Wordless activities, whether solitary strolls or friendless chores, offer opportunities to rehearse conversations. When, moreover, these conversations take place in a second language, they spark questions about things like grammar, vocabulary, and, indeed, etiquette.
Years ago, while flying on Icelandair (which employs many members of the extended Muros clan), I noticed that an elderly woman sitting in the row behind mine was reading a German language magazine. Earlier, while entering the plane, I had noticed that she had experienced some difficulty putting her overcoat in the overhead bin. I therefore resolved that, once our plan had landed, I would offer to help her retrieve her Mantel.
In breaks between the reading of articles about glaciers and volcanos and the best hot dogs in Reykjavík, I rehearsed what I would say to my German-speaking (or, at the very least, German-reading) neighbor. Gnädige Frau, darf ich Ihnen mit Ihrem Mantel helfen? (‘Ma’am, may I help you with your overcoat?’)
When delivered, these well rehearsed lines brought a look of surprise to the face of my interlocutor. I quickly realized that the form of address I had used, which was made up of the elements gnädige (gracious) and Frau (lady) had gone the way of the turkey trot. ‘Who is this strange young man’, she probably thought, ‘who speaks like my grandfather did all those years ago?’
Apart from this little exercise in time travel, the practice of silent rehearsal bore fine fruit. First, I managed to spare my fellow passenger a bit of toil and trouble. Second, I enjoyed an opportunity, however, brief, to practice my German. Third, I acquired a means of reminding myself that many of the phrases I acquired by reading works written in the days of Kaiser Bill had fallen out of use.
Related Reading
I ran into this problem when I first went to France. Apparently my college French is way out out of date.