Semi-brilliant in one language, an idiot in several.

Buon Giorno!  Buenos Dias!  Bonjour!  Welcome to my life.

As someone who claims to love languages and has tried to learn several of them, I never expected to feel so outgunned.

My repertoire is as follows: English, good at understanding and reading Spanish and can speak it enough to express basic ideas, a bit of Italian (hi, how are you, my name is Laura! Thank you! You're Welcome!), about the same in Farsi, and moderate, but rusty Arabic.

The predominant language in Geneva is French.  Mass here at the convent is in French.  But living with so many Italians I frequently forget that I'm not in Italy.

My community now consists of the following (sorry housemates if I've "misunderestimated you"

•  A Mexican Amiga: Speaks Spanish and good English
• A French Dude: Speaks French, Spanish, and is working on English
• An Italian Guy: Speaks Italian, Polish, Pretty Good Spanish and good English
• An Italian Lady:  Speaks Italian, good English, and Spanish
• My boss, an Italian Salesian Sister, speaks Italian, French, Spanish, and OK English
• Two Italian Salesian Sisters, who speak Italian, French, some Spanish and hardly any English

In case you want that data visualized, here you go

What this means is that I'm the only one who can't communicate effectively in Spanish, Italian or French.

In a lot of ways, English here functions as the lowest common denominator, spoken only when necessary, and often translated exclusively for me.  I sometimes try/have to speak Spanish, at which point I'm pretty sure my linguistic talents sound somewhat like Colin Firth trying to speak Portuguese in Love Actually, except I lack both the good looks and charming accent of Colin Firth.

I'm aware this is really a good thing, a valuable learning experience, the kind of international experience I've always dreamt of.  Those who know English happy to translate for me. I'm getting better at understanding Spanish and Italian, to the point where I get the idea long before the translator has time to do his/her magic.  I also realize that my English writing and editing skills, honed over years of quality education and work experience make me uniquely valuable to the work we do here.  When editing English documents written by non-native English speakers, I can spot the awkward phrases, the wrong preposition or a missing article from what feels like a mile away.

Except for my pride.  My pride doesn't like this one bit.  I love languages.  I love the intellectual challenge; I love being able to  make connections with people who I wouldn't be able to communicate with otherwise.  And I don't like being bad at things I care about. I don't like sounding like Colin Firth speaking Portuguese (English would be OK).  I don't like listening to political discussions in a mix of French, Spanish, and Italian and understanding the main topic of discussion, but falling short of getting the fine points of the argument or throwing in my two cents.  Or a full Swiss Franc's worth (My friends might tell you my rants/lectures are at least a few Euro).

Lost in translation in Panama City?

But I chose to put my Spanish aside to start Arabic,  haven't really studied Arabic since 2009, never picked up Italian again after 8th grade, and now am not really useful for more than the basics in anything but English.  And now, I sometimes wonder if I should have just kept with Spanish.  I frequently wish I had the self-control to make myself learn languages independently, so I could have spent a couple of hours on Arabic every week.  But if wishes were horses. . .

Which brings me to another point.  I've also learned my English is bad.  I talk too fast (bringing back memories of when one of my students in Egypt wrote on his evaluation "Kill Laura, or tell her to talk slower.") and my Southern-Midwest accent is apparently harder to understand than when I fake a British accent.  I can't use phrases like "if wishes were horses," "the odds are," "my two cents" "easy on the eyes," and such things and actually be understood.  I really try to speak more slowly, use more generic vocabulary, but it's been hard to make the adjustment. Especially since my sense of humor is very  wordplay- and irony-centric, I'm pretty sure my new friends think I'm just really weird.

I AM OK with being
 bad at heiroglyphics.

Yes, I'm whining. I know in my heart this new situation is a blessing in disguise for me; in Egypt, I almost never had to speak Arabic except in class, and so failed to develop spoken Arabic like I'd hoped.

Really, if my only complaint is that I'm not better, then I just need to work harder.  Hopefully once I wrap up the process of finishing up my business from the States (paying last bills, a few loose ends on grad school applications) I can spend some of the quality time this simpler lifestyle allows reviewing Spanish vocabulary, Italian grammar, and maybe some Arabic in anticipation of VIDES Part 2: South Sudanese Edition.

Sorry for the whiny entry, dear readers.  Needed to get it out of my system.  Next up, the most global language of all: FOOD.

Ciao for now!
Laura