“Are you going to learn German?” It’s been asked of me many times in the last three months of living in Austria.
Well, I’ve finally cashed in (seriously though) on my answer of “Yeah, I’m going to take a month-long course in the summer.” 450 euros exactly.
When it comes to learning languages, I am not a natural. I have to work at it. I still can’t tell the difference between Austrian German, Swiss German, Germany’s German, Czech, or any other European language. This horrifies and surprises some Austrians. Spanish was my language love, not German! I’m decent at Spanish and in a pinch I’d probably be okay in a Spanish-speaking country. Okay. Actually. I’d be MUCH more comfortable in a country that spoke Spanish.
But life seems less about comfort and more about growing.
Anyway, the other Friday, I stood in front of my classmates to read two paragraphs in German. Public speaking is not my favorite, but I can do it (maybe with even a bit of finesse). And apparently, I come off confident (it’s fake, I promise). The teacher told the class to stop the reader and correct the pronunciation. Cool fear traveled the back of my neck.
Every other word I spoke, the class stopped me for correction. My American tongue just couldn’t get the hang of the back of the throat sounds, and before long my throat was being unhelpful in another way. And my heart beat a cadence that only I could hear: don’t cry. don’t cry. don’t cry.
Good news. I finished reading the entirety of the two paragraphs.
Bad news. I fled to the bathroom with tears brimming at the edges of my eyelashes.
In the bathroom, I cried because I couldn’t pronounce Heimatstadt, Zurzeit, Sternzeichen, etc. But then, I found I was crying for other reasons. I missed my own culture, my own language, and my own home, where everything makes sense.*
I just want to go home. I whispered that sentence in between gasps to the open window that led to nothing (just a long window well where you could just barely see the sky). Whimpering, I wiped the tears from my cheeks, trying to gather myself to return to the classroom.
I considered just leaving. After all, the grade of this class wasn’t going to any higher up.
But then, I realized I couldn’t leave because that’s not living bravely and I always want to live bravely, and I’d see my classmates the next day anyway. What was the point of hiding? They had seen the tears coming (my face gives me away Every Time).
I went back to the classroom.
But on the way home, I cried on the ubahn (the underground) among all the commuters. I cried on the train. It was a record-breaking day for me. I hate crying in front of people. I hate crying. I hate missing. I hate that I’m susceptible to culture shock just like everyone else.
And you know what, it’s okay.
So wherever you are today, just know that it’s okay.
*side note: I love Austria (the people, the culture, the history, etc.), and I am thrilled to be living and working in this country.
