A Road to Emmaeus

In August of this year I decided to quit my job and move to Mexico to learn Spanish. Why such a radical decision? Simply put, I was feeling fatigued and bored in my job, and without any clear prospects for advancement in my company, I decided that it would be best to resign and take a long sabbatical. As learning Spanish has been one of my personal goals for a few years now, I decided to combine these two things and spend my sabbatical in Latin America. While I did look at a number of different Spanish immersion schools across the Western Hemisphere, I ultimately selected the one in Puebla for its strong reputation and the fact that it’s in the heart of Mexico, a country that is so close to the US geographically but remains pretty much a mystery to me.

I arrived late in Mexico City on Nov 22 and was met by a representative of the school at the airport named Juan. The shuttle from Mexico City to Puebla took about three hours due to traffic jams, during which time we spoke primarily in Spanish. I struggled with my limited vocabulary, but Juan was able to fill in the gaps using English to keep the conversation going. We arrived in Puebla around midnight and were picked up by Señora Christina and her son. I learned that Christina would be my host mother (or, more appropriately, grandmother; I will refer to her as my “host abuela” from this point forward) and we soon got to her apartment, which is located on the fourth floor of a cinderblock complex south of the city center. She showed me my room and made me dinner, and I did my best to explain who I was in my very limited Spanish. It was awkward and frustrating trying to convey my thoughts without the crutch of English to fall back on. Christina speaks no English, which has forced my brain into a “fight or flight” response and is extra motivation to gain Spanish as quickly as possible. 

One week into this experience, and we get along just fine. Christina cooks excellent Mexican dishes for breakfast and dinner every day and we have interesting conversations covering topics as diverse as American and Mexican politics, theology, Mexican television, and various aspects of Mexican culture. She’s in her mid-seventies, has been widowed for many years, and has five children, one of whom lives in the US. She is also a devout Catholic, which you can immediately tell from the crucifixes and portraits of Jesus hanging from the walls. In this aspect I am certain she is typical of her generation in Mexico. Our shared Christian faith allowed us to find a good rapport early on and I have started saying grace during our meals. A couple of nights ago, in fact, I carefully worded a prayer using my newfound grammar, giving thanks to God and asking for protection for our families, making sure to go slowly and conjugate all of the verbs properly. Afterwards I looked to her for approval, and she gave me a big smile and affirmed that it was “perfecto.” 

My ability to understand my abuela has improved greatly even in the past week. In terms of total content, I probably process about 50% of what she says, but I can usually piece together the rest by following key words that I recognize. Sometimes even holding on to a handful of key verbs and nouns is enough to get the main idea of what the other person is saying, even if the details are fuzzy. And then there’s the usual method of asking follow up questions to ensure that I’m understanding properly, a strategy that served me well in learning French. Christina has hosted many students over the years and they continue to text and call her even after returning to their home countries. It’s clear to me that this has become an important part of her life, and provides a welcome source of companionship for someone who otherwise lives alone. We may get another boarder later on in my stay here as there is another room open in the apartment, though I’m not sure as winter is usually the slow season for visitors. 

Classes at the school are five days a week for six hours a day. The first four hours are dedicated to classroom instruction, while the latter two hours are spent with a guide and conversation partner in some other part of the city. I tested into Level 4 of eight possible levels, which is right on the border between beginner and intermediate. They placed me perfectly as the concepts we are learning right now are exactly where I left off in my private lessons back in Arlington. My instructor is vivacious Mexican woman (let’s call her Natalie) in her late twenties and clearly passionate about teaching Spanish, and she also loves to throw in stories and anecdotes about Mexican culture. For example, we spent about half an hour discussing funeral practices in our respective countries, and I learned that a funeral in Mexico involves coffee and cigarettes and is generally more festive and celebratory than what is practiced in the US. My class has two other students: a San Francisco native in his early thirties, Ian, and an elderly Canadian gentleman named Hans who is originally from Switzerland and speaks English, German, and French. The three of us are all around the same level, and we try as much as possible to respect the school’s “Spanish only” rule. That being said, Hans and I do speak in French occasionally, mostly because I want the peace of mind of knowing that my brain isn’t deleting French words as fast as I’m learning Spanish vocabulary. 

Even better than the classroom instruction has been my experience with the local guides. These folks are assigned to students weekly, and it just so happens that my guide for the first week was Juan. He’s a lanky guy around my age, and very dark-skinned even by Mexican standards. Together we visited several museums, including a particularly impressive one called the Museo Ampara which houses artifacts from Mexico’s Mayan past. As with Christina, my ability to understand Juan has expanded greatly even in only one week as I continue to download new words into my brain (by my estimate, I’m learning at least thirty new words a day). In contrast to Christina, I process about 70% of what Juan says and can usually follow him extremely well. Last Thursday, while touring the Cathedral of Puebla, we had a fascinating conversation about spirituality, during which he related events in his childhood that led him to abandon belief in God and find his own path in life, even at the cost of being ostracized by his very Catholic family. I learned that he is essentially a self-made man, having been more or less on his own since the age of twelve. There is clearly tragedy and hardship in his past, but you wouldn’t notice this from his jovial and easygoing nature. As far as Juan is concerned, his friends are his family, which he insists is all that he needs. While he will no longer be my school-appointed guide after this week, I consider Juan a friend now and I am sure that I will see more of him in the weeks to come. He also put me in touch with a friend of his who’s in a mariachi band and has offered to give me guitar lessons. 

I am learning Spanish at a faster rate than anticipated, which I attribute to both total immersion and my prior knowledge of French. Every day I feel like the curtain is slowly being lifted from my eyes, as new words and grammatical structures materialize from the chaotic ether that is a foreign language. I feel that Spanish is relatively easy to learn, with the grammar and vocabulary closely tracking that of French. Indeed, in many cases I can guess what the Spanish word is by referencing the French equivalent, which is a very useful crutch to have. My theory is that my brain has already been hardwired to process Spanish; the overall “structures” are there from French, and now all I need to do is make a few tweaks to the grammar (call it “adjusting the foundation”) and lay down the “bricks” of a completely new vocabulary. In terms of grammar, the biggest difficulty I have encountered so far is conjugating verbs properly. This aspect, in fact, is harder than French, as there are more verb forms to memorize and Spanish uses some verb tenses that are not used in spoken French. The biggest hiccup for me in speaking right now is the long pauses that are required for me to properly conjugate the verbs in my head. While in French verb conjugation comes naturally to me, this is not yet the case in Spanish. 

Another challenge is pronouncing the Spanish “double r” sound, which is produced by vibrating the tongue against the upper palate. My tendency is to form this sound in the back of my throat, much like the the French “r” which is also very difficult for English speakers. While it seems to me that I make more of an effort to pronounce the Spanish “double r” than the other students, I am still far from doing it correctly. Juan has been coaching me in this, but I know it will take months or even years to consistently get it right. By comparison, it took me years to master French pronunciation to the point where I can sometimes fool a native speaker into thinking that I’m one of them; a similar effort will be required for Spanish. Fortunately, I can already produce most of the other sounds in Spanish relatively well, according to the instructors. A big difference from English and French is that Spanish consonants are much shorter, to the point where some sounds have a “swallowed” feeling when they roll off the tongue. Slowly but surely, I am also eliminating “Frenchisms” in my Spanish pronunciation. Multiple native Spanish speakers have told me that I “speak Spanish with a French accent,” which I guess is not surprising.

While I am making good progress, I had a reality check last night when I attended a small group of young professionals and students associated with a local Christian church in town. When listening passively to the conversations in this group, my comprehension level plunged to 10% or less. I could follow just barely well enough to chart the main thread running through the meeting: the idea that we are surrounded by many voices every day, and it takes effort and belief to listen to the voice of God calling us to be the best version of ourselves. I had one-on-one side conversations with several of the attendees, all of whom were warm and welcoming, and in these instances I got along better. Obviously, it will be months before I can feel comfortable speaking Spanish in a group setting amongst a bunch of other native speakers. After the group discussion, we carpooled to a taqueria and dined on mouth-watering tacos and bottles of Coca Cola. I recall standing there with them, watching them laugh and joke easily amongst one another, and I wishing that I could participate in that on some level. I do plan on going back to the group on a weekly basis, and several of them also offered to hang out and show me other places around town. The church will be a good source of friendship and community in my time here, and I hope to find ways that I can contribute by teaching English or volunteering at the church’s orphanage. 

The first week has been packed with discovering new sights, sounds, and flavors, speaking Spanish for hours on end, and making local friends. Looking forward to posting more updates as the adventure continues.