I count myself among those international students who fortunately or unfortunately dared to learn that darn difficult language of our hosts here in Leuven: Dutch. I have to admit it hasn’t always been easy (knowing if it’s a “de” or “het” word and the past tenses, for example, remain tricky for me) but trying to acquire this quaint little language has sure been a lot of fun.

Like countless other students from far-flung corners of the globe, I arrived in Leuven tired and a bit disoriented. Exhausted because of the long-journey, a little confused becase of all the new things, faces, and almost unintelligible signs and unpronounceable names that greeted me upon my arrival. One is bombarded with a barrage of new information in a strange language. I remember the first time I saw the sign on the side of the buses in Leuven, “De Lijn,” and I just found it weird, since nothing even remotely similar exists in my mother tongue, that the letters “i” and “j” can be combined like that.
Even during my first couple of weeks in Leuven, I still had that strange feeling whenever I hear people speaking in the language or when I see Dutch words on TV. Very early on, I noticed that some of my Belgian floormates religiously watched The Simpsons and the series Friends each afternoon in the common kitchen. Given that they are in English, watching these shows was never a problem for me. But it was amusing to see Dutch subtitles on the TV screen. I always tried to read them then, but most of the words just seemed gibberish to me.
Of course, there are so many Dutch words that look and sound similar to their English counterparts, like “welkom,” “melk,” “markt”—and let’s not forget the essential ones, “wijn” and “bier.” Knowing a couple of these, you can order your drinks at bars and cafès with relative ease, but then you can’t go very far with them. You can only stare blankly, or smile and pretend you understand, or promptly switch to English when the waiter asks you in Dutch or when a fellow but local drunk chats you up.
And so I eventually decided to learn Dutch. After two levels, I could boast of being able to speak a little like a three-year old Flemish kid. Saying things like “I come from the Philippines,” “I live in Leuven,” and “I study philosophy” became child’s play. Then after a couple more levels, I could already say stuff like, “No, I actually prefer a mojito,” or “I’m really drunk. Save me!”
At a certain point you learn how to count in Dutch too. To practice my ability to understand numbers in the language, whenever I’m at the grocery, I try not to look at the screen when the cashier says the total cost of my purchase aloud. “Twee en vijftig alstubflieft,” the cashier would say for example. I’d give her 30 euros and change. At that point she’d give me a puzzled look and/or she’d turn the screen toward me. Embarrassed (while thinking at the same time “Why don’t they just say ‘vijftig-twee’ like in English!”), I’d realize I’m actually supposed to pay 52 euros!
Now after three years of regular Dutch lessons, I’m still at it. I can’t really say I’ve mastered the language. It still takes me a few of seconds to think and react when somebody unexpectedly speaks to me or asks me something in Dutch; I still find the “g” and the “u” hard to pronounce (the mispronunciation of the latter can lead to a misunderstanding when you’re talking about “de huur” or the rent); sometimes I’m still tempted to speak in English just to make matters easier for me and my conversation partner. Nonetheless, I still find the language interesting and fun to learn. (I particularly liked it when we were taught in class how to curse in Dutch, to say “Verdorie!” and “Verdomme!”—something that you can usually only pick up from friends who speak the language you’re learning.) I would certainly recommend “going Dutch” to anyone who will be staying here for more than two years and who want to have more access to the local culture and more contact with those strange creatures called Flemish students. |