Several months ago Drug Monkey asked me this:
@amasianv do you blog in Vietnamese? Could be a cool thing, no?
— Drug Monkey (@drugmonkeyblog) September 9, 2012
Communicating science is tough as it is, never mind doing it in my native tongue. Especially, as I'm embarrassed to admit, when my spoken Vietnamese is atrophying like a disused muscle and my written skills are, well, nothing to write home about.
One of the reasons I started science blogging was a compromise to my father. In the minds of many Vietnamese immigrant parents--this probably extends to other ethnic groups as well--only four career options exist for their children: doctor, lawyer, engineer, or garbage man. No disrespect intended toward my fellow waste collectors, but this is the view of many of our parents. However, my father's dreams for me went a little against the grain since he wanted me to be a journalist. You can only begin to imagine how perplexing it was for me that my dad was disappointed in my affinity for the sciences. Of course, while blogging was an attempt at finding middle ground with my dad, the central irony in all of this is that my writing isn't really geared towards him. His English is only a hair better than my Vietnamese. Now, that's not to say we don't talk science at all. In fact, many of our conversations range from science news he's read on Vietnamese-language websites--some of which require elaboration if not outright debunking--to the details of my own thesis project.
Our conversations, however, can be a maddeningly staccato, mish-mash of Vienglish (I know, it lacks that certain yo no sé qué of "Spanglish"), with me attached to either my phone or computer ready to consult Google translate and my dad with his four hardcover Vietnamese-English dictionaries open and ready at his fingertips. But despite this, talking about science is one of the more rewarding experiences I get to share with my dad. For one thing, I practice using simpler analogies and try to find culturally-relevant examples to get around the language barrier. Recently, for instance, while on the topic of fermentation we talked about my dad's perfected recipe for making dưa chua*, a Vietnamese specialty of pickled mustard greens.
Even more rewarding than honing my own communication skills, however, is being able to witness my father's inquisitive mind at work. We're talking about someone whose formal education ended somewhere in grade school. His questions and insights from our countless conversations tell me that the limit of one's curiosity isn't set by their level of education.
As for my father, I have to believe he enjoys our scientific conversations, as well. Otherwise, he wouldn't be making cheat sheets like this one:
*not my dad's recipe.