The Perils of Counting in Other Languages

"Can you count from one to ten in ______ (fill in the language)?"  Counting in another language is one proof for the world that we are acquiring another language.  But is expressing numbers in another language as simple as memorizing new vocabulary words for 1-10?  Of course not!  Few things having to do with language are simple!

Most beginning lessons of a foreign language course include the labels for numbers 1-10.  A few chapters later, the textbook writers think you are ready for the complexities of 11-100.  And here is where the fun begins.  It is interesting to note that Duolingo, my favorite on-line language learning program, does not include numbers as one of the first topics in their language tree.  And I agree that numbers, like all vocabulary, should be acquired gradually, and in context.

First, let's talk about what it takes to master foreign language numbers. Number concepts in a foreign language are notoriously hard to internalize.  It may be that we only truly learn to count once in our lives, and that is in our native language. I consider myself fairly fluent in Spanish, but I still have to take an extra second or two to translate a Spanish number, like sesenta y seis, into the concept of 66. I have often witnessed Spanish-English bilinguals speaking in English who make a temporary switch to Spanish when counting objects or people.

And do we really need to know numbers in a second language?  Yes, for activities such as counting, doing math, telling time, or giving phone numbers and addresses.  But how often do we have to write numbers rather than understand or speak them?  Not so often.  Check writing comes to mind, which is becoming somewhat archaic.  Formal wedding invitations, which may also be going by the wayside. Most of our use of numbers will be in communicating orally in a new language.

To further understand numbers in other languages, I made a comparison chart of 1-100 in my native language, English (Germanic family), Spanish, Portuguese, French (Latin family), Irish and Welsh (Celtic family).  Here is a sampling of what I discovered.

In all these languages, 1-10 are the building blocks of the numbering system, so, yes indeed, they will have to be learned. The teen numbers in English and the Latin-based languages must still be learned individually, although most contain a hint of their meaning (thirteen, trece, treze, and treize all remind us of the concept of three, for example).

To form the numbers from 20-100, basic arithmetic skills are required.  Since we are working on a decimal system, all these languages have a word for intervals of ten, but there are some differences to note.  English, Spanish and Portuguese have separate words (often easily recognizable) for 20, 30, etc., to which the numbers from 1-10 are added.  Examples are thirty-one in English and trinta e um in Portuguese.

French adds a bit of challenge by having separate numbers for 20, 30, 40, 50 and 60 but then expressing 70 as 60 + 10 (soixante-dix),  80 as 4 x 20 (quatre-vingts), and 90 as 80 + 10 (quatre-vingt-dix).  The need for math skills continues as 71 becomes 60 + 11 (soixante-onze).  Whew! I may need a calculator on my next visit to Canada!

I thought the Celtic languages, Irish and Welsh, were going to have me as flummoxed as the sound systems of these languages, but I discovered a comforting regularity in the numbering systems. (I ignored for the time being that Irish has three numbering systems, used in different contexts, and that Welsh has masculine and feminine number forms.) 

Counting in Irish is a matter of learning 1-10 and adding déag/dhéag for the teens (13 is a tri déag). As in English, labels have to be learned for 20, 30, etc.  Then numbers 1-10 follow.  ( 20 + 1 is fiche a haon).

The key word for numbering in Welsh is deg (10)   20 is a logical 2 x 10 (dau ddeg), with the pattern holding for 30-90.  And 22 is a logical 2 x 10 + 1 (dau ddeg un).

The number 100 (one hundred) is very different in English only.  Here is how to say 100 in the other languages we are discussing.

Spanish - cien
Portuguese - cem
French - cent
Irish - céad
Welsh - cant

And the worst part of the matter is, even if I learned to sing the song, "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall," in any of the languages besides my native language, I would still have some complex thinking to do. Maybe I can start counting sheep in other languages on sleepless nights for a little extra number practice?


  

Choosing a Language on a Whim

6,500.  That's the number of different languages estimated to exist in today's world.  Some counts give a higher number, some a lower, but no matter how you look at it, acquiring all languages in a lifetime is not a reasonable option, even for dyed-in-the-wool language enthusiasts.

How then does a language learner make a decision about which language (or languages) to select for study? We might like to think that when choosing certain languages we make rational, clear-headed decisions that will pay tangible dividends in the future, like new job opportunities, job promotions, and increased social contacts.

After examining my own rationales for selecting different languages, however, I have come to the conclusion that language choice is often not rational at all.  Sometimes a language choice is merely circumstantial. And often the choice of a language for study is subjective, based on emotions, feelings, and yes, even whims.  

English is my native language. I really didn't choose it; it chose me by reason of birth and upbringing. English is my everyday, working, default language.  I am very happy to have it as a means of communication, but as a subject for study, English doesn't interest me. I get really annoyed when I have to research an English grammar or punctuation rule.  And I get no particular thrill from speaking English.

Spanish, my first foreign language, was a natural choice. My home town of El Paso, Texas is located on the United States-Mexico border.

We are a bilingual community.  I  heard Spanish as a child and still continue to hear it on a daily basis. Studying Spanish in elementary and high school and later in college was an easy choice for me, one that felt natural in my environment. But I still categorize Spanish as one of my workaday languages, along with English,  that I use for purposes of communication.

French entered my life in college as a natural choice for the college second language requirement, and it has been in and out of my life several times since then.  I'm afraid my interest in French waned in college when a grumpy professor told the class that I had the worse pronunciation for a French 'r' that he had ever heard!

I once taught a semester of high school French in an emergency situation, but my pronunciation never improved.  I sort of gave up on French until I had the opportunity recently to travel to Canada and spend time with French-speaking friends (who are completely fluent in English as well).  Oh, how I envy their language abilities.  I still include French on my daily Duolingo study, but my chances of becoming a fluent French speaker are not promising, as much as I admire the language.

Then I enrolled in a Portuguese course at our local university.

It was love at first sight, or more accurately, first sound. What an absolutely gorgeous language! Speaking Portuguese is pure joy - and I have no trouble at all pronouncing the Brazilian 'r' sound! Even the grammar seems less complicated and demanding than other languages. And Brazilian Portuguese has an interesting future subjunctive verb that adds a richness of expression.  No wonder  Brazilians refer to their language as "the language of the angels."

My most recent language, Irish Gaelic, is truly a labor of love.  It is a Celtic language and not easy for an English speaker to learn.  Quite honestly, I have little hope of acquiring communicative abilities in Irish Gaelic, but the vocabulary and grammar are so different from the Romance languages that I usually study that I am intrigued. Each sentence I am given to work with on Duolingo is like an absorbing puzzle.  And the sounds of Irish Gaelic are soft on the ear.  I at least know how to say "I like..." in Irish Gaelic:

Some of my languages were thrust into my life by circumstance.  Portuguese and Irish Gaelic are the languages I choose to study.  Who knows why?  I only know that when I log on to Duolingo every day to practice my four foreign languages, Portuguese and Irish Gaelic are the languages that feed my soul.

Something Got Lost in Translation

My home in El Paso, Texas is a living laboratory for language use.  El Paso is a bilingual community on the Texas-Mexico international border.  I constantly read every written word in sight and eavesdrop on as many conversations as I can without being obvious. So, I  keep myself well entertained in life by analyzing why a language expression  is just a little off as we attempt to express ourselves in English and Spanish. 

Take for example a sign that has popped up recently in our neighborhood. "We install Xmas lights. Elegant and fine." I am usually doing my 20 minute a day constitutional when I see it, so I have plenty of time to consider why that sign strikes me as a bit odd.   Does the sign communicate? Yes, of course, but it's the word 'fine' that interests me. 






Even though the Merriam Webster Dictionary lists 'elegant' as a synonym for 'fine', my instinct as an English native speaker is otherwise.  I can imagine a holiday light display as being 'elegant', but I probably wouldn't describe it as 'fine'.  Ah, but the Spanish word 'fino' carries a sense of being refined, classy, well-executed. I think this is a case of translating 'fino' as 'fine' (the two words being cognates), but the range of nouns that are described by the two adjective is a shade different.  Is this a big deal?  No, just something to ponder as I huff and puff around the neighborhood park.

Another example.  Recently I overheard a conversation in a local pharmacy waiting area that went something like this:
Customer:  We have been waiting for a long time for our prescription.
Employee:  What is your last name?
Customer:  Smith
Employee:  And your name?
Customer:  Do you mean my first name?
Employee:  Yes.
Customer:  Susan.

What led to the momentary confusion?  I think it was the fact that in English, the general concept of 'name' divides into 'first name' and 'last name'.  But in Spanish, the division is made by using two different words, 'apellido' (last name) and 'nombre'  (first name).  So the employee did a quick translation of 'nombre' to the English 'name' and didn't quite communicate.  A good example, I think, of the complexities of a bilingual society.

And lest you should think I am being overly critical, let me confess a serious language mistake I made when I was young, trying to communicate in my second language, Spanish.  I was still in college, teaching Spanish at an institute run by a elderly, refined gentleman.  I had occasion to write him a note about a visitor who had come to see him, and I used the word 'hombre' instead of 'señor'.  It was the equivalent of calling the person  a 'man' instead of a 'gentleman'.  I didn't lose my job, but I did get sufficiently chastised to not make that mistake ever again.

Have you had similar language experiences with something that got lost in translation?  I would love to hear about them.