How many languages do you speak? What language do you dream in? Do different languages bring out different parts of you? In this section, we ask young people about their story with languages.
I struggled to adapt to an English-speaking environment when I first immigrated to the UK three years ago. Having studied English at a Chinese school and lived in Hong Kong for nine years, my spoken English was okay, but I had a hard time understanding their fast-paced English, especially with heavy accents. I also found it difficult in class to read and write, but my teachers helped me a lot. It took me about two to three months to feel comfortable in the new environment.
In school, I have friends from the UK, as well as from Hong Kong, England, France and Italy. With the Hong Kong boys, I mostly speak in English, except if we want to say something secretive. I have also taught my non-Hong Kong friends some phrases in Cantonese, but for fun, I tell them the wrong translation.
My home language is mainly Cantonese, especially with my mum. With my dad, I speak both Cantonese and English. I can still read Chinese, but I am forgetting how to write. There was a moment when I couldn’t even write my name in Chinese!
Spending most of my time in the UK, I find that I am more used to speaking in English, but actually, the transition to Cantonese when I come here for the holidays is not that difficult after a day or so.
I think I dream both in English and Cantonese. I don’t have one clear identity. I see myself as a mix of Hong Kong and the UK. I miss Hong Kong food when I’m in the UK, and I miss UK life when I’m in Hong Kong.
Learning a new language is never easy. Knowing how to say simple words like “Hola” or “Bonjour,” is what most of us can do, but to become fluent is very different.
I started learning Spanish and French for fun. It took a lot of my time, and I had no intention of learning Japanese at all. However, my friend introduced me to Japanese pop music, and it became a fixation. I fell in love with it almost immediately and even tried to sing a song in Japanese without knowing any of the words.
I began to look up the meanings of the lyrics, as well as English covers of the songs. Slowly but surely, without even realising it, I began to recognise familiar and repetitive terms like “you” or “me.” As I began watching anime and broadening my scope in Japanese music, the subtitles and translations helped me understand what was going on, and I found my Japanese vocabulary slowly building up.
Beyond understanding, I also found that I was able to identify some kanji and katakana, a Japanese phonetic syllabary containing 46 basic characters. I understand that this is all very basic, but I feel proud because even this level of understanding came about without much trying.
Pop culture and social media consumption enabled me to learn simple Japanese. I continue to unconsciously imbibe more Japanese the more I consume its media. This is a clear example that new media actually affects positive language learning.
I have one tip for language learners. As a seasoned seven-year Spanish learner who struggles to spell in French, what I have learnt is that it is important to find the similarities between the language you know and the language you want to learn. Make use of those similarities. It is an easier route to picking up languages. Learning new languages is hard. If you know anyone who’s struggling with a third language, give them a pat on the back and reassure them they’re doing well.
Good luck to you all and さよなら!
Reflecting on my language learning journey, I feel grateful that I transferred from a Chinese-medium school to an all-English one. At first, I felt like I’d entered a parallel world — my English was weak, and I felt out of place. During COVID, I used the extra time to improve: writing daily, expanding my vocabulary, and joining competitions. The turning point came at a Model United Nations conference, when I realised I was thinking directly in English rather than translating from Cantonese. Looking back, transitioning to a different medium of education was one of the best decisions of my life, opening up far more opportunities than I expected.
I’m not sure which language I dream in, but probably mostly Cantonese, my mother tongue. That changed a bit after I moved to the UK. Instead of sticking only to the Cantonese-speaking community, though it is a group that I feel most at home in, I wanted to take advantage of being out of Hong Kong. During my first year at university, I joined a wide variety of clubs and societies, including parkour, international relations, Singaporean and even Dutch and Flemish societies, so that I could explore different cultures and connect with people in their own spaces.
I enjoy learning languages because it feels like starting from scratch and building a completely new skill set. It opens my mind and changes how I see the world. Learning a language to understand a culture is different from simply learning about it — speaking someone’s mother tongue lets you connect in the most natural way.
I can converse fluently in Cantonese, Mandarin and English, while Dutch is still at a beginner level. I’ve picked up fun phrases from friends too — like “hurry up” in Vietnamese, Hindi and French during my job at a summer school while also teaching my friends quirky Chinese words like 火車 (“train”) and 醜 (“ugly”) and telling them this means “beautiful” haha. These random encounters with language keep conversations going and build friendships.
Different languages bring out different parts of me. Cantonese is still the language in which I feel most comfortable. It’s how I best express my emotions, and it anchors my Hong Kong identity. However, I notice that I use other languages with a different tone of voice to fit different moods. For example, when my phone died while playing Pokémon Go as a child, I caught myself talking to myself in Mandarin. There is no particular reason; it just fits the mood. In a similar way, I express myself best academically in English, but when it comes to writing literature, I switch to Chinese. This is because each language connects to me and my emotions differently.
Language learning, for me, is more than just communication: it builds communities, deepens cultural understanding, and helps me explore different sides of myself.
The language I use most often in daily life is Cantonese. Whether spending time with family and friends or during work and leisure, I rely on Cantonese as my main means of communication.
Since childhood, I have travelled to many countries with my family, but among them, Japan has always felt especially unique to me, and I have always been fond of the country. During the pandemic, I began watching anime and Japanese variety shows, which sparked my interest in learning Japanese. I started by memorising the fifty kana characters, listening to my favourite Japanese songs, and watching videos in Japanese. At the beginning, my learning was entirely driven by personal interest.
Six months later, a friend who also had an interest in Japanese and I enrolled in a business Japanese course together. However, we found the pace too slow, so I later switched to a Japanese class designed specifically for secondary school students. After a year of hard work, I successfully obtained both the Japanese Proficiency Test and the Japanese Language Proficiency Test N2 certificates.
During the learning process, the greatest challenge was creating an environment using Japanese. As I mainly speak Chinese and English in my daily life, I had to make a deliberate effort to find materials that were both engaging and educational in order to keep my passion alive.
The benefits of learning a new language go far beyond the language itself. It not only enables me to gain a deeper understanding of different cultures, but also allows me to connect with local people and broaden my horizons. More importantly, by making friends from different backgrounds, I have learnt to view the world from multiple perspectives, and to face challenges with greater maturity and flexibility.
By learning Japanese, I earned the opportunity to study in Japan. Before learning the language, I was not clear on my goals or aspirations. However, this new skill, interest and curiosity have opened doors for me to explore new life pursuits.
I was born in India and raised in Hong Kong. Switching between languages has always been part of my life. I speak Hindi at home with my parents, but most of my daily conversations with friends, classmates, and now colleagues are in English. I studied Mandarin in primary and secondary school because the subject was mandatory, but I only started learning Cantonese after I entered university.
It hit me that I’d been living in Hong Kong all these years, but mostly staying within an English-speaking bubble. I wasn’t really engaging with the local culture. That’s when I decided to give Cantonese a shot. Learning it was no small task — the six tones completely threw me off at first. I’d never dealt with anything like that in Hindi or English or even Mandarin. Another challenge was trying to immerse myself in the language that suits my level. My friends who speak Cantonese naturally talk quite fast and use advanced expressions, which made it tough for me to catch up and feel part of the conversation.
With the two languages I know best, Hindi and English, I sometimes find it hard to translate certain feelings or expressions directly from one language to the other. There are things that make perfect sense in English but feel difficult to express in Hindi, and vice versa. But that’s alright. I can always teach my parents new English phrases, and at the same time, share Hindi expressions with my friends. It becomes a way of connecting both worlds.
Now that I’m working at an AI EdTech startup, I see just how much technology is transforming language learning and communication. But I don’t think it can replace the human side of language. For me, learning a language isn’t about perfect grammar, reading or writing essays. It’s about connection—being able to sit across from someone and really understand them, culture and all.
Sometimes, Hong Kong people are surprised when they hear me speak Cantonese. And honestly, you can get by in Hong Kong just speaking English. But it’s a different experience when you can speak the local language. It opens up a whole new side of the city. In fact, I feel a deeper sense of belonging when I speak Cantonese.
I started learning Mandarin back in 2015, during a summer exchange programme in Beijing. When I got back to Bangkok, my dad thought it might be a good time for me to learn Chinese.
My teacher was Thai, and I learned everything from scratch — pronunciation, grammar, and basic vocabulary. It felt really rewarding whenever I got the right answers in quizzes or assignments. But writing Chinese characters was always the hardest part for me. It felt discouraging sometimes because I found it so complicated. Although there are similarities in Asian languages, such as pronunciation. I went to Beijing again months later, and from then on, I was not only curious about the language, but the culture too.
Being able to speak even a little helped me a lot when I was living in China. With my broken Mandarin, I found people were still very open and welcoming, and it helped me feel more at home. Later, as I made friends with local girls, they showed me around places in Beijing I probably wouldn’t have gone to on my own.
Once I moved to Hong Kong, my Mandarin studies stalled, and I rarely use it here. It’s actually quite easy to live just speaking English, and most people around me speak Cantonese, not Mandarin. I stopped last year because I felt like I had hit a wall. The classes kept getting more difficult, and I didn’t have either the time nor the opportunity to practice or do homework properly.
As for Cantonese, I don’t really plan to learn it. It seems even harder, both in terms of speaking and writing, and it’s not as widely used outside of Hong Kong compared to Mandarin. I still want to improve my Mandarin listening and speaking skills, especially for daily conversation.
When I was choosing my university major, I had my heart set on becoming a war correspondent, and friends around me all advised that I should study a less common language. Out of curiosity, I filled my application form with niche languages like Arabic and Swahili. By a twist of fate, I was eventually admitted to a university to study Swahili. Those four years were fulfilling, and I even spent a year on exchange in Tanzania — that was, without doubt, the peak of my Swahili language ability.
In the decade since graduating, I have neither worked in East Africa nor continued with Swahili. Instead, I chose to further my studies in Hong Kong and settle here. My Swahili has now faded almost completely, and its influence on me has grown smaller over time. Although Swahili is quite close to Arabic and has borrowed many foreign words, its cultural and historical depth is relatively limited. In my brief period of study, it did not leave me with a profound cultural resonance. That experience has become more of a label for me — something that new friends will remember about me, even though it no longer holds much weight in my life.
I have always enjoyed learning languages, especially those with a rich cultural heritage. Languages such as French, with its literary works and cultural richness, are especially appealing to me. I adore the works of Milan Kundera, and sometimes I think that if I had studied French at university, perhaps I might have been closer to the literary world I long for.
Learning a language requires long-term dedication, but without the right environment to immerse yourself in, it is hard for the effort and reward to match. As a child, I once dreamed of mastering a dozen languages, but as I grew older, I came to realise my own limitations. I have found that my language learning relies heavily on memory, lacking the gift for languages and sensitivity to sound. Take Cantonese, for example, although I can now communicate fluently, my pronunciation is never truly authentic. As someone from the Mainland living and working in Hong Kong, I sometimes feel a sense of identity divide. Even though I can speak and understand Cantonese, my friends are still mostly from the Mandarin-speaking areas.
A friend once told me that one should always find a partner who speaks multiple languages, because such people tend to have more open minds and can show you different worlds. Just as those who do not know English lack the perspective of the English-speaking world. The other world you encounter through a language really can change the way you think, offering both comfort and inspiration.
I speak German and Norwegian because my parents are from Norway, and I grew up in Switzerland’s German-speaking region. A multilingual family environment made it easier for me to pick up other languages. I learnt French in school. However, I don’t think I speak French very well, even after seven years of learning it in school, because I was never able to use it beyond the classroom.
Although I’m ethnically Norwegian, I have never lived in Norway. I can imagine my vocabulary and knowledge of local slang would be quite different from those who live there. Transitioning to speaking Norwegian now might take me a bit of time because I haven’t used it regularly. I notice that I become more formal when I speak Norwegian, whereas I feel more confident speaking German.
The benefit of learning a language is that you can truly connect with local people when you travel. People always feel more comfortable when you speak their native language, and instantly, there’s a sense of connection. They’re often pleasantly surprised when they meet tourists who speak their language. It opens many doors, even if you only know a few words. At least you tried, and they will appreciate that effort, seeing it as a genuine attempt to know them better. In return, they’ll often be eager to share their experiences and help you out.
The way you communicate face-to-face will never be the same if you rely on AI translation or other tools. Communicating with people isn’t about producing a perfect sentence through technology — even if you speak in broken sentences, the people you talk to will feel closer to you. ■