| Not Learning Spanish in Panama |
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| Written by Matt Landau | |
| Tuesday, January 29 2008 | |
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At the age of 22, I moved to Panama with, among a number of
other goals, the intention of learning Spanish. I had planned not to buy
dictionaries or enroll myself in language courses because those would have
defeated the purpose. The idea was to pick up the language through osmosis; a
process of natural cultural immersion which seemed way easier than it actually turned out to be. It was a weird sensation, I thought, and not one I'd ever experienced as a child in the USA, of not knowing the word for something. Hell, I'd spent the first part of my life dedicated to learning all the words to make sure such a thing would never happen. But in Panama, I realized very quickly it would become an everyday concern; struggling if for just to order myself a toothbrush. Somewhere down my path of enlightenment, I like to think I invented a strategy (one I call circuitous Spanish) which basically entails searching for words you do know, to get around ones you don't. Beginners might opt for just using the list method, reeling off an inventory of things associated with the missing word. For the toothbrush, for example, the beginner Matt would simply walk into the drugstore and approach the counter. "Hola" he would start off with, perhaps before clearing his throat. "Please. Mouth. Brush. Bathroom. Clean." Interacting with this list-based dialogue can sound awkward but it works. The more experienced practitioner of circuitous Spanish might start to use aids in the process. "Yes, for to buy a long piece of wood?" I once explained to the local clerk at the Do It Center hardware shop. "A long piece of wood with metal on top. For to...for to..." Words like handle and smash and nail were way above my head, but upon making the motion of a hammer, we'd be in business. I started to get very good at hand motions, one time even drawing out the shape of a scale with my finger to explain to a girlfriend what astrological sign I held. It was often humiliating to see infants perform a task better than me. In the barber shop, for example, I remember a nice man encouraging his four year-old to give me the word for hair, seeing as though I had clumsily used the word for horse. And the sad part was that I was desperate to hear what the toddler had to say. "I like short horses" is what I had told the small team of hair stylists gathered around this gringo's chair. "Short horses for me, all around my head. You can make? Yes?" Spanish did not come as easily to me as it did, say, Shakira. But about a year into my time in Panama, things slowly started to click and I realized that my initial goal of involuntarily picking up the language by way of immersion was starting to actually come to fruition. My vocabulary supply was increasing exponentially, my verbs were somehow conjugating themselves, and I even began to say things that not even I knew exactly what they meant. Just having heard them thrown around, I figured, better to use a flawless Spanish expression in the wrong context than not to use anything at all. |
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| Last Updated ( Tuesday, January 29 2008 ) |
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