I was getting off the metro in Barcelona when I noticed all the passengers’ eyes drifting to one spot on the platform. A young woman had a thread trailing from her backpack, as long as multiple subway cars. Everyone was staring, but no one was pointing it out to her. And I was closest.
Armed with my beginner Spanish, I got her attention: “Ma’am! Ma’am with the glasses!” Once she looked at me, I did my best to communicate the problem. I pointed to the super-long thread and mimed. And out of my mouth came the words, “I have a…line.”
It would have been much better if I hadn’t confused the verb forms for “I” and “you,” wouldn’t it? Or if I’d known the word for “thread” (but let’s stick with the basics here). But she got the idea and thanked me!
I took two weeks in May to travel to Barcelona and attend Spanish classes in the hope of improving those newbie-level language skills I’ve just demonstrated. I had a fabulous time, but it sometimes felt like I’d bitten off more than I was prepared to chew!
Learning Spanish was one of those goals that stuck in the back of my mind for years. In French Immersion school growing up, I did well with learning French. People had this idea that I was good with languages. Maybe I should take a Spanish course?
I’ve made various attempts to “start to learn Spanish” over the years, none of them terribly committed. I stayed with a Spanish-speaking host family in Montreal at age 16 and asked one of the daughters if she could teach me some of the language…given that she wasn’t a teacher, we got as far as parts of the face. I bought a Rosetta Stone CD in graduate school…and never used it. In 2022, I requested an online Spanish course for Christmas, and got through two of the introductory mini-courses in a whole year. There was just no accountability.
Then, in January, I started learning Spanish on Duolingo. Every day, a little green owl on my phone guilt-tripped me into doing a lesson, or two, or more if I was feeling on top of things. They were bite-sized, easy, and I was learning. In a hotel this spring, I met a Spanish-speaking woman who didn’t understand the English spoken around her, and I was actually able to communicate…well, a couple of things. I could translate “hot coffee,” though more complicated items tended to break down. It was a heady experience, though!
The next step seemed to be an in-person course. I’d wanted to visit Barcelona for a while, so I booked one with Camino Barcelona. They had a lot of flexible options, including activities every evening that you could participate in if you wanted to. I asked to stay with a host family, and off I went!
The host was a woman who rented out rooms to students at multiple schools. During week 1, an Italian woman and a Japanese woman were staying there as well, with the Japanese visitor staying for both weeks. Our host offered half-board, with three-course meals at 8:30 every night. When I arrived, she explained some of the house rules (in Spanish, of course), and I stood there blinking, rather confused. That’s when I realized how challenging the next two weeks were going to be.
I haven’t forgotten supernatural teacher Ms. Frizzle’s instructions on The Magic School Bus, a TV cartoon from my childhood, to “take chances, make mistakes, and get messy!” My stay in Barcelona was a prime opportunity to do that! On day 1, Eugenia the Italian asked how long I was staying, and I said, “I’m 35 years old.” On the weekend, Mathilde “voluntold” me to take Yuka with me to museum night. What time? “New thirty,” I said. What a relief when Yuka asked me at the subway station, “Do you speak English?”
Classes were a bit easier. It was strange to have homework each day, but the teaching, which was also entirely in immersive Spanish, progressed at a level that proved quite understandable. I’ve taught English as a Second Language before, which gave me some empathy for language learners, but I gained a new level of it on the other side of the desk. I met some intriguing globe-trotting polyglots, and toured several neighborhoods (and, one memorable afternoon, fumbled my way through dance classes), picking up on the Spanish as the instructors spoke it.
Barcelona had lovely weather and beaches, and astonishing architecture that I’ll have to come back to explore more fully. (Too bad, so sad, right?) Some of my adventures were memorable, like the day I went to Montserrat, a lovely monastery in the mountains. As I was preparing to leave, I heard singing. A statue of Mary had appeared before a crowd of worshippers in orange scarves holding paper candle lanterns, praying and chanting hymns to it!
I learned a lot in those two weeks, but it’s clear that I have a long, LONG way to go. Potential and expectations are funny things – so much so that I wrote a whole novel about them. And languages are complex to learn. I’m grateful to have been exposed to French early in school because, even if you have some aptitude for languages, they take an immense investment of time and effort. Someday I’ll be making more sophisticated mistakes than “I have a line,” and I intend to keep taking chances and practicing messily until I reach that day!
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