Learning Turkish as an Expat: From SOAS London to Bosphorus University

Post 1 of 3 - first published 2008

The first Turkish language course I took was at the School of Oriental and African Studies in London. It was an evening beginners course, filled with people who had some kind of connection with Turkey, either through business, travel or family. My connection at the time was definitely through travel and a vague notion that I might, at some point in the future, live in Istanbul. I found learning a language in an environment that was distinctly removed from the land of the language itself a real challenge. Nevertheless, I gradually accumulated more knowledge of the sounds, letters of the alphabet and grammatical rules of the language.

All seemed to be progressing, albeit slowly, until we hit the genitive tense and I seized up. My Turkish baulked at this point like a horse coming to a screaming halt before a jump. I really struggled with the idea that the door had a back, kapının arkasında; that something was on the door's back; that the door’s front was green, kapının önünde yeșil. I gave up my Turkish lessons and concentrated on other things for a while.

A few years later, as I laid the foundations for spending half the year in Istanbul and half the year in London, I picked up my abandoned textbooks again. I felt strongly about improving my language skills before taking up part-time life in Turkey, so I enrolled in a summer course at Bosphorus University.

I immersed myself in the programme, attending classes in the morning and studying for hours every afternoon. I moved well beyond the sounds of letters and had no problems pronouncing moderately lengthy constructions, especially when the context was clear and I did not have to answer unexpected questions. We divided our class time between grammar, speaking, reading, writing and listening.

I seemed to have gotten over the genitive tense and galloped along until the next hurdle where I came to a sudden standstill again. This time it was the negative ability that confounded me. If I said yürüyemiyor, would I be saying she or he is not able to walk now or ever? If I said yürümeyebilir, would I be saying she may not be able to walk? Which one implied a permanent condition? Which one was temporary?

It all seemed too confusing and open to embarrassment on my part and offence to others. Still, people would compliment my Turkish. A shop owner in Kaş once asked if I was from Istanbul because my Turkish sounded like I came from there. I took this as a small victory on the long road to learning this language.

To be continued…