Lost in translation

As a language teacher and traveler, I commend almost all things polyglot as being diverse, interesting, authentic, and complex. I stand in awe of those that command several languages and switch between them seamlessly at the drop of a hat. Happy would I be to perform such feats; I would probably mascaraed around, parading my linguistic talents so the entire world could express its admiration. My own status as a humble speaker who probably only manages her own language with any finesse and mangles a few others is probably in God's design to prevent me from egomania and the inappropriate behavior I mentioned, above.

I love my country- men and women, but most of us do fall short of Europeans (and probably other global citizens) in our mastery of languages. There are many aspects of American life that factor into our largely mono- or sometimes bi-lingual existence (at least this is true in the parts of middle, square-state America with which I am most familiar). It isn't fair to chastise us for lack of intelligence or ambition. I think understanding the situation is relatively simple (excusable or not): 1) most of the people in this part of the US speak English as their mother tongue, 2) the distance one would have to travel to get to Spanish-speaking Mexico or French-speaking Canada is enormous and one would most likely only go on their vacation there once or twice in a lifetime anyway, 3) the Spanish-speaking minority (at least in my hometown), for better or worse, is often trying to learning English and often doesn't mix much with English-speaking folks, 4) language instruction is usually not added until 9th grade at the earliest and even then it is not treated as a "real" academic area of study by students or administrators, 5) contact with foreign languages is minimal, so authentic practice is a bit of a stretch for most.

A string of excuses. I know. But they do matter. I started taking language classes quite eagerly at the earliest point I could, when I was 14, and I continued to take classes, despite the fact that they were often not entirely motivating and optional parts of the curriculum. I finished a degree in Spanish without ever having had a conversation with a Spanish speaker. I am not sure, if not for my Peace Corps service and very meaningful and successful experience with the Slovak language, if I ever would have mustered up the courage or have found the context in which to use my Spanish. No one else in my family, for example, speaks a second language (although all of them took cursory courses for a couple of years in high school and later in college). Personal narrative aside, my point is that the opportunities to learn and practice language are not exactly at your doorstep as they might be in other places of the world.

The European, in contrast, begins to learn languages, especially English nowadays, in preschool and other countries are juxtaposed merely a few hundred (or hundreds) of kilometers away. The borders are a bit more permeable, and it is inevitable that you will meet with tourists, exchange students, business people, or immigrants just going about your daily business and most likely in your own home town at some point. Television and radio stations regularly transmit programs and provide films in other languages. The exposure, if one pays attention, can be great, and the motivation to learn languages is all around -- in education but also in the job market and travel opportunities. I don't mean to overstate the contrast because there are also more multi-lingual areas of the United States, but the context can be quite different.

There seems to be an assumption that "to be European" is to be a polyglot. I don't doubt that this is often the case, particularly amongst the younger generations and in more educated and urban areas or in countries with less-commonly-spoken languages. In Estonia, for example, you are hard-pressed to find someone who doesn't speak at least one other language. Depending on the generation or upbringing, this language might be Russian, German, Swedish, Finnish, or, as is often the case, English. I am fantastically jealous of their flexibility and mastery, no matter whether it comes out of exposure, necessity, or desire.

That said, I think that the assumption that every educated European is a polyglot might be a bit over-stated. As a teacher of English, a language that many can speak with great skill and ease, I also meet with students and friends who don't always understand the gist of what is happening in their surroundings during a lecture or conversation (not that it would be permissible to admit such a thing; after all, English is so simple in comparison with other languages, right?). Because of this exposure I have as a teacher, I wonder if the multi-lingual Europeans premise sometimes works against rather than for communication between people and the sharing of ideas.

Here are a couple of examples of what I mean. Last year, I attended a somewhat elitist intellectual event on "Modernity" at the New Europe College in Bucharest. The outline of the event and planned talks enticed me with interesting titles and various themes as well as a multinational list of speakers from Spain, Italy, France, Romania, and Great Britain. Because the provided program was in English, I had assumed the event would be held in English, which made sense considering the invitees and the status of English as a common international language (although I would not have protested the event had it been advertised in another language I speak). Much to my surprise, each speaker gave his or her presentation in Italian, French, Spanish, German, Romanian, and English. Much more to my surprise, no interpretation was offered. I must interject to mention that there were only about 50 attendees at the event, many of them students of literature or language. The presupposition was that every one could manage each language at an academic level. I sat through lectures in French and Italian without a clue as to what was happening, and despite the fact that the title of the talk as it was presented in English on the program looked somewhat interesting to me. I don't know that everyone in the room could manage all six languages equally well, but I somehow doubted it then and still do now. As I looked around the room, it was hard to determine comprehension as everyone sat passively taking in the presentation. However, I did note that when the question and answer session began, many posed their questions in a language different than the language being spoken by the presenter. It's nice to think that every European can manage several languages at a sophisticated level, but I wonder if such events are at cross-purposes. If not everyone understands the material at a deep level, what then is the point of sharing research, ideas, meditations... ?

Yesterday, I was present in a similar situation. The University of Tartu is celebrating its 375th anniversary this year and, as a result, is emphasizing its international nature by promoting itself as a multilingual university. The marketing materials and literature do this quite well. The campus itself is also a nice advertisement of this emphasis as you can easily hear several languages being spoken by students and faculty when walking between the main buildings in the center. Another way to emphasize its stature as a traditional and international institution is through the invitation of high-profile guests. Yesterday, I went to a lecture by Lord Owen, "The Future of Europe."

The special event was advertised and would be held in English, Lord Owen being an English speaker. The moderator (a native German speaker) spoke in English as did the acting rector of the university when he gave his opening remarks. Seated in the audience were a wide range of international students and staff as well as many Estonian students, staff, faculty, and Tartu locals. Many present were known to me either as part of the international community or as participants in my English courses at UT. I assume that attendees came to the event expecting it to be held in English, so those with weaker skills were prepared to listen closely and piece together the speech while listening. There were many known to me in the audience that were rudimentary Estonian speakers (myself included).

The interesting choice made during the event was by an Estonian government official who addressed the crowd in English initially before switching to her mother tongue for a 10-15 minute introduction. An interesting choice. She justified it by sharing her pride that in Brussels and in Strasbourg, Estonian is one of the official languages spoken. I agree that, of all places, Estonian should be spoken in formal events at its national university. However, over half of the audience did not have access to what she had to say (and I might have enjoyed hearing it as much of current events and other happenings are completely unaccessible to non-Estonian speakers like me). I am not suggesting that she have spoken English; I think her decision to speak Estonian at such an event was an acceptable one. One I can admire and agree with. However, I did not get anything from what she had to say. Total communication failure (and perhaps my fault really for not speaking Estonian a bit better).

In the same way, I wonder how many people that would have been an engaged audience for Lord Owen's fascinating talk about the EU and European affairs were unable to fully access the content of his presentation in English because of language barriers. Why couldn't there have been an interpreter for both sides? Is it completely embarrassing to acknowledge that not everyone speaks all languages? Is not the purposes of such events to bring us together and to communicate thoughts? Is not the aim of higher education to be a platform of inclusion rather than exclusion? I wonder, how much (and how many) should be lost in translation?

Jennyfer goes retail

One of my students went to Riga for the weekend and captured the following on his digital phone for me...

Spring renewal

Spring begins to appear here in full force... snow is melting and temperatures are unpredictable. Yesterday it was nearly + 11 Celsius, last night rain turned to snow, and today has been hovering around + 2. Heavy winter wear is turning to light coats, regular shoes, and gloves are becoming an optional item to consider when exiting the house in the morning. I'm told it's a bit too early to be a real spring, but it still feels good as everything awakens from a very gray (if not very harsh) winter.

I like the spring, and, although it is still present in places without a four-season climate, I still missed it when I was living in California and Mexico. Spring is a time of renewal -- remembering you are alive, emerging from hibernation, and sprouting forth with new energy and focus. It is also a time when it is nearly impossible to pay attention. Longer days. Sunshine and blue skies calling you outside. When it is nice here, I can't bear to be inside -- my whole self responds to the change in nature, and I, too, want to join in its rejuvenation!

That said, today was incredibly sunny all morning -- blue skies, birds chirping, sun -- and I did not make it outside for a walk until after the gray clouds had taken over. Oops! Then again, sometimes if you have enough energy in the morning, you can create your own sunshine!

There are painters who transform the sun to a yellow spot, but there are others who with the help of their art and their intelligence, transform a yellow spot into the sun. Pablo Picasso (1881 - 1973)

This stream-of-consciousness post is merely to inform you of another kind of renewal: My grant as an English Language Fellow has been extended here in Tartu for another academic year! I have been waiting since nearly December to hear whether or not the position was approved, and I was informed last week that it will be continued. This is very rejuvenating... I have the peace of knowing where I'll be next year and a new sense of motivation and energy to apply towards my work in Tartu. I already benefit from understanding that my investment here will not be confined to one academic year.

Renewal. Spring. Sunshine. Energy. Transformation.

Pretty good stuff.

Adventures in Sangaste

Sangaste Loss is a castle built in southern Estonia in 1881 to emulate Windsor Palace. We headed south over the weekend in search of some local adventure. Click on the album below to see what we found...

Sangaste Castle Excursion

All things being Estonian...

I haven't been a very diligent blogger lately, and I feel that an update about local happenings is in order. There have been so many that I am afraid there is quite a lot to share. (deep breath) All things being Estonian, here it goes!

Vastlapäeva
First of all, I wanted to tell you about some of the Estonian holidays and traditions I've been experiencing for the first time. On the 23rd of February, we celebrated Vastlapäeva or Shrove Tuesday, the day before Ash Wednesday and the beginning of the fast, brooding season before Easter, Lent. Unlike the carnival that ensues in other places, Estonians have some innocent and spritely (although I mean spritely in a very wintry sense here) traditions. Mainly, "nad lähevad kelgutama ja nad söövad hernesuppi ja vastlakukleid." Stemming from an agricultural tradition, the sledding is symbolic of the eventual and upcoming spring and growing season. Traditionally, the person who has the longest sled will have the best growth of flax in the upcoming year. The dishes eaten on this day are hearty and full of flavor, marking the last indulgences before the beginning of the more stringent diets kept during lent -- heavy pea soup, pigs feet, and rich, creamy cakes. Although the marks of the Evangelical church brought by the Swedes and Germans are seen in the steeples of Estonian town skylines, modern Estonians are anything but religious, so the celebrations of vastlapäeva have little to do with the upcoming season of Lent. However, children and adults take time out of school and work to go sledding and you can find the special day's cakes sold everywhere. Admittedly, I did not partake in any sledding on this particular day, but I enjoyed watching the festivities everywhere around me. As luck would have it, on our way home that evening, we ran into some Estonians who insisted on sharing a few of their leftover vastlakukleid cakes. Yum!

Mestasärv
I have joined a musical ensemble here in Tartu and seem to have stumbled upon an unusually fun and rowdy group of Estonians. Popsid is a brass band organized through the University of Tartu (albeit loosely). After searching around a bit for an instrument and a place to play it, I have joined the mestasärv (French horn) section of this wild group. Losing their characteristic reticence, this group of Estonians is rather unnerving in their atypical behavior. Rehearsals are two hours long, and we practice two times a week. The pattern of our meetings is never predictable: people wander in and out of the rehearsal room; the trombone and euphonium player pass mulled wine, beer, or vodka back and forth in the last two rows (lucky me, I sit in the same row); the percussionist comes over an hour late, if at all; the director plays his horn along with the band while walking back and forth or sitting down; and the woman conductor often stands up front wildly singing, shouting, and conducting with striking red hair. All of the directives are shouted into a microphone in order to overtake the cacophony of players talking, laughing, and playing. The surprising part is that amidst the disorder is some serious musical talent. Although there are varied ability levels within the group, there are a number of really excellent players and this is exciting and motivating for me, even with my chops nearly two years out of shape. Being a bit of a band geek and undeniably an extrovert, I find all of the commotion, chaos, and music refreshing. Something missing from the classrooms and workplaces I often frequent here in Tartu is the noise and exuberant life of people having fun. No matter that I hardly understand a word of the shouting around me. It is enjoyable to sink into the middle of all of this energy and talent.

Palju õnne sunnipäevaks
The middle of February, I was invited to the birthday party of one of the participants in my faculty courses, Jana. A double-celebration of her and her husband's birthday, the event took place in a local Italian restaurant. One of my first truly Estonian events, I enjoyed being part of the festivities and yummy food. It was interesting to take part in something Estonian and to be surrounded by so many interesting local people. In addition to celebrating, I was able to listen to a bit of Estonian -- the extent to which I realized that my language pursuits need a bit more effort! :)

Another birthday party we attended in February was just outside of Otepää, the winter capital of Estonia. The celebration was unique in its rustic countryside location. The party took place outside of an old home and in a smithy (where blacksmith work is done). Our friend's dad, who was celebrating his birthday, still practices the art and has traditional as well as modern tools. The work is really beautiful (my favorites were a long handled pancake pan for the fire and some beautifully made candle hangers) and the shop was a perfectly cozy place for a wintry celebration. You can see photos of Mart Salumaa's smithy here. In addition to the nice atmosphere inside, it was also gorgeous outside -- wintry and white. Located in front of the smithy was a small hill ending on a frozen pond. Children and adults alike spent the afternoon running up the hill to sled down and across the ice. Watching everyone smiling and laughing with rosy cheeks and great cheer transcended any language or cultural barriers. I had a great time!

Eesti Vabariigi Aastapäev
The Estonian independence day is celebrated on February 24 and this year Estonians celebrated their 89th year anniversary. Founded in 1918, Estonia as a nation has had a fragile, complicated and often interrupted independence. Unlike the Americans on the 4th of July, Estonians do not really do much to commemorate. However, the president has a reception that is the social event of the year for society's elite. Everyone watches on television to see the who's-who and fancy ball dresses, much like the Oscars or Grammies. It is a chance to observe Estonian's finest. This year, for the first time, the presidential ball and hand-shaking took place in Tartu, although, admittedly, I did little but notice the corded off streets and extra security around the theatre in the evening!

More exciting perhaps is that the holiday is also a usually a day off of work and school. this year, the 24th fell on a Saturday, so the offices of the university shut down mid-day on Friday. The office in which I am situated, Academic Affairs, took a snow day. Twenty or so administrative staff and I headed out by bus in the morning to southern Estonia for a day of snow tubing, skiing, skating, and sauna. We arrived in Rõuge on a perfect day -- sunny and white! We started with snow tubing (basically inner-tubes covered with a thick canvass that makes them easier to sit on top of) down a steep hill with a bowl at the bottom (WOO-HOO!!! YEE-HAW!!!). Then we enjoyed some soup in a long, wooden hall heated by fireplace before separating into skiing, sledding, and skating groups. I took skis to try my luck at cross-country skiing, but I did not make it very far as the equipment did not fit very well. Instead, I took some skates and made friends with a colleague's 8-year-old daughter while skating in circles around a small pond. Speaking in both English and Estonian (her English betters my Estonian a hundred-fold!), we became "best friends" and for the rest of the trip I had a partner for sledding and sitting on the bus! The whole day was magical and very enjoyable. I got to know my colleagues better and really enjoyed the outside opportunity to get into the snow and play.

Eesti keel
Some of you have inquired about my language acquisition here in Tartu. I continue to take classes and to try and learn a bit to get around. I can say a few more things and am happy to begin to understand what is in my surroundings. However, I cannot say that I am very conversational. I have little practice outside of my language class and have found it hard to get motivated to learn much, not knowing whether or not I will be here beyond this academic year. I have a new language teacher who teaches almost entirely in Estonian, but my course is very mixed ability and sometimes I feel overly challenged and at others a bit bored. It's a delicate balance, but I am continuing. I can now give a physical description of myself or others and last week we spent some time talking about our professions! "Ma olen keskmist kasvu ja täidlane. mul on pruunid, lokkis juuksed. Mul on sinised silmad. Ma töötan õpetajana ja minu töö on huvitav, lõbus, ja eriline!" :)

All things being Estonian, things are progressing along here in Tartu on quite a good note, I must say. And, before this post gets entirely out of hand, I think it is time to say...

See on kõik
(that's all!)