The Spanish Quest

As most people know, here in Mexico, most people speak primarily Spanish.

Except me.

Mastering the Spanish language is an ongoing and daily struggle for me, despite encouraging comments such as “I hear it’s an easy language to learn.” Yes, I believe it is supposed to be. But the Spanish language did not count on my lack of linguistic skills when it chose to give itself that reputation.

I’ve really enjoyed learning a second language. Although I took French for 5/6 of my public schooling, I came away from those ten years with a very thorough understand of how to ask to go get a drink of water. Although not intentionally strategic, this knowledge had the capability to enable me to be out of the classroom when it came to my turn to read a paragraph out loud, which in turn enabled me to keep my friends who would’ve otherwise disowned me in embarrassment of my successful butchering one of my country’s national languages.

I’m pleased to announce that my Spanish is coming along much better. After about seven months, I can not only ask for water, but I can also now say that I am hungry. This is already a significant improvement from my francophonic attempts.

During the beginning of my time in Mexico, speaking Spanish was like having to change in front of your classmates in the gym room in junior high for the first time. The fact was, I was afraid to say anything in Spanish for fear that I would say it wrong and embarrass myself and be laughed at. Eventually however, I’ve learned that I will never speak Spanish if I don’t, in fact, try speaking it.

My Personal Aids

Occasionally I say things now, and they come out right. Sometimes I say something thinking I’m practically as fluent as a Spanish dictionary, and meanwhile the whole country instinctually flinches deep inside because of the horrendous misuse of their native language. And then there are the times when I try to say something, and even I realise that the delivery was absolutely awful. These moments are learning experiences, an opportunity to laugh at myself, and, more often than not, a chance to humbly apologise.

There was the one time I told my co-worker she needed to clean her teeth.

Or the time I asked my other co-worker if she had to poop.

Or the conversation I had in which I confused the word “poor” for another, which resulted in me asking both of my fellow co-workers if they were impoverished, while I stated that I was not.

Yes, I have been very offensive, and they have in turn been very gracious and understanding. Thankfully they have a sense of humour that enables them to laugh with me (or at me, but I prefer to think it’s with), rather than shun me.

I’ve also successfully taught a group of 2 year olds that “orange” is a legitimate emotion. When you are “orange,” your brow will furrow and you will frown. I’ve since replaced the word “orange” with “angry,” in the hopes that the emotion orange will not be remembered very long by these very teachable young ones.

Another time, I was very concerned about the existence of parasites in one of our kids, and was checking with another worker for reassurance. She however thought I was asking about the presence of little pieces of bread. What resulted was a somewhat frustrating conversation on both parts, in which she was confused as to why I was asking about bread, and on my part trying to figure out why she couldn’t understand me when I was almost certain I was using the right word. I later enquired with my husband as to why this miscommunication happened, and it was simply because I was putting the emphasis on the wrong syllable of the word, which made it indiscernible.

Look carefully:

parásitos – parasites (correctly pronounced)

parasitos – parasites (incorrectly pronounced)

panesitos – little breads

I feel that this is one of my more forgivable mistakes.

However, as I continue to learn, I am so grateful for those around me who are so patient and forgiving. These people have come alongside me to teach me, and to graciously laugh with me when I make silly mistakes. They have encouraged me in my improvements (apparently there are some!), and taken the time to have excruciating slow and confusing conversations with me.

I still have high hopes of making fewer mistakes someday. Someday, I hope, I will be a much less rude person in Spanish. Until  then, I will plug along and continue to attempt to learn this beautiful language.

This is a completely irrelevant picture, but it is of a baby mango from the mango tree in our backyard. I hoped it would bring joy to someone other than myself.