Tag: languages

The Flag of Sweden, a Scandinavian country. Image from Wikipedia.org.

Scandinavian Swapshop : Switching Teams Late in the Game?

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I always think Scandinavian languages are like football teams. You pick one and you stick with it.

It was Norwegian that I plucked out of the polyglot hat very early on. Admittedly, as with many of those early language choices, it was my Eurovision favourites that led the way. I positively lapped up Norway’s entries in the 90s, so resolved to learn as much as I possibly could about the country and language (or languages, as I soon found out).

Scandinavian Value for Money

The thing is, with a Scandi lang, you get bang for your buck. First-language speakers of Danish, Norwegian and Swedish grow up with this in mind. They readily understand each other’s languages – to varying degrees – and consume media from each other’s countries with few issues.

As a second-language speaker, you too can gain access to that value for money party to some extent. Learning Norwegian equips you with an ability to read Danish and Swedish with little difficulty, and, I soon found, to follow the gist to the most animated of Melodifestivalen presenters. You can even fake speaking one of the other languages semi-successfully by adjusting your accent and tone. It’s like supporting your team, but nipping over to see a rival team’s games now and again.

But this year, of course, Sweden went and won Eurovision (again). And if there’s anything that makes me want to learn a new language ‘properly’, it’s the thought of visiting a country to attend said Eurovision. How hard can it be, I thought? Norwegian and Swedish are so similar, it’s just a case of tweaking here and there.

Little Difference, Big Difference?

Ohhhh, no. I soon realised that it’s a slippery slope to assume any of the Scandilangs line up with each other perfectly. As I delve into formal Swedish study for the first time, I’m learning how unintentionally hilarious that assumption could be. For instance, the Norwegian word ful can mean clever or sly. Don’t go calling anyone in Sweden that, though. There, it means ugly.

Other mismatches are perhaps less likely to get you into actual trouble, but will still give you away as a blagger, not a speaker. You’ll need to remember that a newspaper is a tidning, not an avis, for example. You don’t like (like) and huske (remember) but rather tycka om and komma ihåg, using phrasal constructions that Swedish seems so much more partial to than Norwegian. And before you cry wolf, be aware that it’s a varg, not an ulv (incidentally, Swedish ditched the latter due to superstition, a fascinating phenomenon known as taboo replacement).

In any case, having a real go at Swedish is opening my eyes to how different the languages are from each other, and challenging the flawed assumption of equivalency. Maybe soon, I’ll be singing along to those Melfest favourites in the original language, and not my best faux Swewegian.

I’m still Team Norway – but might have sneakily bought a Sweden scarf to whip out at the right moment now and again too.

The number one on a post. Striving to be top of a leaderboard isn't the point of learning a language. Image by Ulrik De Wachter, freeimages.com

Going Cold Owl : When It Stops Being About Language

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You know I love Duolingo. There’s tons of good about the mass sentence, nonsense sentence, strigine sentence language-learning behemoth.

At least when it is all about the language learning.

Let me set the scene. I’ve had a busy couple of weeks (Eurovision, don’t you know!) and I’ve found it a bit harder to find time for points-amassing lessons. As such, I’ve watched my username slip down the rankings in an owl-induced panic.

Never fear, though. In an effort to shore up my sinking vessel, I’d resorted to some trusty quick ‘n’ easy points winners like the Hindi alphabet sections – reviews you can do in 20 seconds or less for 10 points (or 20 on a double roll). I know all the tricks, me.

All good – right?

The Language – or the Points?

If you’re not lost in the red mist of Duo leagues yourself, you’ll instantly see the problem. It’s become about the points, not the language. As noble a pursuit as Hindi alphabet mastery is, repeated bashing of it is likely not particularly constructive in the long term. Especially since I should be spending time improving my core languages.

So, with some initial FOMO anxiety, I resolved to quietly let go of my leagues and tournaments addiction. Yes, addiction is a strong word… But when it’s a placing in a score table I’m thinking about, rather than the lessons themselves, it seems appropriate.

It helps to know that I’m not alone, either. In my Duo friend updates this week, I spotted that a similarly obsessed friend had been “promoted to the Obsidian League“. Yes, that Obsidian league, the one below the Diamond one that we’d both managed to cling onto for countless months. 

If he could let go, then maybe I could, too.

An Almost Break-Up Story

So, while not quite the break-up story this could be (it’s still a brilliant tool when you lead it), I’ll make an effort to use Duo more mindfully from now on. My plea to friends, family, random passers-by, and generally all and sundry is this: if you see me in that zombie-like trance, tapping in stupefaction at my phone, this is your green light to stage an intervention.

Together we’ll wrest control back of that winsome wee owl!

The Eurovision 2023 trophy. Copyright Corinne Cumming / EBU.

Instead I Wrote In Finnish : How did non-English fare at Eurovision 2023?

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As the dust settles on another Eurovision Language (ahem) Song Contest, how did non-English entries actually perform on the night? There’s no better time than Eurovision Boxing Day to take stock (not least to try and distract ourselves from the post-contest blues).

The initial signs were good. The 2023 contest had already beaten 2022 in terms of language diversity, with fourteen languages on offer amongst the usual sea of English. And the semifinals didn’t deprive us of too much, either. All the non-English entries from the Tuesday show made it through, with only Romania falling at the first hurdle on Thursday. That was no issue for the Romanian language in any case, which had made it through on the back of the Moldovan entry.

So how did all that lovely non-English fare in the final?

A High Bar, Évidement

The bar was high. Of the twelve languages that made it alongside English in the 2022 final, seven ended up in the top ten – and four of those in the top five. Notably, the winner – Ukraine’s Kalush Orchestra – won the whole contest with a song in Ukrainian.

This year’s grand final saw five languages other than English land a prestige top ten spot. That sounds comparably decent, although one country, Czechia, added two extra languages thanks to its polyglot lyrics, and the winner, Tattoo by Loreen, was in English. Incidentally, Swedish has been absent from contest entries since 2012, when Finland sang in svenska – and Loreen won for the first time, in English.

It’s not all gloom for non-English songs, though. Finland, sending Finnish for the first time since 2015, achieved with its runner-up spot the highest placing in Eurovision history for the language (but not the country, which won in English in 2007). And of course, there is that remarkable multilingual entry from Czechia to celebrate.

Why sing in one language when you can sing in four?

English = Eurovision Success?

It’s worth remembering, though, that we needn’t consider English lyrics to be a path to wider success. Five out of the ten most recent winning Eurovision songs have been either completely, or partially, in other languages. That compares to just one non-English song from the decade before that, so we live in an age where language diversity is no barrier to victory.

Bearing that in mind, there’s perhaps a lesson here for some struggling countries. 2023 German representations Lord of the Lost took their last place for Blood and Glitter with great grace, passing on the baton to future German representatives to “break the curse”. But the last time Germany sent German was in 2007, with a string of notably anglophone songs behind its four-contest run of rock-bottom placings.

Maybe it’s time to give Deutsch a chance again?

The Eurovision 2023 trophy. Copyright Corinne Cumming / EBU.

The Eurovision Language Diversity Contest, 2023 Edition

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Guess what? It’s only Eurovision Song Contest time again. And with year’s final coming from lovely Liverpool this 13th May, it feels closer than ever for Polyglossic. What better time for our annual Eurovision language diversity health-check?

It’s been a long time since we were guaranteed a full sweep of national languages at the contest. That’s not to say linguists are out of luck in recent times, though. The 2022 edition still managed to serve up a not-bad-at-all eleven languages other than English.

So how does 2023 measure up?

Voici les votes du jury Polyglossic

This year, viewers will hear lyrics in the following languages across all three shows:

  • Albanian
  • Armenian
  • Bulgarian (in Czechia’s entry)
  • Croatian
  • Czech
  • Finnish
  • French
  • Italian
  • Portuguese
  • Romanian (twice over – in Moldova and Romania’s entries)
  • Serbian
  • Slovene
  • Spanish
  • Ukrainian (in Czechia’s entry as well as part of Ukraine’s)

2023 has it – that’s fourteen non-English languages represented on the banks of the Mersey.

Eurovision Thanks Go To…

As ever, it’s hats off to France, Italy, Portugal and Spain for being stalwarts of non-English entries. Merci, grazie, obrigado, gracias. But it’s the Balkans which have made an especially strong comeback this year, positively treating polyglot fans with home tongues. Then, there’s Czechia, who deserve an extra special mention. Vesna clock up two languages other than Czech, alongside English. Výborně!

Particularly exciting is the return of Finnish, given that Finland is one of this year’s big favourites to win (currently playing catch-up in the betting odds with Sweden’s returner Loreen). Finland has, of course, won the contest before; monster metalheads Lordi broke a 45-year wait for a win in 2006. But that was in English; if Suomi’s Käärijä wins this year, it will be the country’s first win in the home language.

Hyvä Suomi!

Which languages are you pleased to hear this year, and which do you miss? Let us know in the comments! But above all – enjoy this year’s show!

Worn and faded paper - language atrophy can leave you feeling your skills have faded.

Beating Language Atrophy (In The Heat of the Moment!)

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I spent a great weekend of volunteering at a fun, lively international sports event. As you’d expect, there were language practice opportunities galore. I hobnobbed in German. I gabbed away in French. And – gulp – I stammered away in depressingly cumbersome Spanish. Without even noticing, I’d let my Spanish atrophy.

My first reaction was personal frustration. Spanish was one of the first foreign languages I learned properly. I sailed through it in school, college, and then university. Half of my degree was in the language, and I’d been fairly successful at resurrecting it for an event not too long back. The Spanish I was producing off-the-cuff was just-about functional, old-fashioned, bookish, laboured and uncolloquial. How could it feel so clumsy in my mouth? 

The thing is, it’s the same with any skill. The ability remains, but without regular use, the automaticity of it – the muscle memory, in a sense – will dull. Perhaps the level of skill-drop isn’t as dramatic as use it or lose it, but there’s a grain of truth in there. Even so, that’s no consolation when you’re in the line of fire.

So how do you beat language atrophy in a just-in-time scenario?

Be Kind To Yourself

The crucial first step is simple: silence the self-critic. It’s too easy to reproach yourself in the moment, but it’s also completely fruitless. Our lives are complicated. There are a million and one reasons you might have let a language slide a little. Don’t beat yourself up.

The truth is that we perform even worse when we let that inner voice knock our confidence. You challenge yourself to do better immediately, and you flounder when that just compounds the issue. Stop the vicious circle in its tracks and give yourself a break. Languages can be challenging, and you’re brilliant for having mastered them in the first place!

Don’t Be A Perfectionist

There’s a wonderful saying in Gaelic that speaks so eloquently to this situation. S’ fheàrr Gáidhlig bhriste na Gàidhlig sa chiste. It means “broken Gaelic is better than Gaelic in the box”, and it appeals to the sabotaging perfectionist in us.

When pressurising myself in the heat of the moment, everything annoyed me. I was cursing my use of a wrong verb ending, tripping up on a trilled r, using a wrong auxiliary. That is, despite all the time producing perfectly sensible, comprehensible sentences. In reality, nobody cared or gave marks, and everybody was simply happy to hear a volunteer trying to communicate in their language.

Don’t try to be perfect – you’re not a native speaker, and nobody expects you to be.

Take it back a step

When you’ve gathered your thoughts, it’s time for a mini plan-of-action. The order of the day is simplicity – revising some snappy, colloquial foothold phrases to give you some instant success in your current surroundings. Text engines like Reverso Context are a great place to get quick anwers.

My role included meeting and greeting arrivals, so obvious choices were “¡disfruta!” (enjoy!) and “¡divièrtete!” (have fun!). It was a competition, so add to that “¡buena suerte!” (good luck) and “¡mucho éxito!” (lots of success!) and you have the start of a script. They’re super simple interjections, but they gave enough of a social framework to scaffold short interactions, keep things flowing, and slowly build back confidence.

It certainly beats trying to assemble the phrase ‘I hope you and your teammates all have a really great time at the tournament’ in your head on the spot!

Use other speakers

While you’re finding your feet again, friendly speakers – ideally those non-delegates where the stakes are lower – are golden. And when you locate them, there’s no better way to practise speaking a language than speaking about it. Chat about how long it’s been since you’ve used the language, when you learnt it and so on. It’s instantly relatable, motivating to talk about, and so will get your gears going again quickly.

I volunteered alongside a couple of very fluent non-native speakers for some of my stint. Amongst other things, we found ourselves chatting in Spanish about language atrophy itself. It was low-pressure, good fun, and a godsend for between-task, forgiving, live language practice!

Language Atrophy Kryptonite

So, to reassure anyone fearful of landing in the same boat, you can turn it around. I managed to get my knocked confidence back on track soon enough to be a useful volunteer again (at least to our Spanish visitors).

And perhaps that’s the biggest lesson here – that language competence is never just about the vocab, the grammar, or the pronunciation. It’s about nurturing your confidence in order to give yourself a chance to be the best you can be.

¡Buena suerte!

Nigheanan Mòra by Catrìona Lexy Chaimbeul (2014). Reading target language texts is an excellent way to improve foreign language skills.

Working with Target Language Texts

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Eager to push my Gaelic out of the language course box and into the wild, I’ve been working with a number of short texts for intermediate learners lately. Luckily, quite a few readers have appeared in the recent years, including a bunch of fun titles that go beyond the usual ‘Celtic myths retold’ route (not taking anything away from the great series of beginners’ books from Jason Bond).

A recent favourite of mine, Nigheanan Mòra (Big Girls, 2014), was penned by one of the creatives behind recent BBC Alba drama hit An Clò Mòr, Catrìona Lexy Chaimbeul. On the surface, it’s in firm rom com territory, at turns silly, funny and melodramatic. But it’s grown-up enough to feel like you’re reading a real book, and not just an oversimplified, fleshless yarn that trades plot for easy reading. It’s also chock full of colloquial, conversational Gaelic dialogue, which makes for a great living language learning model.

That said, getting the most from a reader takes a bit more organisation than simply starting at page one and ploughing through. Better to have a strategy to maximise both your enjoyment and your learning.

Working With Texts : One Approach

Of course, there’s no single ‘correct’ way to work through target language texts. Through trial and error, I’ve found a way that works for me, which I’ll outline here. It works best with short-ish texts, since it involves two passes in quick-ish succession, but you could also use it with short sections of longer texts.

That’s because manageable chunk size is the key to this method. Often, you won’t need to worry about that with texts specifically for learners. Many books that support learners, like Nigheanan Mòra, already have nice short chapters of 5-10 pages. I find that’s the ideal length to read and digest texts without tiring (because, let’s face it, reading in a foreign language is more taxing). If chapters are much longer, just flick ahead a little way to see if there’s a natural stop somewhere, and make that your goal.

Pass One : the Chill read

After that, it’s time to start reading. The first pass is the no-chill literary gambol. Read for gist and plot, and don’t fret a jot about the odd unknown word. The focus here is on simply understanding and enjoying the story, first and foremost. I like to go full non-study mode at this stage. I’ll pick a cosy reading spot, grab a drink and just try to immerse myself in the story. No dictionaries, no pencils, no interruptions.

After that first reading – maybe 20 minutes or so – I’ll stop, take a breath, and reflect on the twists and turns of the plot. It’s important to take a passive break to cogitate calmly like this, given that our brains work more efficiently with pacing (a trait the Pomodoro technique plays into).

Pass Two : The Close Read

After this brief pause, I’ll then flick back casually through the pages I’ve just read. In particular, I’ll revisit those passages I felt were tough, or noticed myself slow down in during the first pass. For each one, I’ll re-read carefully, this time trying to translate in my head, paying more attention to the grammatical structures. I’ll also spend some time on words I didn’t get the first time round, looking for contextual clues to help guess the meaning (and not reaching straight for the dictionary).

This is the stage where I really prefer old-school paper books to Kindle ones. I’ll have a pencil by me, underlining any turns of phrase that sound really idiomatic or conversationally useful. With a pop-story like Nigheanan Mòra, there’ll be loads of those, thanks to all the snappy dialogue.  They’re the snippets where I’ve realised aha! So that’s how you say X in Gaelic.

Finally, after all that, I’ll spend some time cross-referencing those new structures in grammars and online materials like the LearnGaelic.scot dictionary and Wiktionary. Once I’m sure I’ve understood them, I’ll add the phrases to my Anki deck. Adding phrases is so much more effective that lifting just individual words from texts. We speak in phrases, not lone words, so by the end of this stage I have some truly useful material to drill. This phrase-lifting approach thoroughly mines a text for connectives and sentence frames – the bread and butter of fluency.

Find What Works For You

So there you have it – one way to work with authentic texts. It’s not rocket science or particularly groundbreaking, but it works for me. And it helps, in terms of discipline, to know that I have these regular steps to follow, to give my target language reading some kind of structure.

What I also find invaluable about it, in terms of motivation, is building in a reading for pleasure stage, which includes choosing material I find fun, as well as the time to enjoy it without pressure. Even if that is silly old rom coms.

After all, learning and practising languages shouldn’t just be work, work, work.

There are myriad ways to approach target language texts. What works for you? Let us know in the comments!

Blue hearts on a blue background - missing someone can make the heart feel blue. Image from freeimages.com.

Missing Me, Missing You : A Typology of “I Miss You”

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Amongst the first snippets of foreign language we learn are often those expressing everyday emotional connection. The language of missing is usually somewhere in the mix.

There’s quite an interesting split in how languages express I miss you. I spot two big camps, although there are more for sure. The first of these two biggies has the person doing the missing as the subject of the active verb:

English I miss you
Finnish kaipaan sinua
German ich vermisse dich
Icelandic ég sakna þín
Polish tęsknię za tobą
Spanish te echo de menos
Swahili ninakukosa
Turkish seni özlerim

But in the second camp, the person being missed is the active subject. The person feeling the absence will be in an oblique or dative case:

Albanian më mungon
French tu me manques
Greek μου λείπεις (mou lípis)
Hungarian hiányzol ‘you are missing’ – the ‘me’ is understood
Italian mi manchi
Serbian nedostaješ mi

Who’s Missing Whom?

The split is primarily a semantic one, with verbs tending to express either the emotional work of missing, or the state of being missing or absent. Some languages, of course, use totally different constructions, like the idiomatic Spanish echar de menos, although the doer here is still clear: it’s the person doing the missing. The same goes for other languages that use completely different constructions, like Japanese and Korean, which commonly use some version of I want to see you.

The dividing lines are most interesting because they don’t necessarily follow language family groups. Romance, Finno-Ugric and Slavic languages straddle both tables. There’s some evidence of the Balkan sprachbund in the second table, perhaps, but it seems largely chance which kind of phrasing a language ends up on.

Whether it is chance or not is hard to say. Surprisingly, it doesn’t appear that many linguists have attempted to answer that question, since a literature search turns up very little. Does anything in particular prompt a language to drift towards the ‘active misser’ or ‘active missed’ route? Is it a cultural difference? And could the construction even impact how we think of missing itself, or is it a chance mapping of syntax onto feelings?

For now, then, it’s just another of those little quirks we have to register when we learn a new foreign language. Perhaps more fundamentally, it’s simply another hue or picture setting to marvel at in the human kaleidoscope of modes of expression.

Have you come across other configurations in the typology of “I miss you”? And do you have your own inklings around an explanation? Let us know in the comments!

Social Training Time

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Just like my fancy Philips UV-C box, sometimes, the biggest leg-ups to our language learning come from unlikely sources. So it is with community volunteering as a kind of social training, which, as a shy linguist, is something I try to throw myself into – sometimes against my kicking-and-screaming inner child – at every available opportunity.

This week, I had another opportunity for just that. In April, Brum is hosting the Union Cup, an exciting, international and inclusive sporting event that has been a couple of years in the waiting after Covid disruption. After last year’s Commonwealth adventures, it was a no-brainer to volunteer. A chance to showcase the city, support communities and get some valuable exposure therapy when it comes to interacting with lots of people. It doesn’t hurt, of course, that there’ll be speakers of lots of other languages around too.

It’s all an antidote to a very specific language learning problem I’ve experienced. It’s that reluctance to step forward and speak in a situation where I can use my languages. I’ve felt it at home and in my target language countries. It’s a complex beast, with several components: fear of making mistakes, looking silly, feeling a nuisance or a bother, and such like. Most of us feel these things from time to time, but there’s nothing like a foreign language to up those stakes!

Targeted Therapy

But the social training that volunteering offers is almost perfectly suited to target all this. For one thing, in many roles, you’re almost constantly dealing with people face-to-face. And you never know what to expect. Sometimes you’ll get the whole spectrum of moods – good and bad – in the course of a morning. Someone might ask a question you have no clue about. Something might happen that requires you to think on your feet.

In short, it’s a social training that focuses on coping with the unpredictable. And if there’s anything that typifies using language in the wild, it’s unpredictability. What else, for something as varying as its human hosts?

So, into the fray we step for our social training. And even for shrinking violets like me, people work can get addictive. I now count amongst my friends serial volunteers who go for everything that comes along. Of course, it doesn’t have to be volunteering. I have a polyglot friend who is getting lots of people exposure from bar work, which he unexpectedly loves, and is thriving on.

On that note, fellow shy polyglots – and even those not-so-shy ones who want to keep their oar in – volunteer! It’ll be so good for you – and your community, too.

ChatGPT writing a short story in German.

Short Stories… in ChatGPT

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It’s no secret – reading fiction is a favourite strategy of polyglot learners. That’s more than simply reading Harry Potter novels in translation. There’s a whole market sector that revolves around non-native short stories, and I’m not alone in enjoying the excellent Short Stories In… or Penguin Parallel Texts series to practise my languages.

But what if we could source those stories on demand… and for free?

Unless you’ve been hiding for the past three months, you’ll know where I’m going with this. ChatGPT, the natural language processor, has already made ripples in the fan fiction arena. And, it turns out, it has a knack for performing the same feat multilingually, and tailored to your exact needs.

The power of it becomes apparent when you ask it to write you a story. Because you can tailor that story precisely to your own interests. Personal interest, of course, is a holy grail with language learning motivation. And ChatGPT is like your own private author, ready to fit original content to exactly what you like.

I started where I started – literally, with languages – and requested a German short story about Eurovision. What else? The results were pretty impressive.

ChatGPT writing a short story in German.

ChatGPT writing a short story in German.

The only thing is, it’s a bit wordy for my (hypothetical) class of German students. So I ask ChatGPT to tailor it to a specific level:

ChatGPT writing a short story in German.

Tailoring the story to a specific level.

Brilliant – we’re getting something we can turn into a learning resource now. But I’d love my students to focus on more descriptive adjectives to improve their writing. Can we turn this into a better model?

ChatGPT writing a short story in German.

Tweaking the output with specific criteria.

Again, ChatGPT turns up the goods! The German is sound, and the story is a fun little read. But what about making this a polyglot resource, parallel resource, so anyone learning more than one language can keep their learning in sync? No problem:

ChatGPT writing a short story in French.

Translation into French.

Impressive. It has no issue with any of what you’d call the mainstream languages. I tried it in all of the languages I have some proficiency in, and it even churns out decent Greek and Polish. I’m not yet fluent enough in Scottish Gaelic to check this properly, but it seemed the only one that was a bit iffy, despite giving it a good go:

ChatGPT writing a short story in German.

A translation into Scottish Gaelic.

Finally, let’s throw in a short summary version we can use as revision materials, or an item description:

ChatGPT writing a short story in French.

A short summary of the story in French.

Obviously, this all comes with the caveat that it needs careful checking before use as an accurate resource. But the initial performance is pretty spectacular, to be honest. As the model is tweaked and improved, it’s not hard to imagine this becoming a cornerstone of personal resource creation for learners of languages, as well as everything else.

The movement of atoms. The morpheme could be called the atom of language. Image from freeimages.com.

Houston, We Have A Morpheme Problem

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It was in Greek class that I realised it. I have a morpheme problem.

Yes, those pesky little indivisible chunks of languagey-ness are causing me grief. The exact nature of that grief is a regular mixing up of pronouns and possessives with s- (you) and t- (him/his/her), to the amusement of my teacher.

Πού είναι ο μπαμπάς του… ΣΟΥ; Pou íne o babás tou… SOU?
Where is his… YOUR dad?

The source? Probably the romance languages I’ve learned, where the correspondence is reversed. French has ton (your) and son (his/her), for example, while Spanish has tu and su. The romance you/he/she attachment to those tiny little chunks has reasserted itself temporarily (I hope) to wreak happy havoc.

Yes, interference is real, and it’s not just about whole words – it’s a morpheme thing, too.

Morpheme Madness

In reality, it’s nothing to worry about. It’s a natural by-product of a brain built for pattern-spotting, and studies of bilingual infants show that we’re well-equipped to remedy it in the natural course. I can talk about it now because I realised I was doing it, and self-corrected along the way.

But what else can I do about in the immediate term?

Much of it is to do with voice, at least for me. Cultivating distinct voices for each language you learn is a great way to compartmentalise and separate. But unless you’re a gifted impressionist, your repertoire might be limited, and you might have to double up. I realised my Greek voice was suspiciously like my Spanish one., all faux-masterful and brooding. No doubt a bit of clowning around and trying new accents on might help there.

But it’s an ideal case for mass-sentence training too, which I’d become lax with of late. Glossika has a ton of sentences including those little σου and του, and an extra five or ten minutes of training a day will – I hope – re-cement the little imps into my Hellenic pathways.

Have you noticed interference between your languages at the morpheme level? What are your strategies for re-enforcing separation? Let us know in the comments!