Muchas, Muchas, Gracias

When in doubt, say "thank you"....and smile. That has been my strategy so far. Most of the time I have no idea what the hell is going on. I am sure many of you who know me have noticed through the years that I like to talk. I have had a life-long love affair with words, with writing, with reading. I appreciate the nuances and complexities of use and meaning and feel a certain satisfaction in picking just the right word for a given purpose. Well, that is all gone here. I have little idea what the hell is going on. People everywhere conversing and gabbing and gesticulating....turning to me and hurling sentences at me.....smiling and waiting for some response. I stand there, searching for a single word...let alone a phrase that I can understand. It rarely happens. Tonight, at dinner, my heart leaped with joy when my host's daughter arrived with her dog...perro! I know the word for dog! I could say something besides thank you (which I say incessantly). At 43, educated, confident in my use of English, I am now reduced to absolute beginner. I am a toddler again looking at the world, listening, trying to assign sense to it all....to recognize patterns, rules, exceptions....to make meaning (but unlike a toddler, I promise not to throw tantrums or piss myself.....I hope!) There is a kind older woman from New Zealand who is also staying at the house. She speaks English to me some and has translated a bit. She keeps looking at my exhausted self and saying, "I know how you feel. It is all so overwhelming." Yes, stunningly so. I slept all afternoon again. She said her first time it took a week to settle and not feel overwhelmed. My teacher is young and kind and has been teaching for four years. She likes to laugh, thank god, and I take every opportunity to provoke it. Got a big laugh when I explained that I can't even spell in English let alone Spanish. Funny, but true. It is easier to wander the streets alone, order a meal or a cup of tea, sit with a book or my journal, take it all in smaller doses....alone in restaraunts with books is my way, even at home. Being from southern California I am use to the sing-song of Spanish in the background...it is familiar and comforting, and much less intense than a table full of fluent speakers expecting comprehension from this clueless gringa. Alas, this evening a visitor who works at a language school assured me that I would be speaking Spanish by Saturday. Of course it took ten minutes and a dictionary to communicate this dubious conjecture to me. We will see!