Search

J. J. Brown, Wordslinger

"I Sling Words As I Go Along."

Date

January 12, 2017

So, I’m learning French on my own…..

……..thanks to this little app on my phone called Duolingo. I started out with Spanish, then added French and then, in honor of my trip to Ireland, Gaelic.

Let me say, right now, that my Gaelic sucks. I can’t even figure it out in context. That’s okay – I’d never heard it before, so…..I’ll cut myself some slack on that one. I didn’t delete it – it’s still there, waiting for me to come back to it.

And I will.

I fared a lot better with Spanish, mainly because I live in California and am surrounded by the Spanish history and influence. I have a couple of Agatha Christie and Stephen King titles in Spanish, which will be helpful in bettering my comprehension of the language. Years ago, I suspected that if reading helps us with comprehending our native tongue, then surely it would have the same effect when learning a foreign one.

If I already knew the story, I thought, then my main struggle would be in understanding it in a language I’m not fluent in.

I stumbled across that idea when I was taking Spanish in college, lo, these many years ago. I read the Spanish translation of Pablo Neruda’s poetry to my tutor. In a few weeks time, she commented that my pronunciation and comprehension improving. And I was pleased.

So, imagine my surprise when, upon beginning my French lessons on the app, that it came to me far more easily than Spanish did. I’ve progressed further in the French than I have in the Spanish – indeed, I don’t think I’ve gone back to Spanish or Gaelic in over a year.

I’m not worried about that, because my goal is to learn more than one language and some far more complicated than French or Spanish (1). The better I get at French, the easier it will be to switch over to Spanish. Like Italian, French and Spanish derive from the Latin, which explains why they are similar in structure. Even particular words resemble each other.

I’m not exactly sure why I’m feeling determined to learn French right at this moment, but I’m willing to follow my instincts and see where it leads.

Sometimes, that’s what you need to do.

 

(1) Complicated in that I would also be learning an alphabet made up of letters that I won’t recognize, like Japanese.

Clockwise from bottom: Eso (IT); Ventana Secreta, Jardin Secreto (Secret Window, Secret Garden); Orguillo Y Prejuicio (Pride & Prejudice); Matar es Facil (Murder is Easy); Telon (Curtain); Une Poignee de Seigle (A Pocketful of Rye); Le Retour D'Hercule Poirot (The Return of Hercule Poirot).
Clockwise from bottom (Spanish to French):    Eso (IT); Ventana Secreta, Jardin Secreto (Secret Window, Secret Garden); Orguillo Y Prejuicio (Pride & Prejudice); Matar es Facil (Murder is Easy); Telon (Curtain); Une Poignee de Seigle (A Pocketful of Rye); Le Retour D’Hercule Poirot (The Return of Hercule Poirot).
Advertisements

An American Tourist in Ireland (10)

As I’ve been writing out these posts about my trip to Ireland, I’m catching memories of things we did en route to wherever we were headed next. I remember at point, we were on a ferry, crossing a channel. I know at one point, we had a stop and I got my first cup of coffee the entire time I was there. For my caffeine fix, I drank mostly black tea.

On Thursday, our regular driver had the day off, so we had a guest driver take us to a tour boat that shuttled us up the only ‘fjord’ in Ireland. It was a short trip, but the sights were beautiful, even with a sharp wind.

There was a cafe on board, so my tour mates treated themselves to coffee or whiskey or some other concoction. I treated myself to an Irish Hot Chocolate – it’s like an Irish coffee, but with hot chocolate. And I got whipped cream on it. Yummy!

The guest driver and I spoke most of the cruise, discussing ancestry and Ireland. He indicated quite strongly that if I had any relatives there, they were likely in the same place where my great-great grandparents had lived before making their journey to America. It goes without saying that it was commented on that I was clearly very Irish, so much so, that I could blend right in with the natives.

There are so many of these little moments, that I wish I’d had the foresight to keep a journal while I was there. Something to remember for next time. And there will be a next time. I don’t know how or when, but I will be going back to Ireland. Hopefully, I’ll find a way to stay longer and make stronger connections.

That’s the dream, anyway.

Churchyard in Cong, Ireland.
Churchyard in Cong, Ireland.

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑