It's weird that, until recently, so many Americans blithely pack their bags and jaunt off on vacations to countries in Europe and beyond without bothering to learn how to say a few words in those countries' language.
Sure, most developed nations have plenty of English speakers. But it's the height of arrogance to barge into history- and culture-laden cities that for some reason welcome us despite our unwillingness to at least learn how to say Good morning! or Thanks! or I'm sorry, I don't speak (insert language here). We certainly don't extend the same courtesy to those who visit the USA.
Thanks to the Internet, it's not hard to pick up a few pleasantries in just about any language. Type the words you want translated into a search engine and specify what language you'd like, and you'll quickly get a phonetically spelled-out phrase that's more or less correct; there's often an audio clip there too to give you a concrete example of pronunciation.
Example: Good evening in Norwegian is god kveld.
A helpful starting point for basic travel language studies is an inexpensive series of 60-minute audio CDs titled In-Flight German, In-Flight Spanish, and In-Flight French. It's best to start listening to these well before you board a plane for Europe so that you can absorb and maybe retain some of the lessons.
I used In-Flight French before my first visit to Paris in the early 1990s. It's pretty bare bones, but useful; its biggest payoff was when I attempted to use French to communicate with a receptionist at the Rodin Museum.
When I was refused admission in the late afternoon, and asked him why not--pourquoi pas?--he kindly explained, in English, that the last admission on any day was an hour before the museum closed. Was it that obvious, from two words, that I had no command of French? I guess so.
In my experience, the French aren't big on explaining stuff, or on smiling (read French or Foe by Polly Platt for details), but it was evident that my effort, small though it may have been, was appreciated.
So I resolved to learn more French, including how to read signs that convey information like "Last admission is an hour before closing time."
My favorite guide for this educational journey is Learn French with Alexa, an online program that allows me to load audio lessons onto my iPod and listen to them when walking, running and riding my bike.
I've come to know Alexa--who's witty, charming, persuasive, and lively--pretty well through these lessons. There's a monthly charge involved (she's added video lessons), but after trying several free online podcasts in various languages, I found the cost to be worthwhile. And the lessons are downloaded on my computer, so no matter how inaccessible I find my brain storage to be regarding words and phrases, I can always listen to them again.
My skills at asking questions are halfway decent now; understanding the answers, if they're delivered in French, not so much. If I don't catch on to a native speaker's response, I ask my husband, who won some sort of statewide high school French competition when he attended Airline High School in Bossier City, La., for help. He's forgotten much of what he'd learned, but can usually piece together every fifth word of a reply, so we muddle through.
The most important phrase in French for me is je suis désolé, je ne parle pas français: I'm sorry, I don't speak French.
According to the Internet, the best ways to learn another language include connecting with a native speaker, daily study that goes beyond passive listening to podcasts and involves watching, listening, reading and writing, carrying a pocket dictionary of the language, thinking how to construct sentences to describe what you see, and how to phrase useful questions such as: What time is it? Where is Starbucks? How do I get to (location)?
One of the stupider things that happens when searching your brain for the correct word in a particular language is that the word might pop up in another language. This happens to me when, for example, I'm trying to think of "good evening" in French (bonsoir) and the German guten abend mentally shows up instead.
This learning effort works a lot better if your parents are bilingual and you grow up in a household where more than one language is spoken. My grandmother came from Germany to Cleveland in the early 1900s, where she learned English while working at Astrup Awning Co. Her children--my mother and two uncles--learned English when they went to school.
I picked up a little German by hanging out with them--mostly slang and wisecracks and insults (many immigrants of the 1900s were desperate to leave the old country's ways behind, including language)--then studied the language for three years in junior high and high school.
After the relatives died, I remembered my chosen German class name--Renata--but didn't use what I had learned. And although it's probably buried in my mind somewhere, it feels like not much has been retained.
Learning French as an adult seems to be more effective--probably because I really wanted to learn it. And I yearn to be able to visit Paris again.
Karen Martin is senior editor of Perspective.
kmartin@arkansasonline.com
Editorial on 04/05/2020