Visits and Variations

I'm currently enjoying a visit from my mother, and there is no better way to feel at home than to have a guest who is even less familiar with the place you're in. It seems Mom had planned to survive her trip through England, France, and Spain using only her knowledge of English and French. It worked until she crossed the Pyrenees. Needless to say, I have been translating conversations for the first time in my life. There is no better way to feel fluent (or at least of advanced intermediate capabilities).

The main event thus far has been our visit to my school in Albelda, where Mom was VERY popular. Being an enterprising young gent, I used her presence as a way to liven up the class...while simultaneously allowing her to do much of what would have been my job. I was learning as well, however - I've never seen the preschoolers as well-behaved as they were today. If only I could figure out how Mom did it.

Outside of class, however, was my first real test as a translator. Many of the teachers in my schools do not speak English, although more can than are willing to admit it. Language barriers have never stopped my mother, though, and before long, I found myself mediating a conversation about one of my coworker's retirement plans (they involved a 50-foot yacht and the Mediterranean Sea).

One secret I've learned in my experiences abroad is the importance of using visitors as couriers. And Mom has performed that role admirably, as I now have in my possession a copy of How the Grinch Stole Christmas and The Cat in the Hat. One of my major struggles here has been my inability to connect with children, but Dr. Seuss can turn anyone into a kid. Seriously, who can say "Fiffer-Feffer-Feff" without sounding (and feeling) like a child?

This week has been the first where I have really started to feel at home here, as well as feeling confident with my Spanish. But minor cultural differences continue to arise, to which I can only say IGTJHTDIH: I guess that's just how they do it here. Here's a few little challenges:

- I've begun playing basketball once a week. Part of the reason I wanted to find somewhere to play is that my knowledge of basketball is probably greater than any other sport, so it would be a good way to feel a little more at home. It has served to do that, but not without a few hiccups. When I first stepped on the court, the first question I was asked was "¿Qué zona?" (Which zone?) I timidly asked if we might not consider playing man-to-man defense, but in the end I covered the area they pointed to. I can honestly say that I had never played zone defense before coming here.

- Spanish people do not, as a general rule, comprehend sarcasm. While enjoying the company of some new friends in my living room a couple of weeks ago, someone suggested a card game. I enthusiastically agreed and fetched a deck of cards. The dealer asked if I wanted to be dealt in. Thinking the answer was obvious, I sarcastically replied "no." Moments later, I was surprised to find cards in front of my neighbors, but not me. IGTJHTDIH.

- Another, more positive difference in communication is the directness of both the people and the language. When Spanish people answer the phone, you hear one of four phrases: "Dime", "Digame", "¿Sí?", or "Hola." The first two literally translate as "tell me," which doesn't really fit in English, but imagine someone saying "What?" or "Talk" when they answered the phone. It's about that polite. The language does not lend itself to equivocation or subtlety. This directness allows me to be pretty harsh in my choice of words, but it also limits the degree of emotion I can express (as if my Spanish skills didn't already do that).