Not speaking the lingo.

Not understanding isn’t all bad.

I’m often asked as a foreigner living in Denmark — “So, do you speak Danish?”. If it’s another non-Dane asking me we have a joke about how complex the language is, if it is a Dane there is an awkward exchange about struggling to find the time to learn it.

Language was one of the contributing factors that made me hesitant to move from the UK to Denmark. How would I get by? How would I survive in daily life not understanding a single word? In the end I bit the bullet — “I’ll learn it”.

I’ve now been in Denmark for over two years, and I’m still somewhat ashamed to say I can’t string together a coherent sentence in Danish. I tried in vain in my early months to learn it but without managing to accomplish anything. Is it still a bad thing for me? Excluding some embarrassing moments, it seems like it isn’t.

As corny as it sounds, it’s allowed me to experience the world through a new set of eyes. A world where things are different to how I grew up. The things that I previously took for granted are different, alien, and they require an extra level of effort to reach an understanding; conscious or subconscious. Whether it be navigating a menu, a door system, a post office — My brain takes hints from everything *but* the wording, and it puts a fresh perspective on things.

Just being in a conversation plays out differently to what I’ve known. Conversations that switch from English to Danish mean time to play catch-up. Can I follow the story? I now notice more defined cues: body language, pitch, tempo, facial expressions — the occasional known word — all of these help me piece together the conversation as I sit there blinking like a new born fish. I used to get it 90% wrong, now I get it 90% right.

I still do feel embarrassed about not knowing Danish. Amongst our European counterparts the UK is shockingly behind on its language skills, with the unfortunate widespread generalisation amongst the UK that “everybody speaks English”. Luckily in Denmark, English is prevalent (to some Danes horror). Rarely is an exchange a total disaster — enough is known of each language to stumble along to a conclusion.

Bringing it back to design, it means I sometimes struggle when confronted with an interface in Danish. So many of the common rules of good design come into play when the words being read are non-sense. Progression, proximity and position gain new powers that were previously only suggested at. Icons become a necessity, and constraints both physical and virtual help with the sometimes trial and error approach. It soon becomes instantly clear what was well designed, and what was neglected.

Another great side effect for the designers mind: The language barrier acts as a distortion filter. I took many train rides whilst working in the UK — just sat there listening to the inane conversations going on around me. Stuff I didn’t care to know filling up valuable space in my mind. Let us switch to a Danish train, and am I sat there with my own thoughts — the world around me has been scrambled. The group sat opposite me are no longer discussing a YouTube video about the latest style of Gangnam, but debating the use of quantum physics, the morality of bacon, or documenting the natural occurrences of the golden ratio. This means I don’t get annoyed, or judgemental, and have the opportunity to tune out the noise and think of more pressing issues (such as the morality of bacon).

So I urge you, spend a long time in another country, or if you can’t do that; switch the language of the software you use temporarily. You’ll notice that the once important words become less crucial in understanding what’s going on, and the ‘design’ now takes the front seat in the journey to understanding. I certainly feel a difference.