I Only Speak English

Plus: random pictures I took in the Netherlands to share with y'all.

croquettes taste like heaven after 10 years!  

My visit to the Netherlands was truly wonderful, and I will be posting more of my adventure later, but there was one aspect of it that turned into a disaster.
Do you remember how I posted a few moons ago about how wonderful German is, and how it rolls off my tongue with ease whenever I try to speak it?  Well, little by little, that golden era has passed me by, and now it is leaving me in the dust.  Pride cometh before the fall, I suppose.

me at the atlantic

It all started when two older German sister missionaries moved in to run the institute center, and in my eagerness to speak German with them, I stumbled over my French!  I panicked for a moment, but I seemed to be able to right myself again with little trouble.  I'd only been learning French for a month or two, and the sisters understood if I couldn't help saying "Oui" instead of "Ja".  As the weeks passed, however, I realized how many vocabulary holes I have in German.  What is the word for "seam" or "pin" or "lacing"?  Talking about my corset was tough without those words.  How about "persistent" or "stalker" or "heartbreak"?  Not knowing those made talking about boys quite impossible.  But I was confident that I just needed time and practice to remember old words and learn new ones.

driving in the Netherlands!

Then Jason Kabel came to visit and, while remembering Dutch helped me appreciate French, I found speaking German to the two missionaries was requiring a little more thought, even after Jason left.  I was suddenly unsure about the words I was choosing to express even the simplest greetings and conversation.  But again, I figured time and practice were all I needed to get back in the swing of things.   My Dutch, on the other hand, was not giving me trouble, but only because I wasn't expecting a lot from it.  It has been ten years since I left the Netherlands, so I was impressed with myself that I could understand almost every word of Dutch that Jason spoke!  I spoke English back at him, which must have confused the heck out of eavesdroppers on the Metro.  I was satisfied with the state of my Dutch, that is, until I went to visit.

When I was in the Netherlands, I wanted to be able to communicate with people on their own terms, on their own turf.  This is where I started running into trouble.  I would say something that I thought was Dutch.  Simple sentence structure, perhaps, basic word choice, but at least it was Dutch.

i went to the temple that
i saw being built ten years ago

Turns out it wasn't.
Turns out I used German words all over the place.
Turns out I used German words pronounced like Dutch, or Dutch words pronounced like German.
Turns out I couldn't even tell!

THEN, even worse, the patient Dutch would tell me, "Don't worry, go ahead and speak German.  We can understand it."
And I would try to speak German, but end up using Dutch words all over the place.
My understanding Dutch friends told me I sounded cute.
I was humiliated.

I console myself with the fact that at least I didn't sound like an American*.  On the rappelling trip with the Kabels, a few people I had never met before asked me where I was from, wondering if I was French or German.  One little boy told me I sounded Belgian.  I wasn't sure how to take that one.

jason is taller than his front door

Sunday provided the death knoll to my language confidence, however:  I went to visit Anneke Feith, my lovely host mom.  Her three grandchildren were visiting for the weekend.  Guess where they were from.
Germany.
I was completely lost after that afternoon.  I couldn't tell the difference when Anneke was speaking Dutch or German, since her accent in both is similar.  The oldest grandchild was the only one who spoke Dutch, but I couldn't tell when he was doing that either.  Thank heaven all three of the children could understand both languages, because I was mixing them up most shamefully.  At one point, I caught myself saying a short sentence in which every other word was in a different language.  It was like I was making up a new creole (or perhaps a pidgin).  Either way, it is unacceptable and I need to stop.

this is the coolest cauliflower

Last night, I went to a crepe party at a friend's house here in Paris.  Everyone spoke French, and it was good to hear it again, even though I was reminded of how little I really understood or spoke it.  I was asked to bless the food in Dutch.  I blessed the food in my own personal  Neder-Deutsch pidgin mix.  It was a low moment for me, harkening back to my childhood days when we would just say random sounds, pretending to speak another language.  At least none of the French speakers had any idea how awful it was.

I kind of feel like I'm broken inside, just a bit.  German, just three months ago, felt as natural as breathing!  Now, when I try to relax my brain into "just say it" mode, I spout nonsense!  It's as if I don't remember if my heart or my lungs do the breathing.  I should fix it, maybe.  I could live in the Netherlands and work with Germans, or perhaps the other way around.  If I don't sort this out, my brain will be a mess for the rest of my life!
I need some help, that's for sure.  The first step to rehabilitation is recognizing that there a problem, right?  What should I do?

*I really don't like American accents in any language.  I was really surprised when a French boy thought my slight American accent was "mignon".  I try to eradicate it whenever possible.