Adventures in Learning Spanish

As most a child does when working their way through the school system, I had a pick a second language to learn, if only to get a good enough grade to pass the class. Being from Texas, I chose Spanish as it was, and I suppose still very much is, a handy second language to have in one’s intellectual arsenal.

As a student hungry for learning, and an unapologetic nerd, I dove into the study and passed the class with fairly high marks and a stark realization that I could not speak Spanish. Not much more than to shrug my shoulders upward and say “baño” when my Navy adventures took me to Spain many many years after those classes were done.

Yes, I could puzzle my way through some of the written language, looking for context clues and go “I think it says…” before charging brazenly forward hoping I was right, but no, dear reader, yo no hablo español.

I have a sister who is fluently bilingual and a nephew who is learning Spanish, but I do not know even enough to even say what I do not know.

While in the Navy, I made sure I at least knew how to say “thank you” in the language of the place I was in. “Obrigado” on Portugal, “Gracie” in Italy, and a severely messed up version of “Teşekkürler” in Turkey. I tried, dear reader, I really did.

I have always had it in my head that I wanted and needed to finally sit down and learn Spanish but it was never at the forefront of my mind. And then, it changed: I met them. I met the person who would become my partner.

My partner is Puerto Rican. They are bilingual. They also understand that I am not, beyond my far gone youthful study in school.

One day I casually asked them if they wanted some water, in Spanish. They answered back without thinking and then froze, the look on their face melting me. The fact that I even tried made them smile.

I found out later that there is a Puerto Rican proverb that says this: “Love is deed and not fine phrases.” What if that deed could be learning some fine phrases in Spanish to show my love? Or, in the case of this admitted nerd, just learn Spanish.

To be fair and clear, I want to learn because I always have wanted to, but knowing it makes someone I care deeply about happy? Icing on the cake. So, I am learning Spanish.

In venturing to learn Spanish, I have battled with my own insecurity. It is not easy to do the hard thing.

This is not me learning something that I can hold up for inspection and then hang a trophy on the wall. This is a skill that I hope to use every day. When we go to Puerto Rico, I want to be able to communicate.

As a perfectionist and a burnt out overachiever, it is hard. I will make mistakes. I will have times when I am speaking with someone and will be absolutely clueless. I will use the completely wrong word for something and people will laugh, hopefully good-naturedly.

On days when I am feeling the most frustrated with myself, I remember what I partner told me when I asked them what my learning Spanish meant to them. They told me that it showed a respect for them and their culture. The fact that I wanted to, that I was trying and that they did not ask me to, meant more to them than any romantic gesture. No one had done that for them before.

To quote them directly: “It means the world to me that you, by your own will, wanted to learn. It tells me that you want to connect with me in my language… Learning a new language is not for the faint of heart. You taking the time to do it shows me how much you care.”

So, as I bumble my way through remembering the difference between muy and mucho, I will also remember the smile on their face when I struggle my way through speaking a full sentence. The effort is what matters.

I will not be fluent tomorrow. I will not be able to hold full-fledged conversations in a week. I am not studying for a test. I am learning Spanish for love.

Deséame suerte. (Wish me luck.)