photo credit: Mike McHolm

I have no idea. But whatever they do say, they most likely say it in English.

As you know, I was in Amsterdam last month. My task was to work with the marketing department of one of their academic-focused divisions on generating some fresh, out-of-the-box ideas . (Sidenote: academic publishing remains a very traditional, highly cautious culture. So when the head folks asked for out-of-the-box while in the midst of a raging world-wide recession, I was all over it.)

Our group was small and multinational. There were a few Germans, a Swede, a transplant from Japan, a native Amsterdam’er and me, the lone American.

What was interesting to me, though, as I gazed across the River Ij, was that the meeting was conducted completely in English. Not for my benefit mind you. English was the common second language for the everyone. I was simply the only native English speaker/writer there.

In effect, English has become the world’s Esperanto, the universal language. Serving much as Yiddish did for the European Jewish community (or Ladino for the Sephardi), English is everyone’s second language. It’s how Germans speak to Swedes and how the Japanese talk to the Dutch.

I noticed this not only in our little marketing group, but in all my dealings in Amsterdam for the week. I didn’t have to use any Dutch (though I did, a little anyway.) From shopkeepers to ticket takers, everyone spoke English. Very good English, at that.

So except for few amusing spelling errors (English has no real discernable spelling rules. Every rule has 2-3 exceptions) on flip charts and the occasional nod to me for the right English word for something we were discussing (what is ‘poo?”), we all conversed and thought and created in everyone’s second, possibly third language.

Amazing.

Now here’s the thing. Unlike most of my American compadres, I actually can read/write/converse in languages other than English. I grew up in a Yiddish-inflected household which gives me a leg-up in basic German … I studied Spanish and French in high school … and I even learned Hebrew as part of my religious education. My mother was a Romance language major in college. My dad went to German-language ‘gymnasiums’ in then Czechoslovakia. My eldest daughter is studying French and German in high school and is teaching herself Japanese just for fun. She, like my mother, wants to study world languages in college.

So, like I said, I like language. The fact that I could conduct my business dealings in English was easy, but somehow I felt a little robbed of some sort of important cultural challenge.

English is the juggernaut of global language.

Except in France. Trust me, the French cut you no slack at all. The last time I was in France, hubby and I were staying at a small motel (new concept at the time) just outside of Paris. I needed more towels and went to the front desk. No one spoke English. No problem, I’m a writer. I asked for, in French, “A big napkin for the bath.” They laughed and made believe they had no idea of what I was talking about it.

How polite.

Contrast this experience with me at age 15 in Israel trying to explain to a male pharmacy clerk in some Druze village that I needed supplies for an unexpected ‘visit from Aunt Flo.’ In Hebrew I asked for “blood, cotton, month.” One minute later I was handed a box of what I needed, albeit with a slightly embarassed smile on both our faces.

I liked the push to communicate in an unfamiliar way. I think it shakes up the brains and gets us thinking in new directions. I like to think of every bit of info, a new task learned means a new synapse has been born and we’re fast on our way to new connections and new ideas.

I did learn how to say “Very good” in Dutch. I hope I get a chance to use it on my next trip.