On Language

At 52 I'm old enough to be allowed a few regrets.  One is not having learned languages while I was younger.  (The other is not having learned music.)

When growing up, my parents spoke a mixture of English and German to each other and to others of their mostly German-Jewish immigrants and friends.  And they particularly spoke German when they didn't want me to understand anything.  As a result, I picked up, through osmosis, some basic German, but never really spoke it, and they never really encouraged me to speak.

I went to a Yeshiva for middle school, so I learned Hebrew, and when I got to high school, the choices were Spanish and French (of course), Russian (hey, the Cold War was still on) and Hebrew.  Hebrew?  Well, the Bronx High School of Science had a lot of Jewish students, and I guess the parents had some pull, so Hebrew was offered.  If they had offered German, I would have taken it, but since I already knew some Hebrew, I opted for the easy route, and went with another four years of Hebrew.  I can't say I learned a whole lot, but it did me OK when I had a project in Israel about ten years ago.  But other than that, not a whole lot of value.  I did take a semester of beginning German in college, which was of more value than I ever thought it would be.

We chose to get in and out of central Europe via Frankfurt, since we hadn't quite known what our plan would be, and Frankfurt was, well, central.  Most people spoke a little English, but it was fun trying to communicate in German.  I was surprised and pleased at how much I could say, and that I could make myself understood in kindergarten sort of way.  I'm sure a kindergartner knows more German than I do, but I could ask for directions, figure out a menu (sometimes), joke around a little.  I neglected to learn the trick of asking people to speak a little slower, and often used the deer in the headlights face when I had no clue of what someone said to me.  But I managed to buy a toll pass at the Austrian/Hungarian border when the toll attendant did not speak English, but did speak "a little" German.

Bits and pieces of things learned 30 and 40 years ago came to the surface so that I could communicate with someone.  Best of all was carrying out a conversation with my father's schoolmate (90+ years old) where she spoke no English.  We spent about 45 minutes together and between my little German, her vast patience, and lots of hand gestures, we managed to understand each other.  Oh, and it turned out she did speak a little French, so Susan and she had a splendid time.

So, with us about to spend about five weeks in Provence, lack of French is frustrating.  Fortunately, Susan is fluent and easily charms everyone we meet with her seemingly effortless French sense of humor.  While I try to pick up a word or two.  I had Susan in stitches tonight at dinner recounting my adventure at the boulangerie (bakery) asking for UN PAIN COMPLETE (one loaf of whole wheat bread), which I pronounced UN PAAA COMPLET, instead of Uuuuuuu paaaaa complaaaaaa, or some such nasal intonation that sounds nothing like the way it looks. 

Interestingly, as facile as Susan is with French, she has struggled similarly with German pronunciations, finding everything impossibly guttural.  German was much more natural for me, having heard it for years (and that semester of German taught me something!)

I had thought I might try to learn some on our travels, but truly, we did not have enough down time.  I'm hoping that our five weeks in one place in Provence provides the opportunity to make the effort.  And by my posting it here in my blog, at least some a little incentive to make good on that.