I reached an important milestone in my language learning journey recently—that being I was able to shout at the television. More specifically, at a commercial.
It was one of those universal holiday ads that try to convince people to eliminate one frivolous purchase and fund the dreams of a child instead. Or perhaps save a dog. I don’t know. My language comprehension skills only go so far and also I stopped listening the moment a man claimed he spent €15 on a small poinsettia.
“He did not!” I yelled at Johann, my head whipping around so fast one of my novelty Christmas earrings hit me in the eye. “Did he just say he spent €15 on that plant?”
Johann shrugged. “I think so,” he replied, turning his attention back to the TV, where other Finnish people were now listing items they believe cost 15 bucks, give or take. Among them: Coffee and a croissant; a single pair of socks; body wash. In other words, things that do not cost €15, not even in Helsinki. Not if you know where to shop.
“Mene Lidliin,” I shouted at a well-dressed Finnish man who just overpaid for a houseplant. “Se on neljä euroa.”
Go to Lidl. It is $4.
And this, I believe is why God is calling me to study Finnish. Because people obviously need my help understanding the purchasing power of the Euro. I’m out here doing the Lord’s work.
Jokes aside, it felt pretty good to fling an insult at the Finnish public television system. Anyone who learned a language will tell you that’s a good sign. It means you’re getting there. Once you understand the commercials, you’re ready for cartoons. Then it’s on to the news and maybe a soap opera. In a year or two, I’ll be able to watch a Finnish series on Netflix. First someone would have to make one, but that’s beside the point. We’ll get there. We all have time.
I try not to be too hard on myself about how long it’s going to take my middle-aged brain to learn Finnish. Unlike Spanish or Italian, this language is a lot of work. There is nothing familiar—not the vocabulary or the structure or even the letters. Finnish is built on a long list of rules and an even longer list of exceptions.
Johann likes to say that Finnish is hard because every word “bends.” By that he means that the root of the word changes depending on the part of speech it is or how you use it. There are no prepositions in Finnish, so if you want to say that an object is on something or under it or that it is for someone or from some place—those are all variations of the root.
Pöytä | Table
Pöydällä | On the table
Pöydälle | For the table
Pöydästä | From the table
Pöydän alle | Under the table
All in all, there are something like 15 different ways to talk about a table, depending on who owns it or what’s on it or being done to it. There are patterns, for sure. But it’s not as simple as just memorizing a few endings here or there. Like, for example, did you catch how that T just turned into a D for no apparent reason up above? That happens all the time in Finnish—Ts become Ds and Ps become Vs and Ks become Vs. Except when they don’t!
Think about that for a minute and tell me you don’t need to put your head down.
Last weekend, Johann and I went to a hipster movie theater—the kind with cocktails and couches and a DJ in the vestibule. In between Johann’s trip to the bar and my stop in the bathroom, we lost one another in the crowd. I tried to walk into the theater to see if he was already sitting down when a friend of the DJ cut me off, asking for a ticket. That was actually the only word I recognized: lippu | ticket. I used context cues for the rest.
I cleared my throat and flashed my best American smile. “Minun…poikaystäväni…on…lippu.”
Minun poikaystäväni on lippu. | My boyfriend is a ticket.
That is what I told the bouncer. And I would be embarrassed except that what I was trying to say—My boyfriend has my ticket—was apparently not that far off:
Minun poikaystävälläni on lippu. | My boyfriend has my ticket.
So close, yet so far. That’s the story of my life in Finland. I know a lot of words, but I’m not sure how to use them. I can recognize them in conversation, but can’t repeat them myself. Even when I do, I say the wrong version at the wrong time. I’m 80 percent right, 100 percent of the time.
The only saving grace about learning to speak Finnish is that even the Finns understand this is a near impossible task. They hear me stumble and sputter through a basic “good morning | hyvää huomenta” and smile. They ignore the fact that I actually said “Hyvää huomenna,” which is essentially wishing someone a pleasant tomorrow. To be clear, that is not an expression here. Or anywhere, really. Not that I know of.
Sometimes it seems like it would be easier for all of us if I just stopped trying. These people have studied my complicated and convoluted language, which is also full of exceptions and has no rhyme or reason on spelling or pluralization, and speak it flawlessly. I am trying to be polite, but I realize that I am just making their jobs harder. I am showing up at their cafes and in their fitting rooms, demanding an on-the-spot language lesson. They have done the work and the thanks they get is to help me along.
And so I apologize—to Finns far and wide, especially those in the service industry. To the barista who asks for my name and I tell her “Yes,” thinking she said something about whipped cream. To the furniture delivery guys who brought me a couch and did not correct me when I told them, “Tämä | this” instead of “Tässä |here.” To every clerk who asks me if I have a loyalty card and then watches in silent disbelief as I triumphantly pull out my reusable plastic shopping bag. I’m sorry. It is you who is doing the Lord’s work.
I think this post is indicative of everything I have ever tried to say in a foreign language. The one that never fails to trip me up is when someone asks if my food or coffee is for here or to go. I’m usually so proud that I’ve ordered whatever it is in whatever language that anything else than silently taking my payment and handing me my drink is TOO MUCH and my little brain explodes to the point that I fumble over how to say “I’m sorry, I don’t speak _____”.
Oh i hear you! I concentrate on the initial interaction so hard and it goes fine and then BOOM. just bottoms out at the first follow up. Then, next time, I practice for the interaction and the follow up. Usually works… until I get the NEXT follow up. So on and so forth. And this is how these little mixups about my name, the whipped cream, the receipt and a bag get all jumbled up. because I don’t REALLY know what i’m talking about. but maybe one day! thanks for reading!
I’m impressed! Finnish is crazy hard. The only Finnish I’ve been able to (or even tried to) learn is hyvää syntymäpäivää, hyvää joulua, and the names of various beers. Karhu … Lapin Kulta … you know, important stuff.
ha! i hear you. karhu was one of the first words i learned because Johann’s last name actually translates into “little bear.” It’s very cute :) I have to hold myself back from buying all those “mama bear / papa bear / little bear” family t-shirts and pajamas that are popular right now. i have a hat though! anyway – thanks for reading. here’s to new adventures!
Oy, I hear you. I’m barely fluent in Swedish and every time I go back it’s a struggle and I just feel bad for everyone around me. So I guess… know you’re not alone? And have a pleasant tomorrow!
LOL. And a pleasant FUTURE DAY to you as well.
My high school background with Spanish helped immensely when I moved to Puerto Rico and had to start actually learning the language to use. Since then, I have lived in China and currently Vietnam. Two languages which have ZERO crossovers into any Latin-based language. Plus, they are tonal languages at that. Adds a whole new eement to language learning.
I could only imagine! Also, not for nothing, Finnish may SOUND very foreign, but I am so thankful that we have an alphabet in common. At least it LOOKS familiar! The idea of having to learn how to read and write even my name all over again is more than i can handle. Good on you for learning not one, not two, but THREE language… BRAVO!!