Lately after traveling, I've gotten some new perspective on foreign accents from people for whom English is a secondary language. I always used to take it at face value; basically I didn't give it that much thought in any direction. I just used to think, Okay, maybe this person has just accumulated some mistakes in their pronunciation from when they learned English, or something something lost neuroplasticity there are some syllables in English that aren't part of their native tongue, and now that they're an adult it's harder for them to acquire these syllables. Shrug.
I think all of this is still true to a large extent, but what deepened in my perspective is that as I've tried to learn other languages, I see things from a more linguistic perspective. The accented or at times slightly mistaken English someone is speaking is a beautiful blend of their native tongue and English. I went on a guided tour in Osaka, and my tour guide was a Spanish scholar of Japanese history. He was born and raised in Mexico, then studied in Spain, then moved to Japan to do research, where he now lives with his Japanese fiance. His first language was Spanish, second language English, third language Japanese. The tour was in English, and it was stimulating to hear his pronunciation of certain English words using the pronunciation of the Spanish alphabet, such as the short 'a' where in English we might use the long 'a'. Another one of course is the mishmash of cognates and/or borrowed words between English. So when he said the word "vegetables" in English, it came out as a lovechild of the English "vegetables" and the Spanish "vegetales": He said "vegetals".
In many parts of the world that aren't the U.S., emphasis on learning to speak English is less of a hegemonic, colonial sin and more of a true lingua franca for modern life and modern business. And not just to do business with or "serve" the West. When the Koreans, Japanese, Chinese, Vietnamese, etc. visit each other's countries, they most often use English to communicate. Because speaking a foreign language is hard, but chances are both strangers studied English in school. As a native English speaker, it's an interesting phenomenon to observe, because both strangers are speaking in different versions of accented (and often, broken) English to each other, and yet it works.
You get some beautiful English-Japanese linguistic blends in Japanese, too. Because the public education system has put a strong emphasis on learning English, you get a pop cultural phenomenon whereby the English version of a word is assimilated into the language and used by the younger generation until it sticks. I was surprised that in Japanese, a table is a "teburu", a toilet is a "toire", a shirt is a "shatsu", a card is a "cardo". McDonald's is a fun one: "Makudonarudo" when the full name is used. So now you can see how when a Japanese person goes to speak English in America, they might ask for the toilet in a way that sounds like completely mysteriously broken English pronunciation ("toire"), but in fact it's coming from a cognate effect with a word that is completely valid and common in Japanese.
I saw this in Vietnamese, too. TV is "tivi", chocolate is "sô cô la".
Now when I hear foreign accents, I think less about how the person might be "mad-struggling" in English, and more about how there is linguistic and cultural depth to the slightly different vocalizations they are making.
I think all of this is still true to a large extent, but what deepened in my perspective is that as I've tried to learn other languages, I see things from a more linguistic perspective. The accented or at times slightly mistaken English someone is speaking is a beautiful blend of their native tongue and English. I went on a guided tour in Osaka, and my tour guide was a Spanish scholar of Japanese history. He was born and raised in Mexico, then studied in Spain, then moved to Japan to do research, where he now lives with his Japanese fiance. His first language was Spanish, second language English, third language Japanese. The tour was in English, and it was stimulating to hear his pronunciation of certain English words using the pronunciation of the Spanish alphabet, such as the short 'a' where in English we might use the long 'a'. Another one of course is the mishmash of cognates and/or borrowed words between English. So when he said the word "vegetables" in English, it came out as a lovechild of the English "vegetables" and the Spanish "vegetales": He said "vegetals".
In many parts of the world that aren't the U.S., emphasis on learning to speak English is less of a hegemonic, colonial sin and more of a true lingua franca for modern life and modern business. And not just to do business with or "serve" the West. When the Koreans, Japanese, Chinese, Vietnamese, etc. visit each other's countries, they most often use English to communicate. Because speaking a foreign language is hard, but chances are both strangers studied English in school. As a native English speaker, it's an interesting phenomenon to observe, because both strangers are speaking in different versions of accented (and often, broken) English to each other, and yet it works.
You get some beautiful English-Japanese linguistic blends in Japanese, too. Because the public education system has put a strong emphasis on learning English, you get a pop cultural phenomenon whereby the English version of a word is assimilated into the language and used by the younger generation until it sticks. I was surprised that in Japanese, a table is a "teburu", a toilet is a "toire", a shirt is a "shatsu", a card is a "cardo". McDonald's is a fun one: "Makudonarudo" when the full name is used. So now you can see how when a Japanese person goes to speak English in America, they might ask for the toilet in a way that sounds like completely mysteriously broken English pronunciation ("toire"), but in fact it's coming from a cognate effect with a word that is completely valid and common in Japanese.
I saw this in Vietnamese, too. TV is "tivi", chocolate is "sô cô la".
Now when I hear foreign accents, I think less about how the person might be "mad-struggling" in English, and more about how there is linguistic and cultural depth to the slightly different vocalizations they are making.
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