I’m proud to announce that I’ve officially reached my one-year anniversary with the DuoLingo Language app. I owe this achievement in part to the fear I have of the little Duo cartoon owl that first sends you guilt messages and then flat out threatens you should you miss a lesson or, God forbid, two. But I’ve done it and now I can speak a little Spanish and a little more German.

That means, in German, I can now say many more useful things, such as:

Why are you following me? (Warum folgst du mir?)

I am fine because I have a duck. (Es geht mir gut, denn ich habe eine Ente.)

I will never buy a horse again (Ich werde nie weider ein Pferd kaufen.)

And lastly:

For the magic soup, we need onions, garlic and the holy potato. (Für die magische Suppe brauchen wir Zwiebeln, Knoblauch und die heilige Kartoffel.)

There are many reasons why a person should learn a foreign language, but one that’s hardly ever mentioned is the refreshing simplicity and mindfulness that a new foreign language learner is forced to adopt. When you can’t say much, your world becomes as clear as it was when you were little. It’s kind of fun to become passionately interested in easy, wholesome things like how everyone is, where they are from and, in the case of Duolingo, how clean their potatoes are. A new language is a terrific escape from real life.

The first time I deliberately tried to learn a language was when I took German in junior high and had to memorize the following dialogue:

Hello, Hans. (Guten Tag, Hans.)

Hello, Bridget. (Guten Tag, Bridget.)

We’re playing soccer. Are you coming? (Wir spielen Fussball, kommst du?)

No. I’m drinking lemonade. (Nein. Ich trinke limonade.)

And that’s the whole conversation. Probably the last time I considered drinking lemonade as a stand-alone activity was when I was learning how to drink it out of a sippy cup. But in German dialogue world, Hans’ friends accept that drinking a lemonade is an all-consuming activity and so he clearly won’t be doing anything else for some time. There’s no peer pressure, there’s no judgement. Just happy acceptance all around. I’d love to try out that dialogue at work.

Boss: “Hello, Anneli.”

Me: “Hello, Leslie.”

Boss: “Are you coming to the meeting?”

Me: “No, I’m drinking lemonade.”

Boss: “Okay, sorry to have bothered you.”

I haven’t had the courage to try it yet. Since my boss and I both speak English, I’m guessing the end of my imaginary conversation would quickly get cluttered up with complicated phrases like, “performance expectations.” But that’s the beauty of starting to learn a new language. The conversation can’t get complicated.

For me, this is especially true of Spanish. In Spanish-world, I enthusiastically go around telling everyone my name and that I’m from Cuba. (I’m not from Cuba, but that’s what I’ve been practicing, so that’s probably what’s going to come out under pressure). Also, I need a new red dress. (un nuevo vestido rojo). Unlike real life, I have plenty of time and energy and nothing I want to do more than go dress shopping. Accordingly, I go to the tienda de ropa (clothing store — it does not sell anything else) and I tell the nice salesperson, “Yo necisito un vestido rojo.” (I need a red dress.) Naturally, there are no other customers and, apparently, no other clothes. She shows me one dress and tells me it is “muy elegante y barato” (very elegant and cheap). Great! The only item in the shop is just my size and exactly what I want. I “comprar” (buy) it on the spot. I take myself to “un restaurante.” (a restaurant). Here, I pull out all the linguistic stops and tell the waiter, “Yo quiero una mesa para una, por favor.” (I would like a table for one, please.) I am shown a table and given a menu which only has three items on it. “Ensalada” (salad), “carne” (meat) and “postre” (dessert). No descriptions. I order the meat. There’s no fussing about how I want it cooked, or even what kind it is. For all I know, it’s the horse from my last German lesson, but that’s fine. This meal can only have one outcome: “muy delicioso” (very delicious).

I’m enjoying this happy Spanish world as much as I can because I know it will get a whole lot more complicated soon. I’ve already fallen into the snake pit that is German grammar and understand better now why so many of the examples feature death and blood. In fact, if I had to choose between the dative case and a punch to the head, I’d choose — never mind. It amounts to the same thing. But that’s OK. It is, after all, also fun to be able to actually communicate, however ungrammatically. So far, people have been very patient and kind as I’ve bulldozed through their beautiful languages, leaving linguistic wreckage behind. But their misery will soon be over. Now that I know about the magic soup, my plan is to find that potato and whip up a big batch of it. With the soup on hand, I should be able to speak any language beautifully. I’m really counting on finding that potato soon. The vipers of German adjective endings are coming for me, and there’s no other hope of escape.

Anneli Byrd is an academic adviser in Weber State University’s Student Success Center.

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