My Lazy Tongue

I told myself that I wanted to accomplish one of two things on this Mexican adventure of mine.  Maybe both if I was feeling particularly daring, but I shouldn’t think too far ahead, my anxious mind, anxious heart may not be able to stand for such things.  First, I wanted to learn how to scuba dive, which I find absolutely terrifying.  I go through epps and flows of course. When everyone is sitting around talking about their past scuba diving exploits, I smile and nod along, not wanting to appear like the scaredy-cat that I most definitely am. I think part of my problem is that I have never had to save myself from a situation that could lead to my unfortunate demise and I don’t know what kind of savior I would be even if it was me that needed the saving.  Would I be the type that jumps into action, brain clear and at the ready to immediately get me out of the deadly situation or would I be the someone that freezes, panics with open eyes, saliva dripping down my chin frantically looking to someone, anyone to save me, but also being too embarrassed to admit my screw up because, people pleaser here?

G did take me to a scuba diving shop and I stood there awkwardly and waited while they discussed the logistics.  He dazzled them with his abundant knowledge already, him having been a dive master or maybe he still is, I don’t know how all that works, and me standing there, nervously gnawing at my just done nails as I replay all of the potential terrifying what if scenarios.  I have a pretty good imagination so I can take myself through a situation and actually feel like I’m living within it.  Needless to say, I was panicking and found myself inching towards the exit door, praying that maybe G will forget that I had ever expressed any interest in doing such a thing to begin with and this made me think. Do I really just like the awe in the other person’s eyes when I say I want to get scuba certified? Like I belong to a community of dare devils, thrill seekers, people that I have always found to be so much cooler than me. Do I just like this new character? Someone more interesting who I can escape behind.

Second, I wanted to take Spanish classes.  This option doesn’t give me near as much anxiety as the first and I find that it is also a much more necessary one.  I have been married to a Mexican for six years now and sadly my Spanish is still quite limited.  My 20 minutes, well if I’m being honest with myself 10 minute, Duolingo lesson every other day really not cutting it.  And my old brain and lazy tongue, someone told me that some people have this, I don’t know who per se did the telling, but it was a someone and I couldn't have related more.  Even if I know the Spanish word I find it difficult to wrap my tongue around all of those syllables and unusual sounds.

As luck would have it there was a Spanish school just down the road from our apartment.  I did check on two other schools and this one proved cheaper for the amount of time and consideration I would be getting from my tutor.

They had two options: immersive or semi immersive.  I chose the immersive option for at least the first week.  I knew that I would be with other people and it would last from 9 to 1 every day.  I thought it was a real steal. Two hundred and nine American dollars for four hours of Spanish for the week. If I was by myself it would be the same price for three hours.

I showed up a bit nervous, not really knowing what to expect, but we went to the store the day before and I purchased a notebook just for the class.  I actually felt like this was a first day of school moment.  Should I take a picture to commemorate such an occasion? I briefly thought .  I didn’t if you were wondering.

Fortunately for me there was only one other girl in the class and she was from Germany.  An interesting side note: Germany has a program where each year whoever you work for has to grant you five professional growth days where you can take a class or travel somewhere to improve upon your professional life.  She decided to take Spanish classes in Mexico.  She already spoke perfect English, German of course, Chinese, and wanted to one day move to Spain so Spanish was her next language of choice.  I was expecting her to be way better than I me, but we pretty much were both on the struggle bus. One reason I like this school is that they try to pair you with another student(s) that are on the same level as you are. I had to complete a brief quiz before the first day of class to see where I was at. I found that I knew more nouns than she did, especially when food was concerned.  Of course, that shouldn’t be a huge surprise.  Seventy five percent of the time G’s family is discussing food: which tacos are better, which restaurant should we go to, you get the idea.

This was the first room I came upon once I entered the school.

And this was the classroom.

Our instructor’s name was Antonio. I was a bit nervous to ask to take his picture for my viewerless blog, so I secretly shot this. I did eventually ask if it was ok and was given the green light.

The first day wasn’t as bad as I thought it could have been.  My brain felt sharp, ready to embark on this challenging adventure.  We broke for a break around 11, thank goodness for that, although I got the feeling that the German would have rather gone the whole four hours break free.  No thank you.  My sharp brain was dulling at a surprising rate.

Antonio was very encouraging and the German and I struggled.  Some days being more successful than others.  I signed up for a second week, this time only three hours and by myself with Antonio, and next week will be a third one.  I know that I’m getting better; I really do know that, but it’s like my brain and my mouth have lost all communication with one another.

I think a real low point was when I went to G’s family’s house over the weekend.  My new found knowledge buzzing in the empty spaces of my brain and it took all family members, including Ciara, the maid, who cannot read and has limited writing abilities, to help me say one word and to this day I don’t think I can really say it after all of that practicing.

On our last day we had an unfortunate encounter with probably the largest cockroach I have ever seen. The German was adamant that we should not crush it but just spray the shit out of it. I was confused as to the why, but I'm sure there was a scientific reason. Maybe? This did force us to spend the rest of the afternoon outside because of all that spraying and i.e. fumes. Look how cute the outdoor area is; I wasn't mad about the extra time spent there.

We also had a visitor and I took it as a sign that I made the right decision in continuing my Spanish classes for the next two weeks. Just so you know Iguana's are my spirit animal. They love the sun, fruit, and have a rough exterior, so they maintain their introvertness, strange people free.

We then spent the rest of the afternoon at this free art museum where the German and I tried to only speak in Spanish and Antonio tried to interpret what we were trying to say. I did find it amusing that the German insisted that we only speak in Spanish upon entering the museum. That lasted about 2.5 seconds.

Antonio is a great teacher.  I can tell he feels bad that I’m not quite grasping onto the concepts as quickly as his other students, but I’m nothing if not diligent.  I can persevere with the best of them and maybe one day you will see me conversing in Spanish like a true Mexican; I really hope that you do, but for now you may see me instead trying to frantically Google how to get rid of my lazy tongue although I should probably specify it is only for linguistic purposes or who knows what images may pop up.