Learning Language is a Lonely Romance
A love letter to language learning.
Dear Language,
I never dreamed it would be like this.
I was a lost child — shuffled between countries and cultures. The Cantonese of my native Hong Kong, Bahasa Indonesia in Jakarta, Mandarin and Taiwanese Hokkien in Taipei, then back to Mandarin in Beijing.
I felt lost in the world. Belonging to everywhere and nowhere all at once.
Where was home?
I couldn’t tell you. But you always brought me back.
Wandering foreign streets, my mom’s lifting Cantonese transported me to happy moments — Yum cha with my grandparents. Steamed food, fresh ingredients, and minimal oil.
During chilly Toronto nights, hearing the Cantonese street gossip of old ladies brings grandma back to life. I miss the way she lovingly complained about everything. I still see her on the sofa in the marble-cold apartment, binge-watching Cantonese TV series with flying, sword-wielding kung fu fighters.
Grandma would always have a box of flaky, ParknShop egg tarts ready for our breakfast. The price was always top value — peng leng zeng! Cheap, beautiful, nice! Po Po would always buy sweet, barbequed cha siu for me and my sister. Mom always told her not to — she had diabetes, after all.
But Po Po always lived life like a boss. She would barely chew her mushy, flavourless food as she enjoyed how chubby I got from eating all the delicious treats sneaked my way.
I always believed that words were magic.
I was a bookworm of the highest order. I thought that words were a code — a secret into the truth and mysteries of our universe. How else could I become friends with strangers who looked nothing like me, who’ve lived completely different lives?
How else could I travel through time and converse with the dead?
It was you, dear language, who gave me wings.
In school, I spoke English. At home, Cantonese, and Mandarin on the streets of Beijing. I regret not loving you the way you deserved in all your beautiful shapes and sizes.
I thought nothing of my Cantonese at home — what good would it do me, when all the cool kids spoke English?
Mandarin was for eating street food. Cumin-blessed Xinjiang yang rou chuar and addictive, crunchy jian bing.
You were my ticket to escaping Beijing’s expat bubble. I was stuck in a neighbourhood that mimicked foreign places I’d never been to.
Why not enjoy Beijing as a Beijinger? All I needed was Mandarin.
Thank you for helping me see Beijing with new eyes.
My ears perk up every time I hear you in foreign tongues. People from all cultures, all walks of life — and I love it!
I’m nosy. Every time I hear a new language, I wonder what worlds are being weaved. What secrets, what parallel universes are being created?
I want to learn them all. To understand all of you.
So I started learning your different forms. Syrian Arabic. Colombian Spanish. Brazilian Portuguese. Though I’m just a beginner, I still get to experience your multitude of flavours.
Perhaps I will always be a beginner — but nothing beats communicating with someone in their native tongue.
It’s a secret password.
“You’re one of us now, welcome to the tribe.”
When I travel, you’re always on my mind. I spent countless hours listening to podcasts, watching Youtube videos, practicing with my Colombian and Brazilian friends. I would listen to Spanish and Portuguese on my commutes, repeating phrases under my breath. I spoke dialogues in the shower and mumbled to myself like a lunatic.
I was so crazy in love with you.
You changed my life.
Colombia in 2019. Brazil in early 2020.
Before that, I’d never travelled solo before. I was scared. But you gave me strength.
Though I’m obviously foreign, whenever I spoke Spanish in Colombia or Portuguese in Brazil, I was transformed.
In the eyes of locals, I was no longer just another gringo tourist with a favourable exchange rate. I became a curious visitor, communicating with hearts, not just wallets.
People treated me with loving kindness and playful curiosity. Conversations turned from “no English” to “wow! Why are you learning our language? How is your trip? What do you think of our country and our people? Have you been to this place yet? Enjoy your stay. You’re always welcome.”
That’s your power, dear language. You imbue me with confidence.
With you by my side, I can befriend the world.
But it’s not all sunshine and rainbows.
We fight a lot, don’t we?
There are so many days where I feel no improvement. Some days I feel like I’ve forgotten everything I worked so hard for. No vocabulary. No grammar. Nothing.
I often feel like a fraud. A phony. A fake.
Other people seem to think I’m a “language person”, or “gifted with languages”. Hah! If only they knew how little I know. If only they knew the fear I experience every time I speak. If only they knew the countless hours I spent practicing, rehearsing, failing, doubting myself, making mistakes, and trying again.
Sometimes I just want to give up.
I’ll never learn all the world’s languages. I probably won’t ever be fluent in all the languages I’m currently learning. And even if I was, who cares?
What if I’m just wasting my time and my life with you?
What if I’m just a circus monkey, juggling phrases between languages for cheap laughs?
Some days I’m stuck in a loop. I’m constantly learning new things, but only shallowly. I can’t commit to any language. My new relationships fade to nothing. They vanish to smoke. But isn’t all of life this way, really?
Maybe we’ll break up, somewhere down the line.
When I realize my time with you was wasted.
When you wake up to find I’m not half the man you thought I was.
But no.
I will fight for you till the bitter end.
Perhaps we will grow old together. Perhaps we will forget each other when we live in a twilight world with no friends at dusk.
My companion, we shall die closer than lovers. For you are with me no matter where I am or how far I run.
So what if learning languages is pointless?
The process is its own joy.
I treasure every day with you. Every struggle is an opportunity to grow. Every moment a chance to learn. You bring magic to the most mundane of tasks. And I am astounded at how you evolve, always gracefully.
I will never fully understand you, and that’s ok.
I just want to dance with you. Wherever you go, I’ll follow.
Thank you for painting my life in colour.
Thank you for introducing me to new friends, cultures, and families to call my own. Thank you for gracing me with new perspectives, empathy, and compassion with which to embrace the world.
I love you, language.
All of the credit is due to you. Only the mistakes have been mine.
Love,
JJ
