Language and identity
“Did you have any meaningful interactions with locals during your trips? I read that you learned some Korean, so I was curious about that.”
One of the things that I found interesting about korean is how formal or informal the language can be, depending on the context, and who you speak to. There are plenty of examples you can find, but the simplest is probably the first one you learn when writing or saying your first sentence: how to refer to yourself.
저는 (‘jeo-neun’, formal)
나는 (‘na-neun’, informal)
Both mean “I” or “me”, but depending on the context and who you speak to, you should use one or the other. I can’t say for sure if it was conscious or not, but I’ve exclusively used 저는 throughout my learning journey. It probably made me sound strange, too formal or excessively polite in many situations, but that’s what I went with.
Anecdotally, a lot of people during my stay in South Korea asked how old I was, early in our chats. It took me some time to understand that they were asking only because of this difference between formal and informal language (formal should be used for anyone older than you, and informal for people your age or younger), despite the fact that this difference doesn’t exist in english. They just wanted to make sure they were addressing me correctly, and this gave me an excellent insight on what it would be like to learn english as a native korean speaker.
I don’t remember when I switched languages, or if that’s even a real thing.
I lived in the UK as an exchange student for a year, before moving to Paris and continue my university studies. As far as I can remember, this exchange is when I noticeably improved my english skills. The first two jobs I got in Paris were in french, but the third one involved a lot more english. It was the working language when communicating with the headquarters, and a part of my work actually involved content editing and translations, from english to french, but also the other way around.
I then moved to Berlin, where I spent my first summer around mostly french people. My first two roommates were French people. My fifth also was French. The german I remembered from high school helped me navigate the administrative hurdles that came with this move to Germany, and Berlin being the diverse and cosmopolitan city it is, I never actually needed to know a lot of german language to get by. All of a sudden, I was spending forty hours a week writing and speaking english with my colleagues, and most of my time outside of work was split between english, german and french. In the middle of all of that, countless trips all around Europe, North America and Asia made me practice and rely upon my english skills, much more than I ever thought I would.
People only know “a” version of you: the one which shares a language with you. Some might know two or more, but most only know one.
Let’s start here (by here, I mean “in this post”): all the people reading my thoughts only get to know what I write in english, because that’s the only language in which I write and share posts. There’s definitely some distance between me and my words, that nothing really can’t make up for. It gets more and more complex as you dig deeper into different layers.
Most of the colleagues I’ve had in Berlin know the english speaking version of me. A few native french people I’ve worked with were also lucky to know the french side of me, whenever there weren’t non-french speakers around. However, I’ve never worked in french since I moved to Berlin.
One deeper layer is the people who I know in real life, and who read what I write here, regardless of your native language. We might not have spoken to each other in a while, but just knowing me should give a particular flavor to what you are reading here, simply because you know me, my voice, my accent, and the way I speak. I don’t know if everybody does that, but in my head I can almost hear the author’s voice, when I know the person who wrote what I’m reading.
One even deeper layer is the people I know in real life and speak french to. If you’re one of these few people, I really wonder how reading my thoughts in english makes you feel, given that we don’t speak english to each other, whenever we meet.
Sometime last month, I found myself having to write something fairly long, in french. It was only a few pages, but I have to admit I struggled with the language. When I was done with it, I tried remembering the last time I had to write something longer than a page in french, and could only assume it was something related to the last job I had in Paris, before leaving for Berlin, over a decade ago. And even then, this last job was for an international company, and required me to work in both english and french, so I can’t even be 100% sure.
I don’t speak much french anymore. A good chunk of my book and media diet is still in french, and while I write on a daily basis with friends and family, it’s never something longer than a message at a time. I wouldn’t go as far as saying I am losing my french, but something’s going on.