The following is a theory I developed some time ago, back in those days when I still had time to develop theories, now I'm rather scenario-oriented. Learning foreign languages can sometimes resemble wearing high heels. It's pretty, every tiny step is a tiny victory, at least until the shoes become comfortable enough, but it can also be annoying, painful or even not worth it.
Polish was definitely my first pair of stilettos and it followed the pattern: seen 'em, loved 'em, bought 'em - now what? During those first weeks of Polish I was very impatient, I wanted more, I couldn't wait until I'd finally be able to speak fluently, but it was too much of an effort. Much like high heels, it was gorgeous, it made me happy, but it was uncomfortable and tiresome. I was relieved when I could switch to English. The faithful, adorable and colorful pair of Chucks. The ones I'm likely to choose over anything else, no matter how sensational and eye-catching. Even if they don't always fit in the picture or match the outfit- it's a sin I'm happy to commit whenever I have the chance (and I do, very often).
Back in high school I had a thing for Spanish. Which was much like a kitten heel. Comfy, sweet, reliable and pretty without much effort. Not necessarily spectacular, still one of my favorites. But after getting used to wearing stilettos on a daily basis, a low heel feels odd and not entirely wearable. French was similar to a cone heel. Might look good but I never knew what to wear it with and how to make it look good on me. I'll speak French if I have to, but I need to be in the mood for it or to miss speaking it and that hardly ever happens.
As high school was a time for experiments of all sorts, I took a Japanese class for about a year. Totally a prism heel. Very unusual and so not me, the reasons for my attending that class are still unclear but it's ten years now and I might as well let it go. In the same fashion, several years later I had a rather disappointing encounter with German. I felt like one of those runway models falling flat on my face, in shoes that don't fit me at all but that look just perfect on other people.
Yesterday I added a new piece to the collection. Portuguese. Or a really nice and original pair of wedges, with a cosmopolitan - laid-back - sexy look. It has the huge advantage of being closely related to Romanian and that helps a lot. After all, this is the only pair of shoes that's entirely comfortable.
I'm still muzzy about all the Brazilian / European Portuguese differences (especially when it comes to pronunciation) and I think the time has come to have my tongue pierced. Hell, I moved to Poland in order to improve my Polish, what's a tongue piercing compared to that? It's the least I could do, a small step towards a perfect Portuguese pronunciation. It would be great if I could stick to that. Unfortunately, I can already see the pattern: it's going to take me about two years (or less) to decide I just have to move to Portugal, that it's the best place for me, I'll find a job or some studies or both, a house, make new friends and get used to a new city which will eventually not suit me anymore.
Sometimes walking in my shoes can be really exhausting.
1 comment:
they say there is no such thing as too many shoes (for ladies, at least...). maybe for you there is no such thing as too many foreign languages, new places and new friends.
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