiar, but still differs based on local language elements infused into it.

Even if you don’t find yourself traveling to Nigeria in the distant future, try one of these phrases on one of your Nigerian friends, and fully bask in their glowing response.

Quick Reference

Listen to how the Pidgin English phrases below sound –

How Bodi? / How You Dey? – How are you doing today?

How Far? – Hey, Hi

Wetin? – What?

Photo by author.

I no no – I don’t know

I no sabi – I don’t understand

I dey fine – I’m fine. I’m doing well.

Wetin dey happen? – What’s going on? What’s happening?

Wahala – Problem/Trouble. Example – Why you dey give me wahala? Which means why are you giving me so many problems?

Comot! – Get out of here!

Comot for road – Make way

Dem send you? – Have you been sent to torment me?

Gi mi – Give it to me.

K-leg – Questionable.  Example – Your story get k-leg! Which means your story or gist sounds suspect or exaggerated.

I Wan Chop – I want to eat

Come chop – Come and eat

Abeg – Please, but usually not a repentant plea. Example – Abeg! No waste my time!; Which means Please! Don’t waste my time!

Vex – Upset. Example – Make you no vex me! ; Which means “Don’t upset me!”

I no gree – I don’t agree, I disagree

Abi? – Isn’t it?

Na so? – Is that so?

Wayo – Trickery. Example – That man be wayo; which means “that man is a fraud!”

Area boys -Street-smart young men that loiter around neighborhoods.

Butta my bread – Answered prayers. Example – “God don butta my bread” which means God has answered my prayers

Go slow – Traffic jam

I go land you slap – I will slap you!

Listen well well – Pay attention

Resources

For a complete library of Nigerian Pidgin English, check out the links below:

• BabaWilly’s Dictionary of Pidgin English Words and Phrases (Excellent)
• Naija Lingo
• Pidgin-English language resources
• PidginGuide

Feature Photo : pardeshi Photo: jfew

Nearly half of the world’s 7,000 languages are endangered, and experts predict that by 2050 most of these endangered languages will be extinct.

The histories, worldviews, and specialized, localized knowledge enveloped in these languages are being lost in favor of regional lingua francas – English in Europe and North America, Spanish in South America, French and Swahili in Africa.

It’s difficult to grasp all that dies with a language. It isn’t simply the grammar or the literature or the idioms or stories that disappear, it’s also a vision – one more distinct human way of seeing and making sense of the world. The disappearance of languages is a narrowing of human perspectives into fewer structures, fewer possibilities.

Photo: Graham Crumb

I was blown away by UNESCO’s interactive atlas of world languages in danger – 98 languages in Papua New Guinea alone! 191 in the United States, 31 in Laos, 26 in France, 196 in India, and the list goes on. Even some small islands, such as Vanuatu in the South Pacific, have fifteen or more endangered languages (Vanuatu has 46, nearby New Caledonia 18).

Imagining 46 linguistic systems functioning simultaneously on one small island can send the mind spinning. It’s like looking at all the blinding, shimmering shades of green in a rainforest canopy, trying to make sense out of the overlapping intricacies.

But while it’s much easier to imagine the fluid, constant green of one common language, it’s also somewhat of a sad, flat image to anyone who has tried to wrap their mind around a world like zempasuchitl and all that it conveys (for the curious, it’s a Nahuatl word referring to the flower used in Mexico’s Day of the Dead celebrations).

Photo: darkroomillusions

So what can you do? Perhaps in addition to studying Spanish or French or Swahili (for I won’t argue that those languages aren’t necessary and that learning them doesn’t have some wonderful benefits) you could study one of Latin America’s indigenous languages or learn Xhosa, Zulu or Tswana in South Africa. You can also explore Matador’s language page for tips and advice on language learning in general.

Undergraduate or graduate students in the U.S can apply for FLAS (Foreign Language and Area Studies) fellowships for language study. The fellowships give generous funding for both academic year and summer intensive language immersion programs.

Another way to contribute is to give to the Endangered Language Fund, which provides grants to researchers who study, document and aim to preserve endangered languages around the world.

Photo: MacJewell

National Geographic’s Enduring Voices Project is an excellent resource to find out more about endangered languages and the efforts being made to revitalize them. Living Tongues also has a fantastic compilation of links to sites dedicated to studying, preserving and documenting endangered languages, and the mind-blowing Rosetta Project offers insight into the construction of an archive of all documented human languages.

Anthropologists, ecologists, artists and politicians have made the point that biodiversity and cultural diversity are central to human creativity. Language, also, is a distinct expression of the human imagination, and when a language goes extinct another pathway for human exploration and understanding disappears.

Feature Photo: powerbooktrance Photo: giuvax

If you’re like me, you find yourself putting off everything you should be doing by reading translations of obscure Russian idioms or working out the subtle differences between various usages of cabrón.

You probably get giddy over new words. You lose yourself in fantasies of learning Portuguese…then Thai…then Swahili…You’re a sucker for languages, love the puzzles and the logic and cultural revelation behind them. Love extrapolating philosophies and perspectives from ‘em.

Since I am a massive language dork and a sucker for procrastination via language blog, I will enable your geeky habits and pass these language sites along to you. This is my culling from Bab.la’s list of the Top 100 Language Blogs of 2009, plus a few of my personal faves.

Photo: buenosaurus

1. The Linguist

I listen to this guy talk about language acquisition while I make chili. Seriously. If you ever wanted to be a linguist, or just longed to listen to one wax poetic on the internet, this is the site for you. There are videos and posts about everything from basic French grammar to how language learning is like drinking overflowing cups of sake.

2. The English Blog

Jeffrey Hill’s blog for English learners and teachers uses current news, videos, photos, and strange found gems from the internet to analyze and discuss English. Don’t let the learning-English aspect turn you off. You can find videos about cranberry growers in New England, violins in China and the making of Twitter Lit, plus links to language articles around the web.

3. Tofugu

Great for Japanese language and culture. Whether you’re paranoid about chopstick faux pas or you get a kick out of transitive and intransitive verbs, you’ll feel at home here. Offers snark and the basics of Katakana.

Photo: Pink Sherbet Photography

4. Omniglot Blog

Love the “mystery language” recordings (makes language seem strangely beautiful and detached from meaning) and the hodgepodge of interesting info, from Welsh words for “gruel” to cross-cultural terms for the moon.

5. Separated By A Common Language

Ever received that look of confused disgust when you call an aubergine an eggplant or a lift an elevator or a jumper a sweater, or vice versa? Oh, how I like nothing better than a dorkier than dorky conversation with a Brit about the difference between cookies and biscuits. This blog, run by an American linguist in the UK, explores all the finer differences between British and U.S versions of English.

6. Fluent In Three Months

Benny the Irish Polyglot’s site is helpful for unconventional language learning tips, like how to get rid of your English accent. (“Bone-jurrrr!” anyone?) While I’m skeptical that a foreigner can ever “become Brazilian,” as Benny attempted, I like some of his hints. He is very much of the get-out-there-and-talk-to-native-speakers and learn-by-travel philosophy and promotes this on the site. Good for people who find themselves spending most of the day gaping in confusion, starting from scratch with the language learning process in a foreign country.

7. The virtual linguist

Recent entries include a post on the origin and history of the word “merry” and an overview of new additions to the Oxford English Dictionary 2009. My favorite: “remembery: a written commemoration (now obsolete); a person’s memory, or the thing remembered.” Great for writers.

8.Mr. Verb

“Language Changes. Deal With It. Revel In It.” So reads Mr. Verb’s banner. Here you will find a linguistic slant on everything from Sarah Palin to Scandinavian dialects, plus an abundance of interesting links.

9. Lenguajero

A genius Spanish-English exchange site. The site offers users a chance to meet native English or Spanish speakers and practice speaking with them. It also allows users to write on a new topic everyday and have their writing reviewed by native speakers, and to create their own “smart flash cards” and review them.

10 .Wordia

I love Wordia. I mean seriously, I sink back into my chair, give up on finishing that tedious email, and click on definition after definition. This is what words should be, right? Individual to each person, tied to distinct personalities. Addictive.

Feature Photo: star5112 Photo: aline salazar

Spanish fits me like a worn pair of jeans, whereas French makes me feel like I’m at a wedding in a freshly ironed dress, trying to stand up straight.

French feels confining. It’s about the aesthetically exquisite, the barely pronounced “s,” the impeccably executed “r.” Done well, the latter is a subtle feline purr. Done American-style, it’s a loogie struggling to come up. There’s just no room for error.

Ah, but Spanish encourages flexibility, improvisation. It’s all curves and individual style. It’s those jeans that love your hips and your ass, it’s a series of dance moves which can make even the most flat-accented gringo seem precious and endearing. It lets you take it for a ride, chilled out, adaptable, whereas French says – you will take me here, now, when I want, how I want. You fit me.

Spanish simply dovetails with my personality. For me, a cool, blue Latin American morning is synonymous with travel, and Spanish is synonymous with the joy of speaking another language. I love running in Mexico and seeing a beat-up pickup truck full of Santa Claus piñatas, and I love the way people at parades stop and offer me a swig from a bottle of mezcal. I love the way you can slide words around in Spanish, drop the pronouns, add -itos and -isisimos to exaggerate and emphasize.

Photo: pasotraspaso

In Spanish it feels like I can play, mixing my own language cocktails, and this is more than OK – it’s desirable. And from the very beginning, people are indulgent with these creations. You can make the world’s most undrinkable mix of triple sec and vodka and Kahlua and people will toast you for the effort.

“Hablas español!” the Ecuadorians said admiringly when I was still bumbling my way through the basics of “cómo estás” and sticking pronouns in all sorts of awkward places.

But also, I just like the sound of Spanish. The big potbellied “o” of gordo. The little scurrying feet of ahorita. The up-down lilt of ideal like the crest and fall of a wave. The mantra-esque sounds of mañana and lo que sea. The drawn out, three-step, melancholy fall of tristeza. The a’s and o’s that float at the end of words. And of course, the unbeatable r’s.

And you? What’s your language personality? What language fits you?

Remember that feeling you had when you were just beginning to learn a language, or had just moved to a foreign country, and everything you heard sounded like an indecipherable code with bizarre, mysterious intonations? I remember when French sounded like an imperious serious of declarations, and Spanish resonated like a landscape of rolling hills. Now, it’s hard to remember when those languages were just strange sensory impressions, and it’s near impossible to think of hearing English this way.

Thankfully, we’ve got this amazing video to show us what it’s like. Enjoy.

Photos: Jorge Santiago

Mexicans have a way with expressions. They use Spanish the way a bullfighter uses a flag – to grab your attention, to add a little romance and drama and flair, to turn a dull conversation into artful swoops of language.

1. caerle gordo a alguien

Used to refer to someone who rubs you the wrong way. For example, that friend of ours who never returned the book I lent her, and who’s always gossiping about everyone else, ella me cae gorda. You can use “caerme …” to describe how you get along with someone in general – “me cae bien, me cae mal” – with the literal, direct translation being how well someone falls on you. In this particular version, my favorite, someone falls fat on you.

2. pintarse de colores

Get the hell out of there. As in, what my Mexican friends do when I try to convince them to go trail running, what kids do the second the last bell rings at the end of the school day.

3. echarle ganas

Throw some life into it. “Echale ganas!” you might say to someone who looks like they’d rather be doing anything other than what they’re doing at that moment.

4. tener ganas de

Crave, have a desire to, have the urge to. Applies to cravings big and small, culinary and otherwise. In my case, tengo ganas de viajar por Belice, tengo ganas de comer chilaquiles verdes, tengo ganas de arriesgarme.

5. creerse mucho

Brag, think too much of oneself. Se cree mucho is said with a derogative tone, as in, he thinks he knows Spanish fluently but really he’s all arrogance.

6. echar la hueva

The opposite of “echarle ganas.” Instead of giving it your all, you give it an egg, the ultimate Mexican symbol of laziness. What am I doing on any given Sunday afternoon? Echando la hueva.

7. comiendo moscas

Literally eating flies, figuratively dazing out. So when someone’s staring off into space while you’re explaining the basis of your thesis project you can call them out with, “Estás comiendo moscas!”

8. Irse el avion

Lose your train of thought. You’re talking about one thing, and suddenly you say, “se me fue el avion:” my plane just took off.

Y ahora, me pinto de colores, damas y caballeros.

Community Connection

If you’re studying Spanish, or just curious about what “que cabrón” means, take a look at our quick and dirty phrasebook of Mexican slang. If, for some reason, this post made you crave tacos, you might want to check out the foodie primer for Mexico.

Feature Photo: catsper Photos: author

When I graduated from college and decided to move to Vietnam rather than take an entry-level job in the US, I figured picking up the language would be a snap, immersion being the greatest of all teachers. One year in Ho Chi Minh City, I thought, would lead to proficiency at the very least.

I am, after all, a language person who finds verb conjugations and noun declinations fascinating. Besides, thanks to Portuguese missionaries Vietnamese is one of the few Asian languages written in Latin characters. No sweat.

The more I looked into it, the more I grew certain that this language would be a snap. It has no verb conjugation, no noun declinations, no adjectival agreement…

It was through this research, however, that I discovered the first half of the information that would be my linguistic downfall: Vietnamese has eleven different vowel sounds and six different tones.

I learned what would be the second part of my downfall the first week in the country, at a karaoke bar with some Vietnamese university students: I am tone deaf.

Even still, it took about three months of immersion before I finally got discouraged to the point of renouncing any non-English language as stupid and completely un-learnable. It was another month before I decided to give it another shot, this time with a different approach.

Get a Tutor

My biggest mistake was assuming that I would absorb the language through exposure. Immersion is a great method when learning a romance language because when you stumble on a word, mispronounce it or use the wrong pronoun, whoever you’re talking to can likely understand and correct you.

Unfortunately, in Vietnamese even the slightest error can make you incomprehensible. It’s a simple intonation that defines the difference between ‘apple’ and ‘turtle’, one that seems subtle to a Western ear but is very apparent to a native tonal speaker. And believe me, that is not a mistake you want to make in a grocery store.

I found this aspect of the language to be the most frustrating, and no matter how many books I read or flashcards I made, I wasn’t making any headway in actual communication because I still couldn’t pronounce the words.

It wasn’t until I found a Vietnamese tutor, who would correct even the slightest mispronunciation, that I really began making progress with the language. Other expats I know had similar success through Vietnamese girlfriends, boyfriends or plain old friends who were endlessly patient and willing to correct their pronunciation.

Forget Your Feelings

We use inflection in our voices to communicate much of what we’re trying to say. Try asking a question without raising your voice at the end, or try being sarcastic without speaking in italics. It’s not easy, but you need to make a conscious effort to keep your voice free of your feelings when speaking Vietnamese, otherwise you’ll be asking for noodles served with ‘father’ instead of ‘beef’.

The trick is simply to be wary of your voice, especially when you ask a question. It helps to run the sentence over in your head before you say it, paying special attention to how it should sound. Think before you speak, just like your mother always told you.

Sing It

Aside from having a tutor beat the tones into me, I also got a lot out of trying my hand at the Vietnamese songs at karaoke night. The tones are worked into the tune and they’re often exaggerated to the point that even an untrained ear can recognize the differences.

Not only did it help me recognize the different tones but it also acted as a pneumonic device when I was trying to use the words in regular speech. There is something about a song that will cement the rising and falling notes of a phrase far more effectively than a notated flashcard ever will.

Over-pronouncing your tones also helps your listener and besides, it’s endless amounts of fun to sing your order to the fruit vendor.

Don’t Give Up

It’s frustrating to work so hard at learning a language and still be incomprehensible to the people you’re speaking with, but don’t give up. It may be twice as hard as that Spanish or French class you took in high school, but it’s also twice as satisfying when you finally become conversant.

Community Connection

If you’re interested in tonal languages, take a look at Matador contributor Michelle Schusterman’s excellent blog post about music and language. Also, have a look at how to learn Chinese and ten extraordinarily useful Japanese phrases for travelers.

Feature Photo and Above Photo: geoftheref

Yes, New Zealanders do speak English. But they speak their very own English, commonly referred to as Kiwi English. It’s been the subject of lectures, investigations, documentaries and never-ending mockery, and, as with any other aspect of language, it’s a reflection of their culture.

No matter how good an English speaker you are, if you are going to New Zealand for the first time, there will be words you have never heard before. They might appear combined with a bunch of other words that you already know – in which case you’ll easily deduce their meaning – or they might come to you surrounded by other examples of the finest Kiwi speech – in which case, you’re likely to need an “excuse me?”

Photo: PhillipC

The following is an overview of the expressions that are going to pop up everyday in Kiwi life.

1. Sweet as, bro!

That’s great. You’re likely to hear this one many times because, as far as my experience can tell, everything is always “sweet as” for kiwis.

2. Good on ya, mate!

Congratulations, well done or good for you.

3. Bugger all

Very little. E.g. I bought this book for bugger all.

Photo: geoftheref

4. Heaps

A lot. E.g. They say “sweet as” heaps of times.

5. Jandals

– flip-flops. A ubiquitous Kiwi fashion choice.

6. Kia ora

Maori for hello.

7. She’ll be right

It will be ok. The “she” here refers to no female in particular – just things in general.

8. Bob’s your uncle!

There you go! E.g. Click this button and bob’s your uncle.

9. Knackered

Very tired.

10. Togs – swimsuit

Life in New Zild

Photo: geoftheref

Another characteristic of the way Kiwis speak is the shortening of words. Their usage of language is very economical (and, in that sense, efficient) and they will abbreviate pretty much any word they can. Kiwis watch telly (television), visit their rellies (relatives), eat brekkie (breakfast), and wear their sunnies (sunglasses) if it’s sunny in the arvo (afternoon).

You are also likely to come across people that will say “cheers” to you without a glass in their hands. They’re not making an imaginary toast – “cheers” is a kiwi way of saying “thanks” or a casual goodbye.

If you’re traveling around New Zealand and feel like a hot dog, make sure to call it an “American hot dog” – otherwise the bun will be left out and you’ll be served a Kiwi hot dog, which is just a battered sausage on a stick.

Last year, the adventures of a whale that woke up on a New Zealand beach went viral on You Tube and the words “I’m beached as, bro!”, said with a thick kiwi accent, were in everyone’s mouths (and on some people’s t-shirts).

The short /i/ vowel that causes kiwis to have “fush and chups” instead of “fish and chips” for dinner will also be new to your ears.

Another distinctive characteristic of the Kiwi accent is the high-rising intonation at the end of sentences, even though they’re meant as statements rather than questions. A kiwi friend describing a visit to a shop might say: “So I went there? And had a look around? And couldn’t find anything?”

Kiwis speak in a very relaxed way – if you pay attention, the lips of a person with a strong kiwi accent hardly move – which can work as a reflection of their own outlook on life: laid back, relaxed and with a genuine “she’ll be right” attitude.

And don’t get me started on Maori place names! Wanna meet up at Taumatawhakatangihangakoauauotamateaturipukakapikimaungahoronukupokaiwhenuakitanatahu?

Community Connection

Interested in New Zealand? Read Matador member threespoons blogs from Auckland. Looking for work? Read up on working in New Zealand’s wineries. And check out why New Zealand is your safest travel bet.

Feature Photo: philliecasablancaPhoto: **Maurice**

Most Brit and American teachers are all too aware of the differences between our deceivingly similar languages.

We share a sarcastic disdain for each other’s pronunciation of ‘tomato’ and have long argued about the difference between ‘biscuit’ and ‘cookie’ or ‘chip’ and ‘crisp’. There is always a right or wrong answer- it just depends on who’s being asked.

Pettiness aside, these inconsistencies pose a few questions when faced with a class full of ESL students, particularly when those students are schooled in British grammar and combine this with phrases learnt from American TV shows and movies.

So which ‘English’ should you teach?

Often teachers are hired based on their nationality. I found my niche in Buenos Aires teaching Business English to students dealing regularly with Europeans, whereas international companies with New York headquarters opted for my American friends.

Photo: walkadog

The best advice is to stick to what you know. As a British native, I teach British English but I allow students (especially beginners) to use American conjugations and pronunciation if they find it easier to do so.

Try to resist the urge to make generalizations about whether something is right or wrong.

I once had students bring in American advertisements to prove me wrong on a grammar point I had made and it’s not a good way to gain their trust!

Never underestimate your students’ ability to catch you out – many take great pleasure in doing this. Keep it simple and make it clear that you are teaching only one style of English.

As a starting point, here are six of the most common differences you may encounter whilst teaching:

1. Regular or Irregular?

The most notable difference between American and British grammar is their inability to agree on whether verbs follow regular or irregular conjugations.

The past tense and past participles of the verbs learn, burn, dream, smell, spill, leap, lit, spit and saw amongst others, are all irregular in Britain (learnt, burnt) but regular in America (learned, burned) and many others follow similar patterns.

Confusingly, despite having regular past participles, irregular adjectives may still be used in American English. ‘Burnt toast’ for example.

American English is generally easier to teach owing to its greater concentration of regular verbs, however it could be argued that if you teach the irregular patterns then students will understand both.

2. Realize or Realise?

Any Brit who has inadvertently subjected their writing to an American spell-check will already be familiar with their annoyingly similar yet different spellings.

After hours spent agonizing over whether to use a ‘z’ or an ‘s’ or whether travelling is correctly spelt with one ‘l’ or two, I lost all memory of what I was taught in school.

The main differences are that American English omits extra letters and favours phonetic spellings – ‘traveller’ becomes ‘traveler’, ‘colour’ becomes ‘color’, ‘centre’ becomes ‘center’ and ‘recognise’ becomes ‘recognize’.

I let my students use whichever spelling they are familiar with but I always check for consistency – whichever method they prefer, they have to stick to it!

3. Use of the Present Perfect

The present perfect is one of the most difficult tenses for foreign students to grasp, a problem unaided by its different uses overseas.

Whereas Europeans would say, “I’ve already eaten”, an American may simply use the past tense and say, “I already ate”, a phrase that is deemed grammatically incorrect in England.

When teaching, particularly with beginners, it’s best to give clear examples that clearly follow the grammatical ‘rules’.

For this reason I teach students to use the present perfect with prepositions such as ‘already’, ‘yet’, ‘never’ and ‘ever’ and would disallow the use of the past tense.

4. Use of Modal Verbs

In the UK we tend to use more modals than our American peers. On numerous occasions I’ve overheard American teachers dismissing expressions using ‘shall’, ‘shan’t’ or ‘ought to’ as out-of-date, unaware that they are still used in England.

Photo: Steph and Adam

Students benefit greatly from a few pointers on modern language usage (I would definitely discourage the use of ‘how do you do?’, for example) but make sure you are aware of international variations before you make these statements.

If unsure, simply state: ‘In America, we say it like this…’.

5. Numbers and dates

These basics are the bane of early language learning, as anyone trying to master their telephone number in a new country will agree.

Most significant is the order of dates – 25th January 2009 would be expressed 25/01/09 in the UK but 01/25/09 in America.

Numbers may be pronounced differently too – ‘twelve hundred’ is more common in America than in England, where ‘one thousand two hundred’ is preferred. Similarly the Americans often drop ‘and’ when reading numbers – ‘two thousand and three’ might become ‘two thousand three’.

Students often struggle to distinguish these differences in conversation and benefit from exposure to as many variations as possible.

Photo: ronocdh

6. Vocabulary

English speakers have plenty of disagreements over vocabulary, with each country, and often region, renaming common items.

A British duvet is an American comforter, a lift is an elevator, and the boot of a car is a trunk. The list is endless.
With vocabulary, I try to teach as much as possible without baffling the student. The more words they know the better.

When dealing with a special case then I refine my selections – a student moving to the UK will obviously benefit from English phrases and colloquialisms whereas a salesperson who deals with US representatives would need to familiarize themselves with American speech.

Teaching slang is always a popular lesson choice but be careful of words with double meanings. ‘Fanny’ springs to mind, as do ‘fag’, ‘rubber’ and ‘pants’. You have been warned!

Community Connection

Thinking of teaching overseas? Have a look at the insiders guide to teaching in Asia, the top ten places for teaching English abroad and how to get work teaching English as a second language. Still dubious about the impact of English abroad? Check out this article about whether English should be the world’s international language.

Feature Photo: db*photography Photo: jakeliefer

The other morning I went to the market with the dog to buy some avocados.

There was a foreign woman buying veggies from the same stall. She cast a few glances at the dog, a big female German Shepherd, and asked,

“Amable?”

“Yes, she’s very nice, you can say hello to her,” I replied in Spanish.

The woman bent over and greeted my Stella, who responded with kisses and happy grunts and a near belly-flop. When she stood back up, I said to her in English,

“Have you tried huitlacoche?”

Then I got the look.

It’s the “why are you speaking to me in English” glare of wounded pride and condescension. The woman responded with something along the lines of “what how is?”

Photo: dionhinchcliffe

I tried to explain in Spanish about the concept of mushroom corn fungus and how to cook it, but that wasn’t going so well, so I took a risky political line and jumped back to English. The explanation got through then, but the woman was obviously insulted and we parted ways without either of us sharing any goodbyes or further info.

This got me to thinking about the politics of English overseas. Why, I wonder, are foreigners so often insulted when other foreigners speak to them in English? I’ve never understood the purpose of having a tedious conversation that one or both parties only half-understand when they both speak English and could glide on by just fine in that language.

I took a controversial stance on this in France, when I was studying abroad and it was all the rage to speak nothing but French all the time, even with a fellow group of Americans whose French sounded, at best, like a heavily accented Wisconsinte reading sentences by rote out of a grammar book and, at worst, like garbled, frustrated baby talk.

What are you learning in that encounter? I argued. How to mimic each others’ painfully flat American accents?

We’re practicing our French, they’d reply, with the same haughty and irritated look the market woman shot me.

And I’d contest, Do you really think it’s helping your French to talk about how many brothers and sisters you have with other American French students?

But still, I’d often find myself in situations in which I overheard several Americans having a brutally basic and torturous conversation like the following:

“What’s your favorite color?”

“I like blue. And you?”

“I like yellow. Yes, yellow. Yellow is be nice.”

I thought this was just the bane of overly eager study abroad students. But I’ve discovered that it’s a widespread traveler phenomena. Especially in Mexico, American tourists will get irritated if I speak to them in English, even if it’s to clarify something they don’t understand.

Once, I went to go grab a beer with a traveler who spoke basic to intermediate Spanish. There were plenty of things I wanted to talk about–Mexican politics, her perceptions and experiences, who she’d met…but she insisted from the beginning on talking solely in Spanish, and half the conversation was spent on waiting until three word sentences about what she liked and didn’t like came together.

There’s nothing wrong with speaking in Spanish or French or the local language, and certainly nothing wrong with squeezing in as much practice as possible when studying a language. And with native speakers, for sure, give all your energy to muscling up those language skills.

But what I find bizarre is the insistence of certain travelers on speaking a second language with a fellow native English speaker when the said travelers obviously don’t speak that second language well enough to hold a decent conversation or to understand their partner.

If you speak fluently or well enough to move beyond describing when you brush your teeth and what you’re doing tomorrow, great. But if you don’t, then in my opinion it’s waste of time.

Photo: William A. Franklin

Particularly if you’re passing up the opportunity to learn something or to get a useful explanation — like, for example, the other day in the coffee shop when a woman became increasingly irritated that they didn’t have eggs, and I tried to explain in English that they did have eggs but they were on another menu, and she insisted on switching back to Spanish only to get more frustrated. Why?

So I’ll draw up my Rules for the Use of English Vs. the Local Language When Speaking with Native English Speakers (RUEVLLWSNES-catchy, right?)

1. If you do not speak at the same level as your conversational partner, be aware of this when insisting on speaking in the local language.

2. If you do not understand what your partner is saying, it might be time to throw in the towel.

3. At parties or meetings or other social events where native speakers of the local language are present, by all means speak only the local language, even with other English speakers. But if it’s just you and someone who shares your native tongue, and your level is not high enough to have a worthwhile conversation, then scrap language practice time.

4. Keep in mind that for expats, speaking the local language isn’t exactly the most stimulating experience ever.

And that’s all for today, folks, from the land of rant. I’d be interested to hear your experiences on this front–are you one of these English-leery people? Why? Are you a practice-my-French-with-American-friends kind of gal/guy or does this make your skin crawl? Why? Does it drive you nuts when you try and explain something in Chinese or Italian to a tourist who obviously does not understand?

Fly on the wings of rant, travelers. Sound off below.

Photo: author

Nine months ago my partner Natalie and I quit our jobs and left Seattle to follow our dream of learning Spanish and living for a year in Latin America. We never imagined that our trip would lead us to start our own company.

First, a quick and shameless plug so that you’ll know what we’re about.

Lenguajero is a homegrown startup that connects Spanish and English speakers for online language and culture exchange. In addition, we provide useful resources to learners of those two languages so that they can improve their ability to speak their new language.

Now, onto the fun stuff.

The following are the five steps we took to build a startup while traveling around Latin America.

1. Do what you love

That sounds pretty cliche, but we quit our jobs last year because we realized that we had come to one of those now or never moments. We had talked for years about living in Latin America and learning Spanish. We also talked about grad school, careers, and a family: all things that would make it infinitely more difficult to travel. Now was our chance and we were going to take it.

Photo: Sarah Menkedick

From our previous solo experiences we knew that following the backpackers circuit through Central and South America was not a good way to learn Spanish. (Last time I had tried that I’d ended up in a Nicaraguan jail facing a drug charge, and didn’t even know enough Spanish to bribe my way out of it.)

Instead, we decided that we would pick three or four Spanish speaking countries to live in, and would spend the year living out of apartments as opposed to hostels. This would allow us to make real friends and form real bonds within the communities we were visiting.

2. Spend a couple of months without internet

I’m starting to sound like a heretic I know, but seriously it’s possible. The trick to doing this is going somewhere where they don’t have internet.

Doesn’t exist, you say? Actually, there is a Spanish speaking country here in the western hemisphere – whose name I, as an American, am not going to mention here – that comes pretty close to being devoid of internet.

Photo: author

Yes, you will go through withdrawals. Yes it will hurt, but after a couple of weeks you will begin to forget how important it used to seem to update your Facebook status every 10 minutes, and you might just experience a different state of reality.

You’ll make friends, speak Spanish, get drunk, make an ass of yourself dancing salsa, and get laid. None of which will be broadcast on YouTube and then spread across the world via Twitter.

Of course going two months without internet means that when you do return to the land of high speed you will sit in your hotel room for 48 straight hours drinking coffee and binging on free wifi. For us this binging took place in a country which is better known for producing a different binge-able substance, Colombia.

3. Get bored and have an idea

It wasn’t so much that we were bored with Latin America, but after three months of studying Spanish for a few hours a day, drinking rum, and lying around the beach we were ready for a bit of a challenge.

We settled in Medellin, a city we instantly fell in love with. In our first month of being there we noticed a transformation was definitely taking place. While we were certainly still far from fluency we were really starting to speak Spanish well, and more importantly, comfortably.

It was around this time that the idea for a startup just sort of materialized in front of us. Natalie pointed out that despite the thousands of language learning websites out there, none of them were focusing specifically on connecting Spanish and English learners with one another for conversation exchanges.

Given how much making Spanish speaking friends, and spending time everyday speaking with native speakers, had helped in our own learning process we thought that there was real potential for this type of site.

We had our laptops with us so we decided we’d continue studying Spanish in the mornings, start building the site in the afternoons, and just see what happened.

4. Bring a code monkey (they prefer to be called developers) with you

Fortunately, Natalie, or mi mono de codigo as I call her, just so happens to fit the bill. With a degree in Computer Science and almost five years of experience working at Amazon.com she is about as skilled as they come. And, while I am about as useful as a second asshole when it comes to coding, I had spent the last 8 months before our trip working as a project manager for a software development firm, and had learned a lot from that experience.

While Natalie got to work tackling the technical challenges we faced I did what all good project managers do. I sat around drinking beer and transforming myself into a complete jackass.

5. Take advantage of living in the future

Photo: Jorge Santiago

In the age of the all encompassing “Cloud” you no longer need things like your own servers, or an office full of people to get shit done. Instead we looked to the web for solutions to all of the challenges we faced.

One word – outsourcing. Websites like eLance and 99designs connected us with designers and programmers from around the world, and allowed us to outsource the work that we couldn’t do ourselves. At one point in time I was coordinating profile page design with a guy in Taiwan while Natalie was messaging with a team in Romania that was doing the HTML & CSS for our homepage. All this was done while sipping coffee in the comforts of our apartment in Colombia.

Whether our startup will be successful remains to be seen. What is certain is that living in Latin America while working on this site has provided us a freedom not afforded most startups. Instead of holing ourselves up for 16 hours a day 7 days a week trying to get something done quickly before our funding runs out, we have been able to take a more relaxed approach.

The lower cost of living, the tranquil atmosphere, and the abundance of good beer, better food, great beaches and great people have made “working” in Colombia and Mexico about as fun a job as we could have asked for.

Community Connection

Thinking of studying Spanish? Check out 10 Spanish schools for waves, wilderness and buena onda. Addicted to language learning? Read the true confessions of a language-aholic.

Feature photo: clinkerPhoto: Felixe

Mexico has its own language untaught by Spanish schools and phrase books. It’s a language whose meanings shift in a heartbeat from insults to compliments, a language Mexican people manipulate deftly and instinctively in all sorts of contexts.

It’s, in a word, cabrón.

Here’s a primer of your essential Mexican slang:

Cabrón.

Photo: Jorge Santiago

This sounds like a cliché. Sure, a cabrón is a guy who’s a sort of badass, right?

Sure, that’s one interpretation. But this guy can be a real jerk, someone you talk about with disgust or fear, or this guy could be, say, an internationally renowned artist who’s just completed a photo exhibition about indigenous cultures.

Either one is a cabrón. And don’t forget about the feminine version, cabróna. Same standards apply: there are the bitchy, detested cabrónas and the revered, awe-inducing ones.

Then there’s que cabrón, which is used to describe a thing or situation as opposed to a person. This, too, can be positive or negative, but it’s gotta have a particular edge to it. Real life examples:

a) Narcos entered a popular restaurant and collected the cell phones of all the customers, warning them not to make any phone calls or act out of the ordinary. The narcos ate peacefully, returned the cell phones, paid everyone’s bills, and continued on their way. Que cabron.

b) You ran out of water, and the government isn’t sending more water to the Centro Historico for three days. You just had a party and now have a sink full of beer glasses, skillets full of chipotle sausage residue, and greasy plates. Que cabrón.

Insider tip: For added flair, add an “ay” before cabrón when used for people, and mix it up with an “esta cabrón” instead of “que cabrón” in the case of situations.

Destinations

Community Connection to Mexico

Madre

In the quintessential Mexican read, The Labyrinth of Solitude, Octavio Paz has a great passage about the significance of la madre (the mother) in Mexican slang and culture.

The madre is identified with all things negative, the padre with all things positive. This, argues Paz, is a reflection of two historical and cultural factors in Mexico.

The first is the idea of the “long-suffering mother,” the passive recipient of pain and burden who is, to use another classic Mexican slang term, chingada (screwed, for a polite interpretation).

Photo: descamarado

The second is the historical resentment and resignation towards the woman whom Paz claims is the mother of modern Mexico—La Malinche. La Malinche was a Nahuatl woman who aided Cortéz in the colonization of Mexico, translating for him, offering insider information, and…giving him a son, one of Mexico’s first mestizos.

So la madre is not treated kindly by Mexican slang. Whether you feel squeamish about it or not, be prepared to hear at least one of these expressions on a daily basis:

Que madres: what the hell? As in, the sudden explosion of firecrackers on any random street corner, the drunken antics of your friend after so much mezcal, the thing floating in your soup.

Que poca madre: literally, how little mother, as if mother was a quantity added with an eye dropper to a particular experience. The less mother, the better. So if Mexico kills in soccer with a 5-0 victory, it’s definitely poca madre.

Or, on the flip side, it’s padre—meaning cool, awesome, interesting.

Hasta la madre: utterly sick of something. Your boyfriend’s behavior could drive you to feeling hasta la madre, and so could consistent rain every afternoon or the incessant barking of the dog next door. You’re at the end of your rope, the breaking point—you’re literally, to translate the phrase directly, almost to the point of motherhood.

Huevos.

Photo: procsilas

There’s a whole linguistic universe surrounding huevos here, so I’ll just stick to my personal favorites.

Que huevon/huevona: What a lazy egg. This expression is one of the principal reasons for my deep affection for Mexico. The mental image rocks, and the insult rocks. It is soft and prodding and so accurate in so many situations (particularly for describing the morning after 10 peso beers and a night of salsa).

Similarly, there’s the expression que hueva, which translates literally as “what egginess.” Eggs here have the same association with laziness with an additional component of boredom. For example, you could toss out a que hueva at the suggestion of starting up a soccer game, and you could toss out a que hueva at the suggestion of watching one on T.V.

Que huevos! A brilliant expression that translates most accurately as “what balls” but really, contextually, means so much more. In the most literal “what balls” sense que huevos can be used to express admiration for some great courageous act; for example, throwing your half-eaten mango at that guy who whistled at you in the street.

It can also be used, however, to express repulsion for rude behavior, such as tearing around a corner in your SUV and nearly killing a couple of pedestrians.

And finally, it can be used without the “que” to lament a minor tragedy—spilling beer all over yourself, tripping over the sidewalk, forgetting to buy the one thing you went to the supermarket to buy.

You can’t really go wrong with these three overarching expressions—cabron, madre, huevos—used in one variation or another. (Obviously, when you’re having a chat with the polite grandmotherly señora on the corner you don’t want to bust out with “ay, cabrón!”….common slang sense applies in Mexico as in most places).

So the next time you find yourself grappling with the differences between ser and estar, why not sprinkle some huevos into the conversation and save yourself the effort?

Community Connection

Planning a trip to Mexico? Check out the three part series on Mexican cantinas: Wrestling, Pig Skin, and Beer, Life is Worth Nothing, and Tequila and a Song. Also, take Matador editor and Mex-pat Teresa Ponikvar’s advice about spending summer in Baja California Sur. And if urban life is your thing, read up on the top 10 nightlife spots in Mexico City.

Photo by castielli

Traveling to the Middle East can be a daunting experience, but you’re about as likely to get struck by lightning as you are to meet an Al Qaeda member.

Instead, you’ll come face to face with people who are as curious about you as you are about them. Arabs aren’t shy about bringing up sensitive subjects like politics and religion. These useful Arabic phrases will help you get by!

Photo by castielli

Politics

Ana saeed Bush halas means ‘I’m glad Bush is gone’ while Ana aheb Obama is ‘I like/love Obama’ (there’s no distinction between like and love in the Arab world).

Both phrases will help you win the hearts and minds of Arab friends, but be warned – they still high five in the Middle East so get ready for some hand jiving.

Religion

If you’re atheist, don’t tell ’em that. Just say Ana Christian/Buddhist/Hindu or whatever religion you feel somewhat inclined towards.

Saying you don’t believe in God (let alone Allah) will make the walls go up faster than a West Bank settlement.

If you’re interested in Islam (and I’m assuming you probably are if you’re traveling to the Middle East) saying Ana mohtam bil Islam (I’m interested in Islam) will get you invites into Muslim homes faster than you can say apostasy.

Manners

When pressing the flesh with the locals, it’s best to be polite. One little forces-sa-eeda (nice to meet you) with your hand on your heart goes a long way.

Photo by castielli

The usual follow up is inta min wayn? (where are you from?). Tell ‘em Ana min (plus the name of your country). They’ll actually be genuinely delighted to make your acquaintance, bil takeed (for sure!).

Getting to Know You…

Family is huge. In the Sultanate of Oman, for example, six kids is average, eight is the norm and ten to fourteen would be considered kabir (big).

After you’ve said where you’re from (ana min….) and what your name is (ismee + your name) they gotta know if you’re married and if not, lesh?! (why?!). What’s wrong with you?

The best excuse is ma fee falose, ‘no money’ (it costs a bundle to tie the knot in Arabia). They’ll nod gravely and say in the future, insh’allah (God willing).

Just in case you are married – Ana moo-ta-za-wee-zha will do the trick. Just throw a ma between the ana and the mootazaweezha and boom, you’re single again.

Destinations

Community Connection to Egypt

At the Sheesha/Hooka Café

A hookah / sheesha pipe is a giant water pipe a.k.a bong used for smoking improbably flavored tobacco (a Middle Eastern ritual of sorts best accompanied by lots of tiny glasses of sweet tea).

Wahead sheesha nana/eyeneb/tufeh/zaloo min fadlak means ‘One mint, grape, apple, jasmine hooka please.’

Mutter this sentence in its entirety and your head will be soon be swimming in a mint, grape, apple and jasmine cloud of tobacco.

Safe Travels and Good Luck!

When traveling in the Middle East, give the language a go and you’ll be soon surprised at just how friendly and welcoming the locals can be. Until then, salem maeelaykum (peace be with you).

Chaukati schoolgirls. All photos by Sarah Vazquez

If you are headed to Nepal, take note of these quintessential keywords. Remember, you are not aiming for fluency; you are aiming for safe water, a settled stomach and happy hosts.

1) Namaste vs Tik Chha

Let’s start with your first word, namaste.

This is used as both a greeting and a goodbye and is accompanied by holding your palms together in a prayer position. When you meet people, say “namaste,” and hold your hands together in front of you.

A family poses for a photo after hosting me for chiyaa.

Strangers, shopkeepers, fruit venders, farmers, bus drivers, and policemen will all appreciate your courtesy.

Be careful not to be overzealous with your namastes; you do not need to say namaste to people more than once in the day.

Do not say namaste to your hostel owner every time you walk to your room. Using namaste properly will make you a language connoisseur, not a language kook.

Instead of namaste, you can casually say, Tik chha?

When you say Tik chha? as a question, it is an inquiry, “Are you okay? How are you? How are things? How is the day?”

When you say it in response to a question or in the context of a conversation, it means general satisfaction, “I am well. This tea is good. This shawl is good for me. Today is a good day.”

2) Diddi, Dai, Bai and Bahini

A typical Saturday morning activity.

Family is very important in Nepal. It is not uncommon for the first question from a street vender to be, “Do you want fruit?” and the second question to be, “How is your mother?”

In Nepali, people often address each other by an affectionate, familial nickname, such as: Diddi (older sister), dai (older brother), bai (younger brother), or bahini (younger sister).

Often times one of these nicknames will be used after a name to add respect and formality. If I were talking to my teacher, Sweta Gurung, instead of saying, “Namaste Ms. Gurung,” I would say, “Namaste Sweta Diddi.”

These nicknames are also an endearing sign of friendliness. Next time you go get a cup of chiyaa try saying, “Namaste, Diddi,” when you order.

If you yourself are called any of these nicknames, rest easy knowing that it is a compliment and shows that you are liked.

3) Kanna, Chiyaa, Piro, Umaleko

“Ramro kanaa!”

Along with family, food is also sacred; good food is a sign of a good host.

Kanna: “food.”

If a friend, or even a stranger, is talking to you, then any sentence with kanna in it is a good thing and usually means you are being invited to eat.

If you have not eaten when you arrive at someone’s house, it is usually an unacceptable way to continue with the day. You will be fed.

Piro: “spicy,” or, “hot.”

Simply ask, “Piro?”

No matter what you think of your spice tolerance level, Nepal has spice like you’ve never tasted before. Do not underestimate the chilies or the cooking.

If your host says it’s piro, then it’s Nepali hot. Proceed with caution.

Chiyaa: “tea.”

Like kanna, chiyaa is always a good thing. It is very safe to say that if you arrive in any store, home or office at the right time of day (any time of day) then you will be offered a cup of chiyaa.

It would be incredibly rude to not offer a guest chiyaa, and doubly rude to not offer a foreign guest chiyaa.

The Nepali guru herself, Manju Diddi.

Likewise, it is rude for you to not accept. It doesn’t matter if you don’t want a cup and it doesn’t matter if you have somewhere to be.

Try your hardest to accept a chiyaa invitation; accepting hospitality is the best way to repay hospitality. Usually, chiyaa implies, dude chiyaa (milk tea). You can ask for calo chiyaa if you don’t like milk and this will get you plain black tea. There is always a hefty amount of sugar included.

Umaleko paani/filter-ko paani: “boiled water/filter water.”

Tap water is not safe to drink in Nepal. Simply ask “Umaleko paani?” or “Filter-ko paani?”

It’s worth asking at least twice, because you need clean water to be a steadfast rule of your eating habits.

Ramro: “Great. Good. Beautiful. Enjoyable. Pretty. Excellent. Tasty.”

Ramro can mean any and all positive adjectives. Use it to describe, review or request any food, clothing, housing, tea, adventure, or person. For example:

“How is your mother?”
“Ramro!”

“How was the chiyaa?”
“Ekdahm (very) ramro!”

Parchha/pardina: “I need/I don’t need.”

Many Nepalis have their own chickens so that they can eat fresh eggs everyday.

This is a very useful phrase. Put a noun in front of parchha and you almost have a full sentence! For example:

“Ma umaleko paani parchha (I need boiled water).”

You can use pardina with the same structure. However, if you are being pestered to buy, eat or accept something, you can simply say, “Pardina, Dai,” and this should tell your annoyer that you “don’t need it.”

This technique is handy in shops and on the street.

Homework garchuu:

Garchhu comes from the verb garnu (to do).

In Nepal education is taken very seriously and children are always doing homework. If you are a young traveler and find that you need to take a break from your hosts, you can simply say “Ma homework garchhu.”

Although you may think this is a nerdy excuse, it is the closest excuse that can get you out of a three hour long dinner conversation (which you can’t understand) and having to eat third helpings of daal bhat.

Pugyo: “Full.”

This is possibly the most useful phrase you will need to know. It is very rude for a Nepali host to leave their guest with an empty stomach.

When you are in a home and sit down for a meal, your plate will be overloaded with filling carbohydrates and there will certainly be seconds for you to eat. Before touching your food, separate the plate in two portions and say, with your extensive vocabulary,

“Pardina, Diddi.”

Make sure to smile. As long as you haven’t touched the food, your host can take it back and hopefully you have not offended her.

When she comes around to give you a second helping and you are already full (you will be full), hold your plate back and say with a big smile:

“Pugyo, Diddi.”

Namaste!

To be safe, hold a hand over your plate so she doesn’t dump food on it anyway.

A few belly rubs and “mmm” noises, along with a “ramro” review, will tell her you loved her cooking but you just can’t eat any more.

When navigating Nepal and its language, do not get discouraged by the lack of familiarity. You will probably not be able to say these phrases in a grammatically correct way all the time, but that is irrelevant.

A willingness to try, a lack of self-consciousness, some good body language and these key words will get you far!

Most Nepalis in and around Kathmandu, especially the children, will speak at least a little bit of English. They will be incredibly curious about you and eager to practice their English.

They may ask you things about your mother and how expensive your shoes were. Sometimes Americans can be offended by these personal questions, but to a Nepali this is their way of showing interest and concern.

Do not be offended and try to be as open and responsive as possible; soon these conversations will become an endearing and heartwarming part of your visit.

***I owe much credit to my fabulous language teacher in Kathmandu, Manju Diddi.***

Feature photos by kalandrakas

Learning such expressions is key not only to picking up the local language, but also to grasping different belief systems and ways of seeing the world.

Think of these expressions as ways to get inside of a particular worldview, and to show the locals that you’ve got an awareness of their cultural values.

Japan photo by tiseb

1. Shoganai (しょうがない), Japan

“It can’t be helped.” Japan is for the most part a very non-confrontational culture. Shoganai epitomizes this tendency because by encouraging people not to complain or try to “fight the power”.

Circumstances can’t be changed, so why get angry or try to avoid the unavoidable?

It’s too hot and you have walk 10 km to the nearest train station? Your boss asks you to work an extra four hours that evening?

Just accept it and move on: shoganai.

2. Mai pen rai (ไม่เป็นไร), Thailand

Thailand photo by mckaysavage

“Thailand is where no matter what happens, you say ‘mai pen rai.’ Never mind. Que sera, sera. Water off my back. And get on with your life.”

- Jerry Hopkins, Thailand Confidential

Whereas in Japan this “never mind” idea encourages one to endure hardships, in Thailand, it implies that life should be lived at a relaxed pace.

This could not be more evident in the idea of “Thai time”: several days late for a gathering of friends? Mai pen rai; it’s no big deal, we can always put things off for another day, a week, a month.

3. Sempre tem jeito, Brazil

“…there’s always a way. Don’t drive yourself crazy over stuff now, there’s always a way to work it out in the end.”

- Thomas Kohstamm, Do Travel Writers Go to Hell?

4. Pura vida, Costa Rica

Costa Rica photo by lulumon athletica

If you’ve been reading up on the exploits of one frozen banana stand owner, you should understand the idea of enjoying life in leisurely manner in Costa Rica, pura vida!

Literally meaning “pure life”, the saying is often used as a handy catch phrase and a way of offering greetings and farewells.

5. C’est la vie, France

Apparently the French and Japanese think very much alike in this respect. C’est la vie is often used to describe situations beyond someone’s control in a way of saying “that’s life” or “what can you do?”

6. Insha’allah, Arab nations

“In Egypt, it is an expression that is relied on so utterly, repeated so continually and universally – invoked on the quiet, dusty paths of rural villages and on the crowded streets of Cairo alike – that it is a part of our national character.

For Egyptian Muslims (and many Christians, too), insha’allah is the constant reminder that human beings are not in control. It is funny, but also somewhat telling, that most foreigners and visitors to Egypt believe it means ‘never.’”

- Jehan Sadat, My Hope for Peace

7. No worries, Australia and New Zealand

Although the phrase “sweet as” might be just as strong a contender in Kiwi territory, no worries is probably the most culturally relevant phrase in Australia and New Zealand.

The saying expresses a laid-back approach to life. No worries, mate.

8. Huevos, Mexico

Our own Sarah Menkedick offers her experience in Mexico with the variations on huevos (eggs):

“Que hueva.”

Imagine you are Jorge, it is Sunday morning, and you are snug in bed with the sun pouring down on you. Then your peppy girlfriend and her German Shepherd come racing into the room, jump on the bed, and shout/bark “Come running with me!!”

Your response would be: “Que hueva.”

Huevo photo by bpheonix

In case the context didn’t help, “hueva” here means something like boring/tedious/dull/dreadful. You could also translate it more or less directly as “how laziness-inducing.”

“Que huevon/huevona.” This is that guy with his arm elbow-deep in the Ruffles and his gut pouring over the edge of his jeans who shouts “yeah, I’ll get around to it later honey, I’m watching the Simpsons!” The Lazy Egg.

Huevona is the feminine form.

This is what you try to pull on your friends when they refuse to walk the dog with you or trek it across town to catch a bus to see a movie.

“Que huevon!” you say with mock indignation. It rarely works, but it’s fun to call someone a lazy egg anyway.

- Huevos a la Mexicana

9. Maningue Nice, Mozambique

Mozambique photo by JenvanW

A cross between a purely national term and a flair of English, maningue nice means “very nice” and is the closest thing to a slogan in Mozambique. Scream it from the tallest buildings whenever fortune favors you.

10. Bahala Na, Philippines

Come What May.

“This is the term that is very often used when all else fails, when you have done all you could, it doesn’t matter
because fate will take over. Sort of a comfort in a sense, that wills the Filipino, that gives them a sort of perseverance.”

Source: tingog.com

A Cross Cultural Theme

When I started researching these expressions, I was expecting to find similarities based on geography: patterns in Asia, South America, Western Europe, etc.

I was surprised, however, to find a cross-cultural theme; many of these phrases are used in response to circumstances beyond people’s control.

How each culture is epitomized in these terms is indicative of how they react to unfortunate or unavoidable events.

The Japanese and French suck it up; the Thais, Kiwis, Aussies, and others shrug it off; Arabs put the responsibility to a higher power.

Join the Conversation!

Do you know a phrase that seems to epitomize a culture? Please share it by leaving a comment below!

Feature photo by SantaRosa OLD SKOOL / Photo above by Rodrigo Solon

1. Tudo bem?

Photo by Rodrigo Solon

“How’s it going?” (lit. “Everything good?”)

A super-common informal greeting. The correct response is also “tudo bem”.

2. Oí, árbitro! Cadê o penalty?

“Hey, ref! Where’s the penalty?”

A useful phrase to know when traveling to any football-loving country. Shout as needed at the television, radio, or, when possible, the referee himself.

3. Não, não posso faze-lo.

“No, I can’t do it”

Photo by SFMission.com

As my Portuguese professor once explained to me, Brazilians tend to avoid saying no. When they do say no, however, they say it as emphatically as possible. If you really want to be clear, tack on another não to the end of the sentence.

4. Legal

“Cool.”

One of the most useful slang words in the Portuguese language, you can use legal to describe a whole host of things. People can be legal, as can clothes, places, and, ironically, gangster rap.

5. Como? Não falo português europeu.

“Come again? I don’t speak European Portuguese.”

Brazilian Portuguese and European Portuguese are two very, very different dialects. So different, in fact, that Brazilian TV shows are frequently translated and broadcast with subtitles in Portugal.

Even if you already speak Brazilian Portuguese, you’ll probably need some practice before you can understand speakers from Europe or Africa.

Photo by Peter Fuchs

6. Dirige mais rápido, estamos num bairro perigoso.

“Drive faster, we’re in a dangerous neighborhood.”

It’s unfortunate, but Brazil is one of the most unequal countries in the world in terms of income distribution, and most major Brazilian cities have several favelas, or shantytowns.

While the favelas and their residents have made many important contributions to Brazilian society and popular culture, they can also be very dangerous places, especially for visitors.

7. Como vai, gatinha?

“How’s it going, baby?” (lit. “kitten”)

A pretty simple pickup line. I take no responsibility for what happens if you actually try to use it.

8. Que diabo…quem projetou esta cidade? Não faz sentido!

“What the hell…who designed this city? It makes no sense!” (for trips to Brasilia)

Photo by malias

In 1954, Brazil’s government decided that the country needed a new capital. So, they did the logical thing and built a giant, airplane-shaped city called Brasilia in the middle of nowhere.

Oscar Niemeyer was hired to fill Brasilia with unusually-shaped buildings.

9. O Brasil é lindo maravilhoso!

“Brazil is magnificent!”

Lindo maravilhoso is a Brazilian idiom which literally translates to “beautiful marvelous”. You can use this phrase to smooth things over with any Brazilian friends who may have just heard you publicly mocking their capital.

10. É o jeitinho brasileiro.

“It’s the Brazilian way.”

How can Brazil be the world’s largest Catholic country, the world’s party capital, and an industrial giant to boot?

Why did Brazil lay out its capital in the shape of an airplane and stick it in the middle of nowhere?

The answer is simple: É o jeitinho brasileiro.

Destinations

Community Connection to Brazil

Attention, Brazilians!

What do you think of the phrases above? How’s the grammar? The author is not a native speaker, so if you notice any mistakes or have other suggestions, please leave a comment below!

Going to Brazil?

Be sure to check out Ernesto Machado’s excellent article 10 Tips to Improve Any Trip to Brazil.

Finally, for the tragic story of the Brazilian boy whose smiling face illustrates our Community Connection to Brazil graphic, click over to Beija Flor’s Brazilian street kid gallery on Matador.

Our good friend Benny, aka Benny the Irish Polyglot, is traveling the world to learn new languages to fluency. And making awesome video along the way.

His latest vid, published on his awesome new site, gives travelers some pointers on starting off learning Italian.

Have travel footage of your own? Dust it off and upload your own clips to our YouTube group today.

Feature photo Tim van Kempen

Community Connection:

Also be sure to check out Benny’s guide to efficient luggage packing

All photos by Ryukyu Mike

Japanese is the official language in all of Japan and is understood by everyone in Okinawa. There is also a native tongue, however, preserved by the elders.

This Okinawa language goes back centuries, to the days when the islands of Okinawa were the independent Ryukyu Kingdom. Scholars call it Okinawa-Hogen, or the Okinawan Dialect; it’s U-CHI-NA-GU-CHI, to a native.

This post won’t get you speaking like a native Okinawan, but if you print it out and stuff it in your wallet before visiting Okinawa two things will happen:

1. Your thick wallet will make you look richer than most Americans who visit here.

2. If you actually use a few of these words and phrases, you’ll be treated like royalty and maybe get some free drinks!

Here are the phrases, spelled phonetically.

Photo by Ryukyu Mike

1. HAI-SAI, U-CHI-NA MEN-SO-RE !

“Hai Sai” is a universal Okinawan greeting that means good morning, good afternoon and good evening.

It’s a whole lot easier to remember than all that stuff Japanese people have to say.

“Uchina” is: Okinawa and “Mensorei” means “Welcome”, only it’s used much the same as “aloha” is used in Hawaii. When you depart Okinawa, or a bar, for that matter, you may hear “ MATA MENSOREI” meaning, “come back again, sometime!”

2a. II-CHA-RI-BA-CHO-BE

When an Okinawan says “Ii cha ri ba cho be” after meeting you, be flattered, bow and shake their hand and try to ii-cha-ri-ba-cho-be back to them. It means “We have met and now you are family”.

If you can’t remember that tongue twister, you need a back-up plan. These phrases will make them love you:

2b. MA-JUN-NU-MA-YA, MATA-MA-JUN-NU-MA-YA and SAKI-NU-MI-DU-SHI-GUA

Ma-jun-nu-ma-ya means “Let’s go drinking together”. Mata ma jun nu ma ya, means “Let’s go drinking again, sometime” and Saki nu mi du shi gua, means “We’re drinking buddies”.

Photo by Ryukyu Mike

3. JIN-GUA

“Jingua” means Money! Now, if you touch your index finger to your thumb (making the internationally recognized OK symbol) and lower your hand to waist level and twist your wrist outboard, so the palm of your hand is facing up, you just learned how to say Jingua without moving your lips!

When you’re out of money, or you stumble across the occasional beggar asking for some, just say “Jingua mo nai” meaning “I don’t have any more money”.

Note: Some of the phrases used above include words like, ”mata” and “mo nai”. These are actually Japanese words mixed with uchinaguchi.

OK, we got the money thing down; let’s go spend some!

4a. HI-MO-JI

Photo by Ryukyu Mike

Himoji means “I’m hungry,” plain and simple.

How hungry you are and how much jingua you have will determine where you’re going to eat. A lot of the restaurants in Okinawa display plastic, realistic-looking foods in their window, with the prices clearly marked in yen.

Others don’t, so you have to ask. Maybe if you ask in the local dialect, they won’t charge you tourist prices!

4b. CHA-SA-YAI-BI-GA ?

How much does this cost? You may have to say it twice in a high-class restaurant; they’re expecting a foreigner to speak anything but uchinaguchi and some of the staff in these establishments are not Okinawans, anyhow.

But, if they are Okinawan, you may get a heap of extra helpings for your efforts!

Photo by Ryukyu Mike

5a. KU-WA-CHI-SA-BI-RA

This is what you say when food or a drink is presented to you. It’s “Thanks for the food or drink”.

5B. U-SA-GA-MI-SO-RE !

The typical response to your thanks for the food or drink, meaning “Dig-in or drink-up, enjoy”!

5c. MA-SAI-BI-NA ?

When you hear this, you’re being asked “How is it, good?”

5d. MA-SAI-BIN-DO / MA-SAN / IPPEI MASAN

It’s good. / It was good or delicious. / It was totally delicious!

Photo by Ryukyu Mike

6a. NU-CHI-GU-SUI-YA-SA

Take a sip of cold tea, beer, juice, anything that makes you feel good inside and exclaim “Nuchigusui or nuchigusui yasa!”

This phrase is difficult to translate, but it means “gives you a healthy feeling inside”.

I’ve been to Nuchigusui Festivals where health foods were sold, nurse stations were set-up to check blood pressure and sugar levels and all kinds of physical activities were practiced, but the only time I’ve ever heard anyone exclaim “Nuchigusui” is when they sip a drink.

6b. MA-KAI-I-CHA-BI-GA ?

Where are you going?

6c. A-SHI-BI-GA

I’m going to play – standard answer for all children in the world, isn’t it? Well, adults use the phrase, too. It could mean going to play golf, going drinking with your friends, going for a walk, or just going somewhere out of the house to relax.

7. WA-NE-UTA-UTAI-BU-SAN

Photo by Ryukyu Mike

Say this and you’re going to Karaoke until the sun comes up!

Translation: “I want to sing a song.” Twenty-four hours a day, in Okinawa, there’s a karaoke bar open somewhere.

People will drink and sing until they pass-out. If their friends are still drinking and singing when they wake up, they’ll join-in and drink and sing until they pass-out again!

Modern karaoke systems have the music piped-in over the telephone lines, so any language you want is available, English, Korean, Spanish, Chinese, German, Chinese, Japanese, even Uchinaguchi !

8a. CHU-RA-KA-GI

This word means “Beautiful”, usually only said when referring to a female. You wouldn’t call someone’s house, dog or car churakagi.

Photo by Ryukyu Mike

8b. YA-NA-KA-GI

The opposite of 8a, If you happen to offend a husband by calling his wife beautiful, point to yourself quickly and say “yanakagi”. I only use this word to describe my wife’s dog; it’s too crude to use on humans, unless you’re looking for a fight.

8c. I-NA-GU-N-GUA

Meaning: Daughter. Nice to know before you get drunk and start hitting on some Sumo Wrestler’s 20 something year old offspring, sitting at the bar with him.

8d. I-KI-GAN-GUA

Definition: Son. Sumo wrestlers don’t mind drunken women hitting on their sons, go figure!

Photo by Ryukyu Mike

9. KU-SU-KWEE, or KU-SU-KAY!

Okinawans don’t cuss, they just don’t do it. But, there’s a special time when they use this expression.

Have you ever been walking down a dark alley or street and feel the hair stand-up on the back of your neck? There’s a presence, something creeping up behind you, a ghost, a bad vibe or an evil spirit.

Well, Okinawans worship their ancestors and believe there are spirits watching over them at all times. Anyone who died an unnatural death or was lost at sea and never given a proper burial has a spirit floating around, just waiting to snatch the healthy spirit from your body.

When someone sneezes, their spirit temporarily leaves their body and this is the ideal time for one of the floating spirits to snatch it away.

So, you should look slightly above the person who just sneezed, shoe the spirit away with both hands and say “Kusu Kwee!” just as someone walking down a dark alley would when they feel an evil presence.

Translation: Eat pig shit!

10a. NI-HE-DE-BI-RU

If you made it this far, I’d like to thank you for being such a good reader: Nihedebiru!

10b. MA-YA-GUA

Mayagua is a cat.

10c. IN-GUA

Photo by Ryukyu Mike

A dog is ingua. For some unknown reason cats and dogs get along just fine on the islands of Okinawa. It must be the peaceful atmosphere. You’ll see stray dogs and cats hanging-out together on street corners, just minding their own business.

Now, if you were really trying to learn Uchinaguchi, you should be able to pretend you’re the cat in the photo to the right and say:

We have met and now we are family. Let’s go drinking together, play and sing karaoke. By the way, I’m starving; you got any money?

Community Connection

If you’re going to Okinawa, be sure to get in touch with Ryukyu Mike. Other Matador members who have traveled in the far south of Japan include Turner Wright and Tim Patterson.

Feature photos by aiace

If you venture to the Arab world and you’re not armed to the teeth (linguistically speaking), you’ll be taken as an easy mark by shopkeepers, touts and taxi drivers alike.

Stockpile these ten high-caliber phrases in your language arsenal, however, and you’ll be the one taking the shots. First – some pleasantries.

Photo by seier+seier+seier

Salem maelekum

Salem maelekum is an Arabic mantra. Figuratively it means ‘hello’ but literally it means ‘Peace be upon thee.’ Learn it. Love it. Live it.

Malekum salam

Malekum salam is the expected reply and translates to ‘Peace be upon thee also.’ Ironic that in the war torn Middle East, the word most often heard is peace, innit?

Nevertheless, any attempt at engaging in cultural routines will be rewarded with warm invitations for tea, dates and special ‘friend’ prices, insh’allah (God willing).

Kaffek?

Kaffek is the simplest and most widely understood way to ask ‘how’s it going?’ Inevitably, the response is ilhumdelah meaning thanks be to Allah (the ‘fine’ and the ‘thank you’ is all implied in the ilhumdelah).

Sweet tea and pleasantries aside, the bottom line is even if they like you, they’re still gonna try to fleece ya (nothing personal, it’s just business) so here’s the nitty-gritty:

Photo by aiace

Hatha ghaliah ghidan

‘That is too expensive.’

Hatha laisa al mablagh al motad

This one means ‘that’s not the normal price’ (very handy when they see your western face coming and the price gets jacked up 200%). On your first shopping expedition, get the down low on how much the locals pay by hitting the souq with a resident.

Ati khasam min fadlak

‘Give me a discount, please.’ (But don’t bust this one out until the local price has been established.)

Hal tazon anani ghabi?

‘Do you think I’m stupid?’ Guaranteed to get a laugh and maybe the best price of the day before you act like you’re gonna walk away.

Destinations

Community Connection to Egypt

Meshy, halas

Meshy, halas means ‘OK finished.’ Once the cost has been set, fix it with this Arabic catchphrase.

Meshy, halas is also used to end phone conversations before a long series of ma’salema, ma’salema, ma’salema (Arabs have this thing about always wanting to be the last person to say goodbye).

So, good luck on your travels in the Middle East and ma’salema, ma’salema, ma’salema…

Photo: timlings

Speaking like a local is not all about the accent; or even the vocabulary. Gestures, clothing, mannerisms and attitude also hint at where you’re from.

All of these things can be learned and mimicked so you sound like you grew up around the block. Below is a list of hints for how to “go native.”

1. Cross Generations

Does “Dude, how was your weekend?” sound normal? Now what if it was your grandmother asking you the same phrase? What about your brother mentioning that he was “necking” with his girlfriend? Most likely both sound a little “off”.

These are examples of the generational differences that exist in language. Words are continuously dropped, added or take on new meanings. While you learn, spend time with people from different generations. Kids are always non-judgmental and forgiving when it comes to mistakes. Other than the occasional “You talk funny!” comment, their pace and knowledge will match yours (I know it’s a huge ego blow to have a 4-year old correct you, but hey, suck it up!).

At the same time, someone 20 years or more older than you will also enrich your language experience. Spending time with people of your generation is the easiest, but you will have a wider vocabulary and much more fun if you vary this.

2. Narrow It Down

So you’re learning Spanish? Chinese? Portuguese? That really doesn’t narrow it down much. You need to be aware of much more than the language.

For example, where is your teacher from? Where did she grow up? Which city? Is he a native speaker? From which socio-economic level?

Answers to these types of questions will help you better master the language you learn. As a comparison, think of how many different accents there are in the United States. Texans, Minnesotans and New Yorkers all have unique accents.

As for vocabulary, the western part of the US uses the word “pop” while easterners say “soda.” Figuring these things out will help you learn and understand the vocabulary, grammar, pronunciation and accents you hear. As you become more comfortable with your language you should be able to adjust your vocabulary and accent to your local surroundings, making it easier to fit in.

3. Learn the Local Gestures

Every place has unique gestures that people in the area understand, but outsiders are clueless about. Often, these gestures are so ingrained in the native speakers’ communication that they forget they use them…meaning even if you asked, people probably won’t be able to answer you.

To get around this, spend some time sitting in a park, restaurant or café and watch the conversations around you. You will begin to see gestures repeated after several sessions. Later, ask someone what these gestures mean.

Photo: Paul Lamere

As an added bonus, you’ll hone your non-verbal skills while you observe, since at some point you will understand at least parts of the conversations without hearing a word anyone says.

4. Vary Your Instructors

This is perhaps the most important point in this article. It is easy to fall into the habit of using the same teacher and following the same schedule at the same place. The problem with this is that you will only be exposed to one accent at a time, which severely restricts your exposure to different dialects.

The best language learning programs offer a mix of teachers from different regions and countries. This allows you to begin to mimic the subtleties of the language and avoids you becoming accustomed to how one person speaks.

Even if you do not have the option of varying teachers, the internet now provides enough material for you to watch videos, listen to podcasts, hear radio announcements and read online newspapers. With a little effort you can begin to appreciate the variances in peoples’ verbal communication.

As a plus, being exposed to a variety of pronunciations and vocabulary will make your first foray into a foreign country less shocking. If your language exposure has been with only one person, the first time you visit you will not have an easy time communicating with people.

5. Focus your vocabulary development

Any time you begin to learn a language, you start with the common words. You are more likely to learn words such as car, telephone, run and ice cream, before you learn analysis, nuclear, political or border crossing.

So what are the most common words in any language? The naughty words! Not only is asking for slang words a great ice-breaker to meet people (Excuse me, my name’s Jared and I just started learning Swahili. If I get really mad at a taxi cab driver, what could I say to him?) but it’ll also help you quickly learn the most common words that most people use.

To better grasp the scale of the word, I always use the Grandma Test. Is this something you can say in front of your grandmother? mother? girlfriend? only with the guys? Ladies, why use this test? Because, believe it or not, there are some words that guys only use with other guys, so it’s best to clarify that at the beginning.

Another good vocabulary segment to develop early is the fillers that are used. In English, words like “uh”, “like”, “um,” and “well” buy time while you think about what to say next. Other languages have these fillers as well. Once you learn them (shouldn’t take more than a day or two with a little help from someone), use the local fillers instead of your own; your conversations will come across as more fluid.

6. Know your gossip

When was the first time your English teacher went over the correct usage of “ain’t” with you? Most likely never. At the start of learning a language, most of what we are taught is the formal structure of a language. This is the same with foreign languages. While the formal learning is important, to fit in like a local, you must also learn the street language.

Photo: Dave Fayram

One of the best ways to do this is to keep abreast of the gossip in the society pages of the country whose language you are learning. Most countries have news rags available that report on the newest romantic gossip surrounding actors and actresses. Often, there are also whole television programs dedicated to gossip of the rich and famous.

Most of them sprinkle in slang words, double meanings and sexual innuendo. Besides helping to fit in more like a local, this has another added benefit. Learning about current news, gossip and celebrities will allow you to participate more in conversations, better understand local jokes, and enjoy everyday life in your adopted country.

Copyright, Jared Romey, 2009. All rights reserved.
Press or reprint inquiries may be directed to Info@RomeyInc.Com.

Community Connection

Discover new ways to think about language learning with these metaphors, and don’t forget the importance of getting motivated.

For more practical advice, check out these ten tips to become fluent in a language in 6 months and the five ways we learn languages.

Feature photo: striatic Photo by Neil’s Photography

When you’re in that maddening spot where you can’t seem to put a comprehensible sentence together, look to these metaphors for inspiration.

1. A Desk Covered in Scraps

Language learning is like a desk covered in bits of fabric, old ceramics, shiny plastic buttons, rough pieces of recycled paper. You sit down before the desk and sigh. But then, inspiration strikes, and you start sorting through the bits and pieces and putting together a mosaic. And before you know it, all the disparate scraps come together, and you have….a conversation.

Photo: Sarah Menkedick

The point: let go of your obsession with logic and order, and get scrappy. Figure out how to piece together what you know and make it work.

2. A Game-Playing Date

Language learning is like dating a coy, flirtatious dude (or gal) who strings you along a bit, making you feel so smart, so sexy, so cool, and then suddenly stands you up.

You find yourself completely lost in some restaurant, unable to put together a sentence, realizing how little you know. You go through a bitter phase in which you swear off men/women.

Then, you meet some cute, sweet thing on the street one day, and your faith is instantly restored.

The point: there will always be moments, no matter how confident you feel or how much progress you’ve made, in which you feel like the rug has been pulled out from you.

It’ll always be harder and more intimidating to speak with certain people, and there will inevitably be times when all the language you’ve been practicing goes flying from your head at the crucial moment.

3. A Department Store

Language learning is like shopping in a massive department store with countless floors and boutiques.

You try on suits, miniskirts, overalls, knee socks, baggy sweaters, heels, boots.

Some make you feel uncomfortable and constricted. Some feel so good it’s almost like an addition to, or slight alteration of, your identity.

The point: Not every language will fit perfectly.

Photo: erredoppia

I feel much more natural, much more like myself, speaking in Spanish than in French.

I’m still happy that I speak French and I love speaking it, but I can recognize that sometimes it just doesn’t fit with my personality.

Understanding that some languages fit you better than others can help you get beyond some of your frustration with language learning.

4. An Archeological Dig

Language learning is a process of cultural excavation. At first, you’re simply pondering over shards and fragments, holding them up to the light, trying to put them in context.

Little by little, the culture behind the medley of artifacts starts to come through.

The ways people think and behave – and have thought and behaved over time – reveal themselves through the bits and pieces you’ve uncovered.

The point: Language is culture. Culture is language.

This basic lesson takes some time to figure out.

The longer you speak a language and the more time you spend in areas where it’s the native tongue, the better chance you stand of getting access to a new way of thinking and a new way of seeing the world.

Little by little, you come to realize that phrases and expressions you use for the sheer practical purpose of communication are deeply cultural, and reveal cultural values and beliefs.

5. Driving through a fog

Language learning is like driving up a long winding road through a thick fog. You arc around curve after curve, hypnotized by the monotony and the concentration of driving, by the feeling of being totally lost and insulated in your little car world.

Photo: blyzz

Then you break through the fog. You’re at the flat peak of the mountain and a whole valley of undulating green, edged by a distant bay, spreads before you.

“Holy shit!” you think. This is what I’ve been approaching!?”

The point: Immersion is a fog.

If you’re really, truly immersed in a language and unable to escape it, you’re probably going to spend quite a bit of time feeling completely isolated and unsure of yourself.

You’re going to muddle through things and feel a bit lost in every conversation, just trying to inch up the road.

And then suddenly, there will be a moment, or moments, when you can sense how far you’ve come.

Community Connection

Getting started on that maddening, thrilling journey that is learning a language?

Get motivated, and learn to follow your intuition..

And if you’re not sure where to begin, why not learn the importance of eating a new language?

Tokyo photo by oimax———-Feature photo by skyseeker

This post is dedicated to Sarah Menkedick, who is currently learning Japanese in Nagoya, Japan.

Some of these Japanese phrases are practical. Some of them are funny. All 10 will greatly enhance your trip to Japan.

All of the phrases are pretty informal, especially the one about crapping your pants.

Note that I spell the phrases phonetically in the bold text, but spell them with the most common romanization of the Japanese characters when explaining a point.

Confused already? Don’t worry about it.

Keitai girl by scion02

1. “Yo-ro-sh-ku o-neh-gai-shi-mus.”

This phrase is absolute magic. Say “yoroshiku” to any Japanese person in any situation and they will help you with anything and everything you need. It’s impossible to translate literally, but means something to the effect of “please do your best and treat me well”.

If you memorize nothing else before going to Japan, remember “yoroshiku” and you’re totally set. “Onegaishimasu” is a common word that means something similar to “please”.

2. “Yosh. Gahn-bah-di-mus.”

This phrase means something like, “OK, I’m going for it,” or “I’ll do my best”. A Japanese would say “Ganbarimasu” before taking a test, or leaving the house for a job interview.

Japanese people will crack up if you say it before walking outside, eating noodles or using a vending machine. Try saying it before using useful phrase # 8.

3. “Ara! Onara suru tsu-mori datta keh-do, un-chi ga de-chatta.”

The literal translation of this useful phrase is “Oops! I meant to fart but poop came out”.

Saying this useful phrase never gets old, especially in public places, especially on a first date and most especially if it’s clearly one of only 10 Japanese phrases that you’ve memorized.

When in Southeast Asia, I especially enjoy muttering in Japanese about crapping my pants while walking past Japanese tourists. The reactions are priceless.

4. “Mo da-meh. Yoh-para-chatta. Go-men.”

At some point during your stay, Japanese people will probably try to make you drink past your limit. That’s when this phrase comes in handy. It means something like, “No more, I’m already drunk, sorry.”

Photo by Jenny Webber

5. “Ko-ko wa do-ko? Wa-ta-shi wa da-reh?” Na-ni mo wah-kah-nai.”

Where is this? Who am I? I don’t understand anything.

This is what you say after failing to use useful phrase # 4 in time.

6. “Ee-show ni kah-rah-o-keh ni ee-koh ka?”

Shall we go to karaoke together? This is a good line to use if trying to pick someone up from the bar. Think of karaoke as a transition point between the bar and the love hotel.

Note – please don’t pronounce karaoke with lots of EEE sounds. It should sound like “kah-rah-o-keh” not “carry-oh-key”.

7. “Hon-toe ni oh-ee-shee des yo!”

Use this one when eating. It means something like, “For real, it’s delicious!”

Hontou ni means “for real” or “really” or “I’m not kidding.” Japanese people are always telling sweet little white lies, so dropping a “hontou ni” from time to time is very much appreciated.

8. “Ah-nah-tah wa ha-ruh no ee-chee ban no sah-ku-rah yo-ree u-tsu-ku-shee.”

This classic Japanese pick-up line means “You’re more beautiful than the first cherry blossom of spring.”

Destinations

Community Connection to Japan

9. “Ni-hon dai-skee”.

Japan is the best. I love Japan. When in doubt, just smile, nod and repeat.

10. “Koh-nah ni kee-ray na to-ko-ro wa hah-jee-meh-teh mee-tah!”

Japanese people love it when you gush about their country. This phrase means, “I’ve never seen a place so beautiful before”.

Bust it out at famous attractions and you’ll meet with instant approval.

Want To Live In Japan?

Check out: How To Get A Job Teaching In Japan

Do You Speak Any Japanese?

Help us all out by sharing a useful phrase in the comments section below.

Student by foundphotoslj. Feature photo by Okko Pokko

There’s the guy who’s really interested in grammar and can’t stop asking you why the present perfect form of run is irregular.

He pores over his book every night and could present a thesis on the use of adverbs of frequency, but if he actually needs to bust out a comprehensible sentence in casual conversation, he’s floored.

There are the two or three middle-aged workers who’ve randomly decided they should learn English, gotten really pumped about it during the first week, and then promptly grown bored.

Now they recite new vocabulary words as if they were heavy rocks dropping with a thud.

There are the keen university students who want it, need it, soak it up with the desperation of a man trying every trick he knows to get the woman he wants.

They grapple with the language, play with it, try to please it and alter it a bit to suit their needs. They could use more practice, but they’ve got skillz in place for the moment when they actually meet a foreigner.

And then there are the rare students who soak up language like the proverbial sponge, who will always have a four-year old’s capacity for absorbing new vocabulary and grammatical structures.

There are, of course, many more types of language learners.

Which one are you?

Photo: Bredgar. Feature photo: foundphotoslj

“And so you need to put your three daily activities in order, and then tell your partner about them, and then cover them up, and have your partner remember what you said. OK?”

Three or four students — the ones who’ll fight their way through conversations in English until they get to the point of fluency — will nod.

Some students will tentatively look at their friends for encouragement.

A handful of others will stare up at me with traumatized expressions as if I’ve just sung an obscure Italian opera.

Florence by Deva.

This is when I can identify the natural language learners in my class.

They’re the ones who aren’t obsessed with hearing every word I say, with breaking down the grammar and analyzing it, or with trying to have a crystal clear native speaker’s appreciation for the exact meaning of a sentence.

They’re listening for gist—they want to get to the baseline meaning of what I say and follow it intuitively.

They know they’re blindfolded and feeling around in the dark, so they use their intuition and all the bits of language and memory they have to make their best guess.

The single most important skill any language learner can have is the ability to induce and intuit meaning, especially when one doesn’t understand every word—or even most words—a native speaker is saying.

Can you get far enough outside of your own cultural and linguistic box to divine what someone is trying to say?

Perhaps this is the most full-on plunge you can make into a foreign culture: giving yourself up to the language and letting yourself be carried along by it, even when you’re not sure, even when you don’t fully understand, even when you’re totally out of your element.

You’ve got to be confident enough to make a solid attempt at understanding and acting on that understanding, and yet you’ve got to be humble and perceptive enough to pick up on the speaker’s intentions.

Photo: Ed Yourdon

And most of all, you have to give up the need to make sense of every element of language.

You have to get to some deeper level of connection and communication, based on intuition, based on those skills you have when you’re an infant and you’ve got to figure out how to get milk and love.

Use whatever you’ve got – random vocab, frantic miming, raised eyebrows – to make communication happen. And be willing to accept the fact that you won’t know everything, and that you may be partially clueless for awhile.

After all, the struggle to grasp bits and pieces here and there until you can begin to make sense of the foreign world around you, is at the core of every travel experience.

Embrace the confusion!

Like so many things in travel, it makes the most banal moments — sending a postcard, ordering a beer — into grand tales of success and failure.

Please share your language learning tips and stories below!

Photo: peiqianlong Feature photo: Pratham Books

I’ve seen a lot of learners and a lot of strategies pass through my classroom in the past four years of teaching English abroad. In those four years, I’ve also managed to learn two languages and am working on a third.

How people successfully learn a new language is an elusive topic – one that academics have had cat-fights about for years.

What exactly are the factors that determine a language student’s success?

Yesterday at the Nagoya International Center I came across the single most important language-learning factor:

Motivation.

I’d been taught about the importance of motivation in my SIT TESOL course (one of the single greatest learning experiences of my life) but, as usual, learning the concept in the classroom and experiencing it in real life are entirely different stories.

The Nagoya International Center was offering eleven 90-minute Japanese classes for 2500 yen (25 bucks). The application and interview period was from 11:30-12 on Sunday.

We got to the NIC at 11:10, twenty minutes early for the interview period, figuring hey, nobody’s going to be that eager and we’ll probably be among a small group of language nerds.

Ha.

We took the elevator to the fifth floor. The entire place was jam-packed with people.

Photo: author Jam-packed NIC!

People squatting and filling out forms on the inches of available floor space. People milling around and chatting nervously. People bunching up around the desks where application forms were being handed out.

There was only one form left in English, so I let my friend have it and I filled out the Spanish one.

As we sat there, going through the requisite names-numbers-checking-boxes form, I soaked up the energy of the room.

It was a veritable U.N meeting of nationalities—there were Filipinos, Brazilians, Brazilian Japanese, Chinese, Southeast Asians, Americans, Brits, Africans, Mexicans, Spanish…

(I know because I kept peaking at the “native language” box on people’s application forms as we stood waiting in line).

All of us had the same eager, slightly nervous, first-day-at-school posture, and I realized that all of these people needed to learn Japanese. They were there because in their immediate, everyday lives, they had to use Japanese in some form or another and they’d jumped at the chance to do so for a bargain.

I’m sure if I’d asked them there, on the spot, “Why are you taking these classes?”

They could’ve clearly and specifically defined their goals:

“I want to work in an office and I need to learn polite Japanese conversation and basic vocabulary.”

“I want to open a shop and I need to interact with customers and officials.”

“I want to have conversations with people about Japan and Japanese culture.”

“I want to be able to read the newspaper and the subway signs.”

Clearly Defined Goals

And so, waiting in line at the Nagoya International Center with representatives of a dozen different countries, I saw again what I’ve seen throughout the years in my classes: having clearly defined goals and the motivation to charge at them makes all the difference in learning a language.

I’ve heard a lot of people say “I’d love to learn Spanish” or “it’d be great to speak Chinese” but their aims don’t go much further than that—which isn’t to say they aren’t motivated, but their motivation doesn’t have specific goals attached to it.

If you want to learn a language, ask yourself these three questions:

1. Why do you want to learn a language?

3. Why do you need it?

The more clearly and specifically you can answer these questions the more success you’ll have in learning a language.

Make a list of your goals and make sure you avoid general, vague statements like “I’d like to talk to people.” Be as specific as possible.

Once you’ve drawn up your list, start looking for programs or classes that fit the goals you’ve defined.

And stay tuned to Matador Abroad for where to go from there.

Feature Photo: miguelitos91 Photo: Puamelia

If you’re living abroad, struggling with a foreign language and can’t seem to find the time to go over phrases in a textbook, what’s the best way to learn?

Go out to dinner!

Here’s how to eat your way to fluency.

1. Start Small

Photo: davies

The best way to learn a language is to start off with simple words.

The vocabulary of food is dead simple. Even if you’re taking the easy route and going to a McDonald’s, you can still use words like “beef”, “chicken” and “drink”.

Editor’s Note – Is there any real chicken left at McDonald’s? How do you say McNugget in Mandarin?

2. Daily Meals

Try to eat out at least once a day to build your language skills and practice any material you might have reviewed. It’s tempting to save money and just let the rice cooker do the work at home, but you lose opportunities by staying in.

When I was living in Japan, each day I typically had one set phrase that I learned from the textbook, bounced off my coworkers, and then practiced in the restaurant (e.g. “Kyou no osusume wa nan desu ka?”, or “Yo, what’s cooking?”).

Not only was I able to eat well, but I also used the sentence structure and grammar to form conversations in other situations.

Photo: yomi955

3. Currying Favor

Every culture has their own “foreigner food test” – a seemingly disgusting food that’s actually kind of good once you get used to it.

In Japan there’s natto (fermented soy beans).

Durian (stinky fruit) in the test in Thailand. Australia has vegemite and we’ve got Dominos in America.

Although you may have no control over your gag relax when first trying these foods, finding the taste buds needed to enjoy them and telling the locals that they taste delicious will tear away cultural misconceptions.

4. Start With Delicious

The most valuable word to learn first in any foreign language is simply “delicious”. You might even find yourself muttering the word when no longer in the country, nor eating the same exotic foods:

“Délicieux! Oishi! Aroi mac! Que rico!”

Eventually you can move on to “sweet”, “sour”, “smooth”, and “Yes, I would like fries with that.”

5. Get To Know Your Neighbors

Photo: imorpheus

One of the advantages of being one of the few white faces in a country like Japan was being recognized at the local supermarket, yakitori stand, convenience store, and izakaya.

By visiting shops and restaurants frequently, most of the staff and waiters came to know me by name. Sometimes they would encourage me to try something new, which always involved me learning a new word and a new phrase to describe the food:

“Excuse me… what is this exactly?”

“ Ah yes, that pasta is topped with octopus and salmon roe covered in squid ink.”

…well, it was worth the experience anyway.

Do you know how to say “delicious” in any foreign language? If so, please tell us how by leaving a comment below!

Community Connection

To get jump started learning about food wherever you’re headed, check out these essential cookbooks for the culinary traveler.

For an exploration of how eating is a cultural experience, take a look at tasting place.

If you’re stuck on just where to begin, Japan expert Abram Plaut offers his tips on ramen joints in Tokyo, Contributing Editor Sarah Menkedick gives an overview of foods you can’t miss in Mexico and Matador Nights shares the best cities for late night snacks.

Barfy Hamburgers in a Flow Pack

Dismay cookie

Maybe after dining on your Barfy burgers, you’re ready for some dessert. How about a Dismay cookie?

Penetrit Lubricant

This lubricant says it’s multi-use, but as far as I can tell, a lubricant called Penetrit has only one use.

Polyana Deodorant

If you didn’t get that last one, maybe it’s time you had a Polyana Moment. Teen Spirit has nothing on this deodorant.

Ades

This juice might not share the same success in the U.S. as it does here. Drink Ades, crap lightning!

The Bichy

La Bichy Ahora or “The Bichy Now.” I imagine it best helps the drinker live up to its name when mixed with tequila or gin.

All Photos by Kate Sedgwick

Photo: Hyperscholar

I won’t deny that learning Spanish is both necessary and fun—I studied for a month in Quito before traveling around South America. However, as anyone who has trekked across Bolivia or Guatemala or Mexico can tell you, Spanish is not the native language of the region.

And while most countries have done a remarkable job of wiping out native languages through a mixture of brutality, exclusionary educational policy, discrimination and intimidation, some of these languages have managed to hang on, and some have even seen a revival in recent years.

Travelers now have a chance to get a more intimate look at Latin America and its diverse cultural groups, and to aid in the preservation of distinct cultures and languages in danger of being usurped by mainstream Hispanic culture.

The following is your guide to Latin America’s indigenous languages and where to study them. The languages mentioned below are only a sampling—there are literally hundreds more, but I’ve tried to select the ones that are still spoken by a large number of people and that are offered at fairly accessible language schools.

1. Zapotec

Zapotec is spoken by around half a million people in the southern Mexican states of Oaxaca, Puebla, and Guerrero. There are more than 50 versions of the language, but the largest three are mountain Zapotec (spoken in the Sierra Norte and Sur), valley Zapotec (spoken in the central valley of Oaxaca), and Zapotec from the Isthmus of Tehuantepec.

Of these three, the latter two are the most accessible.

Valley Zapotec can be studied in Téotitlan del Valle (a village a stone’s throw from the city of Oaxaca), and in the city of Oaxaca. In Téotitlan, you’ll need to ask around for private tutors and negotiate prices.

In Oaxaca, the Universidad Autónoma Benito Juárez de Oaxaca (UABJO) offers semester-long courses in Zapotec, with four evening classes a week, for 500 pesos (around $50 USD). These courses usually go from September-December and February-May.

Zapotec from the isthmus can be studied in Juchitán, Oaxaca, where the Casa de la Cultura offers courses. The University of California at San Diego offers a summer Zapotec immersion program in Juchitán which sounds wonderful, but costs $4,000.

But for those interested in anthropology or in working with indigenous groups, the price may be worth it.

2. Quechua

Photo: Quinet

The official language of the Incas, Quechua is spoken today by more than 10 million people from southern Colombia to northern Chile, with the largest concentration of speakers in Peru and Bolivia. In the latter two countries, Quechua is recognized as an official language.

The best place to study Quechua is Bolivia, where Quechua and Aymara (another official language recognized by both Peru and Bolivia) are as widely used as Spanish. Aymara and Quechua share similar structures and over one-third of their vocabularies, so learning Quechua is practically a two-for-one deal.

Sustainable Bolivia, an NGO based in Cochabamba, offers full time Quechua language study, as well as a host of volunteer opportunities in Cochabamba and the surrounding communities. For total immersion, this is your best option.

For more information about where to learn Quechua, this page offers plenty of information.

3. Mayan

Photo: spankmeeehard

Sometimes it is difficult to believe that those elusive, mystical places and peoples featured on National Geographic specials (the ones where the narrator speaks in booming tones and the dramatic musical score plays in the background) actually exist.

The Maya are one such example; much has been written about ancient Mayan culture, but few people actually get involved with the present-day Mayan community, which, like most other indigenous communities in Latin America, is largely marginalized and poor.

There are more than six million Mayan speakers in Mexico, Guatemala, Belize, El Salvador, and Honduras. By far, the biggest number live in Guatemala, which remains the best destination for full immersion Mayan study.

The Celas Maya language school in
Quetzaltenango, Gautemala, offers full immersion Mayan classes as well as local volunteer opportunities.

4. Guaraní

Photo: Nagillum

Guaraní is the language of the indigenous group of the same name. One of the two official languages in Paraguay, Guaraní is widely spoken throughout that country, as well as throughout parts of Brazil, Argentina, Bolivia and Uruguay.

Paraguay is an exceptional example of a country that has embraced an indigenous language and enforced a policy of bilingualism in education. All Paraguayan children are required to speak, read, and write Guaraní as well as Spanish.

Asunción is the best place to get started on Guaraní study. The National Registration Center for Study Abroad offers study abroad programs in Guaraní in Asunción (for a bit of a steep price!) and South America Inside offers slightly cheaper courses.

Both websites mention private language schools that I couldn’t dig up online, but I’d imagine that roaming around Asunción (or taking a glance at the Lonely Planet) you could find the addresses of these schools and save money by approaching them directly.

5. Nahuatl

The language of the Aztecs, Nahuatl dominated Mesoamerica for over a millennium, first as the lingua franca for merchants and politicians under Aztec rule, and then as the language favored by Spanish conquistadors for communication with local subjects.

In a policy that seems an anomaly within the larger history of colonization, Spain’s King Phillip II decreed in 1570 that Nahuatl would be the official language of New Spain.

During a period lasting over two centuries, Nahuatl spread from modern-day New Mexico to El Salvador. In the 16th and 17th centuries it became a literary language in which poetry, theatrical works, histories, chronicles, and administrative documents were written.

In 1770, a Spanish decree calling for the elimination of indigenous languages in Spanish colonies did away with Nahuatl as a literary language, but didn’t entirely eliminate it.

Today, it is spoken by more than 1.5 million people, mostly in Mexico. You can study it in Cuernavaca at the International Center for Cultural and Language Studies (CICEL), which also offers seminars on traditional medicine and “reality tours” focusing on Mexican traditions and foods.

So instead of signing up for a Spanish course, go further back into Latin America’s history and get a little closer to its roots by studying Quechua, Guarani, Zapotec, Nahuatl, or Mayan, and in the meantime contribute to greater cultural diversity in this globalized world.

COMMUNITY CONNECTION:

Matador offers resources for students of all languages! Check out 5 Questions to Ask When Picking a Language School, 5 Tips for a More Productive Language Exchange, or 10 Steps to Recovering a Language You’ve Forgotten, for a start.

Feature photo by ricardo.martins. Photo above by Patrick_coe.

Wilderness

Chile is home to some of the longest stretches of pristine wilderness anywhere in the world. From the Atacama desert to the rivers of Patagonia, the massive glaciers of Tierra del Fuego to the long Pacific coastline, Chile is full of natural wonders that make for world-class outdoor adventuring.

Photo: magical-world (Flickr creative commons)

Amazing people

In your attempts to master Spanish, you will meet many friendly Chileans who will encourage you and help you learn the best (and worst) words in Chilean Spanish.

Even better, once you finish your stint in Chile, you can head to any other Spanish-speaking country with surprising results—they’ll be easy to understand!

Photo by P_R_.

You’ll learn a lot of swear words right away.

Chileans pepper their speech with colorful phrases and plenty of swear words. Anyone under the age of 35 adds huevon or huevona to the end of almost every sentence. Huevon is the Chilean equivalent of dude, but literally derives from huevos, the word for testicles.

Slang.

Chileans use a shortened form of the word pues– “po”– to add emphasis to certain words. The most common are: si po,obviopo, and no po.

Destinations

Community Connection to Chile

Much like po, cachai and other forms of “cachar” (to get or to understand) find their way into most conversations with Chileans.

It is the English version of “You know?”

If a Chilean is explaining something to you, you will eventually hear “Cachai?”

Often, a rhetorical “You know what I mean?” and a nod of the head (if you do know what the person means) is enough to keep the conversation going.

When you adopt po and cachai into your vocabulary, you are officially on your way to speaking Chilean Spanish.

You’ll learn to mumble like the locals.

Chileans are notorious for speaking fast. Chilean Spanish is also marked by a lack of clarity of speech. The “s” is hardly ever pronounced; the “d” in nouns and adjectives (like estado and complicado) are skipped, making the endings sound like “ao” instead of “ado.”

Plus, the entire tu form is pronounced differently than you learned in high school Spanish class. Como estas? becomes Como estai? and Que quieres? (What do you want?) becomes Que queri?

You’ll learn Mapuche words.

The Mapuche were indigenous people living in Chile before the Spanish arrived. As the two cultures mixed, the Spanish adopted many Mapuchan words: cahuín (gossip or party), guata (belly), and malón (potluck).

These are words won’t be taught in a university Spanish class—it’s only when you come to Chile that you are exposed to them.

You’ll learn about your own culture and language through Chilean Spanish.

Learning Chilean Spanish (and trying to translate English into Spanish in your head) will help you gain a new perspective on your own culture and language. Chilean Spanish has made me realize just how many American English phrases make absolutely no sense.

Try translating and explaining “Junk in your trunk” or “You’re the bomb.” Even phrases like “No way!” or “Sweet!” do not have direct translations. Certainly, there are similar phrases in Spanish…it’s just a matter of discovering them.

COMMUNITY CONNECTION:

Planning to learn some Spanish? Check out the Top 10 Spanish Schools for Waves, Wilderness and Buena Onda!

Or, check in with some Matador members who are currently tackling the language: read How’s My Spanish? by member jgbrandt, or “Perdon, habla poquito castellano” by member laurenkearns.

Feature photo by CharlesFred. Photo above by Soqotra (Yemen).

Despite its rap as a hotbed of kidnapping, terrorism, and tribalism, San’a, Yemen is doing for Arabic what Antigua, Guatemala has done for Spanish: making the language affordable and accessible in a stunningly beautiful location (UNESCO has declared the entire old town of San’a a World Heritage Site).

Wandering the labyrinth streets of San’a is like peeking back into the Persian Gulf before oil, before the trappings of modernity. Here the essence of frankincense – piney, medicinal and evocative – drifts between lopsided towers of stone and mud brick.

Stacked on top of each other six to eight stories high, the towers drape the narrow alleyways in shadow. Yemeni women seem to float by, their eyes encased in head-to-toe black veils.

Photo by alvise forcellini.

Mustachioed men in turbans and long skirts sport curved blades. Smiling broadly, they ask for your name, where you’re from. Little boys and girls stop and stare before chanting, sura, sura, sura! (Photo, photo, photo!). The cacophonous adhan, the Islamic call to prayer, thunders down from the peaks of minarets spiraling skyward.

The sights and sounds of ancient San’a get you all turned around. Don’t worry though, that’s part of the fun. But when the minarets get to whirling like dervishes and you’ve heard the adhan more than once, you’ll know its time to stop one of those guys in a ma’waz (an ankle-length skirt) and jambiya (Yemeni dagger) to lay down that line you’ve been practicing on the plane ride over: Low samahat, eyen madrassa arabia? (Excuse me, where’s the Arabic school?)

They’ll be delighted with your attempt at their language and will more than likely escort you all the way there. If you’re feeling adventurous, accept their invitation to join them after class for a traditional afternoon of chewing qat, a mildly addictive stimulant grown throughout Yemen.

Photo by Dawson-Foremans.

During class, you’ll get the kind of attention that would have made you squirm in your high school French course: intensively individualized instruction. Unlike in Tunisia, Syria, and Egypt (where as many foreigners as possible are packed into a class), classes in Yemen max-out at six students per teacher.

Before you book your flight, here’s a couple of places that’ll get you headed straight into the heart of Arabia.

Center for Arabic Language & Eastern Studies
Phone: 967-1-292-090; Fax 960-281-700; Az-Zumar St.; www.ynet.ye/cales.

Part of the University of San’a, the school offers monthly intensive courses for US $390 for three to six students (80 hours: four hours per day, five days a week).

San’a Institute for Arabic Language
Phone: 967-1-284-330; Fax: 967-1-284-329, As-Saliah St.; www.sialyemen.com/ An intensive three week course (60 hours) costs US$ 300. A six week (120 hours) course goes for $570; a nine week (180 hours) course will set you back $1,215 and a full year (720 hours) is just $3,240. Arabic for Specific Purposes (ASP) is also available.

Yemen Language Center & Yemen Center for Arab Studies
Phone: 967-1 -270-200; Fax: 967-1-270-127; 26th of September St.; www.ylcint.com. An all inclusive five weeks in Yemen (airfare, Arabic instruction, accommodation, two meals a day, organized excursions and high speed Internet) will cost you $2,960.

Community Connection

For more on travel in this under-visited region, check out 6 Under-the-Radar Destinations in the Middle East, 7 Reasons to Travel to Iran NOW, or Discovering Israel’s City of the Future.

Feature photo by kool_skatkat. Photo above by .craig.

When living abroad, communication is the biggest obstacle. Loneliness in a strange land can be truly depressing, and a lack of communication skills may compound your sadness.

So why not kill two birds by learning a new language with a new love?

First and foremost, you will learn much more quickly when you and your partner’s happiness depends on it. There is an added incentive to decipher facial expressions, strange sounds, and frantic hand-waving, if a correct interpretation might lead to a fine meal, good kisses, or a wonderful night under a full moon.

Photo by FranUlloa.

Second, who wants to spend time in a classroom reciting the ABCs, learning how to say “Where is the shoe store?” and other such vital information when an pillow talk and strolls through the park could be the alternative?

The tedium of going back to school for a language is completely washed away when mistakes become opportunities for laughter and inside jokes told years later to friends and family.

Third, the breadth and depth of you language ability will surprise you. If you are dating a native, you will learn words and expressions that no other foreigner in the Greek as a Second Language class is learning. The language becomes not only a mode of communication, but also a living connection to the world around you.

In this way, the country becomes less foreign and its people more accessible when you are able to spit out a few colloquialisms gleaned from your lover-teacher.

Photo by heartarcade.

Fourth, you will have a cuddle companion for trips that you might not have taken if you were alone with your phrasebook. You will see more of the country and be able to find the best places to stay, the cheapest modes of local transportation and eat local cuisine at the right mom and pop shop, because your lover knows these things.

Last and most important, finding a person to share your experience is the whole point of traveling. The connections you make with people is exactly why people pack up and leave home for a few years. In fact, finding a native lover should be the first goal of any person going to live in another country.

All of the above reasons for using love to learn how to communicate revolve around the central theme for traveling: connecting. Have fun.

Community Connection:

So where are the best places to find your new lover and teacher? Check out Sascha’s companion piece: The Love Tour: World’s Best Cities for Singles.

For more on the ups and downs of love on the road, check out Why Sex is the First Real Connection in Foreign Relationships, or How to Travel with your Fiance and Come Back Together.

Feature photo by kalandrakas. Photo above by kalandrakas

1. Addressing Someone, Respect

Bowing is nothing less than an art form in Japan, respect pounded into children’s heads from the moment they enter school. For tourists, a simple inclination of the head or an attempt at a bow at the waist will usually suffice.

The duration and inclination of the bow is proportionate to the elevation of the person you’re addressing.

The duration and inclination of the bow is proportionate to the elevation of the person you’re addressing. For example, a friend might get a lightning-fast 30-degree bow; an office superior might get a slow, extended, 70-degree bow. It’s all about position and circumstance.

In addition to bowing, addressing someone properly is key. Just as a “Dr. Smith” might feel a little insulted if you were to refer to him as “Smith”, so would a Japanese if you do not attach the suffix “san” to their last name, or “sama” if you are trying to be particularly respectful.

Usually children are content with just their first names, but you can add the suffix “chan” for girls and “kun” for boys if you like.

2. Table Manners

Some simple bullet points here:

- If you’re with a dinner party and receive drinks, wait before raising the glass to your lips. Everyone will be served, and someone will take the lead, make a speech, raise his drink, and yell “kampai!” (cheers).

- You will receive a small wet cloth at most Japanese restaurants. Use this to wash your hands before eating, then carefully fold it and set it aside on the table. Do not use it as a napkin, or to touch any part of your face.

- Slurping noodles or making loud noises while eating is OK! In fact, slurping hot food like ramen is polite, to show you are enjoying it.

- You may raise bowls to your mouth to make it easier to eat with chopsticks, especially bowls of rice.

- Just before digging in, whether it be a seven-course dinner or a sample at a supermarket, it’s polite to say “itadakimasu” (I will receive).

3. No Tipping

There is no tipping in any situation in Japan – cabs, restaurants, personal care. To tip someone is actually a little insulting; the services you’ve asked for are covered by the price given, so why pay more?

If you are in a large area like Tokyo and can’t speak any Japanese, a waiter or waitress might take the extra money you happen to leave rather than force themselves to deal with the awkward situation of explaining the concept of no tipping in broken English.

Just remind yourself: a price is a price.

Photo by tavallai

4. Chopsticks

Depending on the restaurant you decide upon for that evening, you may be required to use chopsticks.

If for some reason you aren’t too adept with chopsticks, try to learn before passing through immigration. It’s really not that hard.

One false assumption among many Japanese that’s slowly being dispelled by time is the “uniqueness” of Japan. Japan is an island nation; Japan is the only country that has four seasons; foreigners can’t understand Japan; only Japanese can use chopsticks properly.

I cannot count the number of times I’ve been told I use Japanese chopsticks with skill and grace, despite the fact I’ve seen three-year-olds managing just as well.

If you’re dining with a Japanese, don’t be surprised if you receive a look of amazement at your ability to eat like a Japanese.

5. Thresholds

Take off your shoes at the entrance to all homes, and most businesses and hotels. Usually a rack will be provided to store your shoes, and pair of guest slippers will be sitting nearby; many Japanese bring a pair of indoor slippers just in case, though.

Never wear slippers when you need to step onto a tatami mat (used in most Japanese homes and hotels; the standard unit of measurement for area even today), and be careful to remove the toilet slippers waiting for you in the bathroom.

It is extremely bad form, for example, to reenter the main room of a house wearing slippers that have been running across dirty linoleum.

6. Masks

Photo by toestubber

SARS is long gone, though I did happen to see a “SARS Preparation Kit” during my brief stay in a Japanese hospital.

Nevertheless, sterilized masks, like the ones you’d see in the emergency room, are commonly used by salarymen, office ladies, and municipal workers to protect other people from their germs.

Rather sensible when you think about it, as masks do not protect the wearer so much as the ones around him. The reason could be anything from a slight cold to simply being worried about exposing other people; don’t let it concern you on your Japanese vacation.

7. Conformity

When groups of high school students in Japan were asked to identify the dangers facing children today, the majority agreed on the number one threat: individualism.

Japanese society is focused on the group. Western cultures are focused on the individual.

Does this mean that the Japanese are nothing more that worker bees in a vast hive of steel and concrete? Certainly not, but their presentation of such individual qualities are carefully calculated and given in doses.

Drawing attention to yourself as an individual is a huge no-no: don’t blow your nose in public, try to avoid eating while on the go, and don’t speak on your cell phone in crowded public areas like trains or buses.

The main problem with this is that foreigners simply can’t avoid standing out; we stick out like sore thumbs no matter how long we’ve been here, or how much we know about Japanese culture and society.

As a result, being in Japan gives foreigners the status of D-level celebrities: you’ll get glances, shouts for attention, calls to have pictures taken with people, requests for autographs (happened once to me on a southern island), and overall just more awareness of being a “stake that sticks out”.

8. Bathing

Photo by meganscheminske

Public bathhouses are alive and well in Japan.

Sento, or neighborhood bathhouses, can be found from the largest area in Shinjuku to a small town on the island of Shikoku.

Onsen, or hot springs, are very popular as weekend excursion resorts.

Unlike in western cultures, the Japanese bath is used after you have washed and rinsed, and feel like soaking in extra-hot water for 10, 20, 30 minutes. It’s an acquired taste to be sure, but can be very relaxing.

If you happen to be invited into a Japanese household, you will be given the honor of using the bath first, usually before dinner. Be extra careful so as to not dirty the water in any way; the sanctity of the ofuro (bath) is of utmost importance.

Take the time to visit a sento if you have the opportunity. These are places without barriers, without regard to skin color, age, or language… well, they are separated by sex with the exception of some mixed-bathing areas.

Lying in the hot water and slowly listening to my heart beat slow down is a time when I feel most attuned to Japanese culture.

9. Speaking English

Japanese will generally assume you are a native English speaker until you prove otherwise. Even during a short visit, you’ll see:

-A group of schoolchildren in neatly pressed Prussian uniforms walking across the intersection, shouting “Hello! Hello! Herro!” as they assess your foreign features

-A random person just walking up to you and asking “Where are you from?”

Friendly? Certainly. But I can see how constant celebrity status might get confusing or frustrating for travelers who don’t speak English.

Although you may speak some or fluent Japanese, the default language of choice is English. Many Japanese will insist on using their own English language ability, however limited, to converse with foreigners, in spite of the fact that the person on the opposing end may have more knowledge of the local tongue.

10. Safety

Every Japanese person I have met warns me to be safe in my travels, to take care of my belongings. Every foreigner tells me not to worry, nothing can go wrong, nothing will be stolen. This may be based on individual experience, but there are other issues:

- The fear of crime in Japan is high, especially among Japanese citizens.

- Murders happen. I repeat, murders happen. People are attacked, robbed, assaulted, raped, beaten, and swindled

However, Japan’s low crime rate is evident when you see businessmen who have missed the last train sleeping outside on a park bench, or a group of 5-year-old boys walking by themselves for over a kilometer to make the starting bell at school.

Going to Japan?

Check out our humorous list of 10 Extraordinarily Useful Japanese Phrases.

Community Connection!

There are a bunch of cool Matador folks living in various parts of Japan. If you want the lowdown on teaching English, ask Abram or Stephanie.

If you’re looking for a photography outing in Asia, ask pro photographers Ryan Libre or Scott Lothes.

Wanna ride a wave? Ask Angie where the best surf spots in Japan are.

Wanna go hiking? Check out Tim’s definitive list of the top 10 hikes in Hokkaido.