I have taxi driver / dim sum Cantonese. This is enough to get me home or to various places that I generally would take a taxi to. I can ask the driver to stop, turn left and right and which tunnel I’d like them to take.

I’m usually able to tell what menu items I’d like if the menu is fairly basic. If I’d been looking at characters relatively recently, I’m even able to tell which meat is in which dish. This only happens on occasion though and is by no means reliable.

There is also bargaining Cantonese. This is done with a calculator. The market owner punches in a number and passes the calculator to me, I punch in a much, much lower number, they laugh and enter a higher number followed by me coming up a little but nowhere near their number and so on until we agree. If not, I walk away, they chase after me if it was close and otherwise, there’s going to be plenty more things I could buy anyway. At least I know the benchmark for the next market where I’m bargaining.

Cantonese is a language with 9 tones so it has its own challenges compared to English and even to Mandarin which only has 4 tones. The word for dog, nine and a part of the male anatomy (for some reason this tool won’t let me type the word!), is only three letters yet can be pronounced at least three different ways to get to each of these meanings. You can imagine the taxi driver smirking at me at times when I hopped into their taxi with my dog to go to my place which was at number 19.

As a slight digression, it’s interesting to note is Cantonese has no male, female words or plurals. They know what’s meant by the context of the sentence. This is why quite a few non-native English speakers who are native Cantonese (I think Mandarin is the same) sometimes use the wrong words for sexes or plurals.

I’m always impressed by the amount of people that can speak both and English since these languages have no similarity at all in the way they are structured, written or spoken.

Back on track – there’s the smattering of Japanese that I learnt in school for six months and then have had it added to by some travel. I have my favourite words. What’s not to like about “pikunikku” a word equally as good in English – picnic. Every time I’m in Japan, I find some reason to use this word. It just sounds good. It’s another impressive thing for me the people that can speak Japanese and English fluently. It’s a tough ask.

Italian is another one that I seem to know a bit of, however I put this down to its similarity to French. I’ve been able to buy a painting through speaking Italian / French and even managed to have some books given for free and a tip to a great winery in Tuscany.

I know a tiny bit of Spanish and Portuguese from my South America trip. By no means am I fluent but I can order food and greet people as well as say thank you. This needs more work so perhaps a trip to a country that uses either of these is in order.

My Russian is limited to “ostrovia” and “spasibo”. Again, two important words, “cheers” and “thank you”. I’m sure if I heard it again, I’d remember a little more.

These seem to be the words most people learn when they are new to a country…

And now I’m practising my French given I’m in Paris.

This has been an experience. I haven’t spoken in French in about 23 years and even then, I didn’t like to speak it. I liked to listen and understand. Speaking was never my forte. Now I’m having to overcome my reluctance which is actually where the challenge has been.

I’ve had waiters speaking to me in French, I’m replying in English. I know exactly what they’re asking me but the words that come to my lips have either been English or a bizarre combination of English and Cantonese. At times it’s included Spanish. Russian has yet to make an appearance. On occasion, there’s even been a French, Cantonese fusion. Or should that be, confusion?

As a sentence though, it does actually make sense.

The funny thing is, I’m not particularly good at speaking any of these languages. I seem to know enough of each to make a verbal mess.

I’m equally good at massacring all of them.

Even English when the aforementioned afflictions strike me.

I’m fortunate that the people I’ve been interacting with have all been really nice and not given me a hard time for the murder of their language. If anything, they’ve even joked with me and been more than accommodating. Based on my experiences so far, I have no idea where the French stereotype has come from.

I have always been understood.

In the cases where I’m not, which is yet to happen here, I rely on the one language in which I’m truly fluent, the one where it doesn’t matter how tired, drunk, or speedy my thoughts are at that moment; the universal language – the international language of charades.

* Thanks to Silverchair for the title to this post.