Speechless

One of the toughest aspects of being an expat for me is not knowing the native language.

For many years before moving to Belgium, I erroneously believed it was bilingual. I’d spent three weeks here 20 years ago. Our hosts spoke French, and I’d noticed bilingual signs in Brussels. When we chose to relocate here, I felt confident that by refreshing my college French and working on advancing my language skills, I’d be able to function comfortably in most settings and over time reach the point where I could carry on conversations in French.

Sadly, in the months before we left the U.S., I learned how complicated the language issue is here, how it divides and inflames the country, how speaking the wrong language in the wrong place could offend someone at best or leave you stranded and ignored at worst.

This was not good news. I was terribly disappointed to learn I could not count on my French to help me assimilate here. Well, I told my husband, we’ll just have to settle in a French-speaking area to ease our adjustment to life in Belgium.

But our intentions were under minded by several factors. We wanted to be close to our children’s school and have easy access to public transit, we wanted a quiet neighborhood, access to parks and walking trails, a yard big enough for the children and my husband (an avid gardener) to enjoy, and enough space indoors to accommodate the furniture and belongings that we’d had shipped from the U.S. months earlier.

Naturally, there were financial considerations as well, and we needed to find someone willing to give us a three-year lease (nine-year leases being the norm here). We also needed to find a home fairly quickly because we had a finite temporary housing allowance from my husband’s employer and couldn’t stay in our small furnished apartment in Brussels indefinitely while we looked for the right home. Add to this that we were completely unfamiliar with the communes and their official languages and layouts and you get an idea that this was not going to be a simple process.

All told, we looked at close to 20 houses in one week before selecting our current home, which has proved satisfactory in most ways. However, we landed squarely in the middle of a Flemish speaking commune. My dreams of navigating local interactions using my limited French and advancing my language skills over time have been thoroughly dashed.

At first, this didn’t seem to be too big a deal. Most of the residents, shopkeepers, and tradesman speak English and are gracious in accommodating us. English, it turns out, is culturally “safe” to speak in most settings. Still, our inability to speak or read Flemish is a hindrance. Signs, menus, Web pages, government offices, official letters from our commune, answering machine messages, our local paper, events hosted by the local church and programs sponsored by the community center are inaccessible to us.

Yes, I could attempt to learn to speak Flemish, but I haven’t because the amount of time it would take to become reasonably proficient would probably exceed the length of my stay here. Unlike refreshing my French, learning Flemish would require a significant investment in time and effort and won’t serve me at all when I return to the U.S. While I have good reasons for my decision, there’s no denying that making this choice keeps me isolated from the local culture.

We recently spent a week in the United Kingdom, flying into London, renting a car, and exploring Bath, the Cotswolds, and the surrounding area. While England has much to offer visitors, I must confess that one of the things I enjoyed most about our vacation was simply being able to interact with people and unselfconsciously speak my native language. It was a joy to turn on the TV and be able to watch every program broadcast, pick up a daily paper and read it cover to cover, enter the shops and read the tags and labels, be able to discuss purchases with the shop keepers, pick up a menu and know exactly what was being offered, navigate the streets and read directional and warning signs without question, visit a museum and read all the exhibit notes.

After six days in the U.K., we drove to Heathrow and settled in at our gate to wait for our flight to Brussels. Soon the area attracted other passengers and the sound of Flemish conversation filled the air. My heart sank, not just because our vacation was over but because I’d soon be immersed in a world I couldn’t fully participate in. As we boarded the plane, I felt my life folding in on itself like the British newspaper tucked under my arm.

© 2006 Veronica McCabe Deschambault. All rights reserved.

April 20, 2006

Comments

[Tylene Rivera-Goldman]

Hi Veronica,

I experienced many of the same feelings you described when I lived in Germany. Trying to learn German was a challenge for me and unfortunately I only knew enough to get by. It felt so odd to walk in a city where I couldn't read the signs, menus, newspaper, etc. Through my experience, I now have a different sense of empathy for the millions of immigrants that come to the US and are learning English as well as the millions of illiterate Americans that go through life without being able to read.

Thanks for sharing your thoughts. I've really enjoyed reading your current & past entries!

Tylene

[Amber]

Awww. Sorry. It sounds little lonely. :(
But still a great experience to have had. How much longer will you all be there, now?

:)

[Arabella]

Well said. I find it very overwhelming to be unable to understand what those around me are saying.

[Ash]

I speak Dutch, but I can effectively block out day to day conversations between other people around me. It effectively leaves me in a pool of silence.

But when we visited London in November I found that I'd lost the inability to block out random chatter if that chatter was in English. For four days I had sensory overload from absorbing everyone else's conversations!

I now find that I inadvertently scan conversations held in Dutch and if they're interesting I often think that the other people are speaking English!

[TB]

Thank you again for so eloquently sharing your experiences. As an English speaker who is fairly well-travelled, but only to other English speaking or bi-lingual places, it is hard for me to imagine what you are experiencing and how difficult it is.
Having this space to speak in your mother tongue and communicate with others outside of your family must mean so much to you.

[Gradual Gardener]

I've always wanted to visit England and Ireland. There are other places in Europe I'd love to see, but England and Ireland always top the list because of the language barrier elsewhere. I took German in school, but don't ask me to carry on a conversation in it.

I'm so jealous of all the traveling you get to do!

What's up with a nine-year lease, though? How can anyone expect to commit to a place for that long?

[Angela]

Well, at least you ARE bilingual and no xenophobe! I am painfully unilingual, despite my best attempts to pick up a smattering of Spanish so I can understand what my mother-in-law might be saying about me behind my back.

[Annie]

I had this same problem in Japan. I took 8 months of lessons after I arrived and became, basically, functionally illiterate. I could skate by in a conversation with people who had at least a little English, especially if at least one Japanese person in the group was fairly bilingual. I could catch a few words of train announcements and things. It can be exhausting. I loved visiting Hong Kong and Singapore for the same reasons you loved England. But not an experience I would have missed for all the world.

[Tonya]

I know what you mean. When I was in Turkey my head would hurt at the end of the day from trying to learn and communicate with everyone. I knew enough to have little conversations, but it took so much effort. It was very tiring. I was always so happy when I found an English newspaper and I ran with the HHH's who were mostly American so I got my fix at least once a month!