Tag: French language

Since this is my first entry here, I should probably introduce myself, but there will be plenty of time for that. On the other hand, I think this article will give you a small glimpse of who I am. It might even explain why I currently find myself in Turkey exploring and learning about what I consider a land of many wonders. I’ll begin by saying I’ve dibbled and dabbed in a lot of languages over the course of 27 years; all having some sort of significance as to why. I don’t speak any of them fluently but enough to sound cool and basic enough to put elementary proficiency on resumes and to fumble my way through foreign lands as I did when I visited Portugal and Italy and as I find myself now doing in Turkey. Let’s start with Portuguese shall we. When I was eighteen my mom moved the entire family to Atlanta, Georgia and to my mom’s horror or shall I say dislike I ended up becoming quite good friends with our Brazilian neighbors whom were about 13 years my senior. Mind you there was a nephew or cousin living there around my age who also attended school with me but I never spoke to him—he was boring. Before I knew it, I was engulfed in all things Portuguese. This eventually led me with an urge to be able to converse with the growing Brazilian population. So, I ended up studying the language at the university level off and on for the next 4-6 years. Toward the latter years of my twenties while I was wrapping up college (don’t judge me I had a late start) I started studying Italian because of my long term Italian friend that lives in a valley near Milan. This was purely by chance because I was looking for a dance partner and he was on the website. Fast forward to my thirties I messed around with Chinese and even learned how to pronounce the different sounds because I thought it would be cool to teach English in China. Of course, I never moved to China and soon lost interest in the language altogether. Then, just around the time when I laid Chinese to rest, in my mid-thirties I put all languages on hold while I was engaged to a Greek American to learn Greek. I was tired of attending real life “My Big Fat Greek” events where I was not just the only chocolate drop but the only person that couldn’t understand the Greek jokes at the dinner table. But…I’m getting ahead of myself. A couple years before I met “Prince Charming” I studied Romanian while I was writing a book that took place in Romania during the 16th century and fell even more in-love with the language during a summer fling with a real-life descendant of Vlad Tepes aka Dracula (just kidding). He WAS however a Romanian from Moldova. Then I bought a Persian dictionary because of yet another book I wrote (check out “Flight America”) that takes place in Afghanistan but couldn’t understand the script so it just collects dust on my bookshelf. Let’s pause here while I catch my breath because I’m sure by now you’re thinking this chick really has an obsession with languages. Well, you’re right and I admit it. They say the first stage to recovery is admitting you have a problem. Well…I am a language addict, and I don’t want to recover, and it probably has a lot more to do with books than just languages themselves. But moving along and revisiting the past yet again before I zip you back to the present. I dabbled with Spanish in my early twenties maybe a year after I gave birth to the most beautiful little girl that ever-stepped foot on planet Earth—and before you interject, she truly is. I even took a semester of Spanish because, one its super easy and second because my daughter’s father is from Puerto Rico. Of course, that didn’t last and neither did my relationship to Mr. Boricua; we officially called it quits when my daughter was four. But who has time to sulk when their life is as colorful as mine. I learned how to say “hello” in Japanese and only because of curiosity and its geographical proximity to China. I’m not entirely sure but I think I was researching Japanese culture at the same time that I wanted to teach English in China. I’m very easily distracted as you can probably see by now. Currently, I am learning Turkish so I can speak to my Turkish mother-in-law. I know what you’re thinking, “what happened to Prince Charming?” Well, that was the title my daughter gave him partially as a joke and partially because he did propose and included her in the process. But let’s stay focused on the guy I actually married not the one I was engaged to for two years. Speaking of my husband and his family that reminds me of the Dutch. At one time we fancied the idea of moving back to his home in the Netherlands but eventually decided that Turkey would be a cooler place to live so now all of my Dutch culture and language books are now collecting dust as well right alongside the Persian dictionary. But that’s not all. I spent three years working alongside Russians right after high school as an AutoCAD drafter so of course this led me to be fascinated by the Russian language, culture and people so I did what I know how to do best. I bought even more language books. I probably should have mentioned this first but since this isn’t in any sort of chronological order and I’m mostly just rambling let’s talk about honesty. If I’m honest the real reason I purchased the Russian book was because of a dear Russian friend who is also my dental hygienist and sort of adopted mother. I say this because after all those years I spent working around Russians; laughing with them, complaining about our shitty work schedules and discussing life, not once did I buy a Russian language book until my dear friend Irina. But wait–there’s more. My favorite uncle on my father’s side moved to Germany and never moved back when I was about six. So, from that moment on I was curious about this strange country of tall men that spoke rough and guttural. If you look on my bookshelf, you’ll find at least three books about the German language that I use every so often to converse with my German pen pal who can also speak Portuguese. Yet, after everything the language that truly stole my heart is none of the fore mentioned ones. My first love of languages the one I keep going back to…is French. I even get a little warm and fuzzy inside just thinking about it. Some might say it was a coincidence or even destiny the way the two of us collided. But growing up in South Florida where more than half of the population speaks Spanish, I just wasn’t excited or even thrilled to learn Spanish when fifteen-year-old me was given the choice. Plus, at that time two of my best friends already spoke Spanish and the third was from Vietnam with family in French Canada so it was a no brainer. We would all take French and speak to each other for practice. So that “Mes Amies” is how it all began. No matter how many times I stray or cheat on my French lover I always find my way back to Francais. Sometimes I’m knee deep involved with Italian, and I’ll hear a French commercial. Other times I’ll pass a French restaurant and smell fresh croissants or French onion soup and the longing would take me back to my teenage years and I’ll quickly remember how badly I still want to master the language. But as quickly as I come back, I often swiftly leave over simple frustrations like not being able to find cool French music but instead preferring the beats of Spanish tunes so, like a pissed off lover I’ll go rendezvousing with salsa. However, Spanish can never hold my attention longer than it takes for a quick spin on the dance floor because inevitably I’ll find my French language lover standing in the dark, waiting just where I last left him, luring me back in and of course I follow. But it’s not just the romantic words. I enjoy French culture and French people. The French makes me laugh the way no other culture can do with their over-the-top nationalism, peculiar facial expressions, obsession over flour and even their own love for their mother tongue. I can enjoy their frankness and if I’m being honest yet again, they’re quite bougie and I like it. Maybe I am too. Maybe deep down inside there is a lot of French in me. I always said maybe in another lifetime I was French—to be exact a tall regal Senegalese lady living amongst the French in all her glory.