Foreign languages make me happy

What if speaking another language was more than just an occasional, brief diversion? What if it was my everyday?

My "work best friend" and I started a new workplace diversion activity today: "language phrase of the day." It will involve me writing a phrase in a foreign language on a post-it note with its English equivalent. We'll probably stick with Italian and French, but you never know what might pop into my head.

Which leads me here... I just find it so amazing that there are these little bits of strange languages hibernating in my brain. They lie dormant and peaceful for days or weeks until suddenly a single word or phrase will just leap up and into and out of my mouth. Well, sometimes I keep them in and try to make them stay quiet. But that often leads to more of their friends waking up and throwing a foreign language party in my head. It can be very distracting.

I digress.



"Jambo Kenya!"


I had the privilege of studying French in school in the US and practicing it in Guadeloupe and Canada and France. Studying and speaking Italian in Italy. Studying and attempting to speak Khmer in Cambodia. Learning and practicing bits of Hungarian in Hungary. Spanish in Nicaragua. German in Germany. Hindi in India. Thai in Thailand. Swahili in Kenya... Whenever I'm in a place where they speak something other than English, I want to participate! I. Love. Languages.

I feel kind of guilty when someone asks me if I'm fluent in French. I studied it for so many years; I should be, right? Unfortunately, when you don't use a second or third language on a regular basis it goes to that hibernating place in the language center of the brain. And it gets lazy. Well, it's probably a mutual thing. I have to practice if I want to retain any sort of fluency, any sort of ease of conversation. I find that it's almost always easier to understand someone speaking in French or Italian, but I struggle to create a response that isn't full of poor conjugation and weak pronunciation. Nonetheless, I try my best to just jump right in and engage in conversation and hope that some of those phrases and words (that come to mind so easily when I don't need them) will help me when I really need them.

Just a few weeks ago I had a "red letter day" that started when I diverged from my daily routine. (Sometimes I need to mix things up for a little adventure.) Instead of stopping at Starbucks on my way to work, I drove directly to my parking lot...and walked to the Starbucks on the Circle. I know. I am wild. I love working downtown and walking to get lunch or coffee is one of the reason I love it. Wide sidewalks. People bustling around, heading to work. Feeling connected to others.

That morning I noticed that the two men ordering their lattes before me at Starbucks were definitely not on their way to work in downtown Indianapolis. They were carrying backpacks. They had accents. And they spoke to each in French! I was then on a mission: I had to talk them before they left the cafe!

I was excited. But, then I was faced with a great challenge: What do I say??? French, French, French...Come on, brain! Think of something? How about..."Are you French?" Well, okay, that works. (Thankfully, it sounds so much better in French: "Vous êtes français?") He seemed pleasantly surprised by my question and was quite patient with me as we spoke in French for a few moments. I learned that he was traveling with his son and they were doing a tour of the U.S., passing through Indianapolis on their way to Chicago. So fun! I wished them a "Bon Voyage" and continued on to work, as they went to catch a bus. I couldn't stop smiling as I walked to my building. I'm sure some people that I passed must have wondered what I was so happy about on a Tuesday at 8 o'clock in the morning!

Whenever I get the chance to practice a foreign language (and wake up those phrases so comfortably hibernating in my head!), it always makes my day! Which makes me wonder…perhaps I should find a way to speak French (or Italian!) everyday? What if I had a job that allowed me every day to do something that makes me happy? I should probably look into that…

Not So Culture Shocked: Thoughts on returning home

It’s good to be back. Surrounded by familiar faces and familiar places, my reentry to American life and culture has been very smooth. What makes culture shock greater or less? Is it how much time you’re away? Does it depend on where you go, how you, live and/or what you do? I definitely experience a shock upon returning to the US after almost one year in Italy. And then I experienced it again returning home after my second year there. So, why didn’t I feel so shocked by America after almost 8 months in Cambodia?

Perhaps it’s because I’ve traveled so much. I don’t want to say that my time in Cambodia was “just another trip overseas.” I certainly experienced some challenges as I adjusted to living there. But, it felt pretty easy to return to Indianapolis. I do know that my previous overseas experiences helped me to prepare myself for the potential challenges of coming back home. As my departure from Cambodia approached, I began to think about the “reentry” lessons I had heard and learned in the past. I thought about how I might answer some of the common questions: everything from the broad “How was it?” to specific questions about food, culture, and “What was most different?” [I even thought about I might answer, “What’s next?” The response is still the simple, “I have no idea!”] I was able to anticipate some of the changes to my everyday life: I knew Walmart would be big, I knew traffic would be more ordered (and downright boring), and I expected there to be things I wouldn’t remember, like street names and the best way to drive downtown (which I always forget).

I also wonder if my lack of culture shock was due to just how incredibly different Cambodia is from the United States. I mean, I have to really think about it to come up with similarities between the two places. Yes, there was a pretty big grocery store—where I found lovely treats like Banana Nut Crunch cereal and Kraft Mac & Cheese! (But, there was no guarantee that our snacks imported from American would be there at each visit.) And I did find a great coffee shop near my house, but even that experience is so full of Cambodian culture. I discovered many places, food, and people that reminded me of home and contributed to making life in Cambodia fun. But, nothing was the same as home or consistent. Often it was the style, the construction, or simply the way of going about something that made it different. As I think about this way of comparing places and experiencing life in another in culture, my main basis for comparison is Italy and the two years I lived in Rome. When I came back home, many of the differences were more subtle between Italy and my American life. The two experiences for me are still “Western” life and culture, just played out across the Atlantic, whereas Cambodia versus Indianapolis is East versus West. I could write more about the comparison, but this is just a brief effort to communicate why American culture, with all of its negative and positive aspects, didn’t shake me much when I returned from my time in Southeast Asia.

It was bittersweet to leave Phnom Penh. I had found my place in my last few months there. I very much enjoyed my sweet, simple life. I had made some dear friends. Yet, I was excited to go home. I looked forward to reconnecting with family, friends, and my church community that had encouraged and supported me as I was away. I couldn’t wait to meet my little niece for the first time. And there was wedding planning to be done in preparation for my little sister who had gotten engaged while I was gone. My first two weeks home were great. I saw some friends. I jumped right back into church and helping with the high school youth group. Just before Christmas, my younger siblings came home with their (current and soon-to-be) families and reality set in: things had changed. Life happened and I was gone and it hurt. I knew that I would miss out on things while I was gone. And I was able to stay connected through photos and facebook and Skype calls. But, then I was home and feeling the actual affects all at once. So, that was my biggest culture shock. I wasn’t shocked by stores or streets or TV, but I was shaken by family culture and life and how it changes so easily.

I often wish that I could do everything and be everywhere without missing out on anything. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, that is not reality. So, now I’m home, adjusting well, yet still not sure what I’m adjusting to. “What’s next?” is still a question without an answer. So, I continue to search for the answer while enjoying the comforts and familiarity of family and friends and………home.