If you’re at all familiar with my work, chances are you’ve heard me rant about the value of learning a language. It doesn’t take much. A few hours of study and you can revolutionise your experience in a country, opening doors that would have otherwise stayed closed to your typical tourist.
I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that study sounds like just the sort of thing a barely employed travel writer has time to do. It’s not something for someone with a job, a family and obligations that go beyond getting dressed in the morning.
The good news (or bad news, if you’re a rainforest) is that thanks to AI, learning a language has never been easier. And while it pains me to write this – given my general resentment for how much AI is being rammed down our throats these days – it has changed my approach to language learning.
AI can tailor lessons to you as an individual. Using voice mode on Gemini or ChatGPT, it can even respond to your questions and correct your pronunciation (although I’d still recommend YouTube for a more natural immersion). Most importantly, it can reveal things about a culture that would have otherwise been invisible to even the most seasoned travellers.
Whenever I start a lesson plan, I always try to add as much context as possible. The non-negotiables are available study time, prior knowledge of the language (every konnichiwa counts), and my cheat sheet of phrases I try to learn before visiting a country. But it pays to go deeper. Explain who you are, what you enjoy, and the specific region that you’re travelling to.
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I’m going to Hokkaido for the summer and learned “namara” is a regional word for “very” or “super”, as in, “this article is namara useful!” And it’s not just about these location-specific language tips. There are cultural clues too, like the importance of saying “guten Tag” on my upcoming cycle through Germany, where proper greetings go a long way, showing that you acknowledge the people around you and recognise that we’re all equals.
I find it amusing when a phrasebook includes “help!” in the translations. If I really do need help, the last thing I’m going to do is consult my phrasebook and scream it in the right language.
This is to say that phrasebooks have a lot of superfluous noise, and to cut through it, I’ve made my own cheat sheet of useful words and phrases that are tailored to my style of travel. These move me beyond hello, please, and thank you, and into the realms of delicious, amazing, and I’m sorry, I don’t speak (insert language). It can help me order two beers, please, and ask what something is before I put it into my mouth.
Some of these might not be as practical as “where is the bathroom?” but practicality be damned. This isn’t about convenience; it’s about connecting with locals, and there is no better way to do it than in their own language.
Paul Marshall is a Sydney-based travel writer who got lost on the Banana Pancake Trail and never found his way back. A champion of backpacking and budget-savvy travel, he specialises in B-side destinations and learning just enough of the local language to order a beer (but no follow-up questions, please). Follow him on instagram.com/paulmarshalltravelsConnect via email.