Learning a Language the Hard Way
While vacationing with his Pervuian girlfriend’s family, Brendan Van Son found that the best way to learn a language is trial by fire.
Learning a language is difficult at the best of times – your head fills up with words and sounds; some of which are correct and others are just noise. And this challenge is even more exacerbated in times of stress. I know that because I just spent the past four days in San Andres, Colombia putting myself through the truest of language tests – a vacation with my Peruvian girlfriend’s family.
I forget sometimes how short a time it has been since I’ve been speaking Spanish.
Yes, I took a couple of university courses and vacationed/studied a little bit in Central America and Mexico, but it really has only been about a half a year where I’ve really put myself through the rigour of learning the language.
Most of the process has been by means of immersion, but also by flicking through ‘Learn it Yourself Spanish’ lessons on my ipod. Over time, I’ve gotten to the point that when my mouth opens or I type on the computer the first words that spill out are, for better or worse, in Spanish.
I understand things quite well when one person is talking to me.
However, when pushed or when I have an excited family of Peruvians laughing and chanting all at the same time, I might as well be listening to a chirping pack of hyenas as they devour their prey. To others around me, I must look like I’m having a seizure as I try to twist and turn my head to catch as much of the action as I can.
There are, however, times where everything is clear and then there are set backs. For example, like when you’re proud that you’ve finally had a dream in Spanish, and then you wake up only to realize that you don’t think you understood a word you dreamt.
Each language has its dialects and each person has certain idiosyncrasies in their speech.
Some people speak with a mumble, and others speak at the speed of a machine gun (with a jammed trigger). In every language, simple stresses on different letters could be the difference between ordering chicken or a prostitute, and a simple one letter switch could leave you confused for two or three days. For example, when toasting me with a salud my girlfriend’s dad would toss me a “socio” meaning “partner” or “buddy.” But for the first couple days of my Caribbean vacation I thought he was calling me “sucio” meaning dirty. And to be quite honest, I wasn’t sure how to take that from my potential father-in-law.
As I’ve settled myself into my adopted family vacation I start realizing how good at faking it I’ve become. I’ve learned quite quickly that the tone of someone’s speech can describe what type of avoidance response should follow. The stress of a sentence offers me clues of whether I should add a si, a “claro (of course)” or a “ que pena (too bad)” or if the sentence requires a much more constructive response.
The goal for the uncomfortable language learner is to avoid strict engagement, yet not to appear to be a mute.
The proud educated man in me simply has way too much pride to admit that I don’t understand, so I pass most of my time smiling nodding and dropping claro (the most overused word in the Spanish vocabulary) to disguise my lack of concentration and understanding. At times, it seems that it may be a good idea to pack a tape recorder so I can simple replay it in slow-mo to get the gist of things.
At night I take shelter in my Spanish-proof hotel room where I can enjoy a variety of television shows and movies in spoken English. As I sit and watch the Spanish subtitles roll by on the bottom of the screen, my attention is quickly tossed to them each time a swear word is laced by the characters.
“Later, when the time is appropriate”, I tell myself, “I will use these newly learned words taught to me by the likes of Tom Hanks and Horatio from CSI.”
I kid myself that watching English television is the best way to learn a language.
As my false sense of understanding begins to fade I peer through the crack in my hotel room door knowing I must go back out there, I must keep trying.
I walk into a nearby bar with my girlfriend only to be confronted by my foreign family, all drinking and dancing. My suegro (father-in-law) points his glass of white wine at me and shouts “Socio” as I walk into the room.
I take a deep breath and smile. We are all starting to realize that regardless of place of birth or language, good people are good people. And we begin to see that it doesn’t always take an exchange of properly constructed verbal language to make a strong personal connection. Thank goodness for that!
Category: From the Road
