How to teach yourself Norwegian

A reader commented on this blog post asking for advice on learning Norwegian. I’m reposting my response as a separate post, in the hope that some of you (I’m looking at you linguists, language geeks, Norwegian-Americans and people who have taught themselves foreign languages) can give better advice than I can:

I have a limited experience with learning foreign languages on purpose. I learned both English and Norwegian the way native speakers learn these languages as children, without seeking out tutors or language courses. Like you, my "foreign" language is French, which I started studying with after-school classes taught by French teachers in Norway. Intensive classes with native speakers allowed me to pick up the basics of French fairly quickly (the equivalent of three years of high school classes in just eight weeks or so), and I really recommend learning from native speakers in small groups. If that is impossible, I know there are a variety of language computer programmes and internet-based courses, but I have no experience with them myself.

If you have the basics of the Norwegian language down, I suggest you improve your vocabulary the way Norwegians learning English do: read newspaper articles and watch television. The following are two major Norwegian online news sources you could start with:
www.vg.no
www.aftenposten.no

The Norwegian public television network NRK puts its programming online, but it is only available from Norwegian IP addresses. You could experiment with proxies to trick the system, but you might be better off getting yourself som dvds online. That way, you can add Norwegian subtitles to the Norwegian audio. I find that hearing and seeing the same words at the same time in a foreign language makes it easier to understand them. Unfortunately, I didn’t have much luck finding Norwegian television shows available via Amazon, but there are movies. Have you seen Max Manus, Elling or Buddy? Those are three fairly recent Norwegian titles that had enough international success to make it to Amazon.com. And don’t forget The Troll Hunter, possibly the most Norwegian movie ever, full of cultural references and in-jokes for Norwegians, but hopefully still entertaining for Americans.

Keep in mind when learning Norwegian that while it is a fairly easy language to master the basics of, it is very difficult to pronounce everything like a native. Part of this difficulty comes from the difference between soft American consonants and harsh Norwegians rrr-sounds – not to mention the notorious "kj". And part of the problem is the numerous dialects and the fact that we have two official (very similar) written languages, which means that there are seemingly endless variations of pronunciations and possible spellings. Don’t worry, it confuses me too. But if you can live with that, the good news is that Norwegian grammar and standard spelling is far more logical and predictable than English. You can actually sound words out when reading, without encountering trick words like the English "enough".  In fact, one of my American family friends used to read to me in Norwegian, sounding out the words. She had learned the basic pronunciation rules, but she didn’t understand a word she was reading. But I did!

Ultimately though, nothing beats learning through conversations with real Norwegians. If you can seek them out and convince them not to speak English to you, you will learn to communicate in Norwegian.

Related posts:

Bilingual infatuation

My Twitter followers want me to define love. Ok, here goes.

Last night, I posted a list of words missing from the English language, and one of them was "forelsket".

I woke up this morning to a list of @mentions on Twitter about the difference between the English "in love" and the Norwegian "forelsket".

Seriously, Twitter? You think I know the answer to that one? Well, I’ll try.

This works in any language

In my head, "forelsket" is how you feel between just having a crush on someone and actually realizing you are in love with them.

I guess if I were to use both my languages to describe how love evolves, it would be something like this: I like someone in general (conveniently, same word in both languages), I have a crush (which at least one friend of mine has directly translated into English as "ha et knus"), I feel "forelsket", I fall in love. This doesn’t necessarily happen in that order, but on a scale of not-serious to very-serious, that’s how it works.

Is forelsket the same as infatuated? Not really. Infatuated implies silliness, irrationality and superficiality. "Forelskelse" is hardly rational, but it’s not as stupid/crazy as infatuation. If I ever describe myself as infatuated, it’s because I know I’m completely stupid and out-of-character, and that this insane crush will blow over any minute. On the other hand, I can be forelsket for a frightening amount of time.

When I listen to friends who only speak English or watch movies in English, and someone says "I think I’m in love", I think: "No dear, you’re forelsket. You just don’t have that word in your vocabulary, poor thing." I guess forelsket is that giddy, excited feeling that’s telling you someone is very interesting. Forelskelse is when you have a theory that you might be able to fall in love with someone, but you just don’t know them well enough to tell yet.

Privately, I think that all the words I know, in English, Norwegian, Swedish, Danish, French, German, Dutch, Khmer, Thai, Italian, Spanish*, are all one big vocabulary. Sometimes I can use all my words, sometimes only a few, depending on who I’m talking to.

I also appreciate the British verb "fancy" and the American "hooking up" (I interpret it as an intentionally ambivalent way of saying "Something physical happened, but I’m not going to give you any details."). I think the Norwegian "kjæreste" is more serious than the English "boyfriend/girlfriend". Saying "I love you" in English is nowhere near as big a deal as saying it in Norwegian.

Even when no one else agrees with my definitions (or even understands me at all), speaking two languages fluently gives me twice as many ways to think about everything. There are some feelings I can only express in English and some I can only express in Norwegian, but in my own thoughts, I can sort out my emotions using my whole vocabulary.

Related posts: Love in any language and I want to live in English

* I only speak two languages fluently, but I do know words in all of these languages. And the list looked cool.

Image: Premshree Pillai, Creative Commons

Romkuleangst

romkuleangst

(Klikk på bildet for større versjon)

Orangutang på børsen

orangutang

(Klikk på bildet for større versjon)

I want to live in English

For every language you learn, you live another life. Apparently people who live in Czech say that. I think I want to live in English now.

Most Norwegians understand English, but worldwide practically no one understands Norwegian. This makes Norwegian an inside joke I share with a selection of the people I know.

Growing up, Norwegian was the language I used with the three people who knew me best, the people with whom I barely needed spoken words to communicate with at all. Even though I talked non-stop (still do) in both languages, my parents and my sister could usually understand my face and tone of voice well enough regardless of vocabulary. My mom could tell how happy I was by the way I opened the front door when I came home in the afternoon. So Norwegian was our somewhat unneccessary secret code. American friends thought Norwegian was an angry language, because they only heard it when my parents yelled at me. I preferred English, but my parents insisted I speak Norwegian, because I would need it someday.

These days, communicating in Norwegian is my job. Since moving back to Norway two years ago, I have studied and worked in Norwegian full time. I consider both Norwegian and English first languages, meaning I’m completely bilingual.

Despite all that, after giving Norwegian a serious try, I have realized something:

English is just better. I’m better in English. I like other people better in English.

I’m more open and heartfelt and honest in English. Norwegians are so direct it borders on insensitivity, both in culture and in language. We won’t tell you to have a nice day unless we ourselves would really feel happier if you did. We won’t say "I love you" to people we just like. We won’t thank you if we don’t feel genuinely grateful. Any expression of sentiment in Norwegian feels like I’m exposing some secret part of my mind, usually only accessible to Norwegians when we’re drunk.

In English I’m more polite, although I might come off as relatively rude due to Norwegian bad habits. It feels easier to be sincere and emotional in English without feeling like I’m crossing the line into inappropriate. I’m more outgoing and animated, especially when I meet Americans. If I’m in a room full of Norwegians and one American, I might look like I’m giving the American much more attention, smiling and gesticulating more.

If I swear, it’s in Norwegian. If I ever swear in English, I’m just pretending. The one exception is if I say skitt (the Norwegian word for dirt, the sk is pronounced sh) when I really want to swear in secret and I’m in Norway. (Swearing in French doesn’t work at all.) This might be because I used to be American, and as a child I had no reason to swear. 

Privately, I think that all the words I know, in English, Norwegian, Swedish, Danish, French, German, Dutch, Khmer, Thai, Italian, Spanish, are all one big vocabulary. Sometimes I can use all my words, sometimes only a few, depending on who I’m talking to. Most of my close friends here in Norway are people who are also fluent in English. I don’t specifically search for bilingual people to befriend, but it’s obvious why it works for us: We have a shared vocabulary, and we often mix up our two languages in conversations.

But despite the fact that most Norwegians speak English, they don’t speak the whole English language. English has more words than Norwegian. So I think in English with an occasional Norwegian expression, not vice versa. And when I speak English, the connection between what I think and what I say is less complicated. So in English I’m more honest, more polite and I swear less.

And you know that scene in Love Actually about American girls who love British men because they speak British? I know American girls like that, but it wouldn’t be too much of an exaggeration to say that English in general – British, American, Australian, Canadian, any version of perfectly pronounced, flawless, this-is-clearly-your-first-language English – works for me. Hearing someone speak English really well just makes me relax. Compared to hearing Norwegians speak English as a second language, it’s like hearing a singer with perfect pitch and realizing I’ve been listening to off-key music for years.

When I go through old notebooks and crumpled-up napkins at the bottom of my purse, I find quotes from novels I’ve read in English. Paragraphs I had to write down, because they made me shiver a little bit, because they were so well-written. Sometimes they become blog posts. I never feel that way about Norwegian.

Just listen to Stephen Fry talk about anything. Even when he’s making fun of the very topic of language, I just love it.

Sure, there are plenty of wonderful things you can say in Norwegian as well. You can say koselig, nydelig, jeg er glad i deg. And as a journalist, I love the intricacies and possibilities of the Norwegian language. But I love the English language more. Half the time when I’m writing in Norwegian, I am quietly wishing that I could write the same text in English.

So what do I do with this? Move? Try to find writing work in English? I don’t know.

Image: icanread

Love in any language

We have different words because we have differents concepts, but sometimes I wonder if we have different concepts because we have different words. This is especially true when it comes to ideas that are hard to define. Take love for example.

Americans say I love you for all sorts of reasons to many different people in their lives. It’s the same verb for loving ice cream and loving the person you’re married to. Norwegians have two completely different ways of expressing love.

We say Jeg er glad i deg to close friends and family. This sentence means more to me than the English I love you normally does, but it’s still not that one specific you’re-the-one kind of I love you that people make a big deal about saying or not saying. Because for Norwegians that’s a sentence we expect to only say to a very few people during our lives, maybe just one. The Norwegian words for that are almost taboo; even writing them out without a specific person in mind feels wrong. When I was ten, an American wanted to learn how to say I love you in as many languages as possible, but I refused to teach the Norwegian version.

The difference between the two isn’t as simple as one being romantic and the other platonic. Jeg er glad i deg can be romantic, only less so. And because Norwegians are more direct in their way of using language than English-speaking people usually are, we don’t say Jeg er glad i deg to just anyone. Except for teenagers who (used to? I’m older now) finish texts with the abbreviation GID. But this Norwegian, less scary version of I love you is closer to I am fond of you, which I would barely take as a compliment in English. Glad means happy, just like in English, so I suppose there is an element of Your existence makes me happy. We can also be glad i things, but I seldom use the term for anyone or anything I’m not at least a little bit emotional about. I like (liker) my furniture, but I love (glad i) my apartment.

Even after years and years of living among Americans who use I love you as a general greeting with people they just like, it still feels weird to me. I have to stop myself from flinching when I hear an American finish an angry-sounding phone call to a family member with an angry I love you and I automatically translate it in my head. But speaking two languages fluently gives me twice as many ways to think about everything. There are some feelings I can only express in English and some I can only express in Norwegian, but in my own thoughts, I can sort out my emotions using my whole vocabulary. And I’m glad I can.

Inspired by Even in English, A Language Gap, in which Jennifer Percy writes for the New York Times:

"He speaks Serbo-Croatian, German and English. Two languages separate us.

I don’t speak German but I’ve said “ich liebe dich” plenty of times and it never does feel like a contract the way saying “I love you” feels like a contract. He, too, has said ich liebe dich to me. When we first started dating, this should have been a comfort to me, but it wasn’t. German sounded strange and ich liebe dich sounded ugly to my ear compared to “I love you.” It bounced off of me, it didn’t stay, didn’t embed itself like “I love you.”

I once tried saying “volim te” — “I love you” in Serbo-Croatian — and he didn’t respond. I asked if I’d said it right and he said I had. Then he repeated it quietly.

That’s the one, I thought: volim te. That’s the “I love you” that works for me, the one that is honest."

Image: xkcd

Wonderlaaaand…

Which particular Christmas recording have I listened to more than any other? It just might be this one:

  • The Roches – Winter Wonderland (in Brooklynese) Spotify

The reason for this is that popular culture-wise, my parents are like young children. Not that their tastes are childish, but just like toddlers, they will watch or listen to the same thing repeatedly. Growing up, I got the impression that my parents watched Four Weddings and a Funeral every night, and played The Roches’ Christmas album We Three Kings on a continuous loop every December. Why do you think we had to impose The Love Actually Rule? Not because of me.

Most of the album is not in Brooklynese, but Winter Wonderland is. I don’t think I fully understood that this was a joke until I had already heard the song 50 million times. So many of the live versions of Winter Wonderland that I grew up with (read: my parents’ friends singing at Christmas parties) were in variations of Brooklynese or Boston English anyway, so I assumed it was normal.

Around the same time I got the linguistic joke, I realized that Winter Wonderland isn’t about Christmas at all. It’s about hooking up or romance (interpret as you will) in a cold climate. Something Bostonians, New Yorkers and Norwegians can all relate to, which might be why it’s so popular.

More Christmas music according to Julie

A not-very-brobdingnagian collection of quotes

"I’ve been spending far too much time at the computer over the past week. (…) But at what point does this really become a problem? When you’re walking down the street and wondering what graphics card they’re using to get the resolution so high? When you chant “ctrl+z” under your breath after telling an inappropriate Holocaust joke in front of your Polish and German friends? When you start hovering near power points instead of looking for somewhere that sells a decent cappuccino? (Trust me—you’re not going to find one. It’s Prague.)" – The Large Frog

"Some men set out to climb Mount Everest. Ammon Shea set out to read the Oxford English Dictionary full time, from cover to cover. Or rather covers to covers, his recent job as a furniture mover providing handy preparation for hoisting its 20 hefty volumes. And why did Shea fix his sights on this Brobdingnagian challenge – because it was there? "I have read the OED," he says, "so that you don’t have to."" – Amanda Heller, "Short Takes", Boston Globe, August 24, 2008, quoted in the dictionary.com entry for brobdingnagian, word of the day here on accordingtojulie.com on Wednesday.

Dagens ord: betafset.
Ordforklaring bør ikke være nødvendig. Takk til Maren og hennes venner for ordet.

Forelesningscrush

English translation below. (Sorry, Julie – I fail at acquiring a webcam, I fail at Radiohead, but I will not fail at blogging in English)
Aina bruker ordet forelesningscrush, og linker til meg i den tro at jeg har forklart dette begrepet. Tror ikke jeg har det her, men nå kommer det:
Forelesningscrush - person man liker å se på forelesning, og som ofte er eneste grunnen til at man gidder å dra på forelesning. Ofte er denne personen også årsak til at man møter opp noen minutter tidlig, fremfor noen minutter for sent, og med rent hår, gjennomtenkt antrekk og uten synlige blå ringer under øynene.
I en verden “according to Julie”, ville Programutvalg og andre elevrådslignende organisasjoner vurdert å ansette modeller som kunne deltatt på viktig undervisning på morgenen. At disse ikke var egentlige studenter, ville motvirket det store problemet med forelesningscrush: at man kan bli kjent med dem, og at dette forstyrrer lesingen. Forelesningscrush er nemlig nært beslektet seminarcrush og lesesalscrush, men må ikke forveksles med venn eller kjæreste. Det øyeblikket man tar kaffepauser sammen, har crushet blitt noe annet enn et crush. Fra å være en oppmuntring til å møte opp på skolen, blir det tidligere crushet alternativt tidsfordriv mens man er på universitetet.

Read more of this post

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.