Language Learning and Childbirth: More in Common Than You'd Think

A few weeks ago, likely at 3:30 a.m. when instead of sleeping, I lay awake in bed obsessively constructing complex sentences in Spanish, I had a sudden realization. This realization then kept me up for the next few hours, or until minutes before my alarm rang. What dawned on me was that learning a foreign language and having a baby are essentially the same process, and neither are to be undertaken lightly or without serious consideration of the consequences. 

Fairly bold statement, eh? Well after completing my fourth language training and testing stint at the Foreign Service Institute (FSI), I feel confident making it.

Before going further, it's only fair that I acknowledge my experience in both categories: 

             Language tests: Eight
             Children: Zero  

Now you may be wondering if I'm qualified to draw this conclusion. I understand. Just consider that I know folks with kids. I've had expectant sisters and friends and, being generally nosy, I've asked them heaps of questions about the whole pregnancy and childbirth thing. Sometimes even without squishing up my face and saying, "Whoa, better you than me!" But not often.

Let me lay out the line of reasoning that brings me to this controversial conclusion. My motivation is not so much to sway anyone from having kids - that's a personal decision - but perhaps to save a colleague from making the life-altering decision of tackling a new language at FSI. After all, it's bidding season and I've seen that twinkle in your eyes as you scan that Projected Vacancy List. But now I deplore you to direct your attention to that far right column, you know the one I mean, where the language requirement and training times are listed for each assignment.  See that 3/3 in Vietnamese?  Before you add Ho Chi Minh City to your bid list, swirl it around in the glass for a minute and appreciate the color.  Note the full-bodied complexity of a tonal language. Visualize the delicate nuances of deciphering -for example - written Georgian, an alphabet so lovely it should be a decorative wall border. Then, as the tannin hits your tongue, spit out that bitter liquid before it's too late. Please hear me out and consider the following before making any rash decisions.  This is what I've learned and how I see it all going down. Let me further my baby-language training comparison for you: 

Phase One: The Romance of the Idea
With romantic images of a baby of your own - you begin to consider the idea.  Maybe you've always wanted one, or perhaps the idea developed over time, it doesn't matter, you find yourself looking at pregnant women and picturing that rosy glow in your own cheeks. You talk it over with your partner (or not - whichever) and come to a conclusion that yes, it'll be a tough for a while, but we'll get through it and it will all be worth it. You start thinking about names and maybe even mentally carve out a space for a nursery in your house or apartment. Bringing a new life into the world - what a noble pursuit!

With romantic images of speaking French/Japanese/Amharic with the locals, sharing a joke with the taxi driver, ordering confidently from the menu, or diving into the economic pages of the Sunday paper to untangle the complexity of the host-country market conditions - you consider a language-designated assignment.  You talk it over with your partner (or not - whichever) and come to a conclusion that yes, it'll be tough for a while, but you'll get through it and it will all be worth it in the end to live in that place. You cruise through a few YouTube videos in the language, chuckle at yourself for not picking out a single familiar word and imagine the time when you'll be discussing climate change among classmates. You think it'd be nice to have 6-10 months, heck even two whole years in some cases, dedicated to just studying a language. What a noble pursuit!

Phase Two: The Commitment
It's official - you/your partner are pregnant! You receive congratulations from friends and family and are relishing the honeymoon period of baby showers, setting up a nursery, trying out names for girls and boys, and buying maternity clothes.  It's all fun and new so far, and strangers stop you in the grocery store to wish you well with "your little miracle." Sure, there is some morning sickness, but you know what's causing it and suffer through it as part of this whole beautiful process. Your new doctor is great; there's good chemistry between you two and she's been so supportive and informative - you're feeling really confident about your choice. Life is good. 

It's official - you/your partner are back at FSI! It's fun to be back, seeing former colleagues in the hallways and catching up over over-priced lunches in the back room of the cafeteria (it's quieter there). With a fresh notebook and new textbook, you grab a picnic table in a shady corner of the campus and start conjugating simple verbs or learning the alphabet.  It's all fun and new at this time and with so many months ahead of you, you're excited about your nascent progress. Despite some morning headaches about making it to class on time or staying up late with homework, you suffer through it and proudly tell folks what you're undertaking. Your new teacher is great; there's really good chemistry between you and the your classmates and your learning consultant has been so supportive and informative - you're feeling really confident about your choice. Life is good.

Phase Three: In The Midst
Ooh, it's getting harder to get up the stairs these days, and damn - sometimes near impossible to pick up that dropped candy bar wrapper.  Your doctor has you on this exercise and diet regime that's supposed to help with some of your complaints, but really, you just need a solid night's sleep!  She just doesn't seem to understand that. Sometimes what you really want is just some sympathy, and puhleeze, no more stories from friends about how their pregnancies were such a breeze, especially their second/third/fourth one. Ha, as if! You're not dumb enough to go through THIS again. Finally, you secretly wish these last few months would be over and done with. What were we thinking?

Ooh, it's getting harder to summon up the energy to get to the language lab these days. And you know you're supposed to spend three hours in self-study each day, but when that early-release day comes around - just getting to the shuttle so you can crash by the pool for a mid-afternoon nap is all you can muster.  Your teacher has assigned a ton of homework, but you know that what would really help you learn this ridiculously complex, one-country language would just be a decent night's sleep.  He just doesn't understand that. Heck he already speaks the language, how could he? Oh, and puhleeze, you can't stomach another story about that friend-of-a-friend who listened to some great podcast each day and magically got a 4/4. Ha, as if! You secretly wish you had bid on an English-speaking post instead.  What were we thinking?

Phase Four: Bringing It Home
It's getting near the end. The ladies in your prenatal class have been heading to the hospital one by one, but you've still got a few weeks left.  Sometimes they bring their little bundles of joy back to the class to show off and gloat so the group can ooh and ahh. They give you the, "I just know you'll be fine!" rah-rah that only one who is on the other side of a horrible event such as childbirth can give. Don't they realize you still have to push this damn thing out, and frankly, you're kind of freaked out about it all? Bitches. You want to change places with that nice doctor's office receptionist; at least she can tie her own shoes. Why didn't we just adopt?

It's getting near the end. The other students in your class have been heading up to the language testing suite one by one, but you've still got a few weeks left.  Sometimes they come by the classroom after their exams to show off and gloat  share the good news about their passing scores. They give you the "I just know you'll do well, too!" rah-rah that only one who is on the other side of a horrible event like an End of Training Language Exam can give. Don't they realize that you still have to get through the "speaking at length" part (and they KNOW you have a phobia about that), plus what if you get a poem or a fairy tale to interpret?! You don't even understand those IN ENGLISH! Frankly, you're kind of freaked out about it all. Bitches. You see the cafeteria lady, all smiles and no worries and wonder if you could just have her job instead?

Phase Five: It's All Over
Life is beautiful.  You and your bundle of joy, love and life are home.  Yeah, you're tired - bone tired - but each midnight wake-up brings you closer to your little one.  Everything was worth it, but wait - what are you even talking about - you can't even remember the moans and groans of the whole pregnancy and birth thing.  Yeah, simple trips to the bathroom remind you, but showing to the world the most beautiful newborn your friends and family have ever seen is salve on the wound. You even find time to graciously stop by to see those supportive friends at your Prenatal Class - won't they be excited for you in their final weeks! Ah, they'll do great...

Life is beautiful.  Not only is the exam OVER, but you've waited the requisite 24-30 hours to receive your results. And what beautiful results they are, the culmination of your months of selfless toiling towards this goal. Everything was worth it: the endless hours each evening of homework, the two-inch stack of rubber-banded flashcards, the movies with the subtitles turned off (for the first half hour at least). You did it. You even find time to graciously stop by your classroom to lend helpful encouragement to that last classmate still studying away.  Won't she be excited to hear your results! Ah, she'll do great...  

Phase Six: One Year Later
The little one is crawling easily across the living room floor and knows - so confidently- how to say "No!" and "Uh-oh!"  Stretch marks have faded and developmental milestones are being checked off one by one and parenting, sure it's tiring, but it's also a daily joy. The thoughts of another little one, ya' know because YOU loved having siblings, starts crossing your mind. Wouldn't it be great if it were a boy/girl to make a set? You could even go back to that great Prenatal Class! Doesn't hurt to consider it, right...?

You're doing well at your post, and confidently greet your neighbor in the elevator in that language and can even handle that awkward chit-chat with the market cashier. You've tossed out your flashcards and linguistic milestones are being checked off one by one. Sure it can be tiring, and it's a relief to break into English when you can, but you're getting by. You've even had that interesting conversation with more than one taxi driver.  Bidding season starts in a few months and you've been eyeing the Projected Vacancies List.  Wow, lots of options! None using the language you've learned, but hey, wouldn't it be cool to live in Armenia/Cambodia/Bolivia?  Ah, time at FSI again to catch up with old colleagues and enjoy the campus. I hope that nice cafeteria lady is there still. Doesn't hurt to consider it, right...?

Bidding Mid-Level Part Two: The Great Migration

Here we go again.
Like the Monarch butterfly from Mexico, or the Wildebeest across the Serengeti - it's once again time to plan the great Foreign Service migration.  

Unlike our two-legged and two-winged friends, the FS migration is planned well before it actually occurs. I'm not sure who has it better: the animals who, feeling something in their DNA, pack up the kids and leave the next day... 
                                      -OR- 
the FSO who agonizes for months over which direction to go - taking into consideration their family's job prospects, the kids' school, their pets, the climate, the security situation, their medical clearances and, oh yeah, their own career trajectory - and even then still has to wait a year before rounding up the kids and hitting the trail. 

I'm voting for the Wildebeest option. 

However, like animal migrations, our destinations are also determined by others in our herd, rendering us unable to completely control where we'll end up. We accept that it could be the desert, it could be the mountains, or it could be the lush plains we've always longed for.  But at the least, we hope there'll be a watering hole and food nearby (oh, and possibly a nice extra bedroom we could turn into an office or guest room - you know how folks like to pop in).  

Our herd leaders are blunt about the realities of where we may end up, saying things like: "Hmmm... they'll likely be sixty bidders on that job, so...." and then letting the sentence trail off. This tells us we may need to "rethink our options," and "have you considered Siberia? I hear the schools are getting heat now."  Which is the Foreign Service equivalent of warning us that our planned route may have both lions and tigers ready to prevent us from our reaching the fertile plains. 

Kids, this too could be your new post!

True, while we're not likely to be picked off by a crocodile during our migration, there are still predators and pitfalls along the way.  Specifically, once we identify that prime spot that meets all our needs - it could be snatched from our sights by a raptor FSO via the "linked bidding assignment" program that acts as the carrot at the end of an extreme hardship tour. Or, like a hippo wallowing in the watering hole, the current FSO at your dream assignment may chose to extend their tour by a year, thus repelling all comers. 

I'm not going ANYWHERE.

How Does it Work? The Nuts and Bolts
At this time in the summer bidding season, we're all just working off the "projected vacancies" list to start whittling down our choices.  I'm planning to stay in a consular job, so the projected list at my level currently has about one hundred options. By the time the hippos and hawks pick it over, I assume the real bid list in September will have substantially fewer options, but it's a good start for now.  

The first step is to comb through this long list and scratch off places we do not want to call home for three years. Experience (and nearly every lunch table bidding conversation) has taught me that my version of hell is someone else's heaven, so I don't feel fussy or judgy disregarding whole sections of the globe. There truly is a key for every lock.  

Decision Making Criteria
The next step is to look at the language requirements for each assignment: what do I already speak AND have a valid language exam score for (they last five years, or are permanent at the elusive 4/4 level)
-OR - 
what am I willing to spend a good portion of the next year learning? Here is where being a domestically assigned bidder is a detriment.  If I get assigned to that cool job in Tirana I've been eyeballing, let's say, we would have to continue paying our rent for that year of Albanian training, as opposed to someone coming for the same training from overseas who will receive per diem (i.e. the Department will pay for temporary housing) for the length of their training.  That's a BIG difference, and depending on your family size and therefore your rent - that's at least a $25K difference. Yes, I'd still receive my salary, but my husband would have to decide between continuing to work, or learning the language of the country where he'll be living, shopping, looking for a job, talking to taxi drivers, neighbors, waiters etc...  It's an unenviable decision. Therefore we've decided to bid ONLY on English or Spanish speaking posts and avoid that year of language training that would cost in rent likely all the extra hardship differential we'd earn from living in a difficult country to begin with!

However, I just re-took my Spanish exam and received an embarrassingly low score that is leaving me feeling like not wanting to ever have to go through that process again.  So while I am bidding on Spanish-required posts, I'm actually rooting for an English-speaking assignment and a few years to regain my pride before tackling the language testing process again.  This is actually how I feel (but then again, the wound is still fresh):

Screw you guys. I'm going home!

Besides language tests, there are other factors to consider...
I'm always fascinated by the little details that contribute to our decision making, not only in bidding, but in life in general.  For example, the first time I visited my (now) husband's apartment - I saw that his bachelor kitchen was not only super tidy, but also perfectly organized and stocked.  I'm not talking shiny appliances he'd bought and didn't use, I mean a well-used waffle maker, a food dehydrator, a full selection of spices and a fridge containing more than ketchup, beer and a loaf of bread.  It was a pretty much a done deal at that point for me.

So despite what we hear about making logical, progressively challenging career-based decisions, here are some examples of what REALLY drives the ship for many of us:

• Personal safety: Terrorism threats notwithstanding, I'm talking about the daily safety threats one might face just going to work and the market every day.  At first one post on our list sounded like the REAL Foreign Service experience: a once-in-a-lifetime and think-of-the stories-you'll-have kind of place. But after hearing about the level of rape (both men and women) and everyday violence that is common to the capital city, I promptly scratched it off our list. Guess we won't be going to Port Moresby...
• Favorite sport availability:  If you're an avid sailor, you're likely not crossing your fingers for Ukraine, Mongolia or Zimbabwe. I surveyed riders and posted a whole list of equestrian opportunities worldwide here, knowing there's quite a cadre of us who won't go where riding isn't available.  Hello Buenos Aires!
• Allergies:  Love Ciudad Juarez as I did, it was likely the most allergic place I've ever lived.  Dozens of us were tormented by the desert's dust and plant life (for me the tumbleweed) and would reconsider spending a few years sniffling, sneezing and generally not breathing.  Sorry Juarez, we loved you!
• The Screamer:  We all hear of officers who are prone to bad tempers and scream at colleagues. We shake our heads and wonder how the heck they are still employed, but worse - how they were promoted.  But they're out there, and with every horror story, I take down a name. (And I mean actually write it down on a scrap of paper I keep somewhere safe.) It doesn't matter how lovely the country and local cuisine is if your work day is spent dodging verbal assaults.  One big KNOCK WOOD that I've been spared that thus far. 
• The Weather: I'm a four-seasons kind of person, and by that I don't mean a buggy and humid summer, a blizzardy winter with bad roads and a soggy, gray spring.  (Sorry Virginia.) Romania - at least for the two years we were there - had the perfect climate for me.  But then, so did Juarez (allergies notwithstanding) with its bright blue skies ranging from crisp 30s in winter to the daily 100s of June. I always forgave the heat when I saw those wide, clear skies and felt the dry heat. Bogota, on the other hand, with its year-round 64 degrees and partly cloudy skies had me grabbing a sweater before heading out every day because one little breeze or a big ole' cloud would bring on the shivers. Nyet to Vladivostok for me.
• Internet Speed: Yes, this sounds like a real first-world problem, but I actually scratched a post off our list after hearing that it has some of the world's worst connectivity. Besides limiting communication and entertainment options, this could also chop my husband's online English teaching possibilities off at the knees.  Sorry Addis Ababa!

And finally, my favorite example:

• Lack or presence of good sidewalks: A former colleague with two very small kids told me she once narrowed her bid list down to only cities with good sidewalks they could push a stroller down. Welcome to Panama!

So there you have it - the realities of bidding mid-level!  They'll publish our actual list and drop the flag in mid-September. We'll (hopefully) know which way we'll be wandering by about Halloween.  Wish us good luck!

End of Training and Heading to Post Part III

I recently took an online stress indicator survey where I answered a long list of questions about recent changes in my life. My score resulted in the pronouncement that: "You have a high or very high risk of becoming ill in the near future."  

As if that's not going to now make me MORE stressed.

Let me explain what happens at the EOT and what comes next, and I think you'll understand my stress level. And yes, the Foreign Service Institute uses that acronym. It means "end of training" which apparently is a lot harder to say than E-O-T. 

First - there's the language training test.  
There is no greater equalizer among men and women of all ages and career lengths than the dreaded EOT exam. I've yet to meet anyone who says it was a breeze, a pleasant experience, something they'd consider doing in their spare time, something to look forward to or even something that "really wasn't that bad."  Even those who  scored above their expectations have come out of the testing suite (that's what they're called, the video-taped, painted-blue-to-sooth-the-tester torture chambers) feeling like they really screwed the pooch. 

I went into my test fairly, well fairly "okay" is about the strongest adjective I can use here, and left almost cancelling our airline reservations. See, if you don't pass - you get six more weeks of language, you get to make the call of shame to your post and tell them you won't be arriving on time, cancel all travel reservations, extend your housing reservation, cancel your pack-out etc... It's insult, injury and major inconvenience with some embarrassment added for good measure. 

Somewhere during the test, even faced with my familiar and friendly teacher and language consultant as examiners - it dawned on me that perhaps my grasp on Romanian above the very basic level, was purely based on short-term memory and under stress it crumbled like an old aspirin found under the sink. 

At about the 90 second mark, I started to forget really simple words. Specifically, the verb "to work" ("lucra") and found myself holding my Spanish vocabulary away with a whip and a chair. Let me tell you, there's nothing like that little internal voice saying "Don't say 'trabajar'!" that will make you say "trabajar".  In the end, I was successful; however, I'm fairly confident I earned my 3/3 due to my prior demonstrated work in the classroom, and nothing to do with that two hour sample I provided in the exam suite.  And by "sample," please think of other samples one has to give in life... like in a medical setting. 

Now having passed the exam, the brain cues the little Zamboni that comes in and wipes clean your short term memory. Just watch that new language disappear!  Because now, you've got other hurdles to tackle: namely pack-out.  I will just refer you to this blog post about what that entails. True, the experience is physically demanding in the sense that you have to sort through and separate all your belongings. But mostly it's mentally draining due to the amount of decisions you have to make, the planning of what will be needed when, how much space you'll have etc... It can also often entail multiple trips to the post office to pre-ship things you'll need on Day One that won't fit in the suitcases. In our case, a litterbox, cat food and cat litter.  

It bears mentioning that if you're shipping your car to post, you'll be doing all this running around last-minute junk without personal transportation because the car is already en route, sitting on the deck of some carrier ship headed to the Black Sea (or so our shipping folks told us). There's another itty-bitty stress.

Now it's moving day and there's the worry about clearing out of the apartment, putting out the bag of FREE stuff in the building lobby, hoping your favorite houseplant will find a good home, and making sure you don't leave something in a cubby somewhere.  My clever husband puts that blue tape over all the drawers and cupboards once we've cleared them out so that the obsessive-compulsive one among us won't continually open and check for stray items.  (That would be me.)

Then comes the final shoving of stuff into your suitcases, followed by the hauling of them down to the workout room in the building to use their scale (you've already sent yours away) to make sure the bags aren't over the 50 lb airline limit. But what'll you do if they are? Wear the heavier shoes and tie a sweater or two around your waist, I guess. 

The Tabbies by now have definitely figured out what's going on and will probably be under the bed.  Unfortunately, their stress started a few weeks ago when the movers came. AGAIN with these guys?! was the look on their little faces. One Tabby stopped eating and beyond the multiple vet visits to get their international travel health certificates, she required more visits and blood draws to figure out what was wrong. Conclusion? We don't know, but here are some prescriptions to help get her to your destination. At least she'll be in cabin with us and in reach the whole time.  The third Tabby however, has to go under the plane because there is a strict limit to the number of pets allowed inside the cabin - and that limit is two.  I made their travel reservations six months in advance to be sure to grab the two allowed in-cabin spots.  I'm sure there's a European woman with a purse-sized dog cursing my name as she is unable to book her little amour on the same flight with her. Sorry sis, it's a harsh world out there. And did you know with pets you should check in three hours in advance? Yeah, that makes for a long day to be in a little carrier.

Finally we're on the plane for the long slog east. My husband and I haven't traveled horizontally across time zones like this since 2002.  Moving to Juarez meant a five day drive to gently acclimate us to the two hour change that is Mountain Time - how civilized! Jet lag is a very real thing when you're moving across seven time zones. Don't want to think about moving to Asia. (It took about a week for me to stop waking up at 2:00 am, bright eyed and thinking that a game of Scrabble sounded like a good idea.) 

So now you arrive at your destination - success! With luck there's a sponsor, a friendly Embassy/Consulate driver holding a sign with your name and a nice welcome to your new city. That has been our experience so far, at least.  Next comes my favorite part of all -checking out the new digs. I think it's one of the main reasons I joined the Foreign Service, truth be told.  As the instant excitement over seeing your new home begins to wane, you can't help but start mentally sizing up the storage space.  

Sponsor: "And here is the balcony with a view over the park" 

My Inside Voice: Yes, yes, very nice, but where will we put the Kitchen Aid on that counter?

Sponsor: "You'll find the central AC controls here, very convenient."

My Inside Voice:  Yes, yes, convenient, but I only see this non-walk-in closet in the master bedroom! What about the shoes?!

Sponsor: "And there are two darling restaurants just down the block."

My Inside Voice:  Fercrissake, be quiet woman, WHAT ABOUT THE TREADMILL?!

Truly first world problems for which I have no excuse and only shame, but they need to be expressed as I think just about everyone goes through them.

Your sponsor then tells you to just relax and settle in (sorry, still sizing up closet space), rest up (not happening) and the van will be here at 07:30 to pick you up for your first day of work tomorrow!  If you're lucky, this conversation isn't happening at 10:30 pm, but sometimes it is. 

The van comes on time the next morning, as it always does, and ready or not whisks you off to work. The following days are a blur of meeting new coworkers (only 10% of whose names you'll remember and only because they were kind enough to have nameplates on their cubicles), learning new regulations, new passwords and building codes, where the bathroom and cafeteria are and how to get back to your office after lunch.  

And on top of all that - now you have to do your JOB. The job for which the USG has just paid perhaps more than your annual salary to train you and move you, your family and your too much stuff. 

So THAT'S why my stress meter is in the red.  

My current mantra is something a coworker in Juarez used to say as I was training her on the heavy details of immigrant visa work: Poco a poco, or here, puțin câte puțin - little by little. 

It's all we can do.

RAM - the key to speaking a new language

Okay, I imagine you're pretty tired of hearing about language training by now. Trust me, I understand, because I'm equally tired of thinking about it. And by thinking about it, I mean, "It's 3:52 am and I can't get back to sleep because my brain is furiously creating sentences in Romanian and trying to untangle tricky (or even simple) verb-subject-pronoun-blah-blah constructions... Argh!!"

But when I'm not obsessing over how to say something, I'm equally obsessing over why it's so hard to simply swap out one set of words for another to convey a thought. Because really, that's all it is, right?  

Yesterday, I figured it out and here's why:

It's all about RAM and how many programs one's brain can run at once.  

Let me illustrate.  In class each day - somehow, either organically or via a list of "topical topics" - we begin to discuss a particular subject.  Today, it was the pros and cons of Uber, which then morphed into the phenomenon of fear of change and then the new vs. old ways of doing anything etc... It was a very natural conversation flow, to be honest. But - in order to do all this in a new language, the user must be aware of the following system requirements:

• First, you have to run the "What Is My Opinion On This Topic?" program.  Keeping in mind how much you may/may not know/care about the topic; how much you have recently heard on 60 Minutes or this morning's NPR broadcast; and combined with a sensitivity to your colleagues'/teacher's particular political/social/religious beliefs so as not to offend, and further shaded with the desire not to sound TOO stupid. You may recognize this program already as (for most of us) it is standard installation during childhood, regardless of language. Unfortunately, it takes up a LOT of hard drive space! Although this program runs constantly in the background, it isn't without its flaws and is known to crash mid-sentence, leaving the user jiggling the mouse and wondering why the screen went blue. These crashes can occur in even the most basic of settings, and users have reported that it is most susceptible to failure when run in the Simple Polite Chit-Chat mode.  

• Simultaneously, you must log into Foreign Language 1.0 - 5.0 which is a fussy program that requires daily updating. I seem to forget my password, especially on Monday mornings when I haven't used the program in a few days. I'm currently running the Romanian 2+ version, but it frequently crashes and leaves me with only Romanian 1.0, or even worse, sometimes I'm stuck using an antique copy of Romanian-Spanish 1.5. This program is supposed to have a great search feature that lets my brain type in any word, take for example "proud", and come up with "mandru." But it's quite buggy and frequently offers me "murdar" ("dirty") instead, which can lead to listener confusion.  Because it needs constant updating, this program often fails to interact with "What Is My Opinion On This Topic?", leaving the user stranded and relying on the default program, English 5.0. 

• There is also a very complex program that is sold alongside Foreign Language 1.0 - 5.0. It's called Grammar Pack and it also demands constant updating.  While technically you don't have to install it, but to be to talk difficult very, so it's heavily recommended. Grammar Pack takes up tons of processing space and really slows down the system.  It runs in the background, but not seamlessly until the user has at least Foreign Language 4.0 fully functional. Unfortunately, the earlier versions jam up the processing quite a bit, as the program decides whether a word is masculine, feminine or neuter; runs the Irregular Verb cross-check; looks for noun-adjective agreement, references the accusative vs. dative vs. genitive data tables, and - if you're lucky enough to have the extra byte space -  presents the response in the Correct Pronunciation font. 

As you can imagine, which each of these dense programs running, the user is commonly left endlessly buffering, or with only the spinning wheel icon, each are inevitable outcomes particularly when they've been installed onto the following devices: Brain 45+, Lack of Sleep Brain or Young Children at Home Brain.  

Be advised that users who may have been exposed to the notorious Test Anxiety or Fear of Looking Foolish viruses will see greatly decreased performance in all of the above processing, and tech support should be contacted at once to eradicate these parasitic scripts. 

In summary, users have reported that to take full advantage of the benefits of Foreign Language 1.0 - 5.0, it's critical to that your system has sufficient RAM to simultaneously run all of the above products.  With practice, the user will be able to flip from one to the next in nano-seconds all the while maintaining the Composure drive and its Sweat Control upgrade.  

(The latter is optional.)

More Stories from the Trenches of Language Training

I have a confession to make: I have become quite a goldfish, especially in the past, oh, five or six years. Maybe longer, but as a goldfish - I can't remember exactly how long I've felt this way.  

What's a goldfish, you ask? 

Someone/thing whose thoughts skip so quickly from one thing to the next, with the new thought instantly replacing the former thought, that everything appears new again. The goldfish happily circles their bowl: Oh look, a castle! Some rocks! Nice little plant! Hey, a castle!  How nice, plants! Look at the rocks! Hey, a castle! 

It means that I can hear the same joke twice in a month and be equally amused each time. It means that I have been guilty of telling the same story more than once to (far too polite) friends, or so my husband reminds me.  It means that I can re-experience something as if for the first time, reacting the same way each time, unfortunately without the added Groundhog Day benefit of making adjustments and doing it better the second time. 

Therefore when I re-read my post from over two years ago describing what it's like to be in the depths of language training, I was pleasantly surprised to read that I felt then as I do now.  In an effort to be slightly less goldfishy, I won't rehash the entire story for you. Here is the link. 

In short, language training is how I imagine a long stretch of psycho-therapy to be: It takes you to places in yourself you may not want to go. You feel smart, then stupid; frustrated then victorious; stagnant then accelerating.  It touches sensitive nerves about how we feel about ourselves, and how we believe others view us.  We're stuck in a classroom with peers (sometimes with bosses and coworkers), naked, and doing our best not only to learn, but hopefully do so without losing all sense of pride. 

We just completed week 13/24 of our Romanian training, meaning we're now officially over the hump and coursing towards the finish line. There are days during our reading exercises when I see sentence structures and realize that in a hundred years, I would have never thought to put those words together like that, so how the heck am I going to do it in my exam 11 weeks?! Granted, I'm comparing myself to a native speaker who has had a lifetime to figure it out and I only heard this language for the first time three months ago, but I find the comparison impossible to resist.  Which makes me feel crappy. 

Being a goldfish also means that it's hard to keep well-planned and structured thoughts in my head, i.e. in an intangible and still-unspoken form. By the time I get to the end of the thought, the beginning has already evaporated as if I'm writing with water on a hot stone. It means that I have to speak quickly as soon as a thought strikes me so as not to lose it. Waiting until an appropriate moment in the classroom conversation opens for me to politely step through and trot out my grammatically-correct, well-considered and insightful opinion feels near impossible.  I envy my introverted classmate(s) who can tune out the noise and distraction of the class to correctly compose their thoughts before speaking.  

While it feels like this goldfish is simply circling the bowl, never truly gaining any ground,  instinctively I also believe that this isn't true. This was illustrated to me the other night when my husband and I went to a little El Salvadorean restaurant for dinner.  The TV above the bar was playing a Mexican telenovela at full volume. While waiting for our food to arrive, I watched the show.  And I understood it. Even when I turned my head away from the screen, I could still follow the conversation.  This was NOT the case two years ago when I wrote about feeling lost in the midst of my last language training.  It wasn't even the case after I lived in Mexico for one year. But it is true now.  

Therefore, even a Nemo like me can deduce that she is probably making progress, even if it is too slow to notice now.  Someday I'll be in a little corner Romanian restaurant and I'll be able to follow the conversation behind me, or I'll chat with the Moldovan waitress without pausing and stumbling between every third word as I do now. 

It's nice to remember that, although I had forgotten it already, I was once before in such a trench of despair and lived to tell the story. Poco a poco, puțin câte puțin, this fishy will make it out of the bowl.  

I just have to keep telling myself that, because it appears I keep forgetting it. 

Learning Romanian: Nine Weeks In

Welcome to my life in the Romanian language. Here is what nine weeks looks like:

We're improving each week, little by little. We're learning how one connects two verbs, how to say sentences in the past and a little in the future.  I can say what I want, hope, and believe, too.  We (my husband and I) study a lot and we use many different methods to learn. For example, we watch Romanian movies, listen to Bucharest radio stations, read news articles and we have many conversations in class.  Now there are only women in my class, so on Friday, we looked at magazines and learned how to describe people, colors and clothing. 

I practice saying things in short sentences so that I don't go into a corner. It's easy to go into a corner and not have enough words to escape.  Last Thursday, I had my first evaluation. I talked about my visit to the countryside to see a historic town and the Appalachian Trail last weekend. I said I like being in nature. We talked about a volcano in Chile and climate change, and how it seems like the American Dream these days is just to buy more things, expensive things. I don't agree with that!  When I finished talking and reading, the lady said I was about a level 2/2. That means that I can talk about familiar things, I can give my opinion and I don't bother the native listener tooooo much. Yay! In August, I need to be a level 3/3, so there is still a lot to learn, but I think I'm learning well.  

Last week when I was on the bus, I was reading my class notes when suddenly the woman behind me asked if I spoke Romanian.  She was from Bucharest - what a surprise! I was happy that day because I had received the good result on my evaluation. But when I spoke with this woman - I forgot so many words! Ayyyy....  She was the first Romanian who I have talked to outside the classroom.  I was embarrassed and wanted to say more.  All my friends at FSI say that they don't like to chat with their teachers outside of the classroom because they forget the easy words and appear stupid.  I understand well; it is very common!

On Monday, we have a new student. He is the Consul General in Bucharest and he is learning Romanian, too.  We have a new Ambassador, too, but he is learning alone with a private teacher.  Romania is happy now because the Embassy has a new American Ambassador. Well, he is the "Ambassador-designate" because he is not yet confirmed by the Congress. We hope he goes to Bucharest soon. 

OK, that is all I can say now.  Thank you! Here are some nice pictures of spring. It is very pretty here in spring. Until soon,

Harper's Ferry, WV flowerpot

National Arboretum, DC

Tidal Basin Cherry Blossom Festival

Beautiful blossoms

But Isn't Romanian Just Like Spanish?

Most common comment: "Doesn't your Spanish really help with learning Romanian?"
Best response: "Weeeelll - sort of. Yes, sometimes it does. Sometimes, but not always."

First, a bit of background: Romanian is one of the five Romance languages (Spanish, French, Italian, Portuguese and Romanian). However, it is the closest to Latin of them all and has grown up isolated from other Latin-based languages due to geography and being surrounded by Slavic-language neighbors. Due to this isolation, it has not been simplified as the other Romance languages have.  (Drat!) Mix in strong Turkish influences due to the Ottoman Empire's presence over the years, toss in some Greek and then add a strong Russian flavoring and you have Romanian. 

I tried to find a really good picture to illustrate this, but sometimes a thousand words are worth a thousand words, so here we go:

Here are some Romanian words I bet any English speaker could figure out:
Consulat
Pașaport
Garaj
Student
Universitate
Electricitate
Supa
Sandviș
Președinte
Frecvent
Minut
Jurnalist
Restaurant
Taxi

And here are some more Romanian words that anyone with some general familiarity with another Romance language, either through high school, travel or foreign movies could figure out:

Casă (house)
Mult  (much/many)
Luna (month)
Ora  (hour)
Masă (table)
Mamă (mother)
Unde? (where?)
Carne (meat)
Prefera (to prefer)
Floare (flower)
Vizavi de (across from)
Periculos (dangerous)

Adding to the difficulty only slightly, here are some words that are a bit of a stretch to the native English speaker, but sound like a word that is in the same ballpark, at least:

Merge (he/she goes, like "merging into traffic")
Crede  (he/she believes, like in "credibility")
Întelege (he/she understands, which kind of looks like "intelligence," no?)
Citi (to read, sort of like "to cite")
Scrie (to write, as in "scribe")
Sta (to stay - heck, that one's only missing a letter)
Visa (to dream - like "envisage")

We have some false cognates, too. These are words that sound or look just the same as another language, but are actually quite different. Take for example in Spanish if you "castiga" someone it means that you punish them. But the same "castiga" in Romania means that you gain or win something. I dunno', maybe it's a cultural difference from the bad ole' days and the idea of punishing someone meant that you won? 
Beats me! 
Habar n-am!

Now we'll go way off into the "just memorize them" category. Perhaps these are Turkish, or Russian, or Greek - I don't know because I don't speak any of these languages!

Mulțumesc (thank you)
Uneori (sometimes)
Bolnav (sick)
Ieftin (inexpensive)
Scump (expensive)
Stânga  (left, as in the opposite of right)
Jumătate (half)
Mâine (tomorrow)
Bătrân (old, as in old person)
Cuvântul (word)
Înghețată (ice cream)
Bucătărie (kitchen)
Morcov (carrot)

But I don't worry, because those are such odd words - I just can't picture having to use them, right? (I guess I won't be having any ice cream for a few years...)

Now, to add to the fun, the nouns and adjectives are "declined."  No, that doesn't mean that we just say no to them, it means that they change depending on what role they are playing in the sentence. That's right - even proper nouns that in English are sacred except in the plural or possessive when we simply tack on an s or apostrophe + s.  An example would be something like this:

English: My house, the house, a house, the house's roof, the houses
Romanian: My housele, housa, house, houselor roof, the housi

(These are just examples, not at all the real words - I hope that's understood?)

But wait, there's more! The adjectives and *some* (but not all!) of the numbers and colors also have to "agree" with the noun:

English: The two red houses, The two little boys are happy
Romanian: The twoa housi reda, The twoi boysi littli are happi 

See how many of the words had to be changed to agree with each other? And it's not just that the letters at the end of the words have to be the same as each other, like in Spanish (i.e. Las Casas Blancas), but if you make the noun plural (houses), then you have to make all the adjectives plural, too (the smalls houses reds), flip the noun and adjective in the sentence and remember that each of the endings is different! There are even different words for "the house" versus "a house," or "her house"!

Even without a day of Latin class or one Catholic Mass pre-1962, you are probably already familiar with some of this. You know "alumni" are a bunch of folks who wore the cap and gown together, while you are an "alumnus" from somewhere and now they want a donation, right?  

That's what it's like, and that's not like English or Spanish or French.

But at least the alphabet is (mostly) the same!
(That's the most common consolation prize folks offer, especially those learning Arabic, Albanian, Amharic...)

Learning Romanian: Two Weeks In

Hello! It's me again. Welcome! Good day! How are you? I am fine, thank you. Glad to be here. Glad to meet you.

We are in Virginia. We are now students. We go to class every day. We understand a little Romanian now. There are five students in the class. There is one teacher; she is Romanian.  My husband is not in class with me. My husband is in class with Romanian man teacher. 

The weather now is good, but it is not yet spring. There is still snow, there are no flowers. Thursday I do not go to class because of very much snow. There are clouds and sun. On the weekend there is a lot of sun, fantastic! We go to the store, we go to the park. Very good!

The cats are at home. The cats are well, thank you. And your cat? My cat is on the sofa, next to the lamp.  The lamp is on the table, next to the book. There are many books of the Romanian language on the table. 

We are Americans: I am an American woman, my husband is an American man. We are from Washington and in August we go to Romania. We go by plane. We do not go by train. We go to Romania to the city of Bucharest. I am a vice consul at the American Embassy in Bucharest. Romania is very beautiful. Summer has much sun and winter has much snow. 

Last night we have soup and we have Romanian movie. Very interesting, thank you! Tonight we have chicken, beer and water. Morning, I have tea and bread. I go to class. That is life!

See you tomorrow!
Thank you!
Goodbye!

Flag Day - Part Three!

I'm not sure if I can officially call this a "Flag Day" as there were really no flags, no ceremony, no auditorium, and no family watching and holding their breath. But to me receiving an onward assignment will always be Flag Day, and is probably in the top three reasons why I joined the Foreign Service to begin with: the thrill of wondering, waiting, imagining and finally knowing where the adventure will take us next.

On Monday we hadn't heard any news. That's to be expected after a long holiday weekend, we all said. "We all" refers to the eight other winter bidders with me here in Juarez.  When Tuesday morning rolled around, we'd already deflated our expectations of hearing until maybe Wednesday and were back to concentrating only on our interviews.  Until 10:00 a.m., that is. I don't know how Washington does it, but the CDOs (Career Development Officers) have some magical way of simultaneously sending hundred(s) of individual assignment emails.  They don't send the messages one at a time, or in one message with a long list that one has to frantically scroll and scan through.  Instead, in the same instant we all get our personal messages. I had already planned with my husband that as soon as I saw the message from my CDO come into the inbox, I would forward it to him and then walk over to his section where we could open it together.  Luckily I had just finished an interview and was about to pick a new case up when I saw the message arrive. I opened my Outlook to send it to my husband and in the process, my eyes dropped to the one single line at the top of the message announcing our new assignment.  I gasped (just a little), smiled, and then leaned back in my chair to see my coworker at the next window with the same little smile. Very quietly (we're the only two winter bidders in our interviewing section) we gave each other our news and a hug. 

I then went to find my husband to read the message with him.  Unfortunately, I found him rushing to get to a meeting, so I just had to tell him in one word that, guess what honey, we're going to....

BUCHAREST!

I'm super excited about it!  It was our number two and three choice (there were more than one position in Bucharest on our bid list), so I must admit it wasn't a total shocker as I felt I'd stacked the deck heavily in that direction.  But one never knows until the know, and so I also had images of us getting a really low bid and going somewhere we really kinda' would rather not go.  It happens all the time; in the Foreign Service we're all taught just to not believe something until you have your travel orders, or better yet, are actually AT your new post.  In fact, the ink won't dry on the assignments for a few months yet, as a panel has to meet to grant the positions. This is what gives the employee their official notification. But chances are more than good that it will stick. Things that come up to change it could be that the person I'm due to replace suddenly curtails and the new post doesn't want to wait for my arrival. Or the post decides to cut that position, or to change the position to a higher/lower level that doesn't match my level. That stuff happens all the time, so we just learn from the start not to count any chickens.

But still... I'm excited. I will be a Consular Officer again for the full two years and I will have to/get to learn Romanian to a 3/3 level in speaking and reading. That's the same level I have now in Spanish. Of course, I came to FSI with three years of high school Spanish still rattling around in my memory. Even without this prior experience, being in the US just about everyone should have some familiarity with Spanish from reading packaging, going on Mexican vacations, watching Sabado Gigante now and again on TV etc... But Romanian? Yeah, Nadia Comaneci is the extent of my knowledge on the subject of the Romanian language and I'm pretty sure it's a proper name, not a verb conjugation. 

Part of our bidding strategy was to learn a new multi-country language, and preferably a "world language" like French, Russian or Portuguese that could be useful in a long list of interesting countries. But our list, once whittled down for timing, spousal work options, cat travel etc... offered us lots of really cool places with lots of, shall we say, "boutique" languages that would carry us to only one post. Now that the doing is done, I can tell you that we also bid high on positions in Vietnam, Thailand and Japan which would have given us a new language, albeit a super hard one. As much as I was thinking how awesome it would be to live in one of those places, I'm secretly relieved I don't have to learn a tonal language. My Vietnamese-speaking friend told me, "Oh don't worry, speaking Vietnamese is like singing, just practice Karaoke!"  Right. In finding something similar that I have zero talent for, she may as well have said, "Oh, it's just like flying a jet. Or free climbing Half Dome. Or salsa dancing!"

Our number one and four spots were Casablanca, Morocco and Montreal, Canada specifically for the opportunity to learn French, a language in which my husband already has a strong base. Bucharest ended up in spots number two and three because we figured, hopefully, that at least Romanian is one of the five Romance languages and therefore would be more familiar  to us than say Bulgarian, Serbo-Croatian or Hungarian - all options also high on our list. And although I've never been there, I'm told it's a beautiful country where we'll have four true seasons, amazing mountain scenery (my favorite), inexpensive living, super regional travel opportunities and the Black Sea coast just a few hours' drive away.  It's a medium-sized Embassy and with what I'd call a "healthy-sized" Consular Section. It's going to be great. I will leave you with a few nice pictures of Romania, all shamelessly copied from Google images. Thank you nice people in internetlandia for sharing these with us.

Yup, there's an Arcul de Triumf there, too. (There's also one in Juarez, btw)

What's Europe without a fairy tale castle or two?

One of the world's largest buildings

Northern Romanian countryside

And a handy map for those of you too embarrassed to ask where Romania is.

PS The Tabbies were a bit upset to learn that they will be "pisici" (or "pisica" in singular). They think that looks too much like "swimming pool" in French. They hate swimming pools.

PPS We were a bit disappointed to see that our new flag for our collection looks too much like our last flag.  We'll let you all be the judge. Do you know which is Colombia and which is Romania? No fair scrolling up to compare. 

 

Winter Bidding

It's a scary time of year here in Mexico, what with:
Halloween

Dia de Muertos 

...and the new bid list was just released.
Yup, it's bidding time again! Time to start day dreaming/nightmaring about where we'll be going next:

As an entry-level FSO, my first two tours are directed. Which means that we're allowed to submit our general priorities and then rank the list of positions we're offered, but the final word on where we're headed is made by the nice folks in the assignments department in Washington. Even though this will be our third post, because I switched from being an FS Specialist OMS to an FS Generalist Consular Officer, my directed assignments clock was re-set when I got to A-100. Further, while all of my OMS classmates recently received tenure (woohoo!), due to my switch over, I've gone to the back of that line, too and won't be eligible until a minimum of two years have passed in the new job.  

We arrived at post in February, therefore we're considered "Winter Bidders." The year is broken up into Winter, arriving from October-April, and Summer, for those who arrive between May-September.  (It might be November instead of October, so don't quote me on that part.)  Once two directed tours are completed, officers are able to lobby for their own jobs and there is a lot of jockeying that goes on to try to get onto the Summer bidding cycle.  This cycle is far better for families with school-aged children, and so the vast majority of the available positions come onto the Summer cycle.  People play with home much home leave, training, vacation etc... they take to try to become Summer bidders.  But for us now, it's Winter Bidding time and here is how it boils down:

I'd like to explain Bidding Math 101, not for the faint-hearted:

Start with a list of available positions for your bidding cycle, sent to everyone on your bidding cycle at the same time, all over the world. Our list has close to 400 positions.

  400  Then subtract all the positions that are in your same country, as we can't repeat yet.
-   91    Minus Mexico
= 309   

Now go through the list and cross out any position where the timing for arrival will not work out. For example, if they want someone to be at post in April, already being able to speak Russian to a 3/3 level, then I have to cross that out because I speak no Russian now and we will be leaving post in February. We have a Congressionally-mandated minimum of 20 work days of home leave to be taken within the United States, for which we need to tack on one extra month, so really we're not eligible to be at any post until March. I don't think I can go from 0/0 to 3/3 in Russian in one month... so that post gets scratched off the list.  Go through each and every position and do the "timing math," crossing out as you go, even if that means heartbreak for eliminating a prior "dream post" that just won't work out. 

Using the comprehensive bidding instructions and a guide to when language and functional training classes at FSI start, we begin to shape which positions are viable simply based on timing. They fall into two categories: "perfect" bids wherein they want me in October and I can arrive in October, and "imperfect" bids wherein they want me in October and I can arrive in either September or November.  We must whittle down the list to come up with 30 bids: 22 of which must be perfect, and there can be no more than eight imperfect. There can be ZERO "invalid" bids, which means they want me in October and I can get there in December or August only.  Plus we have to list a minimum of two different world regions and six of the 30 bids must be in our own cone; I'm Consular-coned. 

To add more wrinkles, if we were not at a hardship post (10% differential or more), we'd have to select a minimum of 15 posts at 15% hardship or more, and if I were still on language probation - I'd have to select posts that are language-designated so I could be trained in another language.  If I'd never served a Consular tour, I'd also have to do that. Coming to Juarez scratched all three of those requirements off the list in one go, so we didn't have to worry about that part. Phew. 

So now let's get personal.  We need to consider places where my husband has a better-than-average shot of getting a job, either in or out of the mission. We determine this by reading post reports from officers living/having lived at the post and from reports of how many family members are currently employed there and whether or not the host country has a work agreement for foreigners and/or an economy to support foreign workers.  

Then we consider hauling three elderly kitties to post: are there quarantines? Will it take three flights and 31 hours to get there? Will there be decent vet care once we're there? Will we be able to buy or import pet food? 

But wait, there's more: will we be learning a language that will be useful to daily life in the host country? For example, there are frequently officers trained in a non-native language to serve a particular population in the country. Example: learning Farsi (to serve the Iranian population) in Turkey, but not learning Turkish and therefore not being able to direct a taxi, order food in a restaurant or speak to your neighbors. Hmmm.... important considerations. 

We made an elaborate Excel sheet enumerating our priorities and tabulating how each of our top contenders ranked.  We're also realizing that the whole is not equal to the sum of the parts, meaning a post we really aren't interested in might just numerically come up the highest. We've decided to reserve vetoes for these occasions. 

And on a far more frivolous note, my husband and I also have a flag collection for the countries we've lived in.  Countries with cool looking flags are very attractive, like this one, and I'll let you figure them out...

But then the following flags of very interesting countries kinda' look all alike. Hmmm:

And keep in mind our last post looked like this:

So I think we need to mix it up a bit more. Oh the decisions!
Stay tuned, we should know before Christmas.