Language as Sensory Experience
This probably fits more into linguistics than Philosophy of Language. Which is fine, since this isn’t a professional paper—haha.
A quick disclaimer: these are just reflections from my own experience and self-observation. It actually started as a mindfulness exercise I do now and then. But when I began learning German, I realized how the number of languages sitting in my brain was making it harder to keep track of pronunciation.
My Spanish accent leans Latin American and doesn’t require much effort. Interestingly, I’m better at pronouncing Mandarin than Japanese (which is, by bloodline, my heritage language). Maybe it’s because I’ve had more exposure to Chinese lately. My Spanish accent has always made it hard to speak French without some strange hybrid sound. The W/V/etc. of German is hard to get used to because of this. (Also, I’m incredibly self-conscious about the way I sound in both German and French—eeek.)
In public school in Guam, we also learned Chamorro. That language includes some Portuguese influences—like the numbers, which are nearly identical. In fact, many Southeast Asian and Pacific Island languages reflect Portuguese influence due to Catholic missionaries in the 18th and 19th centuries. The Philippines, for instance, is a fascinating mosaic of native, Spanish, Portuguese, Chinese, and American English influences. There’s also a staggering number of local languages—hundreds, in fact—existing alongside the national Tagalog: Visayan, Ilocano, and so many more.
It’s not so different in the (mostly former) French colonies. Many languages are a blend of French and native tongues—Creole French, for example. There are the French-speaking Caribbean islands. Algeria. Morocco. (People often forget just how vast the French empire was.) The syncretization of native and colonialist languages has always fascinated me. But I also wonder how it’s shaped the physical experience and expression of language—the act of pronunciation, if that makes sense.
Take this simple example: two ways to say “Paul”/”Pol”, as I “hear” them:
PAWL vs. POHL (this is simplified, not proper IPA)