Monday, August 29, 2016

Trying to hold back the rain with a broom

I did not pick a good day to walk outside without an umbrella.  I had glanced up briefly as I opened the front door, decided the clouds would not fall, and locked the door firmly behind me.

Yet as I sat in my new favorite coffee haunt, aptly named Coffee Writer, I watched mist blanket the narrow strip of asphalt three feet from my open-air table.  Hmm, I wonder how long this will last?  I had watched it try to rain a couple times before, but in the end, the skies stayed white and the clouds floated by to fall on someone else.  I decided to wait it out, and read my book contentedly as the mist slowly became whole rain drops.  It was such a gradual process, that by the time I got up to to head  home, it was truly dreary weather.  Portland weather.  The kind of rain that was expected to stay all afternoon.  I couldn't sit at that open-air table all afternoon.
And so I set out into the steady rain with no umbrella, no newspaper, nothing to hold over my head.  I couldn't decide if I should walk straight home or run my errand -- either way I would be drenched by the time I made it up that colossal hill.
Hunching my shoulders, looking to all passersby like a pitiful farang (haven't learned the word for foreigner in Korean yet), I climbed the hills to the local shop and purchased a straw broom. Perhaps it was culturally taboo, but I still shielded my head with the light yellow broom; the resin smell wafting down.  I couldn't help but catch the eyes of the Koreans around me, huddled securely beneath colorful umbrellas, their thick-soled shoes stepping gingerly across the brick path.  Their brows furrowed, their eyes darted quizzically to mine, but they hurried along nonetheless.

Why is she using a broom as an umbrella?  I could almost hear their thoughts.  Silly foreigner.

I made it home, drenched, with no dignity in tact.  Be assured I know how to use a broom and an umbrella, but that day I had to be creative.

Thursday, May 19, 2016

When my heart-language is English

*As I got ready to post another blog, I noticed this was still sitting here as a draft.  It's several months old, but relevant nonetheless.

Everyone has a heart-language; mine just happens to be English.

This phrase may be new to you, or perhaps you've never heard it before, but it's been used more and more in various circles I'm in.  Your 'heart-language' is simply your native tongue -- the language you are most familiar with and can use most adeptly.  Sometimes when I'm a part of group prayers, we ask everyone to speak in their heart-language.  This often means I get to hear people praying in Thai, Japanese, Ethiopian, Tagalog, Korean, English and sometimes the odd European language thrown in the mix.  While I never understand the non-English languages, it tickles my ears listening to the sounds of them.  Everyone around me can speak English, but they are more proficient in their native tongue.
And that's where my admiration turns to envy.  And self-pitying.

You see, many of the people I know speak multiple languages.  They're not just bilingual.  They're trilingual.  They're multilingual. And yet they are still perfectly proficient in my language.

And I don't understand.

I don't understand how they can speak English so well.  Our conversations flow so smoothly that I take for granted that English isn't their first language.  I forget that they had to learn English as a foreign language the way I tried learning Spanish.  The way I tried learning Thai.  Only the difference between us is that they succeeded.  If I tried really hard and thought through what I wanted to say ahead of time, I could get through a conversation in Spanish.  I can't really say I know how to do that in Thai.  I've lived in Thailand for almost 6 years, and my language acquisition is abysmal.  Sure, I could use some pretty legit excuses like: I work in an English-speaking school, I go to an English-speaking church, I'm an English teacher so I have to train others in my native tongue, blah, blah, blah.  All that is true.  But even I don't buy these excuses.

I continue to compare myself to my students who learn my language.  I compare myself to my friends who grew up in a bilingual home.  I compare myself to friends who set out to learn a new language and succeed. And I fight back feelings of jealousy, frustration, self-pity, and resentment. A life of comparison is not a life at all.  I know this in my head, but I struggle living it in my day to day life in a foreign country.

I'll talk to fellow colleagues about how they learn Thai (yet another comparison technique), and some will say things like, "I learned a few phrases, then just went out and started talking to Thais and they helped me with the rest."  Another teacher told me he sat down with the Thai alphabet and Youtube and practiced writing the letters until he could read and write.

For someone like me, who struggles infinitely with language acquisition, hearing how it comes easily for others leaves me discouraged.

So I try to comfort myself with the fact that growing up speaking English is something millions of people world-wide wish they had the opportunity to do.  It's a shallow comfort at best.  I know my language is a commodity outside of English speaking countries -- I've lost count of how many random people have asked me to teach them English (taxi drivers, vendors, etc.) -- but that doesn't negate the value of their language, or how they can communicate with me in mine, but I can't in theirs.

Despite my efforts to speak a foreign language, I think I can firmly say that it is by and large lost on me. I've learned enough Thai to get by.  In my younger years, I felt comfortable enough to say my Spanish was decent (it's not anymore).  Clearly, neither one of these is a heart language of mine.

But English is.

As a teacher of the language, I've honed my craft.  Communication -- understanding others and being understood -- is something that I've worked on for years both in and out of the classroom.  So if you're ever wondering which language I will most likely use in order to be intelligible, try English.  I've tried other languages, and felt like an imposter the whole time.  So please forgive me if I stumble through your language; it isn't the first time, and I guarantee you it won't be the last.