On the Road with Julie

Time to Read:

I do not think Brittney Spears was trying to write an ode to the language learning process back in my formative years in the late 1900s, but I’m not sure there is a better song title to pay tribute to the process. Of course, the remainder of the lyrics would need tweaking, but “Oops, I did it again” is the ultimate language-learner’s lament.

Language mistakes are some of the most delightful, fun and wonderfully horrifying mistakes that get made in this world. Because they are made with pure innocence, the horror of them is usually swiftly forgiven. It is possible to say, with utmost sincerity, some of the most disgusting and offensive things, and to do so in mixed company.

When I was in a Spanish language exchange, my Spanish language partner asked me how I was doing. I was doing just fine, and I attempted to communicate as much. So, I said, “Estoy buena.” This phrase actually is better translated to, “I’m sexy as hell.” I mean, maybe I was, but we don’t need to come right out and say it. “Estoy bien.” will suffice. Let’s not even get into what it means to say, “Estoy caliente.” It does NOT mean that you are experiencing an uncomfortable level of temperature.

Then, there is the time I was at the family dinner table of my French host family in Nice at the beginning of this trip, with a belly full of delicious French food. My lovely hostess offered to heap another helping on my empty plate. I did my best to politely decline by putting my hand on my slightly distended stomach and said, “Je suis pleine.” The entire family burst into laughter. That’s a nice feeling. You don’t know what you just said, but you are pretty sure what you just said is not what you meant to just say.

My lovely host family promptly informed me that I just indicated, with my hands cupped around my bloated belly, that I was a pregnant animal. Not even a pregnant human – a pregnant animal. Literally, I used the words for “I am full.” And, in most languages, a literal translation will do the trick. Not in French, In French, you must say, “Je suis rassasié(e)” unless you are trying to communicate that you are expecting piglets.

Of course, this happens for English learners as well. I had a great time exchanging linguistic horror stories with a friend on this trip. We were laughing so hard as we recounted each innocent offense. She recounted a time early in her process of learning English as a native German speaker when she was at a business meeting. She was being asked if she liked tennis, and she wholeheartedly responded that she enjoyed any activity where she gets to play with balls. She meant, all ball-related sports, of course – soccer, handball, basketball, what have you. She surely brought some color to the business meeting.

The worst part about these little faux pas, you don’t always learn the first time. You would think the rush of blood to the face would be enough to make it a “never again” experience, but, sometimes when you are learning a language, the wrong sounds take up residence in your mouth and it just takes a minute before you train it to say the right ones.

Such describes the infraction that I made over and over and OVER on a lovely walk through a sunny Riga afternoon with my Russian teacher. I’ve loved, in my time in Riga, that I got to have a few Russian lessons out on the town, practicing Russian while being given tours of the city.

My Russian teacher was encouraging conversation to get me to practice actually using the language that I was making progress understanding. She asked me about my life, my career, my husband, his career. Naturally, I got on the topic of writing. My husband and I are both in a major career transition, turning our focus to future aspirations as writers in various forms and formats. We got to talking about my husband’s writing, specifically. I enthusiastically began to recount what he is working on.

Он писат, I said.

She snickered.

She quietly leaned into me and encouraged the correct pronunciation of the word.

Он писать, she corrected.

There are a lot of times where I put the emphasis on the wrong syllable in a Russian word. I repeated it correctly and continued talking until, once again, I did it.

Он писат.

She laughed again, this time cluing me in to the exact nature of the faux pas I was making.

Он писать means, he writes. Он писат means he is pissing.

You would hope that, after that, I would have been meticulously careful every single time I continued talking about what my husband was busy writing. Your hopes would be, sadly, unfulfilled. There is a lot going on when you are trying to piece together sentences in a language you are still learning.

So, oops, I did it again, and again, and again, and again.

I am done писат away my time though. I am ready to stick with писать.

That is, until the next ridiculous mistake I will surely make…again.