Airport Incident

Many years ago I was on my way from Norway to the US after having completed a year of university in Germany. I had flown into Norway at the beginning of the year so that I would have a chance to look around and revisit a country I had visited several for short visits and quite liked. When my life-changing year in Germany was over I needed to trek all the way up to Oslo to catch my flight. This is a long trip and since I was very sorry to be leaving Germany and going back to the US, I delayed leaving until the last possible moment. I journeyed over land, passing through the whole of Germany, spent a day in Copenhagen, cut through southwest Sweden and arrived early in the morning in Oslo for my flight. I spent the morning touring around the city of Oslo with a friend who had never been there before and was a bit late in making my way to the airport. The trip had taken two days and I had not slept much at all. Needless to say, I looked and felt a mess.

I had never taken a flight from the old Fornebu Airport and made the mistake of getting off at the domestic terminal instead of the International terminal. Luckily, the airport was small and I could see the other terminal about a half mile away across a small field. Being in a hurry and not knowing when the next bus would come, I grabbed my bags and ran across the field. I arrived at the terminal an even bigger mess. I was out of breath and sweaty having just run across a field carrying heavy bags. I ran to the check in counter and made the worst mistake possible I spoke in Norwegian.

Now, the basic rule of good language learning is to try to use the local language as often as you can when the situation allows, so I felt impelled to use Norwegian. Honestly, I wanted to practice and felt that was a golden opportunity. The check-in person looked at my US passport and felt the whole thing strange. Initially she spoke in English and I answered in Norwegian, but then she slowly and quite reluctantly switched over to Norwegian. After the check-in process she asked me to wait a minute and a short while later I found myself herded into a small room by airline/airport officials. They were very curious about my situation. They asked me how long I had been in Norway and I stated one day. They didnt seem to believe me so I explained how I had just traveled up from Germany and bla, bla, bla.

The questions continued and it slowly dawned on me that they believed that I had loved in Norway, probably secretly, for a while. It didnt help that I couldnt really explain how I can to speak Norwegian. I have never studied Norwegian. I had lived in Denmark for a few months and picked the language up and traveled in Norway several times. The languages are sufficiently similar that which some shifts in pronunciation and a few high frequency lexical items one can appear to be a Norwegian speaker. Really, I was speaking altered Danish, but that didnt matter at that point.

I was brought to an even more special room with a rather friendly guy who for once seemed to appreciate that I could speak his language and was going to great lengths to do so. I had to unpack my extremely carefully packed bag and show them all the proofs that I had in fact been in Germany and not Norway. I dug out souvenirs and my study book, the record of my activities at the university, and any thing else that showed a German link. At that point they said they were sorry and made a lame attempt to repack my bag, which they couldnt so I had to do it all over again, which took a long time.

All this while the flight and all the other passengers were waiting. I was escorted onto the plane and into a space filled with upset, angry faces. They had been waiting for me for more than an hour and all because I spoke the wrong language, strangely enough the local language. Although I immediately saw the irony in the event and did not take it too seriously I have never returned to Norway after that incident. In fact, I have avoided the whole of Scandinavia, the stomping ground of my younger years.

Disappropriation

At one of the many large weekend parties sponsored by the student union in the student village of Waldhäuser Ost, a part of the university of Tübingen in southwest Germany I was once introduced to a rather stuffy Danish guy. These were big, wild parties of hundreds of students. These parties were generally an unorganized mess with people standing around, dancing, and drinking cheap beer. These parties were extremely informal and people came and went with ease. A Brazilian friend of mine named Mário who was very outgoing managed to meet a guy who was visiting the university from Denmark and managed to find his way to the party. Mário was very good at learning languages and I had been teaching him Danish informally and he had picked up a quite a bit, so he was excited when he ran into this guy at the party. He called me over and introduced me as an American who could speak Danish. I sized him up at a glance and he looked OK, but I could tell we were probably never going to be very good friends. All the same I was excited to be able to use my Danish because it is not a language that one gets to use much outside of Denmark.

As I walked over Mário introduced me as an American who spoke Danish. I guess this confused him. Americans do not have a very good reputation as language learners in Europe and Danish is not a language widely known or used by non-Danes. Based on these preconceptions maybe, he started off by greeting me in the most painfully slow and viciously condescending Danish I had ever heard. Annoyed at what I felt was an insult, and not a help as he certainly must have thought of it, I answered in the fastest Danish I could muster. He looked shocked but to my even greater frustration responded in equally slow, or even slower Danish. And so our conversation continued. He spoke very slowly and unnaturally formal for the occasion and I spoke fast and try to use as much slang and colloquialisms as possible. It just got worse and worse as time went on. The whole exchange must have lasted only a few minutes but it was terribly draining. Physically we moved further and further away from each other and eventually parted without any real closing. We were both overjoyed to get away from each other and I remember going back to a group of friends remarking what an ass he was. I am sure he thought the same about me.

Meeting people from different countries is always fun. When I was in Dublin, I used to live in a dormitory where I could meet students from various language and culture background. Since most of them were still learning English, there were language and intercultural misunderstandings. What interested me was that everyone sitting at a dinner table spoke English but it seemed like they spoke their own languages in the form of English. For instance, when a Spanish girl was talking about her day in English, I could see a puzzled look on a Japanese girl sitting next to other Spanish speakers nodding along. When the Japanese girl used a word cunning for cheating, a Korean girl was the only one who nodded her head. This is not surprising considering the word cunning is also used in Korean.

As such a learners first language affects his/her subsequent language. It may cause misunderstanding but also have positive effect on the language learning especially at the initial stage of learning where learners may be overwhelmed and stressed. There was a Spanish girl who had a hard time communicating with people in English. She looked so frustrated due to her lack of vocabulary but I found her so pleased when she found the Spanish word suficiente has similar sound and meaning to the English counterpart sufficient. This may be an example of the positive language transfer.

The number of the students in the dormitory was only about fifteen and most of them were quite close each other. They went to a language school in the morning and spent the rest of the day together in the dormitory. Proper language input they could get was from the English class for about three hours a day, and the main source of their language exposure was English spoken by other language learners in the dormitory. An interesting case I observed was that a Japanese girl picked up Spanish accent and expressions from her Spanish friends English. Likewise my Spanish friend picked up my accent which is close to American rather than Irish. Heres a dialogue between my Spanish friend and a stranger at a bar.

An Irish man: Where are you from?

My Spanish friend: Im from Spain.

An Irish man: Are you studying English here in Dublin?

My Spanish friend: Yeah. I go to a language school over a year but I dont think its helpful. I learn a lot from my friend.

An Irish man: Oh, I can tell. You have an American accent. Is your friend American?

My Spanish friend: No, she is Korean.

An Irish man: Do people speak English in Korea?

My Spanish friend: No, they speak Korean.

An Irish man: Hmm. Im little confused here. So, you stayed in Dublin over a year but you dont have an Irish accent because you learn American English from a Korean girl. Interesting!

It is not the place where you are but the language exposure you receive that shapes your language.

A Copy Cat

As most of us who learned English in late 70s and 80s, I was tremendously exposed to American English and American accent was the only model I could use for my spoken English until I graduated from high-school. I still remember the shock at the strong Scottish accent of one of the instructors at the language institute I went to when I was a freshman in university. Ever since, I have experienced a number of identifiable variations in pronunciation of people who used English as a first or second language.

What interests me is I find myself soon starting to copy the regional accent of the country Im in or the accent of the person I am working closely with. It doesnt take long for me to start adapting myself to the new sound and even produce it myself. Of course, it requires a certain amount of personal interactions with the local people, and without interaction, the copying didnt seem to happen.

My English accent was heavily influenced by Singlish when I was staying there for a couple of months in my mid-twenties, making friends with Chinese Singaporeans who spoke English at school and Chinese at home but lacked literacy skills in Chinese. Although right after I got back home, I completely lost my entertaining Singaporean accent, a half day spent with my old friend from Singapore in Korea was enough for me to get it back in 5 years. I once happened to please a patriotic middle-aged British man I had a meeting with when I was in London for 2 weeks for speaking English in their accent not in American accent, which was obviously not intended.

The same thing happen when Im encountered with the other regional accents in Korean language except for that of Jeju-do. My Korean-Japanese friend from university influenced my Korean accent last summer while I was hanging out with her in 20 years. As a university student, I used to speak in Gyungsang-do accent a lot since most of my close friends were from that region. I once found myself copying Chungchung-do accent talking to the local people after staying there for ten days on business.

Being a high-school girl, I used to be told that was good at mimicking the teachers and used to take some of them off charmingly, I hope. However, it bothers me that the accent-copying often tends to occur against my will. I would rather develop my own accent that is unique and sustainable regardless of time and place, free of inference of other languages and other accents. Would it have helped if I had lived in one of those inner circle countries? I doubt it, considering how my Korean accent changes.

Not sure if this is what you're after, but here you go...

Story 1

This is not my story, but it happened to a co-worker years ago when we were working together in a hagwon in Changwon.

He had an adult class of beginners, but on this particular night, only one female student showed up.  Rather than study from the book, they did some free talking, even though the student was at a fairly low level.  During the conversation, the native English teacher was trying to share some of his observations about the effect of Confucius and Confucian philosophy on Korean society.  However, the student didnt understand the word Confucian.  The teacher excused himself and went into the hallway and quickly asked the first Korean teacher he saw, How do you say Confucian in Korean?  The Korean teacher told him, and he returned to the classroom and repeated the word for this student.  He asked her if she knew this word, and she replied affirmatively.  Confident that his student now understood, he kept talking about his observations on Confucian beliefs and how he saw them reflected in Korean society.  Despite giving the translation, the teacher couldnt help but feel that his student was looking more and more perplexed.  Eventually, the class ended, and the teacher returned to the teachers room.  He was recounting his story when the Korean teacher that gave him the translation overheard him.  He said, You asked me how to say Confucian in Korean?  I thought you asked me how to say confusion!  I told you the Korean word for confusion, not Confucian!  Apparently, there was a look of confusion about Confucian beliefs in the class that night!

Story 2

At my first hagwon, I had a number of young adult students.  I was also a young adult at the time, so we often went out drinking after our last class at 10 oclock.  While in the bars of the small town I was living in at the time, I would teach them slang and idioms as opportunities presented themselves.  On one occasion, as I got up to go to the restroom, I announced that I was going to drain the lizard which I of course had to explain.  It was about ½ an hour later when one of the young ladies arose and proudly announced that she was going to drain the lizard.  I had to (as politely as I could) inform her that she, in fact, did not have a lizard which she could drain!

Tongue Tied in no Mans Land

I had been studying in Germany for the first time I had been there for about 8 months - when I took a trip up to Denmark to visit a friend who was in the process of getting divorced. I hadnt planned on going at that point, as I was fully immersed in trying to master German at that point and was making swift progress, but he asked me to go and wanted to be helpful. At that point I had recently crossed the magic threshold where I was fully able to function in German. I thought, dreamed, and could do everything I needed to in proficient German and I felt myself for the first time to be a German speaker. Without a doubt my German had eclipsed my Danish which was unused and rusty. Little did I know how much things could change in a just a few days.

I had an absolutely amazing 8 days in Denmark. Late into the night I hung out with my friend, who worked in a very fancy restaurant, drinking the remains of ridiculously expensive wine people had not finished and chatting with the staff and even the owner. In the evenings I met some other old friends. During the day I walked around the city of Copenhagen, visiting my old haunts and getting in touch with my past. It was a busy, highly emotional experience and my Danish flowered anew.

When I had first arrived, I found my German a major hindrance to communication in Danish. Many of the cognates came out with German-like pronunciation and my expressions were awkward. I was frustrated by this and decided that I would get my Danish back. By about the third day, German was gone and Danish was back. I was once again something I had doubted myself to be after so many years away a speaker of Danish. I basked in the feeling of having rediscovered a lost piece of myself, a very important part of myself apparently. And so the days went. As the time loomed for my return to Germany, the realization hit that this important part of me would once again become useless and would inevitably atrophy. Since I did not want this to happen, I ran around the city going to used bookstores and record buying books and music I could take back to Germany with me in the hope of somehow preserving my Danish glow.

Inevitably, the time came for me to go. It was with a very heavy heart and a tremendous reluctance that I headed south back to university in Tübingen. The trip south involved the train slipping onto a large ferry which would take us across the Baltic and into Germany. As is typical, once on the boat people make a beeline to the restaurant and duty free shop to buy alcohol. I, too, went to the shop to buy as much Danish beer as I could and then I sat down in the restaurant to drown my sorrows at having to head south. The boat was bustling with people, almost all young Danes and Swedes who were trying to drink as much as possible while on the boat where they thought the alcohol was cheaper. It was chaotic and somewhat unpleasant scene.

In the midst of all this was a German family who looked lost amidst the group of rowdy young holidaymakers. Since I was sitting alone I guess I looked approachable. The father came up to me sheepishly and asked me if I could speak German. I said I could and then he asked me a rather simple question. I cannot remember the question anymore but I can still remember my answer, or semblance thereof. I had tremendous difficulty saying anything. The words seemed to be stuck in my throat and when they emerged they came out in a jumbled mess with a very thick Danish accent. I was shocked. Just a week earlier, I was fully functional in German and my Danish was the problem. Now my German was much worse sounding than my Danish had ever been. I was shocked by my ineptness. After a brief pause, I pulled myself together and managed to answer better but not well at all. It was just a temporary thing but for that pivotal moment I was virtually unable to speak a language in which I was proficient.

After arriving and getting the students all situated in their accommodations, it was finally time for me to go to my own host family.  It was a nice residence near the center of town. I had my own room and bathroom and there was a courtyard in the middle of the house.  One older woman lived there with her son, who was away on business, and a maid.  The woman, whose house it was, greeted me at the door and showed me around and to my room (all in Spanish).  After she left, the maid came and explained to me about how to use the shower and toilet, which of course I didnt understand a word of (although her modeling did help me understand the gist of what she was saying).  She then took me to the kitchen and showed me a clock. From this I gathered what times the meals would be served.  As this was a work trip, my expenses were completely covered and even my meals were part of the home stay.  The next morning I arrived at breakfast punctually at the time I was shown on the clock.  I waited (a bit uncomfortably) for about 20 minutes before someone finally came and greeted me. I was excited to respond, Buenos Dias to show that I was making an effort, albeit quite nominal, to learn the local language.  The maid was speaking to me in Spanish and given the context and the one or two words that I recognized, I believed that she was asking me what I wanted for breakfast.  Since I knew the word for eggs, thats what I agreed to.  Then she asked something else that I did not understand. But after she repeated several times, I picked out the word, free-o (frio).  Since it was the only word I kind of recognized and having to guess the context, I agreed, Si, free-o, free-o making the assumption that she was asking if I was going to pay for breakfast and assuring her that I was not (as the bill had been pre-paid) I wanted her to know that for me it was free (or free-o in Spanish).  She looked at me for a while, but I kept insisting free-o, free-o.  She eventually brought me my breakfast: freshly squeezed fruit juice, a piece of toast that had gone cold and cold eggs.  I didnt think too much of the cold eggs or toast, but guessed that there was some cultural meaning behind eating a cold breakfast in a tropical climate. 

The situation repeated itself for at least a week.  I started to reason that the cold toast and cold eggs were related to time and how Guatemalans often seemed to be late and easily side-tracked.  My eggs and toast probably sat in the kitchen while they were off doing other things.  One day I was talking with my language teacher and I had the opportunity to ask about the culture in Guatemala (in English).  I asked if eating cold breakfasts was health-related or culture-related because where I come from, its different. When we make eggs, we usually serve them hot.  He looked confused and said in most instances breakfasts with eggs, bacon, toast, etc. are hot.  Hmmm I retold him my situation and he just started laughing. This is when I learned the real meaning of frio.  Its what language teachers call a false friend he told me.  Needless to say, the next day my eggs and toast were served warm and I got a reassuring smile from the maid. 

chang Ae Soon wrote:

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When I was in 30 years old, I really wanted to learn English with my children. But it is very difficult to learn English with my children. Because at that time, there were very few English Academies around my neighborhood and if I would send my kids to an English HagKwon, it was too expensive. Therefore I decided to do something very unusual. During the summer vacation, I wanted to invite some foreigners to my house for a home stay vacation. I searched some sites and then I found the company that ran an appropriate home stay website. So after, I looked at the contract, I then made contact with the company. I invited two people to my house. I gave a small contract fee to the company and I received around $400 for 40 days home staying from them. But I also had to give them their breakfast.

I just knew where they were from, their names and their jobsetc. Finally, the day that I would meet with them was coming. I prepared a lot of things which food, arranged their room and bathroom, even a welcoming placard. On that morning I drove my car and went to Kimpo Airport to meet them. I waited for them for a few hours, all the time holding placard with their names on it. At last, a tall man and small Korean woman came over to me. I was very surprised because the man was very tall and the woman was of Korean decent. But soon I knew that she was adopted in Denmark when she was three years old and although her appearance was Korean but she was not Korean.

As soon as we came back my home, they introduced themselves to my family and we had a small welcoming party. They brought some presents for us books, T-shirts for my sons, small bottles alcohol, a fan and a beach ball. When they spoke they were very polite. At that time my English was poorer than now so we usually used very simple words with gestures. Even though I wanted my sons to learn from them, my sons usually avoided them. Because of my sons exposure to English was very limited. Also, my husband couldnt speak English well so he avoided meeting them too. Anyway, the couple seemed satisfied with my house.

They usually went out after breakfast and came back to my house in the evening. However, every morning I made a special breakfast for them. At that time I really wanted to introduce Korean traditional foods and kindness to them so I prepared a lot of different meals for them. It was not making me happy but my husband changed his opinion about foreigners positively. When he spoke English with them my husband saw that foreigners were polite. This encouraged me to make them feel more welcome. However, when they spoke together they usually spoke Danish.

The last day of the home stay, they wanted to cook their traditional food for us. Their recipe was simple but the food was delicious. First, they boiled potatoes that were smaller than golf balls second; they fried ground pork balls and put them together with milk in a big pot. Third they boiled it for a long time over a small flame. We shared this meal and expressed our gratitude. Even though my family members didnt improve our English speaking ability, we did change our opinion about foreigners.

I enjoy learning foreign languages because it challenges me all the time. However, I also have an experience being stressful learning two foreign languages at the same time. 

My major in undergraduate is Japanese literature but I have been always more interested in learning English than Japanese. I started learning Japanese after entering the university and I wasn't really motivated much to study another foreign language beside English during the freshman year. It took me a while to get more serious about studying Japanese because it didn't really interest me than I had expected. I remember that I had to struggle between Japanese and English because both of them were important for me to study. For example, when I was doing a preview in a library before the class, it took me so many hours just to figure out how to read the "Ganji". It was such a time-consuming process for me trying to figure out how to sound Japanese such as "Ganji" in the old literatures and it bored me to death. Then, I wished that I could spend those time for studying English instead.

On the other hand, when I had a chance to meet Japanese in Australia, I so wanted to speak Japanese with them. It motivated me to want to study Japanese the most. I wished that I could have studied Japanese harder when I was in Korea.
Interestingly, when I tried to speak English, sometimes, Japanese words poped in my head first. Then, when I came back to school to finish the university, I was desperated to study English more in overseas again. I really missed chances of using English and learning the culture.

Those stories tell that what kind of language learner I am. Motivation is the most important factor for me to learn the language and I enjoy being able to communicate in other languages. Now, I don't use Japanese anymore and I got to forget it alot. However, I know that it just got rusty and had stored in my working memory for later. Plus, that's also the beauty of learning languages.

The silliness of it all

*Weird, I can't get Korean language to work.

A tidbit about my re-learning of Korean from my wife, which never ceases to amuse me. I've heard of the phrase "" (ssa-ga-ji-up-da) before, on TV and whatnot (I think it means not having manners or being impolite/rude). Well, on occasion, my wife would use that on me (deservingly so). She doesn't say it in those exact words, but coins her own version of it - she says "" (tta-ga-ji) instead to mean the same. And I'm not the only one on the receiving end either; we have a dog and she's not always the best behaved. For our dog, it's " " (tta-ga-ji ghang-ah-ji). Then it became "" (tta-gahng). I find myself using them, too. And I've got a picture of her and our dog, which she labeled " (tta-ghang) Sisters". Oh, and more recently, I've gotten "" (wahn-ttor). I just find these things hilarious.

There are other instances of her play on words that are just as memorable. At work, when she felt that her co-workers were unfairly treated by others, she'd get defensive and say, "" (ssam-dahk chul-dong-han-da) (fighting chicken?!?). And she's also gotten creative combining Korean and English. She picked up on a swear word in English and used it when she made a mistake or were in a sense of frustration (yep, it's the s_ _ _ word), which I told her wasn't something she wants to develop a habit of. She asked me what I'd say. I told her that I often say "shoot" instead. Well, this for her became "" (ee-run shoot). To say the least, it's never a dull moment.