Everyone, meet Spanish Tess

…she may not be as chatty as you recall.

Something I've had on my mind recently is the ways in which speaking a foreign language affect, at least on a superficial level, how people perceive us. When attempting to converse in Spanish (‘attempt’ being the operative word here), I find that my demeanour, attitude, confidence, and even personality, can change. I become self-conscious of my pronunciation, shy about my mistakes, and above all frustrated by my inability to convey even the most basic of concepts. Of course I still know that I am a fairly intelligent and outgoing woman with plenty of thoughts and opinions, but to the Spanish-speaking world, I am shy, awkward, frequently confused, and a terrible conversationalist. And this is not a misconception on their part; I honestly am all of these things when trying to speak Spanish! In my attempts at ‘real’ conversation so far, I found that because I couldn't express nuances and finer details, I was making broad and sometimes offensive statements that didn't actually ring true with what I really believe in. Thankfully the Spanish people are incredibly kind, and for the most part I think, understand that at least some of my awkwardness and insensitivity must be attributed to my lack of fluency.

When sightseeing, dining out, asking for directions, and searching for apartments, this ‘personality makeover’, if you could call it that, hasn't been much of a problem. One night, however, I plucked up the courage to trek across Madrid to a language exchange I had found on the internet. I was nervous, cold, and feeling a bit ill, but knowing I had nothing to lose, I took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the bar where the event was being held. The bar was absolutely packed, with a lively atmosphere, and unfortunately for me, it seemed that everyone already knew each other. Except for a few initial introductions by the doorway, the organisers did very little to facilitate the promised ‘language exchange’, but eventually, after a few short conversations with Spaniards who wanted to practise their English and, obviously, not their Spanish, I quite literally stumbled into a conversation with a friendly man from Pakistan and woman from Spain. I feel that, had we been speaking English, I would have had no trouble working my way past small chat and into more interesting and substantial discussion, perhaps even a joke or two. And yet when I eventually excused myself, unable to strain my throat any more shouting over the noise in the bar, I was acutely aware and embarrassed of how shy and uncertain I must have seemed. Stumbling over words was not necessarily the problem; it was more that, simply because I did not have the words, I did not seem to have the concepts either. In retrospect this is probably good news, as it means I'm thinking in Spanish instead of translating from English… but thinking in the Spanish of a 5 year old, most likely!

Similarly, and perhaps even more so, I experience this feeling in my apartment. The Spaniards I live with – José Alberto, María, Lourdes, and Javi – are some of the loveliest and funniest people I have met here so far, and I am so lucky to have found them. Not only are they kind to me, but they include me in their jokes, help me with my Spanish, invite me to eat and drink wine with them, and even looked after me when I was sick with the flu. Although it has only been a few weeks since we met, I already feel so comfortable with them, and so naturally I am frustrated with the huge roadblock that this language barrier is providing. The traditional methods of getting to know someone – by sharing stories, advice, opinions, anecdotes, aspirations, jokes etc. – are, for now at least, largely unavailable for us. Instead, they are getting to know Spanish Tess, who is timid, annoyingly curious and nerdy (cómo se dice this, qué significa that), and, I am sure, supremely awkward.

I need to clarify though that all this is not a bad thing, and I am writing about it not out of a desire or need to complain, but rather as a point of curiosity. I came to Spain to be immersed in the language and culture, and the knowledge that I am out of my comfort zone pushes me, everyday, to try harder, learn faster, ask more questions, and experience things more deeply. If there were no challenges, I would become complacent, and I would leave this country next year still a monolingual. Which is NOT an option!

And anyway, what's the harm in a little personality adjustment? I have always been a chatterbox, but now I have a unique opportunity – whether I like it or not – to talk less and listen more. Logically, it is much easier to ask questions than answer them, as questions require less vocabulary and improvisation. If I am on the receiving end of an open-ended question, I am usually only able to give fairly short replies; certainly none of my usual rambling! I think that when we are speaking a language we are unfamiliar with, we try to turn the focus outwards, away from ourselves. This is probably mostly due to self-consciousness… but also, if you’re making the effort to learn another language, chances are you’re already open to other cultures, and the ideas and lessons its people have to share with you. So bring it on, Spain, I'm all ears.

"Nos comemos las palabras" / literally, "We eat words" – Or, as Javi said it, by way of explanation, "no comemo la palabra". A recently returned exchange student told me at a pre-departure session in Sydney that, just when she thought she could understand Spanish, she went to Andalusia (a state in Spain), and suddenly she couldn't understand anything. Andalusians are notorious for having a certain lazy way of speaking which apparently makes them difficult for foreigners to understand. As luck would have it, 3 out of my 4 housemates are from – you guessed it – Andalusia! Even Maria, Javi’s girlfriend, says she had trouble understanding Javi when they first met, but luckily for me he tries really hard to annunciate properly and not 'eat' any of his words.

"la resaca" / "hangover" – I went out with some people I met at uni last week, and learnt many things, in the following order: First; just like in Australia, cocktails in Spain are expensive. Second; unlike in Australia, you actually get your money’s worth here. Further cocktail purchases are not necessary, or advised. Third; cider can be found alongside the chips and chocolate in the local alimentación (grocery shop) for just 1.20 euros. And the last thing I learnt, at around 8am the next morning from my amused housemates, was this word: resaca.

"las palabrotas" / "swearwords" – I’m pretty naïve even at the best of times, but in Spanish I don’t stand a chance. Sarcasm, puns, witticisms and double entendre are completely lost on me; not only am I the youngest in the flat, but also the most innocent. I have already, by accident, loudly repeated profanities that José has used, asked Javi a question without realising its hidden sexual connotations, and completely missed the punchline in every single joke I have been told. It’s embarrassing but also hilarious, and proves that language barriers can also provide entertainment and conversation.

"No pasa nada" / "No problem" – Another one of my favourite phrases to hear, just like "no te preocupes"! Whether it’s for my cluelessness, language errors, or endless need of assistance, I am forever apologising here. People are so kind and patient though, and always brush it off with this little phrase, seeming genuinely not to care that I have inconvenienced them.

Oops, long post. ¡Hasta luego!

Lucky enough to live with wonderul and generous cooks; we are always cooking for one another!