A few pieces of evidence that I will likely be studying and learning this language forever.

Part 1.

For over a year, Thida has been teaching the toddler kids Burmese every week. She teaches fruits and vegetables, vehicles, body parts, and the Burmese alphabet. And let’s be honest, she’s teaching me loads! It’s so helpful to have toddler-level vocabulary repeated to you and reviewing your alphabet every week.

I’ve always noticed, though, that when she holds the flash card for “lips,” she points to the place just above what I would consider her lips. Where a mustache would be, in the space between your lips and nose. And since we do this every week, I’ve been observing: did I miss-see her? Did I misunderstand the word? I’ve checked the dictionary; I’ve asked later if that is the word for lips. I’ve watched and observed.

I began to guess that it was likely a cultural difference. When we talk about beauty, I can see the differences between cultures. One of the ladies in the community I find absolutely stunning–well-paid model material in America–they all find unattractive. While this still shocks me–she’s gorgeous!–I can see the many ways we see beauty differently. They prefer more curves, and we prefer more thin. They prefer “exaggerated features” in the nose and eyes–depth, if you will? I find the smooth curves of Burmese faces beautiful. I’ve heard over half of a room say they’d have surgery on the bridge of their nose to make it more defined; and all I can really deduce from that is a difference in cultural & value systems!

Anyway, I digress. After a conversation with a few women about the upper curve of lips–their commenting on thing I have never noticed nor valued–and watching Thida point just above her lip for nearly a year, I concluded that it was a cultural difference of some kind.

So then, when lips and lipstick came up in my Burmese lesson this week, I asked. Our conversation went like this:
“When you say ‘lips,’ what exactly do you mean?”
[Stare of ridiculousness. I get this a lot.]
“….Here.” [While pointing to what I–and I think most Americans? I’m doubting it now–would consider her lips.]
“Ok. That’s what I would say, too.”
[Stare of ridiculousness continues.]
“I’m asking because when Aunt Thida teaches the children every week, she points just above her lips. I thought maybe it was a cultural difference as to what part of the lips we valued or considered ‘lips.'”
“Oh! I know why she does that. It’s not a difference of what is lips. She is just shy.”
“Shy. Shy about…what?”
“Shy to touch her lips there. So she points just above them.”

Now it was my turn to give the stare of ridiculousness. Because while we had seemingly eliminated the cultural difference of defining the lip. we have now created a new cultural difference. An obvious shyness about lips? This is obvious or common enough that my teacher feels she can assume that’s why she teaches this way.

So now I’m just reeling through the possibilities. What is something that might be culturally awkward for me? Perhaps I’m shy about teaching my son breast. Would I then point just above my breast to teach him? Doesn’t that entirely miss the point, since I now have failed to actually teach him breast? And while culturally this might be understood as, “Oh! She’s just shy about that!”….wouldn’t you also be asking, “But why teach him wrong?” Wouldn’t it be better to either not teach it at all or teach correctly?

So now, we’re back to square one. It’s a cultural difference. Just a different cultural difference than I thought at the beginning. And perhaps learning language doesn’t really get you very far anyway.

Part 2.

I just learned this week that if you say, “I am unable to see (name),” it implies that you strongly dislike them.

It makes me wonder how many times I’ve said I dislike someone, when really I just couldn’t see around a pole or in the car or a billion other possible scenarios.

Part 3.

I was chatting with Thida about some recently family challenges and particularly the relationships between her kids. I wanted to ask if her oldest two daughters were close. I tried to ask literally with no avail, so then I asked if they fight. I gave an example of an argument I knew two other sisters in the family had had two weeks ago. Unfortunately, the word I know for fight is quite literal, too–so she replied that they didn’t hit each other. She said none of her kids hit each other.

Well, yes: while they don’t fight, I personally know of plenty disagreements, so I wasn’t getting to the term I was wanting. I vaguely remembered a term I’d learned in class a few months back, using the verb “connect” to refer to a close friendship.

And–per how I learn language!–I went for it. I went with the gut memory I had of it, hoping that my subconscious brain was more capable than my conscious brain racking itself for the word.

Side note: This is entirely not how Stephen learns language. He learns and thinks and waits until he knows he will speak it perfectly before saying much at all. This means he says less, but when he does, he’s usually correct. Even about abstract ideas and how to spell each word. To me, I regularly get, “Oh! You speak Burmese [like a child]!” To Stephen, once he has spoken even a few words, he has people oohing and aahing over his pronunciation, his extensive knowledge of the language, etc.

This never happens to me, but I still do most of the talking.

And in this scenario of “going for it”–I got an odd glance, and I was quite sure I’d said it wrong. I quickly backtracked, giving another example, asking if they were friends and moving on. Whoops.

A few minutes later I recalled that the same term for “connect” can be used in two ways, both in a very similar sentence structure with just one syllable different. In short, you (well, I) can quite easily say “close friendship” or “having sex.”

I asked my teacher that afternoon, and she got quite the laugh that I had asked my auntie if her two daughters were sleeping together.

Part 4.

I was working on finances for the community last week, sorting salaries and market trips and what not. I was mumbling to myself to keep it all straight, amidst the paperwork and numbers, when I realized I was mumbling to myself in Burmese.

And while for a short moment I felt I had arrived, I also very quickly decided this was unnecessarily inefficient and exhausting.