Mouth Full of Marbles

That's what I sound like when I speak French. I learned in high school and college, never used it thereafter, and promptly forgot most of it, until I met and married a native French speaker.

Then, though I hardly knew it, I was headed deep into largely uncharted territories for most Americans - that of the Dreaded Trilingual. I rapidly re-learned what French I'd earlier studied, and have since made a consistent and continuing effort to refine and improve my knowledge.

My accent will never be Parisian - if anything, I sound like a very lazy Provencal who's spent the day at the dentist. Of course, in my head it all sounds absolutely perfect, but the synapses between mind and mouth leave something to be desired.

The next leap of language faith was Arabic. Spoken Arabic is dialect - there are similarities between all of them, but also profound differences. I decided to learn the way a child does - not by reading or writing, or even formal study, but by listening.

Very slowly, I learned some basic words. Through constant repetition, and learning what words meant, I began to string together short sentences, and I could hear where one word ended and the next began. It took me two weeks to master only one of the major vowel sounds in the language. Eight years later, I'm still working on the rest, and have the vocabulary of a precocious four year old.

There are definite advantages to communicating in three different languages - a breadth of expression, an "intimate" language to use around outsiders, and a deep appreciation of an ethos most easily expressed in one's mother tongue.

Because sometimes not everything translates.