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Wednesday, June 14, 2006¿Come Se Dice "Idiot" En Español?Since the age of seven, I have been passionate about learning to speak Spanish. Sesame Street planted the seed (Abierto! Cerrado! Abierto! Cerrado!), a beloved babysitter gave me my first lessons, and I studied the language for three years in high school and one year in college. Yes, I could speak Spanish. Enough to hold my own at the Spanish Dinner table, anyway. But I was never fluent. Still, the passion remained. When our house was under construction seven years ago, most of the workers were Mexican immigrants. I loved them. I brought them ice water in the summer, hot coffee in the winter. And always, haltingly, I spoke Spanish to them. Somehow, even if I run through the words in my mind first, I always end up making a stupid mistake somewhere along the way. Like the time I offered a guy some coffee while he was busy doing some touch-up painting on a wall in our living room. What I meant to say was, "Do you want some coffee?" What I actually said was, "Do you have some coffee?" Yeah, those verbs get a little muddled over years of non-usage. But the guy was gracious. He ignored my mistake and told me no, thank you, he didn't like coffee. (I guess he didn't have any coffee, either.) So last week at swimming lessons, one of the little boys was brought each day by his grandmother, who sat in the shade of the cabana doing needlework. She was Mexican. By the time Wednesday morning arrived, I could no longer contain myself. We were walking toward the pool together, and I asked her, in Spanish, how old her grandson was. She lit up light like Fourth of July -- ur, Cinco de Mayo -- fireworks. "Oh!" she said, in Spanish. "You speak Spanish!" Indeed. A very little Spanish, but enough to hold a conversation. After she had settled herself in the shade, I approached her and said, "Necesito practicar el español." (I need to practice Spanish.) She was thrilled. She pulled up a chair, placed it near hers, and began to converse with me about her children, her life, her home in Mexico. She spoke slowly, using her hands, and occasionally threw in an English word for me. I think she knew even less English than I knew of Spanish. "Tomorrow I will bring some photographs of my house in Mexico," she said (in Spanish). Wow. I was loving this. On Thursday, she brought the pictures. She described the wonderful fruit trees on her property (banana, coconut, mango). She proudly displayed pictures of her granddaughter, Yasmin, who is currently serving in Afghanistan. All this -- all in Spanish, slowly. I was ever so proud of myself for holding my own with a native Mexican. On Friday, daughter Maggie came with me to swimming lessons. She was feeling a little too shy to be introduced to my new Mexican friend (she was probably terrified that I would make her say, "Hola," or something equally horrible), so I pointed across the pool and proclaimed (with my new Spanish confidence) that there sat my daughter, who was twelve years old. My friend then asked me how many children I had altogether, and I was all too happy to tell her about all four of them, and how old they are. After I'd mentioned Jonathan, my Mexican friend seemed particularly amazed. "Oh! You look so young to have a son that age! So young!" Well, that was very nice of her to say. And when Eric arrived a few minutes later, she was quick to point out how handsome he was (a little thick on the compliments, perhaps). Later, as I was driving home, I went through the day's Spanish conversation in my head. It's my way of checking myself -- seeing how well I did. Let's see, I thought. What did I say about Jonathan? He's fourteen. I said... I said... It hit me like a ton of adobe bricks. I did not say, "Jonathan is fourteen." I said, "Jonathan is forty." Somewhere in Madison, Tennessee, there is a Mexican grandmother who thinks I have a forty-year-old son. Either that, or she's thought it over and realized that I'm a lingistic idiot. Cuarenta. Catorse. Well, they both start with a "C," don't they? Jonathan thinks it's hilarious. Well. Maybe I'd better hold off on my plans for missionary work in Mexico. I mean, there I was, asking her about the humidity in southern Mexico and whether her house was near the beach, and I got hung up on a simple number. I guess this makes me a bilingual number idiot. Doesn't matter which language I'm speaking; I'll always mess up the numbers. That's why I'm a writer. Ay. |
About Me
I am: Mother to five stunningly individualistic children... Writer of young adult fantasy... Passionate advocate for Women At Home... Madly in love with my husband... In need of Organic Gourmet Chocolate on a regular basis. I've got a Paypal account if you'd like to contribute to the cause....
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9of my readers are feeling chatty:
cute story. After a semester of Spanish i was asked if I spoke Spanish. I meant un poco. I said Pocita.
Too thick on the compliments of Eric being handsome? Come on! He's a stud! Umm.. Nothing personal Eric!
Jillian, I'm sure you speak spanish better than most of the American born population. I'm sure you and your new friend will end up teaching each other alot of the others language.
Senor Pail would be so proud...
A stud?
Si! esta Davide!
Donde esta la casa de pepe?
La cucaracha es en la ensalada!
Como esta Eric?
Uno ano de Espanol in escuela
me speeky goodly spanich
Dos refrescos por favor!
Mi gallo se murio ayer!
Bienvenidos to la casa de loco.. se loco con Davide.
yo hablo mui bueno Espanol
Vamos ala playa!
SIIIII!!!!!!!
LMSO! Too funny Jill. I'm sure the lady was smart enough to realize that there was no way your son could be forty!
Our favorite restaurant is Los Compadres. The servers always speak Spanish to me. The kids are always saying, "What did he say? What did you say?" It's cute.
I've found that I lost so much of what I learned in Spanish because I don't use it enough...
Haha! My Spanish students do the catorce/cuarenta thing all the time. I imagine she figured it out, might even have been giving you a chance to correct yourself.
I admire your efforts! I wish that everyone were so enthusiastic about expanding their minds accordingly!
Do I count as a 40+ year old kid? I think you do well with your Spanish. If she would have been German and I was there, I can just imagine what she might have thought about me. :)
Oh my goodness - that is just too funny. If you ever have the inkling to learn some German - I am your man - ah - gal :)...
Thank you for sharing your story.
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