"Bonjour"" doesn't always mean just "hello"

Quintessential Canada

Two weeks in Canada!    My mind is still whirling, thinking about the hospitable people that we met, the beautiful locales, and the language experiences that kept my brain well entertained.

If you have been following this blog, you may know that I had been trying to breathe some life into my knowledge of the French language before visiting Quebec and Nova Scotia.  My study of French has stretched over a lifetime, but it has been spotty and irregular, and never put to the acid test - actually communicating with a French speaking person.  So you may be asking the logical question, "Well, did you use any French on your trip?"

The answer is Yes and No. I understood quite a bit of French, but I spoke very little.  But isn't that what the language learning experts say we should do-spend a long period comprehending before we speak?   And my introverted personality feels very comfortable with that philosophy.

Stephen Krashen, noted language acquisition expert, describes a phenomenon that he labeled the "din in the head."  It is the sensation when you are comprehending enough input in the new language that you start to hear it in your own mind.  Beginning with the conversations of passengers lining up for the flight from Dallas-Ft. Worth to Montreal, I felt a change in atmosphere from monolingual English to bilingual English-French. Upon arrival, the Montreal Airport was a model of bilingualism, with announcements, signs, and conversations in two languages.  So many French learning opportunities, there for the asking.  Before long, the "din in my head" in French began.

Welcome/Bienvenue to Halifax

It was fascinating to see official bilingualism at work in Canada.  People who deal with tourists have a quick way of determining which language, French or English, you want to speak. They greet you in two languages ("Bonjour, Good morning") , and the one you respond in is what they use.

I always have to remind myself in foreign countries that I can't treat tourist situations like my own personal classroom. Those busy making a living are focused on getting their jobs done, not listening to my attempts to use their language or giving me a free grammar lesson. But how I longed to at least utter a few memorized phrases in French before I left Canada.  Surely I could say "Bonjour," "Merci beaucoup," or "De rien" to indicate that I am a language lover.  I must have been carrying that thought around in my subconscious.

It was 4:30 am and very dark on the train between Halifax, Nova Scotia and Quebec City.  The sleeping car attendant had given us specific instructions the night before.  He would wake us by knocking lightly on our door.  If we knocked back, he would know we were awake.  Our special stop at Charny was scheduled for 5:20 am. I responded confidently to the polite tapping on the door.

Early morning ablutions were a bit hectic (in a sleeper with a tiny bathroom- see below) when there was another knock on the door.

The train all purpose bathroom

Hey, wait a minute, my foggy brain said.  There wasn't supposed to be a second knock. Murder on the Orient Express came to mind.  Should I open the door?  I made a split second decision to do so.  

The polite sleeping car attendant said "Bonjour, Good Morning." I made the fatal mistake of answering "Bonjour," which meant I was given rapid fire very important instructions IN FRENCH that our train was arriving early and that we needed to proceed to an exit several cars down .  I caught the gist, but not the details. My husband Wayne would kill me if I didn't get the information right!  I had to eat humble pie and request the information in English.

But I am not deterred.  We have bilingual Canadian friends visiting us in El Paso in several months. I had better get to work on that French MOOC that I am halfway through.  À bientôt!

Oops!  Better know some basic French at this stop sign!

More about my French MOOC

http://www.loecsen.com/travel/0-en-67-2-3-free-lessons-french.html

Last week I started this blog with the old stereotypical saw about how embarrassingly monolingual Americans are. A few days later, this article caught my eye as a direct contradiction.  http://languageboat.com/2013/08/30/crushing-the-stereotype-about-monolingual-america/

"Of course," I chastised myself.  Not all Americans have to learn another language in order to become bilingual; they are fortunate enough to acquire another language through much less painful means - family, playmates, friends, significant others, co-workers, employers and employees, social activities, or residence in a foreign country. Ah, how I envy those non-monolingual Americans.

My focus is egocentric; I have to work at having other languages.  My latest effort is the French MOOC that I signed up for at Carnegie Mellon University under the Open Learning Initiative.  I would like to give you an idea of what the course experience has been , in case you might be inspired to join me.  Also, I want to ruminate about who might benefit from a MOOC.

First of all-the basics.  The course is absolutely free.  You need an Internet connection and a set of earphones (not even a microphone really). You also need to set the keyboard to US-International so that you can do diacritical marks, like accent marks. The enrollment is done in a few simple clicks without having to reveal your life story.  Every time you return to the course, you can start where you left off.  There is no instructor, no homework, no tests, and no grading, just you and your conscience.  No one tracks your progress or nags you.  The only deadlines are those that you set for yourself.  Sounds great, huh?

The only downside I have found so far is that I am having trouble making the course a priority in my life. Days pass without me entering the course.  E-mail and social media beckon.  They take so much less brain energy and give me warm, fuzzy feelings.  The MOOC is like a patient but persistent teacher. tapping her foot.

The MOOC includes the four traditional language skills.  You can learn to understand French (my goal), pronounce French (oh, my American accent!), read French (my best skill), and write French (not easy!). There is a cultural section also. The current lesson talks about beauty products, so this is everyday culture, that is rather interesting to me.

Each lesson includes a series of short videos of conversations that you can play over and over, which I often feel the need to do. The third time is usually the charm for understanding.  Then there are many short exercises of varying types that help you internalize the language of the videos  Most of the exercises are contextual and therefore fairly engaging. There are a few old-fashioned fill-in-the-blank exercises for verb forms.  Grammar explanations are kept to a minimum, considering the complexity of grammar.  The wrap-up activity asks you to apply the information to yourself.  For example, I now need to write a description of myself and my family members in French.  I have been procrastinating as usual.

Who might benefit from a MOOC?  I wouldn't try one if I had no background in the language and no contact with any other learners or native speakers.  But I am finding that this MOOC is a thorough  review of the French that must be buried somewhere in my brain.  And it doesn't hurt that I have an upcoming trip planned to French-speaking Canada.

But back to the many Americans who are already bilingual.  I think a MOOC might be especially attractive to them, especially if they want to strengthen reading and writing skills, plus add to vocabulary.

Tomorrow is my first French conversation class at our local university.  I'll let you know how it goes.

http://www.loecsen.com/travel/0-en-67-2-3-free-lessons-french.html

Isn't Everyone in El Paso Bilingual?

My husband Wayne and I both grew up in border towns.   Wayne is from Del Rio, Texas, and I am an El Pasoan. That shared cultural experience may have been one of the attractions we found in each other when we first met many years ago.

I have been interested in languages since I was a child.  My English-speaking cotton farmer father considered his command of Spanish something to show off and brag about.  We children were challenged around the dinner table to see who knew the Spanish word for a certain item.  My older brother and sister, more outgoing than I am, learned Spanish quickly from their playmates on the farm.  I developed an interest that made me an “A” student in Spanish class from sixth grade through high school and on through a Master’s degree in Spanish literature.

If anyone were to ask though, what language my husband and I speak at home, the answer would definitely be English.  But is it really?  Visitors to our home from other parts of the country often don’t understand us when we speak to each other because our English is peppered with Spanish expressions and pronunciations.

“Are you going to the grocería any time soon?” asks my husband hopefully as he searches in the pantry for a snack.  This, of course, is a play on words.  Many words in Spanish referring to a location where something is bought or produced end in ía, like papelería (store with paper supplies), panadería (bakery) , or taquería (a café with tacos as the specialty), just to name a few.  The joke is that the word grosería with the same pronunciation as our invented word grocería  means “a swear word.” Several years ago, a friend of ours made up a word based on the same principle when we were on a road trip through Mexico, saying that we needed to find him a peepeeyería as soon as possible in light of the large number of Mexican beers he had consumed!

Another of our favorite expressions comes from a situation that a friend of Wayne’s found himself in as he was trying to fast track a relationship with a lady he had just met in a bar.  As he described the course of events, he remarked that he had missed a good opportunity because the lady in question really seemed to be listo (ready).  Now, everyone knows that in Spanish, adjectives have to agree in gender with the nouns they describe, so a lady could never be listo. She would have to be lista, using the feminine form of the adjective. Wayne and I laughed about the story and started using listo as a shortcut for “I’m ready to leave the house now, are you?” with no attempt to match the adjective to the person.  Wayne even felt the urge to pluralize listo into listamos to ask if we were ready, on the theory that if verbs take the –amos ending for the “we” form (as in hablamos-we speak), why can’t adjectives do the same?

Trees and flowers are another area where knowing two languages gives the speaker a choice of words to use.  In our household, we tend to use the word that is shorter, more descriptive, or has pleasant associations.  The chinaberry tree in the back yard is seldom called by that name in our house.  It is the lila, which is easier to say and reminds us of the wonderful fragrance of its blossoms in early spring.  Ice plant is not as much fun to say as dedo, the Spanish word that also means”finger.”  The plant has fat fingers that spread out as a superb ground cover in our desert area.  The sweet acacia tree in the cactus garden is a huisache to us because Wayne’s mother always called it that, albeit with a Texas accent.  However, having several names for a plant is not always a good thing.  Several years ago, when I was on a native plant buying spree,  I paid more than I should have for a small plant with the exotic name of “Desert Spoon.” I discovered when I showed Wayne my purchase that it was just an ordinary sotol, of which we already had about twenty of various sizes on the property.  I planted it anyway.

Foods are yet another area where we use more Spanish than our friends from other parts of the world understand.  Naturally, there are all of the names for typical border dishes, such as enchiladas, tacos, chile con queso, guacamole, tortillas, tacos, salsa, quesadillas, and tostadas, which make up a large part of our diet.  But Wayne is as likely to ask me to serve him more tea “¿Más té, por favor?” or butter “¿mantequilla?” in Spanish as in English, perhaps to soften the blow of having to leave my rapidly cooling dinner to wait on him!

Is everyone in El Paso bilingual, then?  Probably, to some extent. But speakers exist on a continuum from monolingual Spanish speakers to monolingual English speakers.  I never know whether I should say the name of a street like Loma Verde with a Spanish or an English accent.  Sometimes I try to practice my Spanish in El Paso only to find that the person I am speaking to has the same idea about practicing their English.  We have a very odd conversation, each in a second language.

Wayne thinks of me as a walking dictionary for Spanish.  ”What’s the Spanish word for grommet?” he asks me innocently.  I don’t even know what a grommet is in English, much less in Spanish.  So bilingualism is more a process than a fait accompli in my life, but it certainly makes for some colorful conversations. I wish more El Pasoans would enjoy the two languages we have instead of wasting energy arguing about which one is best, or, heaven forbid, grammatically correct!