I consider myself really lucky, in that I grew up with multiple languages around me. Growing up in Ottawa, Canada (the capital, which prides itself on being bilingual) we had French as part of our core curriculum, starting at age 6. I also grew up in a family with a Peruvian-born Dad, and so I heard a lot of Spanish growing up from that side of my family (even if it was mostly yelled non-serious arguments about cooking and sports). At university, I got to take an entry-level course in Spanish as well.

Most of my Spanish is gone now (years of not practicing will do that to you!). But on a recent trip to Paris, I actually got to use it; Spanish tourists filled the cities, and I was pleased to find that words and phrases came back to me.

But I was surprised that more than the joy I felt at feeling smart enough to translate something, was the connection I felt to people whose faces brightened when they realized I could meet them where they were. Two instances stood out to me from my trip; a couple who were taking photos, who I gave and got the gift of playing photographer to; and a family of five who didn’t understand how to get tickets for the Eiffel Tower, who I was able to give directions to. In both cases, I was being helpful, which always gives me a warm feeling. But there’s something that also in those moments of connection of feeling seen, and seeing others; not expecting people to meet you where you are, but to try to bridge the gap.

In Paris, I always, always, always tried to start conversations in French. My accent? Terrible. My word choice? Bad. I once tried to ask for the time, and was told—in English—“You just asked for the weather.” (To make matters worse, we were outside; I couldn’t play this off as “Oh, I wanted to know both!” when we could both see it was sunny.)

It felt important to start interactions in French—with a Bonjour or Salut. Maybe this is ego, but there are so many negative connotations about North American travellers, and I wanted to distinguish myself from other tourists. I’m a guest here; I’ve done the bare minimum to assimilate.

I was super lucky—almost everyone I spoke to in Paris spoke English. Maybe I got lucky, or maybe I was going only to touristy places, but switching to English pretty fast happened a lot. But there was often a smile, a nod, or someone saying outright “We can speak English if you prefer”, to let me know that they were okay with speaking English. I’d always been told that the French were snooty about their language—and maybe they didn’t want to hear me butcher it! Who knows?—but I found that they seemed pleased when they saw I was trying.

I’m not always successful trying to used languages I’m not used to. After I came back from Paris, I went to Munich, Germany, with my Dad. I’d never spoken German, but I tried to download a few key phrases to practice. The only one I was able to remember consistently was “Do you speak English?”. I noticed people speaking English on a train, and asked them for some help reading German. My Dad got told off for greeting a police officer with the wrong phrase, and got a short lecture on manners. So there are varying degrees of success here.

But wherever I’ve gone, I will say that I’ve always gotten a positive reception when people see that I’m trying. I really think that as a traveller, it’s a simple thing to do in order to show people you’re trying to meet them where you are. If you’re not sure how to do this, might I suggest:

Think of common phrases you’ll need; translate them, and then practise them phonetically. Start with the most obvious; something akin to “Hi; can you help me? Do you speak English?” might be the fastest path to finding help. But beyond that, think of where you’ll be and what you’ll need help with.

For example, if you think you’ll need help on the train and the hotel, what phrases will you need? “Hello”, for sure. But also, you might consider:

• “Where can I find a train schedule?”
• “What platform is the train to [location] leaving from?” (Make sure you learn the numbers in the language, so you can interpret the answer you receive!)
• “I’m looking to check in”
• “Can I get help with my luggage?”
• “Can I request a room on a high floor?”

When you’ve got the translation, make sure you have it written down phonetically. So for example, the German phrase for “Good evening” translates to “Guten Abend”, but it was much easier when I saw it written phonetically, as “goo-ten-ah-bend”, so I could practice it correctly.

If you’re comfortable, ask for corrections. Sometimes, you will be told without provocation whether you’re greeting someone wrong or asking for the weather instead of the time. But other times, if you’ve got someone you trust, you might say “I’m worried I’m saying this wrong; is this the right word for [X]?”. You might find the pronunciation is off, or you’re using a formal word when a more casual one will do.

If there are phrases you absolutely need to nail, don’t take any chances. I have an allergy to certain types of nuts, so I can’t afford to miscommunicate around those places. I pick a few specific phrases explaining my allergy, put it into Google translate, and then screengrab the translation. I keep this pic in my favourites, away from the pics I’m taking on my trip; this way, it’s always handy, and I’m not relying on the internet connection to get my message across.

How would you try to brush up on the language of the place you’re travelling, before you go? Let me know below—and as always, happy travels!