On language learning

There is something endearing about the full-body workout that language learning is.

I can conceive of no greater contrast between the wispy French ‘r’, soft but certainly not breathy, and the guttural Arabic ‘ع’, as in Abdullah, that comes from deep within. My Palestinian friend tells me that rap music sounds the best in Arabic because the sounds of the language are so unabashedly primal.

I remember my first Arabic classes in Paris, where we were made to cast aside our shyness and inhibitions by our professor, who made us stand up and repeat every letter of the alphabet with gusto.

I remember my amusement when I was down with a cold one day, and my French teacher remarked that my French pronunciation had never been better.

Now as I begin acquainting myself with Bahasa Indonesia to live in Jakarta for a few weeks next year, I struggle with the ‘h’. Just when I thought I had seen it all with Arabic – the ح (panting), ه (with the slightest effort), and خ (gurgling) – I am once again floored by the tricks every language has up its sleeve.

And how can I forget the intonations? In social settings where it is inconceivable to reply “Ça va pas” when asked “Ça va?”, intonation changes everything.

For the most part, I adore accents because they betray human longing to access a part of the world that isn’t intuitive to them.

Yet I cannot account for why I smile when I hear the lively rhythms of my friend’s Spanish-infused English, yet inwardly cringe when a stewardess on Singapore Airlines pronounces ‘avec’ by stomping on the ‘a’ and unceremoniously spitting on the ‘v’. Only that there are as many accents and colours – and don’t we all have our favourite colours?

I only know that I can't wait to revise and update this post as I continue with my lifelong journey of language learning.