Mountains of Spanish

I have been writing this post in my head all year long, at parks, in class, while visiting artisans, at work, everywhere. And it is not finished now and never will be finished, so I finally decided just to write it as it was in my head and post it. Punto.

My goal in life is to be fluent in Spanish. I find it absolutely exciting and thrilling to speak Spanish. I also find myself capable of utter depression when I cannot seem to make words exit my mouth correctly. More than once I’ve been struck completely mute because I’m not sure how to say something really simple. After nearly a year of living in Peru, my default for how to say “what?” is still Mexican Spanish: “¿mande?” Say that here, and people look at you strangely since you have essentially just said to them, “send?”

People always say, “You speak Spanish really well!” after we’ve been conversing for 45 seconds and have covered the really easy stuff – what is your name, where are you from, how long are you here for, where do you live. And then you get into how you make a recipe or politics or phrases that involve the subjunctive and I am a little lost.

Sometimes I’ve been lucky enough to listen, distractedly, to something and later I’ve wondered whether it was in Spanish or English. I know I’ve come so, so far with Spanish this year. But how far yet do I need to go to have a job where I need to speak Spanish? That is another goal, to have to speak Spanish every day for a meaningful job or volunteer position, not just the same four sentences repeatedly, but interesting, complicated conversations in Spanish.

I used to think fluency was something you attained. It was a destination. It was the top of the mountain and I was climbing up. But the more I flirt around with Spanish, the more I study and get better and then leave off and forget it and then pick it up again several years later, the more I learn nuances and still struggle with basics, fluency looks more like a giant mountain range.

You are close to the top of the mountain now and while you realize that now you can get by with everyday interactions just fine - on the bus, at the mercado, traveling - you have so much more to learn. You still need to figure out verb tenses and subjunctive and not think so much about pronouns. You still need to be able to understand people the first time they say something, not the 3rd or 4th or never. You get to the summit and before you can congratulate yourself on how far you’ve come, you see the mountain range stretching out, infinitely, in front of you. You are exhausted and overwhelmed. There are mountains beyond mountains that you still need to climb and descend and climb again before you are fluent. Really, truly fluent.

What is fluency, really? There are so many layers and levels. I often think about other people who are speaking a foreign language fluently on one level (i.e. they get their point across just fine) but not on another (i.e. they use awkward wording or word order). Think David Sedaris’ Me Talk Pretty One Day. I am at the awkward-wording and awkward-word-order stage and I wonder if I’ll ever be as fluent as I want to be, which is native-speaker-fluent, which means probably never.

Simon is another story completely. He has been fascinating to observe and talk with as he has picked up Spanish so quickly. He understands most of what anyone says to him in Spanish, and usually answers appropriately. He has been slower to use words and phrases than what I understand most toddlers do, but of the words he uses, the most important ones are in Spanish: sí and agua. He is a Spanish sponge. He breathes Spanish in like air. He has just started to say his own name, and he says it in Spanish: Simón. That has made many a Peruvian proud, let me tell you. I wonder how long he will refer to himself with Spanish pronunciation. I hope he keeps it up for a good long while.

A quote that has been omnipresent in my mind this year is something I read in college: “You who read me, are you sure you understand my language?” Jorge Luis Borges rocked my world with that one. Here I am, thinking I am communicating just fine with someone and then sometimes I realize that they haven’t understood a word I said. I think I’m saying something like, “the sky is blue” and they hear something like, “a stamp costs too much.” And we smile at each other, nod, agree, and go our separate ways. How many times do I have this conversation and think it’s gone well, only to wonder later whether we understood what the other one meant to say at all?

As much as I want to be fluent, and fluent NOW, I’m finally starting to accept that Spanish is my life-long quest, instead of something I get to cross off of my list and say that I've accomplished. So I’m trying to tackle smaller mountains and enjoy a little more of the climb. I have been reading more books and novels in Spanish, knowing that reading in English has been invaluable for building my vocabulary, understanding nuances, etc. I celebrate when I can only come up with the Spanish words for something.

I love Spanish. We are past the flirting stage and are in a long-term relationship. There is no danger of me breaking up with Spanish, like my childhood friend Jessica so hilariously and eloquently tried to do. Hopefully Spanish won’t break up with me!