Today, among other things, I would like to talk about language. Maybe you all are groaning and thinking, "What ELSE is new? Can't this girl think of anything else to talk about? Where are all the elephants we were promised? Must we sit through this yet again?" (the answer to the last one, by the way, is "absolutely not," I'm just flattered that my aunt thinks of me as one of her favorite writers, I don't care if anyone else reads my blog ever again). However, assuming you've read enough of my stuff to be irked by "another blog about languages," you should know that languages really get me going. Half of what I do as a traveler is marvel at and discover the wonders of cross-cultural communications. So, yes, I'm about to geek out for a minute. Consider yourselves properly warned.
I just had an entire conversation with ANOTHER random little old Thai lady. There seems to be no end to these old biddies coming out of the woodwork and becoming fascinated with me; tottering over to thoroughly embarrass me, although I do greatly prefer them to the toothless old men who say the one word they know in English-"Beautiful"- and then lick their lips. Once again I understood none of what she said and she understood none of what I said (even when I was "speaking Thai"). However, this time no matter how lost we were, we laughed and playfully batted each other's shoulders all the same as if we were long lost college roommates who had gone decades without sharing the same air. This time, I didn't even tell her I spoke Thai nid noi. Remember how I had decided to never make that mistake again? It didn't matter that I was so very clearly out of my depth; she just kept jabbering. I said, "Ka" every once in a while and nodded a lot. When she paused, I told her what I did know how to say whether it's the information she asked for or not. Occasionally I glanced over for support from the lady making my som tam, but the only thing she could help me tell the tiny octogenarian was that I was a teacher. I offered the "Piriyalai School" part myself and the flicker of recognition and acknowledgment in her was eyes was enough to keep me there misunderstanding her much longer than I normally would have.
This time, when I started to feel super uncomfortable and idiotic, I didn't run away. I opened myself up a little bit for a bit of learning; something besides, "Jesi Friedly, you may as well just give up on any non-Romance or creole-Romance languages." If I'm honest that thought did occur to me as well, but what I learned that was actually worthwhile was something I've probably already known for a while, but just had never bothered to verbalize or write down. Basically, what I learned was that I have never been in this situation before. "This situation" being struggling through a language that I have 0 prior knowledge of. Going to Spain as a snot-nosed 16-year-old was not the same as this. It was different for so many obvious reasons, but what I never cared to admit at the time or since was that I went to Spain I knew a lot more Spanish than I thought. I just had no confidence to go out and try and use it, which gravely stunted acquisition at the time. It is certainly safe to say that the majority of Americans have more knowledge of the Spanish language than they realize. I knew the basics (amigo/a, ensalada, zanahoria, gracias etc) like anyone else, I just had no idea of sentence structure and my accent, while atrocious I'm sure, was mercilessly understandable. Although, the brutality of trying to come up with a way to communicate the word "suitcase" (maleta / equipaje) to my host mother is, for whatever, a stronger memory to me than the first time I walked into my first Spanish cathedral, I also knew so many more words coming in than I appreciated at the time.
Here, in Phrae Thailand, I could try saying the few words I have learned along the way, but saying them is not enough. You have to say them right or you're not saying them at all- tones, and all that. Besides, this is the first time I've heard any of these words. I didn't come in with a lifetime of subliminal exposure to a sparse, weak version of the word I'm now living in. Even a 3-month Peace Corps training of the language would have set me up better, although at the time I'll admit I was very loth to endorse the Spanish training we got in Mexico. I don't even know how to order in Thai. I say, "Sawatdee ka" and then my mouth just pauses hanging open. Literally. When people smile and are patient (they almost always are), I finally wrack up the nerve to squish my eyebrows together so they know I'm really concentrating hard, and spit out something that I know is technically correct but may not actually be comprehensive.
The other realization that I had today was the really ground-breaking one, and that is that... I don't care. I mean to say, it doesn't matter how new this all is or how stupid I look floundering through it. I don't care that I make a complete fool out of myself every time I go out into the world. I don't get flustered and run like you would expect of someone whose ignorance might be borderline annoying. I don't feel bad or guilty. Sometimes I even push on way past when I should and sometimes I just laugh along with them (it's not being laughed at if you join in, right?). Never do I feel judged, or looked at in any way short of admiration for merely trying (albeit failing spectacularly).
Everyone should experience this. I'm not saying that throwing myself into a myriad of fail-is-the-only-outcome scenarios has led me to get over all fear of trying; It's hard to get out sometimes still, I just have yet to had a bad experience when I do. Instead, I just realize that spectacularly sucking at something that is hard is not as horrible as you'd think. I read an article once about this guy who training himself to not be afraid of rejection. He made it his goal to be rejected somehow by someone every single day; asking a stranger for a ride, challenging the rando on the bus next to him to a rock, paper, scissor duel, etc. After a while, he didn't fear it when he set out to get things for real, making the answer "no" or a strange look not the very worse thing that could happen to him. I'm nowhere near this zen place when it matters, but it seems, that I have learned a little bit about turning awkward situations of tragic misunderstanding in my favor. Either that, or Thailand just makes you feel good no matter how hard you crash and burn. The latter could explain away everything I just postulated but... you made it this long on the hamster wheel in my brain, would it kill you to just humor me?
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