I’ve been reflecting on what I’ve accomplished this past year, and while I read several books that were great, I also feel that I didn’t focus enough on the books I had, as several remain unfinished.
Most interesting of these books were a few I had on the Tibetan language. After my first trip to Nepal, I eventually resolved to return to trek in an area populated by ethnic Tibetans, so it made sense to me to learn a bit of the Tibetan language before I went back. The first book was for classical Tibetan, but when it proved to be structured poorly for learning, I bought another book on modern Tibetan, which was easier to understand. However, I still barely made it through the chapter covering Tibetan script, as some of the writing rules are difficult to remember and internalize.
This is fine – I think Tibetan script is a beautiful script – but it wasn’t very economical, on several levels. First of all, I was trying to learn a language that I might only encounter for two weeks. Second of all, even cultural Tibetans in Nepal speak Nepali, so it’s pretty clear that learning Nepali would have a higher ROI than learning Tibetan. Third of all, I didn’t account for the possibility that bad weather could entirely prevent me from reaching areas where large concentrations of ethnic Tibetans live, which is precisely what happened. My efforts to learn Tibetan were essentially wasted.
Since returning, I haven’t revisited the Tibetan script at all, and it’s already falling out of memory. (Use it or lose it, the saying goes)
The only true disappointment I had with my first trip to Nepal was that I hadn’t spent enough time learning Nepali (though I do actually know the script fairly well). If I had put effort into the learning the language over the preceding year, I think it would greatly have enhanced the experience (not that it wasn’t already great). I wish that once I had decided to return, I had dedicated myself to learning basic Nepali rather than attempt Tibetan. Because I didn’t do this, I spread myself too thin, which effectively meant that I learned absolutely nothing to help me communicate or connect with others in Nepal. It meant I just knew a few characters of script and nothing else.
I’ve always been drawn toward obscure knowledge, and Tibet has a certain fascination to me. I love seeing clips of YouTubers who go to ethnic restaurants and speak the language and the cool reactions they get from the owners, but these people are exceptional because of their natural talent for learning languages. When I took the Johnson O’Connor test, I scored dead average for language learning aptitude, and it has always, always shown. Can I learn another language? I’m sure I can. I did very well in high school language classes. Am I good at self studying language? No. Hell no. Absolutely not. In fact, that’s one of the areas in which I have always failed.
Jacob Fisker, one of the pre-FIRE personalities I kind of look up to (we INTJs are quite biased), spoke much about establishing goals that work together as a form of life-style efficiency, and I really failed to do this in my situation. This was a case where I wish I had applied a little more caution and a little less carpe diem. Knowing Tibetan would absolutely be cool, but it comes at a steep price that it probably doesn’t make any sense to pay. Nepali will always have the higher ROI, unless you are specifically traveling to Tibet or have some sort of vested academic interest in Tibetan culture.
So there you have it. Mistakes were made. I messed up, and lost a decent amount of time in the process. Hopefully others can learn from this lesson and apply it to their own situations.