Oh ha! Language Learning 1

I had a moan on a previous post about how difficult and time consuming it has been for me to learn Turkish. Well... I haven't finished.

Enrolling in Modern Languages at university has been without a doubt the single most influential choice in my life. In some way languages other than English and the multifaceted cultures using them as a medium have affected my daily existence for years. First and foremost my professors were excellent educators, technically flawless, patient, sympathetic, organised and they loved their jobs. Secondly, university being the social environment that it is, I studied with good people, namely Duncan (Sporto) and Angela (Princess), who taught me many of the principles of life.

Tomes of wisdom to get me through my day in Istanbul

Enjoyable and productive hours spent in lecture rooms, libraries and language laboratories ensured I came away with my first degree feeling proud of my achievements and rather pleased that I could read, write, listen to and speak French, Spanish, and to a lesser degree, Italian and Rumanian after four years. Following which a long stint in France helped me achieve near-native fluency, and if I've somewhat lost proficiency over the years, my passion for language learning has never waned.

I state all this now to make you understand that no matter what is written hereunder, there remains no question in my mind that learning the language of the culture in which you live is the single most important factor for happiness and fulfilment in that country.

I came to Turkey. Thus my need to learn Turkish. And reasons to learn the language are manifold.

Stupid, unpronounceable vowel sounds.

I started enthusiastically, stole a flatmate's copy of Colloquial Turkish and within weeks was making some headway. By night I worked my way devotedly through several pages of grammar... until the realisation several months later that I was retaining newly acquired vocabulary and grammar on the shortest of short term bases.

Some days would deliver a linguistic high, I could understand and make chit-chat with taxi drivers, dürüm and kebap vendors and wax lyrically with new found friends on topics ranging from yesterday's weather to today's forecast. I was empowering myself and getting out of the Turkish language rut into which many of expatriates naturally fall for some time when they can't quite master the art of thinking in reverse order, which is what some commentators would have you believe is the trick to speaking Turkish. I think that last sentence was too long.

With my 2007 to-do list neatly displayed on my recently acquired whiteboard, I began gleefully to scrawl verb conjugations and personal suffixes, slowly but surely increasing my understanding of the importance of order in the Turkish tongue. While in Paris I purchased the fabulously and exotically titled Grammaire du Turc and randomly opened to page 148. 'Simply, to form the suppositive verb tense you need only apply the following rule: add to the verb root -(y)E2cE2k + -sE2 + -SPV2, where E stands for either e or a depending on the preceding vowel and SPV2 is a set of personal suffixes dealt with earlier in the book. Y is inserted only where it would otherwise bring two vowels into contact'. Simple.

Simple, my arse.

The ability of the Cartesian French spirit to reduce a entire linguistic system to a set of neatly defined rules means that I no longer have to trawl my way through endless grammar books written in English. The French, even if they have elected Sarkozy, are concise, systematic and very special people indeed. Having reduced the entire Turkish tongue to a smattering of formulaic expressions means all I need do now is memorise, then apply, forty or so formulae to express myself in every conceivable tense, aspect and mood. And my mood fluctuates often.

It's OK... it's OK. It's not you, it's the book.

What I cannot abide is Turkish vocabulary. People have criticised modern Turkish, which, purified of numerous Arabic and Persian borrowings, seems to suffer from a paucity of choice. There is no doubt that modern Turkish has fewer words in daily use than English, but even these I cannot seem to remember. I often confuse one word for another or simply rearrange consonants at any given moment. The appearance of the letter h in various positions of a word causes endless grief. I am awash with rage at my inability, after almost 18 months here, to splutter a stream of words that can count as a grammatically correct and meaningful phrase. If you pick up any guide book on Turkish you will no doubt come across some article about Turkish. The author will supply an lengthy multisyllabic word to astound the English speaker and which confirms Turks, like their language, as incomprehensible and barbarian.

Turkish people are patient, hospitable and kind. Their language is tortuous and sadistic. My private language tutor is neither patient nor sadistic, but I'm sure she'd happily whip me if it were still considered standard practise for wayward pupils. The ability to acquire a second language diminishes with age. I disagree. The acquisition of new grammar and words is easy enough. Retaining all that newly acquired information demands an environment in which to use it.

I think I am swearing at this point in time.

I am an English teacher. My students can or want to speak my mother tongue. My relationships with my Turkish friends began in English and it is hard to make the crossover into their native language as it feels like a step backwards. And I have one criticism. Whether it is the natural eagerness and effusive nature of the Turks or their Mediterranean ardour, they rarely, if ever, speak slowly. We've all heard before how the Italians, Spanish and French join all words together in a single utterance. With the Turks, I tend to believe it is true, but think it is more likely that they come from a culture where they are less likely to hear people speaking Turkish as a second language, and are thrilled to hear someone doing so. Ineffectual requests to my interlocutor to speak more slowly reduce me within a few sentences to short grunts or nods of the head. You see, Turkish verbs can be extremely long to the untrained ear and since they contain many add ons (or plug-ins, if you will), I can work out the verb but never know whether I am hearing past, present or future. I try to explain this to my private tutor but she unenthusiastically rolls her eyes.

And like you're gonna answer my prayers. I bet you can't even speak Turkish.








I shall persevere.

At least I've learnt a lot of obscene words. Thank you, Taxi Drivers of Istanbul.