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rhyming with the cong in “conga”。 You’d long heard of jungle magic in the outer islands
of Indonesia； but you never really believed it until you went to the local grocer looking
for bananas。 You don’t see bananas anywhere。 You ask if he has any bananas。 Sure； he
says； plenty。 “Excuse me；” you say； “I don’t see any。” Be patient； he begs you； until he
finishes with a customer。
When it’s your turn he asks you how many bananas you want。 You reply； half a
dozen。 He then takes six peas and sings them a mysterious little song。 Before your
bewildered eyes； they turn into bananas！ The peas that were sung to became bananas。
Your only putt is to make the final vowel sound like the o in “conga。”
So “banana” equals PEA…song。
The Spanish word for “to iron” is planchar； pronounced plan （to rhyme with
“Don”）…CHAR （as in “charcoal”）。 The hotel in Madrid has an excellent reputation； with
only a single and rather bizarre lapse。 Apparently a maid with too much seniority to be
fired has a habit of leaving the iron on the backside of the trousers so long it leaves burn
marks the size of the iron itself smack across both buttocks。
You have no choice。 Your pants need ironing and you’ve got to take your chances。
To improve your odds you gingerly approach the concierge and say； “ Excuse me； sir。
Could you please find out if the maid plans to iron these pants correctly or if she plans to
char them？” Your putt is to carry the plan sound from one rhyming with “tan” over to
one rhyming with “Don。”
“To iron” equals plan…CHAR。
The Indonesian word for “donkey” is keledai； pronounced almost exactly like “call
it a day” without the it。 That’s what donkeys in hot climates are reputed to want to do
after carrying their loads； and that’s what we’ll do now with this particular series of
examples。
Un…American Sounds
So far we’ve shied away from words containing sounds that don’t exist in English。 The
real world won’t be so protective。
“Un…American” sounds are exaggerated as an obstacle to progress in most
languages。 I say that not because it’s unimportant to master the sounds correctly； but
because most of them will enter your repertoire automatically with practice。 The trilled r
in Spanish； the French r that sounds as though it issues from inside the pituitary gland；
the half…sh half…guttural in German； the double consonant in Finnish； the many umlauted
u’s and a’s and o’s in the various European languages will all be explained in your
grammars； and better than explained on your cassettes： they’ll be pronounced。
Many languages carry so many markings and so many different kinds of markings
over and under certain of their letters you may be intimidated。 Almost all of them are
empty threats； despite their sinister looking foreignness； they don’t convey any sounds
we don’t have in English。
The two dots over certain a’s in Swedish simply tell you that particular letter is
pronounced as the first a in “accurate。” Without the dots； it’s the a in “father。” There’s no
need to run from the Norwegian o with a line slicing diagonally down through it： the first
e sound in “Gertrude” is close enough。 Languages with the double consonant spend far
too much time warning us Americans that this is something strange to us。 It is not
strange。 We have double consonants too； maybe not inside the same word； but definitely
inside the same phrase。
We pronounce the last sound of the first word and the first sound of the last word in
“late train。” We don’t say “lay train。” So much for the frightening double consonant。
We’ll make no attempt here to teach you the “click” sounds of some of the
languages in South Africa or the larynx twisting sounds of the Georgian language spoken
in Soviet Georgia that actually sounds like paper ripping inside the speaker’s throat。
Those sounds are unrepeatable for most Americans and the languages in which they
appear are mercifully obscure。
There is really only one sound that doesn’t exist in English that we’re obliged to
learn well； and that’s the guttural common in Hebrew； Arabic； Russian； Dutch； and
several other languages。
Most textbooks are notoriously weak in conveying that sound。 They know they’re
committing consumer fraud when； as they frequently do； they merely advise the
American student to “approximate the ch sound in the German name ‘Bach’ or the final
sound in the Scottish word ‘Loch。’”
However； “Bach” is not pronounced bak。 “Loch” is not pronounced lock。
“Chanukah” is not pronounced Ha…na…ka。 The trick is to learn how to make the real
sound。
The best method； though perhaps inelegant； is to imagine that you’re about to say
the plain old h sound； and suddenly you feel a terrible tickle in the middle of your throat。
The original h sound then becomes lost in all the other powerful things you now do。
Clear your throat violently to eject the irritant causing that tickle。 You will then have the
“Chanukah” sound； the “Bach” sound； the “Loch” sound； the “chutzpah” sound。
That sound has no natural parents in the English language。 It’s up for adoption。
Stop and think what image comes easily to your mind that can make you hear that sound。
Don’t be afraid to exaggerate it。 Then tone it down。 Dry it out。 It will soon be as
serviceable and comfortable as the sounds you grew up with。
Gender
The Harry Lorayne method of remembering the gender of nouns in foreign languages
makes you feel downright foolish for not having thought of it yourself！
In some languages you have to remember the gender of nouns in order to adjust the
articles or the endings of the adjectives that go with them。 All the Romance languages –
Spanish； French； Italian； Protugese； Romanian； etc。 – have masculine and feminine
gender。 Usually； but far from always； you can figure which is which by the word’s
ending： o for masculine； a for feminine。 French； however； conceals gender clues with
noun endings as unrevealing as battlefield camouflage。 German and Russian have
masculine； feminine； and neuter nouns。 The Scandinavian languages call their two noun
genders “common” and “neuter；” as does Dutch。 Chinese； Japanese； Indonesian；
Hungarian； and Finnish； like English； have no noun genders。
How do we remember whether the French noun for “train；” also spelled train； is le
train （masculine） or la train （feminine）？ It happens to be masculine； le train。 Imagine not
merely a train that has no women passengers； but a train that doesn’t allow women
passengers！ The men prefer it that way。 In hot weather； when the air conditioning fails；
they sit around in their underwear。 Feminists are outraged； but the Supreme court keeps
postponing the case。 Men’s magazines litter the aisles。 There are twice as many men’s
rooms as necessary because there are no ladies’ rooms。 Once the train screeched to a halt
between stations and an alarm sounded。 It seems a band of militant wom