Words with a local poet

Post #44: Linguistic Challenges

First of all, Portuguese is a beautiful language! A romance language with many lexical and grammatical features in common with Spanish, Portuguese has its twists. Spoken on several continents - Africa, Europe, South America, and Asia - it has its variations too. I took four months of conversion Portuguese from Spanish before coming to Brazil, and the language comes in very handy. Almost no one in the service sector is capable of speaking English, and, even in academic and government circles, it can be difficult to find interlocutors with the comfort and confidence to conduct a meeting in English. So, I am getting quite a lot of practice.

One funny aspect of Brazilian Portuguese is the word meia. It can mean middle or half, but it is also used for numbers here in Brazil, something my Portuguese for diplomats course did not teach or use. We have lots of these homophones in English but I am reminded at how difficult it can be for a non-native speaker to parse and interpret when it seems out of context. Here, meia can mean

- half

- half past as in time

- sock

- and the number 6

It is this last meaning that has thrown me for a trip. Almost no one uses "seis" to indicate the number 6 in spoken Portuguese. I have been confused on the phone, at the bank, and in the store. Meia, coming from a half dozen, is the short-cut normal way of saying six. 

The question prevails: If everyone uses meia to mean six, why didn't we ever talk about this in class? Seriously... those brain synapses are keeping fresh because I'm still learning. 

Сколько лет, сколько зим

Сколько лет, сколько зим or "how many summers, how many winters" is how Russians greet one another when it has been a long time. Consider it the idiomatic equivalent of "long time, no see!" Somehow it seemed an appropriate post title as I've been incommunicado for a while.

My life has been consumed by a new study schedule and life rhythm these past five weeks. Enrolled in an intensive Russian program, I have the privilege of taking time off of work for full-time language study. Indeed, I do feel lucky. I've tried often in vain to simultaneously study language while working abroad, and it is very hard to make much progress with so many demands. It is also insightful for me to be on the other side of the desk once again as a full-time language student. I have been thinking so often of my former Georgetown University students from the Intensive English Program and empathizing with their overloads and concerns. It's interesting to be in small groups (we are only three at the moment) for so much study and in such a codified program. The inner teacher in me has a hard time turning off from monitoring the "how" of our learning. My fellow students are incredibly hard-working and motivated -- I feel as if I have to run to keep pace with everyone and not fall behind.

Most notably, I have felt incredibly tired. My daily routine consists of an early wake up, 2 hours of self-study at home or in the library, my bike ride to work--35 minutes of phonetic drills in my ears so that I can repeat aloud and look looney to other commuters, 2 hours of class, 1 hour of lab, 1 hour of lunch/study, 3 hours of class, bike ride home (without phonetic drills--for this one I stare into space, dazed), dinner, study, and sweet, sweet sleep. All just to keep pace. It feels something like writing all day with your left hand - possible with concentration, but, ultimately, exhausting.

Speaking of writing, I now can read and write in Cyrillic. It's not as tricky as characters or Arabic script, but I did learn to write cursive. Last week during a lecture in English, I noticed myself at a loss for how to get some cursive letters in English started. Sheesh!

I am sure that once my brain is better conditioned, I will start to fall into a routine and feel as if the language learning schedule is old hat. Until then, I am trying to be patient and get plenty of sleep.

As a plus, TIME magazine ran an article Why Speaking More than One Language May Delay Alzheimer's, so my mental health may ultimately be the better for it as well!

¡Viva México!

Although it was a bit of a belated 200th birthday, we celebrated México in the Nordic countries this week. Today, I attended a phenomenal lecture by Dr. Beatriz Espejo, story teller, author, feminist, academic, and, without a doubt, Mexican patriot.

Relishing the chance to sink into a two-hour lecture in the lilting cadence of Mexican Spanish, I was captivated by this woman's narrative as she brought to life the letters of a Scottish woman, Madame Calderon de la Barca, who spent time writing letters about her new experiences and chaos of Mexican independence as she accompanied her husband there in the 19th century.

The lecture reminded me of the color and brilliance of México - exotic Mangos, leaders such as Miguel Hidalgo, the murals of Orozco in las Cabañas... Espejo as such an animated story teller of Madame Calderon de la Barca's life in México brought me back to my own former life in México and realize how much I adored the chaotic, vivid way of living. So, I wax a bit nostalgic for those days and also cry in earnest, "¡Viva México!"

Curious about Espejo? I definitely would like to dig up some additional reading. Here are some additional links about her (I couldn't find anything in English, which is a pity, as I was so impressed by her person):

• An article (in Spanish) about winning the Bellas Artes Prize
• An extended written interview (in Spanish) about feminism, writing, and life as a woman

The Identity Question

It seems that every time I move to a new place there is a moment when culture shock taps me on the shoulder, catching me by surprise. Somehow, I keep assuming that, as a result of traveling so much and encountering so much "other," that I will reach a point where I am no longer affected. Last year in Romania, the question of identity consumed me. Perhaps because it was a transitional year between graduate school and the ever-looming "life" to follow or perhaps because it is normal to reconsider who you are and where you are going now and then, I felt as if the questions had an inescapable grip on me and demanded some serious brooding if not concrete answering:

Who am I? Am I like these ones or those ones? Where am I? Where am I going? What in the world am I doing? Do I want to be doing it? Do I like doing it? Who are these people with whom I've surrounded myself? Why? Why? Why? Why?

Ah, yes! These are the contemplative questions that reach me during culture shock and that beg me to stop and mull them over a bit in the new year... Estonia is no different.


My attitude towards travel and learning about language and culture (personally, not as a language teacher -- although that is undoubtedly affected) has really changed since my first explorations. I can remember the enthusiasm I had about learning about Slovakia, Slovak culture, and studying the language (este rozpravam po slovensky bez velkych problemov!). My first taste of being in a new place and exploring a tiny village and its life as well as my own place within it was fascinating and my attitude towards engaging it was incredibly intense and directed. Since living and traveling in a few other places, my dedicated spirit towards learning less-commonly spoken languages has waned. It's a question of time and it's a true question of investment. I would like to learn all things Estonian, including the fascinating language, but I am not exactly sure if the return on the investment is worth it. Beyond this short epoch of my life, does speaking and knowing Estonian make sense? Not that I shouldn't aim towards understanding and participating in the host culture, but, here in Tartu, I can do that pretty fully with English. It's a tough question. One that raises guilt in my consciousness. After all, I am a language teacher. Should I enjoy learning language just for the sake of doing so? Isn't it crass of me to try to quantify an outcome?

Hmmmm... I have been taking an Estonian class and have made some progress. I have tried to make Estonian friends, but this isn't easy in a culture that is largely quiet and a bit reticent until you are a known quantity. My circle of friends is more international than Estonian, but I excuse this with understanding that many Estonians have many more social obligations than I do at this moment and knowing that, together with these other international explorers, we can act as co-motivators in discovering and learning about this really interesting "Nordic Baltic country."

As proof of shifting identity, I offer pictures from our office Christmas party here in Tartu. The theme of this year's party was sailing, and I went in costume with two other women from my office (pictured above and also below with a sailor we also picked up from the office!). We wore Estonian national costumes and went as "Ranna-piiga," or the young women who await sailors when they come back to port. Somehow symbolic of my acceptance at work and in this place, I felt at home dressed up in this traditional garb for the evening. Perhaps if the wool skirt fits...?


I gave a presentation this week on culture, identity, and language teaching that got me thinking about shifting identities of language learners (and aimless wanderers like me). The literature seems to offer some real pearls of wisdom relating to this topic. I realize it is probably nerdy to use in-text quotations in a personal blog, but I guess I can embrace this geekiness as part of who I am!

“We cannot fully understand one culture in absence of contact with other cultures” (Savignon and Sysoyev, 2002: 510)

“The intentional acquisition of a new linguistic identity can result in a huge shift of the language learner’s understanding and interpretation of the world around him” (Marx, 2002: 264).

Identity is a project and a projection of self in constant fluctuation (van Lier, 2004).

“Cultural contact implies that we perceive aspects, behaviors, values, and so on that are different than our own cultural background and thus provoke a rethinking of existing cultural categories” (Finkbeiner and Koplin, 2002: 4).

The notion presupposes that when language learners speak, they are not only exchanging information with the target language speakers but they are constantly organizing and reorganizing a sense of who they are and how they relate to the social world. Thus an investment in the target language is also an investment in a learner’s own social identity, an identity which is constantly changing across time and space (Norton Peirce, 1995: 17-18).

Finkbeiner, C., & Koplin, C. (2002). A cooperative approach for facilitating intercultural
education. Reading Online, 6. Available online:
http://www.readingonline.org/newliteracies/lit_index.asp?HREF=finkbeiner/index.

Marx, N. (2002). Never quite a ‘native speaker’: Accent and identity in the L2 – and the L1.
The Canadian Modern Language Review, 59, 264-281.

Norton Peirce, B. (1995). Social identity, investment, and language learning. TESOL
Quarterly, 29, 9-31.

Savignon, S. J., & Sysoyev, P. V. (2002). Sociocultural strategies for a dialogue of cultures.
The Modern Language Journal, 86, 508-524.

van Lier, L. (2004). The ecology and semiotics of language learning. A sociocultural perspective. Boston: Kluwer.