What did you say?

36 Days to go…


Learning languages has always been a bit of an issue for me. I like to be able to attempt to converse with the local population. Usually, I butcher their language and get a quizzical look that says “What the hell did this idiot just try to say to me?”

I’ve never had much luck with studying languages. In high school, we were given the choice between German and Spanish. The early formation of a moral conviction prevented me from studying Spanish. The male teacher would ogle to young female students and favor the athletes. I’d learn Spanish later I concluded. Fourteen years later I can ask where the bathroom is and order a cold beer. Based on my current working knowledge of the Spanish language, I wouldn’t be able to eat in Spain or any Latin American country, but I would be able to get drunk and have very clean hands.

My choice in high school was German taught by a forty-something woman that could have passed for a haus-frau working in a German restaurant. I only took German to satisfy the language requirements for college. I had no desire really to visit Germany, that is until I met a very lovely blonde in Barcelona. Still haven’t made the trip there, but one of these days I’m sure I’ll pass through.

College gave me the desire to study languages for myself. My choice was French. The French language conjured up images of Brigitte Bardot movies and Robert Doisneau black and white photographs. I would learn French and go to Paris I proudly thought. I did eventually make it to France and into Paris, but long after everything I had learned in college had left me. I still enjoy studying French even after my third semester in college when I begged a teacher’s assistant to give me a “D” in exchange for never studying the language again. I failed it, but was able to get around in Paris with little to no problems; alright, I did have trouble getting a bottle of water at the Louvre, but still get the water, bad pronunciation and all.

Fast forward to 2003 when I first decided to go to Thailand. I didn’t know any Thai, but was not intimidated when I left. I could confidently say “hello” sawat dii krap. When I left for my trip earlier this year (February 2004), I figured that meeting locals that spoke a little English would help and it did immensely. What you don’t realize is that in some cases, the people that you meet in the tourist areas speak English for one other reason, to scam unsuspecting Westerners. You learn very quickly who to try and get language lessons from and who to tell "mai ow krap" (I don't want).

I returned from Thailand with a renewed desire to be able to speak some Thai. The Thai language is a tonal language (consisting of mid, low, falling, high, and rising) that has 44 consonants and 32 vowels. I bought a beginning Thai language book with CDs to learn the language and really got into it. That was when I had more than six months to learn. I’m thirty-six days out haven’t picked up the book in three months, and I’m going to have to bring it with. Once again, I’m going in without the most knowledge, but immersion seems to be the best way to learn.

The general nervousness and anxiety has started to begin. Have I booked everything that I needed to? Do I need to get more camera memory? Will I like Thailand the second time around? This drives me nuts, but I guess its all part of the travel process for me. Get the idea for the trip, book the trip, worry about all the loose ends and finally taking the trip. Taking the trip is probably the easiest thing to do on the list. Delays and general bullshit you can get through. The anxiety leading up to is probably the most harrowing part.