On Friday I went to the talk on bicycling and sustainability given by Niels Tørsløv, Director of the Traffic Department in the Technical and Environmental Administration for Copenhagen. While it was a remarkable presentation in many aspects, I was struck by one in particular: It was delivered in perfect English. We sometimes take that for granted here, that people from other parts of the world are willing to speak to us in our own language.
Only about 20% of our citizens are passport holders, and perhaps twice that number think it would be useful to learn another language. Most of those probably live in border regions. I lived near the Mexican border as a child and was taught Spanish in grade school; living near the Canadian border I sometimes encounter or even work with French speakers, whose language is far different from that of my Cajun grandmother. My global illiteracy affects my travel choices as I tend to go only to countries that use the roman alphabet, where I can reasonably expect to at least decipher the signage. Language in a different script, or god help me, a syllabary, is completely beyond me.
I've been fortunate in my travels to be afforded the kindness of strangers who are happy to speak to me in wonderful varieties of accented English. One should keep in mind that this is a very special privilege. I have gotten a reminder of that, on occasion. In Dublin, Ireland, I had a conversation with a man from Cork, who was trying to pick me up and seemed assured that it was a done deal, as he began to say rude things about Americans, such as how stupid we are because we only speak English. To prove his point, he spoke to me in five languages in rapid succession. I could recognize the languages - besides English there were French, German, Italian and Gaelic phrases - but not what he was saying. To be fair, he thought I was an Irish expat, as I have the look of the Black Celt and we shared a certain familial resemblance. My ancestry actually represents many different lineages, but when I told him that my father believes we're Scots, he literally growled at me. I left him with a scowl on his face, thinking to myself that, yes, I'm a stupid American, and you need help with your technique. By the way, I'm a completely nerdy researcher, only interested in information, for which I never offer the hint or promise of any reward, of any kind. If someone chooses to believe otherwise, I can't help that.
Although men, for certain reasons, are often more willing to talk to a strange woman, I sometimes have the opportunity to speak with other women as well. While traveling in Germany I ended up sharing a train compartment with a woman from Frankfurt, by accident. I went to the car and compartment number on my ticket, which she was already occupying, and which she insisted was a privately reserved compartment. I was so obviously at a complete loss as to where to go from there that she relented, and said I could stay. The trains were so frightfully efficient there, coming every two or three minutes, it seemed, and I am so bad with schedules, that it was quite likely that I was on the wrong train. She talked to me about how important it was that the trains be on time, on schedule, and how the word was similar in English and in Deutsch, "punctual" and "punktlich" (which I have probably misspelled), and how many other words sound similar. Yet words do not a language make; I get lost in syntax and grammar, the contextual environments of the individual words. Translation is seldom simple or straightforward; much meaning and intent gets lost. There is so much literature I would like to read in the original language - but, alas, I'm an American, lacking in an important area of education.
I sat through this remarkable presentation, in a packed room, and wondered how many people realized how privileged they were. Most were bicycle advocates, as the event was hosted by Cascade Bicycle Club, and the information presented was fully engrossing, without worrying about what language it was presented in. Presenting in English was not just a courtesy; there are issues of commerce and trade, as Seattle has been providing business to the Danish architecture firm of Jan Gehl, to the rue of some local firms - but how many of us are prepared to go to Copenhagen and give a presentation in Dansk?
Only about 20% of our citizens are passport holders, and perhaps twice that number think it would be useful to learn another language. Most of those probably live in border regions. I lived near the Mexican border as a child and was taught Spanish in grade school; living near the Canadian border I sometimes encounter or even work with French speakers, whose language is far different from that of my Cajun grandmother. My global illiteracy affects my travel choices as I tend to go only to countries that use the roman alphabet, where I can reasonably expect to at least decipher the signage. Language in a different script, or god help me, a syllabary, is completely beyond me.
I've been fortunate in my travels to be afforded the kindness of strangers who are happy to speak to me in wonderful varieties of accented English. One should keep in mind that this is a very special privilege. I have gotten a reminder of that, on occasion. In Dublin, Ireland, I had a conversation with a man from Cork, who was trying to pick me up and seemed assured that it was a done deal, as he began to say rude things about Americans, such as how stupid we are because we only speak English. To prove his point, he spoke to me in five languages in rapid succession. I could recognize the languages - besides English there were French, German, Italian and Gaelic phrases - but not what he was saying. To be fair, he thought I was an Irish expat, as I have the look of the Black Celt and we shared a certain familial resemblance. My ancestry actually represents many different lineages, but when I told him that my father believes we're Scots, he literally growled at me. I left him with a scowl on his face, thinking to myself that, yes, I'm a stupid American, and you need help with your technique. By the way, I'm a completely nerdy researcher, only interested in information, for which I never offer the hint or promise of any reward, of any kind. If someone chooses to believe otherwise, I can't help that.
Although men, for certain reasons, are often more willing to talk to a strange woman, I sometimes have the opportunity to speak with other women as well. While traveling in Germany I ended up sharing a train compartment with a woman from Frankfurt, by accident. I went to the car and compartment number on my ticket, which she was already occupying, and which she insisted was a privately reserved compartment. I was so obviously at a complete loss as to where to go from there that she relented, and said I could stay. The trains were so frightfully efficient there, coming every two or three minutes, it seemed, and I am so bad with schedules, that it was quite likely that I was on the wrong train. She talked to me about how important it was that the trains be on time, on schedule, and how the word was similar in English and in Deutsch, "punctual" and "punktlich" (which I have probably misspelled), and how many other words sound similar. Yet words do not a language make; I get lost in syntax and grammar, the contextual environments of the individual words. Translation is seldom simple or straightforward; much meaning and intent gets lost. There is so much literature I would like to read in the original language - but, alas, I'm an American, lacking in an important area of education.
I sat through this remarkable presentation, in a packed room, and wondered how many people realized how privileged they were. Most were bicycle advocates, as the event was hosted by Cascade Bicycle Club, and the information presented was fully engrossing, without worrying about what language it was presented in. Presenting in English was not just a courtesy; there are issues of commerce and trade, as Seattle has been providing business to the Danish architecture firm of Jan Gehl, to the rue of some local firms - but how many of us are prepared to go to Copenhagen and give a presentation in Dansk?
I can't even tell you how often this thought has entered my mind. After living in an area where English was scarce, I became so excited each and every time I heard anyone speak it. And when I was able to attend a lecture that was given in English, I was overjoyed as it was definitely a rare opportunity. It is indeed a privilege and something that I myself will never take for granted.