Yes, yes I know, I'm horribly behind on this thing. As you probably already know I'm back stateside, but there's still stories to tell so...
I have had regrettably little interaction with the local population. This is not to imply that they are in any way aloof or unfriendly. I find the opposite to be true. Time and again I’ve passed a man on the roadways who looks for all the world like a desperado, complete with cowboy hat and a formidable machete holstered at his side, only to be greeted with a wide grin and a cheerful “Hola, Buenos.”. Driving through small towns you are constantly smiled and waved at with genuine warmth. On the whole I found Guatemalans to be open, friendly people who laugh with ease and enjoy a relaxed pace of life. The problem is me. My Spanish is abysmal. An optimistic estimate places my vocabulary at nearly 250 words. My comprehension is slightly better, but only if the speaker is willing to talk slowly and repeat things frequently. I can ungrammatically order from a menu, or stumble my way through a purchase in a tienda accompanied by crude hand gestures and frequent apologies for my woefully inadequate linguistics (Ironically this is where I‘m best able to speak Spanish). In short, I communicate at roughly the level of a toddler. Anyone who hasn’t already experienced the difficulties of navigating a day without being able to communicate any but the simplest thoughts can’t imagine how vexing this can become. You don’t ever think of how big a part of your life language plays until you are suddenly deprived of it. It can make you feel isolated confused and powerless.
It is comforting to be among other gringos who are going through the same struggle. We can drill each other on proper sentence structure, conjugation and quiz one another on useful vocabulary words. Also, you can trade war stories. One of my favorite was of a guy who went from shop to shop trying to purchase laundry detergent. Time and again he was presented with bullion cubes and flavor packets. He had the structure of the sentence right he knew enough to ask for soap for clothing. The trouble was that he was inquiring after “sopa del ropa” the Spanish word for soap is “Jabon” “sopa” actually means “soup“. what he was in fact searching for was clothing soup! The shopkeepers either were trying to be accommodating to a nonsensical request or had a much better sense of humor than they are generally credited with.
To be fair, no one is immune. On a trip across the lake to San Pedro, I was going to exchange money at the bank, and find my friend’s café. I was also asked to fetch some dog food from the pet shop for the dogs who live in my hostel. I managed the launcha ride with no problems, and successfully asked directions to the bank. In line I rehearsed what I would say to the teller, who smiled pleasantly and exchanged my dollars for quetzales with no trouble. So far so good. I then went into the pet store and purchased the food, even specifying which sort of dog food I needed. I went back into the street feeling confident and happy with my ability to interact with the world, until replaying the transaction in my mind, I realized that I substituted the word for “food” (comedia) with the verb “to eat” (comer). the woman behind the counter just politely ignored the fact I had strode into her shop announcing “I need to eat the dogs”.
This is pretty common . Guatemalans exhibit a remarkable degree of patience when dealing with us. They repeat things and speak slower without needing to be asked. They listen carefully to make sure they get the gist of what we mean along with what we’re actually saying. Occasionally they’ll even gently correct our pronunciation or offer a better word. On the whole we are all treated with dignity and respect to such a degree that it is truly humbling. I can’t help but hear another voice in my mind. A voice with a regrettably unmistakable American accent saying “If you’re going to live in my country , you need to learn to speak our language they should either learn to speak our language or get out !”.
-J
I have had regrettably little interaction with the local population. This is not to imply that they are in any way aloof or unfriendly. I find the opposite to be true. Time and again I’ve passed a man on the roadways who looks for all the world like a desperado, complete with cowboy hat and a formidable machete holstered at his side, only to be greeted with a wide grin and a cheerful “Hola, Buenos.”. Driving through small towns you are constantly smiled and waved at with genuine warmth. On the whole I found Guatemalans to be open, friendly people who laugh with ease and enjoy a relaxed pace of life. The problem is me. My Spanish is abysmal. An optimistic estimate places my vocabulary at nearly 250 words. My comprehension is slightly better, but only if the speaker is willing to talk slowly and repeat things frequently. I can ungrammatically order from a menu, or stumble my way through a purchase in a tienda accompanied by crude hand gestures and frequent apologies for my woefully inadequate linguistics (Ironically this is where I‘m best able to speak Spanish). In short, I communicate at roughly the level of a toddler. Anyone who hasn’t already experienced the difficulties of navigating a day without being able to communicate any but the simplest thoughts can’t imagine how vexing this can become. You don’t ever think of how big a part of your life language plays until you are suddenly deprived of it. It can make you feel isolated confused and powerless.
It is comforting to be among other gringos who are going through the same struggle. We can drill each other on proper sentence structure, conjugation and quiz one another on useful vocabulary words. Also, you can trade war stories. One of my favorite was of a guy who went from shop to shop trying to purchase laundry detergent. Time and again he was presented with bullion cubes and flavor packets. He had the structure of the sentence right he knew enough to ask for soap for clothing. The trouble was that he was inquiring after “sopa del ropa” the Spanish word for soap is “Jabon” “sopa” actually means “soup“. what he was in fact searching for was clothing soup! The shopkeepers either were trying to be accommodating to a nonsensical request or had a much better sense of humor than they are generally credited with.
To be fair, no one is immune. On a trip across the lake to San Pedro, I was going to exchange money at the bank, and find my friend’s café. I was also asked to fetch some dog food from the pet shop for the dogs who live in my hostel. I managed the launcha ride with no problems, and successfully asked directions to the bank. In line I rehearsed what I would say to the teller, who smiled pleasantly and exchanged my dollars for quetzales with no trouble. So far so good. I then went into the pet store and purchased the food, even specifying which sort of dog food I needed. I went back into the street feeling confident and happy with my ability to interact with the world, until replaying the transaction in my mind, I realized that I substituted the word for “food” (comedia) with the verb “to eat” (comer). the woman behind the counter just politely ignored the fact I had strode into her shop announcing “I need to eat the dogs”.
This is pretty common . Guatemalans exhibit a remarkable degree of patience when dealing with us. They repeat things and speak slower without needing to be asked. They listen carefully to make sure they get the gist of what we mean along with what we’re actually saying. Occasionally they’ll even gently correct our pronunciation or offer a better word. On the whole we are all treated with dignity and respect to such a degree that it is truly humbling. I can’t help but hear another voice in my mind. A voice with a regrettably unmistakable American accent saying “If you’re going to live in my country , you need to learn to speak our language they should either learn to speak our language or get out !”.
-J
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