On speaking someone else’s language

There’s a thrill in speaking a language that isn’t your own. The pause before you find the right word, the flicker of recognition when someone understands, and the dread when they reply too quickly or assume you know more than you do. It’s part nerves, part adrenaline, and strangely addictive.

Early lessons that stuck

I started learning French at ten and carried it through to A-level at eighteen. I can still hear the BBC cassettes from those early lessons: “Bonjour Maman (beep), Bonjour Claudette.” I remember the matching storybooks too. Truth be told, I found it dull at times and was far too embarrassed to really lean into the pronunciation for fear of being mocked. Yet thirty years on, I’m amazed by how much has stayed with me. A lot of it comes back the moment we cross into France.

I also studied German for a year as a teenager but dropped it in favour of French, so when we moved to Basel my vocabulary was barely survival level. Last year I finally earned my A2 certificate, which felt oddly satisfying for something that still leaves me tripping over cases. I’ve learned it’s less about perfection and more about the attempt, especially here where asking “do you speak English?” feels like cheating when almost everyone does.

The joy of getting it almost right

There’s a kind of mental freedom that comes from fighting your way through a sentence and landing it. You listen harder, simplify your thoughts, and get comfortable with a bit of awkwardness. It’s communication at its simplest, driven by the will to connect.

My two kids speak fluent Schweizerdeutsch, which means I’m often playing catch-up and quietly Googling their homework instructions under the table. It’s humbling, but also brilliant. It’s sweet to watch them grow up bilingual, saying things like “one and twenty” or “I also” as direct translations from whichever language they were just thinking in.

Living between languages

Working in an office where English is the default, it’s easy to forget how fortunate we are to share a language that so many others have mastered. My Swiss, French and Italian colleagues switch between tongues without hesitation, and I admit I’m a little envious. However slowly, I’ve made it a personal goal to improve.

We have Google Translate now, and Meta glasses, and AirPods that can whisper translations into your ear in real time. All clever, but none of them can match the rush of being understood properly, in someone else’s language.

Jetzt muss ich zu meinem Deutschkurs B1 gehen.