Thousands of Brits move to Spain each year to begin a new life. Many who make the move do not make the effort to learn the language, but, as Basil Turner argues, those who do are seldom left disappointed and begin to feel a part of the country.

The guy at the bar of my local looked up from his pint and noted my presence with a friendly half smile and a tilt of the head. I was also on my own so I felt that a little exchange of pleasantries wouldn’t go amiss.
‘Haven’t seen you in here before.’
‘No, I live in Portugal now. Don’t speak the lingo, of course.’

I paused. It is indeed fortunate that our thoughts are not immediately and automatically made concrete by speech. It was the ‘of course’ bit that took me aback. Why ‘of course’? I decided not to go there! It was none of my business so I let the conversation flow into safer channels like: ‘Been there long?’ ‘Which part of the country?’ and ‘Retired, then?’ etc.

I felt that he must have retired there although he looked to be only in his fifties. How can anybody work — even live — in a foreign country without the wherewithal to communicate with the indigenous population? I wondered if he knew how close he had come to speaking Portuguese when he used the word ‘lingo’. It is almost slang in English, but it derives from the Portuguese and Latin lingua for ‘tongue’ or language.

I can quite understand why some folk decide to live in warmer climes, but I find it strange that love of their chosen country does not extend to learning its language. Not true of all, of course, but it does tell us something about the English and English speakers worldwide for whom it is the first — and usually the only language. In spite of what some English speakers may think, English does not become intelligible to all as long as you speak it slowly and loudly enough!

The first problem — perhaps even the main problem — for English speakers is Pronunciation. Some of us can’t even pronounce the English noun Pronunciation correctly. The word has a NUN in it but the OUNCE syllable is the preserve of the verb. Few of us seem to care about speech at all. Why is it that etc, short for et cetera, (any further thing not mentioned) is more commonly heard being spoken as ‘IK’ or ‘EK’ rather than the obviously correct ET cetera?

What chance, then, has any foreign word when spoken as if it were English by right? Consider the sad tale of Vincent Van Gogh:

It really is such a shame
We can’t seem to say his name
After hearing Van GOFF, Van GOFF, Van GOFF
He decided to cut his ear OFF.

The ‘gh’ ending, like the ‘ch’ in the Scottish ‘loch’ is guttural: a sound not found in standard English, but if you can say ‘Loch Lomond’ rather than ‘Lock Lomond’ you can make a reasonable fist of ‘Van Goch’.

To be fair, accent and general mother tongue influence can cause misunderstanding as foreign words are mutilated between languages. The Spanish, for example tend to treat English end-consonants as unimportant, so the number 28 (twenty-eight) for example often sounds more like 20A.

My dictionary has capitulated over the Gogh pronunciation, accepting gof, though I can’t see why. Presumably, since so many words ending in gh are pronounced as f, like tough and rough, any gh ending can sound like an f ending — except bough and Slough of course!

I really don’t want to go too deeply into what the English do when having a bash at French. We can hardly blame poor Tommy Atkins when he was sent to have his head blown off in Flanders in the First World War for giving up on Ypres: ‘Wipers’ would do the British Army quite nicely, thank you! French is so difficult for English speakers that we tend to make jokes about it to hide our embarrassment. So, if you discover that your new lawnmower was made in France, please refrain from calling it your coup de grace!

The story is told of a Foreign Office selection panel’s deliberations over who should replace a retiring minor official in the Paris office. The chairman’s opinion is on record:
‘I don’t think we can send Jenkins; his French is rather too good!’

Are we not just a little suspicious of anyone who manages to pronounce foreign words accurately? We can pronounce anything reasonably well if we try. But is there a fear of being thought ‘uncool’ if we say we’re going to the café rather than the kaff?

Difficult though foreign pronunciation may be, we should, if we wish to make contact with the locals, make an effort to sound a little less English. When ordering a beer in Spain for instance, Doze servayuhs poor fuhvoor is obviously Spanglish for Dos cevezas por favor. Even well-paid celebrities on TV choose to invent their own versions of things. Delia Smith is probably responsible for using what she calls choritso sausage instead of chorizo in some of her recipes. Where the t came from I’ll never now. It certainly isn’t written on the packaging!

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There is plenty of help in the form of tapes or CDs whatever language you wish to study. As far as Spanish is concerned, don’t get hung up on the ‘c’ and ‘z’ sounds. Regional accent should not bother us at the bar: cerveza pronounced sairveysa is just as acceptable as thairveytha anywhere in the Spanish-speaking world. It is impossible to define the sounds of individual letters, as they do not appear in isolation from others in words. The Spanish ‘g’ for example, is hard in globo (balloon) but soft in generoso (generous).

But, of course, you don’t wish to study any language, you just want to get by — and English always seems to work — or does it? In this commercial world, a good command of English is the passport to a better job. This means that even on the Costas, where Estuary English is almost the lingua franca, Spanish is still needed to communicate with ordinary folk who are not engaged in commerce. Equally, as you travel inland (in any holiday sunspot) your lack of a few words in the local tongue marks you out as a tourist. You cannot avoid this, but those few words indicate a willingness — even an eagerness to communicate.

Just imagine the friendly vibes you display by telling a market stallholder that you like his oranges. You may be talking about oranges in general, but since you are buying them from him, he will take it as a compliment.
— Buenos d'as ‘Good morning’.
— Buenos d'as, 'Qu' desea usted? ‘Good morning. What would you like?
— Quisiera unas naranjas por favor. ‘I’d like some oranges please.’
— ¿Y cu'ntas quiere? ‘And how many would you like?
— Ocho, me gustan mucho las naranjas. ‘Eight, I love oranges.’

It is all a strange one-way traffic. I am full of wonder at the ease with which the young Polish girl in my local supermarket is able to hold a full conversation with me in English. Pathetically inadequate and totally unnecessary, I know, but I feel slightly more useful now that I can greet her, thank her, and bid her goodbye in her own language. Never do it within earshot of another Brit, of course! It is only a token, but such little courtesies should be normal behaviour for us when we are abroad. You never know; from limited success at the market stall you may decide to study the language in greater depth. You won’t regret it.

A final thought on the English approach to the pronunciation…of English! Perhaps the privilege (if indeed it is a privilege) of having English as the dominant world language is that there is no ‘correct’ way of pronouncing any word. I say ‘scone’: you say ‘scon’. I say ‘tomarto’: you say ‘tomayto’ and even a misplaced syllable stress can cause indignant comment if your personal version is challenged. Is it controversy or controversy? Discuss.

As far as Spanish is concerned, you may like to know that apart from small regional variations, once you know the rules, you can get it right every time! © Basil Turner 2008.

Are you moving abroad or do you live abroad? Do you speak the language? Do you think people moving abroad should make an effort to learn the language? Share your thoughts and join the debate using the Comment on this Article button below.