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Speak fluent Pilipino? You must be French
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Just as we're picking up languages, we're spreading ours
It must be wonderful being fluent in foreign languages. I can only suppose this,
because my own skills place me in that category of learning ability that experts
and scholars would call, after consideration of the relevant socio-cultural
contexts, “hopeless.”
Were you to hear me launch into what French I know, you’d immediately be
reminded of that cartoon of a couple seated at a restaurant: they are watching
an approaching squad of waiters proudly wheeling out a huge banquet table
on which there is a tremendous platter atop which lies a dead elephant
garnished with herbs.
It must be wonderful being fluent in foreign languages. I can only suppose this,
because my own skills place me in that category of learning ability that experts
and scholars would call, after consideration of the relevant socio-cultural
contexts, “hopeless.”
Were you to hear me launch into what French I know, you’d immediately be
reminded of that cartoon of a couple seated at a restaurant: they are watching
an approaching squad of waiters proudly wheeling out a huge banquet table
on which there is a tremendous platter atop which lies a dead elephant
garnished with herbs.
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Already, an
entire
generation of
hyphenated
Filipinos can
speak effortless
Italian, French,
German,
Norwegian,
Greek and other
languages
entire
generation of
hyphenated
Filipinos can
speak effortless
Italian, French,
German,
Norwegian,
Greek and other
languages
The wife is muttering to her husband, “I wish
you’d stop ordering in French.”
What’s strange is that I have a brother who
speaks and writes fluent Spanish, Portugese,
French, German and Italian, another brother
who teaches German, and a third who got a
law degree in a Japanese university.
I can only conclude that in the cosmic scheme
of things, I was shortchanged (in German,
kurzgecheatend).
It isn’t for lack of trying. I’ve spent years trying
to iron out my differences with the German
dative case, which as far as I can understand,
requires modifying verbs and prepositions
depending on motion, position and what the
color of the moon is (in French, bloui).
you’d stop ordering in French.”
What’s strange is that I have a brother who
speaks and writes fluent Spanish, Portugese,
French, German and Italian, another brother
who teaches German, and a third who got a
law degree in a Japanese university.
I can only conclude that in the cosmic scheme
of things, I was shortchanged (in German,
kurzgecheatend).
It isn’t for lack of trying. I’ve spent years trying
to iron out my differences with the German
dative case, which as far as I can understand,
requires modifying verbs and prepositions
depending on motion, position and what the
color of the moon is (in French, bloui).
If I were to somehow end up as an interpreter at some crucial world summit,
it will probably end with everyone launching missiles – even the Philippines,
which doesn’t even have missiles.
I worry that my linguistic incapacity puts me in an evolutionary dead-end,
subject to jokes like this: What do you call someone who speaks many
languages? Polyglot. Someone who speaks two languages? Bilingual.
Someone who speaks one language? American.
If you think I’m exaggerating, you should know that in the US, one Fil-
American high school student wrote a report commemorating the “discovery”
of the Philippines by Magellan and identified one ship as the Concepcion,
which he said was Spanish for “big-ass boat.” He got it published in the
school paper, not knowing the actual Spanish word he was thinking of was
“Arroyo.”
Anyway, I console myself with the fact that I’m a Filipino and time is on my
side. It’s like this: there are now millions of Filipinos scattered all over the
world. Many are marrying, settling down and raising kids.
Already, an entire generation of hyphenated Filipinos can speak effortless
Italian, French, German, Norwegian, Greek and other languages.
Soon, when I travel abroad all I’ll do is look up my fellow Filipinos and
communication will be a snap. I might even work up enough confidence to try
my foreign language skills:
Me (in restaurant): Kabayan, mon frere.
Pinoy chef: Isang sarsyadong elepante! Tout de suite!
Just as Filipinos are picking up languages, we’re spreading ours as well.
Arriving in Paris’ Charles de Gaulle airport, I found myself facing a tall, blond
and blue-eyed immigration officer.
After looking at my passport, he asked: “Saan ka pupunta?” Surprised, I
replied: “Sa Berlin.” Without batting an eyebrow, he inquired, “anong gagawin
mo doon?” I was amazed: I thought I’d ask him if he also played jueteng but I
thought better of it.
Another time at Frankfurt Airport, I saw a blond and blue-eyed teenage
German girl turn to the clearly Pinoy woman beside her and ask, “nanay saan
tayo uupo?” And the mom said: “Dort, dort drueben.”
Isn’t that amazing? I know some of you probably find these stories
implausible, and in fact you think I’m making them up. Well, all I can say is
this: if you don’t trust me, you can go take it to your Arroyo.
it will probably end with everyone launching missiles – even the Philippines,
which doesn’t even have missiles.
I worry that my linguistic incapacity puts me in an evolutionary dead-end,
subject to jokes like this: What do you call someone who speaks many
languages? Polyglot. Someone who speaks two languages? Bilingual.
Someone who speaks one language? American.
If you think I’m exaggerating, you should know that in the US, one Fil-
American high school student wrote a report commemorating the “discovery”
of the Philippines by Magellan and identified one ship as the Concepcion,
which he said was Spanish for “big-ass boat.” He got it published in the
school paper, not knowing the actual Spanish word he was thinking of was
“Arroyo.”
Anyway, I console myself with the fact that I’m a Filipino and time is on my
side. It’s like this: there are now millions of Filipinos scattered all over the
world. Many are marrying, settling down and raising kids.
Already, an entire generation of hyphenated Filipinos can speak effortless
Italian, French, German, Norwegian, Greek and other languages.
Soon, when I travel abroad all I’ll do is look up my fellow Filipinos and
communication will be a snap. I might even work up enough confidence to try
my foreign language skills:
Me (in restaurant): Kabayan, mon frere.
Pinoy chef: Isang sarsyadong elepante! Tout de suite!
Just as Filipinos are picking up languages, we’re spreading ours as well.
Arriving in Paris’ Charles de Gaulle airport, I found myself facing a tall, blond
and blue-eyed immigration officer.
After looking at my passport, he asked: “Saan ka pupunta?” Surprised, I
replied: “Sa Berlin.” Without batting an eyebrow, he inquired, “anong gagawin
mo doon?” I was amazed: I thought I’d ask him if he also played jueteng but I
thought better of it.
Another time at Frankfurt Airport, I saw a blond and blue-eyed teenage
German girl turn to the clearly Pinoy woman beside her and ask, “nanay saan
tayo uupo?” And the mom said: “Dort, dort drueben.”
Isn’t that amazing? I know some of you probably find these stories
implausible, and in fact you think I’m making them up. Well, all I can say is
this: if you don’t trust me, you can go take it to your Arroyo.
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