Olof’s English is so good that I almost forget sometimes he’s not a native speaker. As I’ve said before, we have English as our family language, and when he was still working at home most of his colleagues were non-Swedish, which meant that nearly all of the phone calls I heard him make over the years were in English. So, strange as it sounds, I don’t hear him use Swedish on even a daily basis. It has actually happened, on occasion, that I’ve heard him speak his own mother tongue when I wasn’t expecting it and I’ve thought without really thinking, “Wow, he speaks really good Swedish.”
Every now and again, though, something will bring home to me the fact that we don’t share a native language. Most recently it was a lengthy call to a Swedish colleague made from his home office, during which I sat just a few feet away from him, eavesdropping. The conversation itself was largely meaningless–and entirely uninteresting–to me, but throughout the call there was something in his manner that made him seem subtly different from usual. I felt a little twinge, listening to him, and was struck by the uneasy feeling that there’s some fundamental part of him that I really don’t know. Will never know. Because, of course, language is more than just shared words; it’s shared history and ideas and world views and entire ways of thinking. The ways in which Americans and Swedes are different from each other go far beyond the words we use and, on some mostly deeply buried level, I know that the twain shall never quite meet.
I know exactly what you’re talking about and it’s kind of nice to hear I’m not the only one. I feel this more when I hear Peter speaking Polish for some reason. Even though I understand mostly every single word he says, we can’t speak this language together and his humor is completely different when he speaks Polish, Swedish, and English. Do you feel like there is any part of your English that is somewhat different when you are speaking with friends from “back home”?
True for me too. Even though Simon rarely speakes Welsh and his first language is English, it’s a different English. And many of the jokes and sarcasm that I use daily are lost on his family. So when I’m interacting with my Welsh people, (or even my English people) I’m very different than when I interact with my American people. The two not mixing has been a huge obstacle for me, especially in that first year. It’s most obvious when Simon and I are sitting in the presence of Americans and we’re bantering or whatever and it’s Welsh “style” and we’re laughing and we notice no one else is. And I realize they don’t get it. Because I know it’s not that I’m not funny. We all know that. So I’ll turn to them and translate the same damn thing I just said, with only a few different words but a lot of different voice inflection and then they’ll laugh. It’s bizarre. Side note: Apparently when I’m angry (which is never) I totally have a British accent. I don’t hear it but Lachlan and other American’s do. Simon doesn’t though. It will be interesting Bev, when I make it to your house this Spring. I wonder if Olof will notice the same thing about you when you’re talking to me? Especially since it’s been so long since we’ve been in the same room even. I wonder how that will change how you and I interact with each other? It’s always good to remember that no matter where you are, what language you speak daily or what your mother tongue is, foreigners appreciate it when you speak really slowly to them. Not like they’re stupid people, but almost.
When I hear Fredrik speak Swedish it’s the same way. Although I speak Swedish I definitely feel a bit like an outsider when he speaks Swedish with his friends! It’s just a weird feeling! You put it in exactly the right words.
which is why i am glad i don’t deal with people of different tongue except my children who think the word no translates to don’t listen to the old fool