My “International” Accent

The first thing my mom said to me when I came back to Olympia was, “You gained weight!” (Hey, what are moms for? In her defense, I did gain weight, which I’ll write about later.)

The second thing she said was, “You’re talking funny. Thy, you have a weird accent!”

Oh dear.

It reminded me of a time when I was in Greece. Remember my doomed attempt to visit the Acropolis of Athens? Good news is, I eventually made it back during business hours and with my camera fully equipped. Woo!

While I was there I met two guys, Jeff and Matt, who were passing through Greece on a three-month trip around Europe. They’re from Chicago and would be moving to San Francisco (my FAVE US city) when they returned to the States.

It’d been awhile since I’d met other Americans on the road, and I liked it that way. But these guys were cool and we got into some great conversations. We’re all around the same age, trying to figure out life. They had a million questions about how I’d been traveling for so long, all the meanwhile, I was swooning over their upcoming move to San Francisco.

By now, we had made our way to Areopagus Rock, a hilltop viewpoint overlooking the city of Athens. We were sitting on the rocks enjoying the view and peeling oranges, when Jeff suddenly turned to me and said:

“You don’t sound American.”

He went on to say I had an accent that was nondescript. It didn’t sound British. Nope, not Welsh either. Hmm, it certainly wasn’t Australian. After more analysis, Jeff concluded my accent was………”International.” It was really subtle and kind of cool, he said.

My sister, when she was home last week, told me the same thing. “Thy, you totally have an accent. It’s so cool!”

In each instance, I thought to myself, please shoot me if I sound fake and ridiculous and presumptuous like Madonna. It’s made me shy about talking too much since I’ve been back.

I didn’t try to develop an international accent. It just happened.

I spent nearly two years surrounded by people from different countries, most of whom spoke English as a second, third or fourth language (if at all). Whether they were from Malaysia, Italy or Nepal, I found myself mirroring their speak. I started to speak broken English, leaving out articles and using simpler words. To be honest, that’s one of the reasons I started blogging – I was afraid of losing my language. It was a constant tug of war: my strong English skills versus my natural inclination to speak with the local people on an equal level.

One thing worth noting about people who learn English in their respective countries: they’re not always learning American English. Often times, they’re learning British English, but speaking it with their local accent. You can imagine the various tones and inflections I came across in over 20 countries and the countless dialects within them.

So yes, a byproduct of these experiences was a strange accent. I even tried to learn a few languages, which affected this as well.

Over time, I realized I was doing these people a huge disservice. Non-native English speakers – particularly the French, Italians and Southeast Asians I spent time with – love the clarity and precision of my original American accent. They find that the Brits and Aussies who are teaching them English in school are difficult to understand. And then here I am with this weird accent, talking at their skill level so I can blend in with their culture, when all they want is for me to talk NORMAL, for cryin’ out loud.

It never occurred to me that I was losing my American accent. Now that I’m so keenly aware of it here in good old Olympia, Washington, I catch myself in conversations when I’ve said something “oddly.” I’m constructing perfectly American-English sentences, but that subtle inflection and odd phrasing occasionally creeps up – and I hurry on to my next point before anyone notices!

I’ve already phased out most of the accent and funny words (sorry Jeff!). These are some of my mental notes:

• I’m back in a land where “rubbish” is “garbage”
• A 40° day to us is not a heatwave
• We stand in “lines” – not “queues”
• We throw our backpacks into the “trunk” of a car, not the “boot”
• We pump our petrol in gallons, not liters
• Oh, and we call it “gas,” not “petrol” – doh!

One thing I’d like to keep from this acquired daily speak is measuring weight in kilograms instead of pounds. With this recent weight gain that my mom keeps pointing out, I think I’ll continue referring to my weight in kilos.

Bloody hell, you should try it.