There is something mystical about hearing words spoken in a different tongue. This experience is further amplified when you have absolutely NO idea what the other person is talking about. Travellers will tell you about conversations they had in distant lands, conducted half in pantomime and half in mashed-up gibberish, but usually all in good will. When the semantics of a language fail to be the primary basis of communication, a deeper, more rudimentary exchange takes it place, which ironically, is where many of us listen most earnestly.
From personal experience, I’ve been able to deduce enough about a person with the way they handle their mother-tongue. Even more telling is their usage of a second, or even third, language. And the later in life a secondary language is acquired, the more insight you can hope to glean. Personalities are further revealed after that internal translation of thought into speech, showing up in the cadence of their words. It is strangely intimate when someone decides to speak to you in another language; it’s as if they are letting you in on a little secret. More often than not, their skills are rusty, leading to great pauses in their speech and embarrassment written all over their faces. Hold on to those moments whenever you encounter them.
People tend to relate strong emotions to the things they don’t quite understand, at least, from an American perspective. French has the reputation of being the language of lovers, of sensuality. Russian is often portrayed as being excessively coarse and authoritative. Most Asian languages are thought to either be comical or downright bewildering – the guttural noises and strange intonations leading many to believe that they’re listening to the cries of dying animals. Thus, there can be an emotionally laden preconception of a culture or people based off a very quick and fundamental analysis of the way they SOUND.
I don’t think I’ve ever said anything of substance to another person with Chinese or Spanish. Everything I’ve said in those languages can probably be found in a textbook or worse yet, on television. However, I can tell you that when I manage to avoid mincing my words, I express myself in an honest and straightforward fashion. There is no subtext, secondary meaning, or innuendo. Strangely enough, achieving this kind of simplicity in English is nearly impossible. But back to the emotional content: Why do so many people have tattoos of words that they draw strength or serenity from in another language? Why do we doggedly repeat phrases like “Carpe Diem”? Why would we rather say things like “hello”, “goodbye”, or “I love you” differently?
Maybe it’s because the most important things to us have been overexpressed into the realm of the mundane, of triteness. Maybe, something just SOUNDS better when spoken in a different language. Or maybe, we’re just dying to hear something new, something that touches us deeply before our analytical minds have the chance to chop it all up into neat little pieces.
We’ve all heard this saying: “What’s been said has already been said.” Also: “Someone’s probably said it better already.” Rarely, however, do we appreciate the fact that these statements go much further in the context of how many languages exist in the world today.
Yes, I have experienced this Other Tongue profundity. This person picked up some Japanese in high school, and it was obvious that it was rather difficult to pick the right words. What came out, I believe to be a confession of sorts, but I can’t be too sure. Anyway, though I’ll never know what was exactly said, I’m left with a certain warmth that it was probably the most honest and heartfelt gesture I've ever seen.
