Practica! Practica!

I’d hoped the language might come on its own, the way it comes to babies, but people don’t talk to foreigners the way they talk to babies. They don’t hypnotize you with bright objects and repeat the same words over and over, handing out little treats when you finally say “potty” or “wawa.” – David Sedaris

Learning Español 

It’s time to get down to business and into my Spanish classes.   A one-on-one conversational lesson in the morning, followed by four hours of grammar and vocab work in the afternoon.  For those of you that don’t like to add, that’s five hours of Spanish classes.  Per day.  Five days a week.  For the next 4 weeks.  Three weeks in Boquete, and one week in Panama City.

My written test, which I submitted online several weeks ago while I was winding down my job and cleaning out my house, placed me disappointingly in beginner level 2.  Considering I took 5 years of Spanish in school and possibly also used Google translate with the test, this was slightly disappointing. I am more than aware lately that I have not been in school for a very long time.  But where would I place if I didn’t cheat??

My notable level of underachievement was confirmed by a 15 minute verbal test I took on arrival on Saturday.  Granted, I had only slept a few hours in an airport the night before. But I’m a stubborn perfectionist by nature so I did not care for this placement.  After a long nap, and between afternoon walks exploring the town on Sunday, I spent a good part of my first weekend here obsessing on duolingo on bad wifi and writing out verb conjugations.  Who’s still jealous of my travel sabbatical NOW?

When not being a complete nerd, I did get around to taking in some local sites over the weekend.  It was Easter weekend, which means Boquete hosted a festival of flowers.  Later in the week, I learn this festival is primarily to give the locals something to do for one of the few weekends a year where they can’t drink.

 

My private lesson on the first morning was with Reynin, who’s initially deceivingly soft spoken for our first few lessons.  We started by sharing information about ourselves, and I learned that Reynin is 25, grew up in Boquete, and is very easy to talk to in a foreign language.  So easy, in fact, that my conversational skills excelled enough for me to fast track it all the way to intermediate.  Feeling proud of myself I find a bar for lunch between lessons and order a beer.  Here it is.  I am a maven of Español and this was me patting myself on the back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fast forward to my afternoon group lesson and a different Spanish reality.  There is only one other person in this group lesson with me, Deborah from Pennsylvania.  Contrary to what her name would lead you to believe, she’s younger than me.  She and her husband are both doctors.  He takes lessons in the morning, and works at the local clinic in the afternoon while she takes her Spanish lessons.  They’re doing a homestay in Boquete, meaning they are forced to practice their Spanish every night with their host family.  On the other hand, I’m staying in a nearby hostel in a room by myself.  Most of my conversations here have been with an older German hippie named Axel.  Axel and I talk in English.  It shows.  I have a lot of practicing to do.

We start in the middle of the Intermediate workbook, right past the part about using a whole lot of different kinds of verb tenses.  I am confused and that beer didn’t help.  Deborah still talks in broken Spanish, but when she gets lost or confused can usually piece enough words together to convey the meaning of what she’s trying to say.  I get stuck a lot, and when I don’t know what to say I compensate by making English words sound Spanish.  Hint: improver does not mean to improve in Spanish.  I made that shit up.  And just because the teacher corrected me on it a half a dozen times, doesn’t mean I’m ready to give up using it just yet.  I’m nothing if not committed.

Four hours later and I may have learned some new things, but I mostly learned that I have a long way to go.  Thankfully in my explorations  around Boquete over the weekend I had the foresight to buy a $5 bottle of wine at the grocery store.  I spend my first week now drinking it on my balcony, by myself, while Deborah and her husband are chatting in Español with their host family.

Whatever Deb.

Making Progress

Towards the end of the week I realize I am getting better. Also I’m still not that great.  A lot of people have been asking me where’s my blog.  I will get to it when I get to it.  After trying to learn and speak in a foreign language for 5 hours a day my brain is done.

It’s amazing how quickly your routine can change.  I still wake up relatively early.  Not by choice because I want to start early and discover what interesting adventures of Español await me.  Instead it’s because this town has a population of 25,000 people and somewhere in the neighborhood of 5 million quadrillion roosters.  The roosters wake up at the crack of dawn and want everyone else to do the same.  I’m awake by 7am everyday and there’s nothing I can do about it.

I’m only a week into this trip, and I’m already feeling the slippery slope of minimalist world traveling. I’m starting to side eye the shower in the morning. Do I really NEED to use this thing EVERY day.  Those grungy backpackers who look and smell like they’ve been wearing the same outfit for the last week are starting to make more sense.  They’re not lazy, they’re just smart enough to realize it doesn’t fucking matter.  I’m surrounded by people I will never see again after this month. These days my hair is dried by the wind and my face is primarily accentuated by sleep.  My face seriously looks 5 years younger lately.  I thought I was getting under eye circles and wrinkles because I was getting older, but NO.  It was sleep deprivation.

For the record, I am still showering everyday.  And putting on mascara.  Only mascara.  But really…what does it matter.  No one here cares what I look like.

Around 8 or 9am, my body requires coffee.  I walk past my daily hostel sites which include Axel working out on his balcony and his dogs lounging in the yard and go into town.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Boquete is not a huge town, but there are a good amount of expats and tourists here.  This means there are also a fair number of restaurants and cafes for its size.  My hostel is near the center of town, about two blocks of the main road.  My two favorite places for a morning visit are a coffee house called The Perfect Pair, and a restaurant called Sugar and Spice.  No, I’m not translating those names.  The names are in English.  The owners know that tourists and expats have money and like to go to places with English names.  I’ve tried out at least a dozen or more ‘local’ place in town, but honestly these places have the best coffee and food.  Even the locals tell you to go to Sugar and Spice.  And for a place literally surrounded by coffee plantations, there is some real shit café in Boquete.

Reynin now teaches my afternoon session, and my morning private lesson is with Alexander.  Alexander is also pretty young, but always seems to be in a good mood. Even when he laughs at my Spanish I don’t take offense because he seems so nice about it.  He also likes to occasionally have our lessons at Sugar and Spice so we can get a snack. I’m always ok with that.

When you’re in Spanish lessons for 5 hours a day you quickly get over the feeling of being embarrassed for making mistakes.  If I didn’t, I would have nothing to say and would just awkwardly stare at my instructors.  I’ve learned this kind of awkward silence makes me more uncomfortable than saying something wrong in a foreign language.  I guess this is good.

The school does not have many students right now and as a result my group session turned to a 4 hour private session after my first day.  After so many hours together, by the end of the week I’m running out out of things to say to my teachers in my limited Spanish vocab.  Every day Reynin and Alex ask me how was my evening, and how was my morning.  And how is the weather where you live?  What is the city like?  Tell me about the kinds of activities you like to do.  What do you think of Panama?  What do you think of Boquete?  Tell me about the food you’ve eaten here.  You get the idea.

Towards the end of the week there are more and more uncomfortable silences that I MUST fill.  This does not lead to good places.  Alexander has now heard about all of my ex boyfriends.  Reynin has heard about the problems around renting out your home on Airbnb and about every country I’ve ever visited.

Learning another language is exhausting.