Middle-child syndrome comes in handy when you are trying to learn another language. I, like the majority of middle children, am a true pacifist and do my best to avoid discord and maintain peace wherever the possibility of conflict is brewing. This serves me well in Chile, where it is much easier to agree with people than to engage in an idea battle when armed with the verbal equivalent of a sharp toothpick. It is much easier to smile and agree because verbal sparring requires a far broader vocabulary than I have at my disposal. It’s pretty unlikely that I’ll be able to disarm your argument with the four adjectives and seven verbs that I seem to have acquired after 14 years of Spanish language training and two months in a Spanish-speaking country. People with training-wheels Spanish like me need to learn how to stick to the smooth road of agreement. Consider for example a conversation I had with my host mother last week. She is convinced that all Americans have a lot of money and tells me so on a quasi-regular basis. In my head, I am thinking, “Actually, that is not entirely true, Johanna. While a vast majority of Americans seem to be more financially secure than other foreign nationals, the myth of the rich American that has been propagated by the media has distorted a much more complex reality.” Instead I smile and agree, “Yes, it is good and goodnight.” In fact, I am the most pleasant gringa that you will ever meet because sarcasm, bitchiness and dry wit are reserved for those who don’t limit themselves to speaking in the present tense.
Vocabulary is a bigger problem than I expected, and I can’t tell you the number of times I wished that I’d paid more attention to the vocabulary lessons that begin all basic Spanish texts. At least, then I’d be able to function normally at an airport, a train station, a pool, a classroom and a supermarket. I’m convinced that people would be more receptive of my request for a “roundtrip ticket” than they would to my demand for a “piece of paper that will allow me to move there and also to be located here today.”
I’ve learned, however, that it is much easier to avoid communicating with humans and instead to make most transactions through automatic machines. Voice recordings usually don’t mind repeating themselves five times. I am not without any tools to defend myself in this fast-talking Chilean jungle; the effects of the vocabulary disadvantage can be mitigated by using instinct to identify and avoid those who will expose you as a training-wheels Spanish speaker. While people generally look similar, there are those who need to be avoided more than others because they pose a risk to the language-deficient. The first rule of defensive Spanish is to avoid the curious. Questions are the worst because they put you on the spot to provide a specific piece of information in response to a pointed request. I try to avoid the “Askers” at all costs because my “agreement” tactic seems to fail me in these situations and I am exposed as a true Spanish-language faker.
Asker: How did the dutta move in the flighon?
Me: Yes, thank you.
Asker: Yes what? The dutta moved through like grolflop?
Me: Hee hee, I am pleased to be here.
Asker: I see
Me: Yes.
I much prefer to spend my time with the “Chatters.” These people are content to just engage you in conversation and usually don’t assault you with a series of questions. The trick with these people is to repeat back some of the words they are speaking to you so they think you are following along.
Chatter: So I said, the dutta is just not going near my flighon.
Me: Yes, not near the flighon.
Chatter: You know what I mean, the more I gomilit, the worse it seems.
Me: I hate gomilit, too.
Chatter: Great talking with you, Helen. Your Spanish is great.
Me: Yes and goodnight.
While Chatters are preferred, I find that I run into the “Demanders” the most of any type. Demanders, like Askers, are trying to elicit a reaction or a response from you, yet sometimes their wishes remain encoded in a series of consonants and vowels. Commands like “Close the door” or “Hand me the flipron” can remain a mystery unless your Demander also uses facial gestures and hand movements to communicate their meaning. It is advisable to just agree and then leave the scene to assess the damage or consult a dictionary. Sometimes it is easiest to leave the area, never to return. By the time the Demander realizes that you didn’t comply with the request, you could already be five blocks away and gaining speed.
Demander: Helen, pass me the dutta.
Me: Yes.
Demander: (five hours later) I wonder where she went.
I’ve been told that my agreement and avoidance tactics will prevent me from truly improving my Spanish while I am abroad because embarrassment, conflict and failure are part of the learning process. While I agree that making mistakes and looking like a fool is part of the experience, I am simply trying to regain some control over when and where I look stupid. It’s true that you have to crawl before you can walk, but I would like to avoid crawling around in public places or in front of people that I want to respect me. Trial and error Spanish has a time and place?in front of a mirror, for example, is a good place to take risks when you speak. It is likely that the person looking back at you didn’t understand anyway.
Helen O?Reilly is a junior in the School of Foreign Service. She would like to credit Gina for coining the term Baby Alien Spanish.
