Si, hablo espanol!

I got a nice compliment from Luis this past Sunday. We were visiting friends of his in Guadalajara – Amador, his wife Hilda, and their kids. As with all gatherings here, various family members showed up over the course of an hour or so. As each one came in, they were reunited with Luis and introduced to me.

Amador’s father came in and was the ultimate grandpa, round, chubby, and constantly smiling. As he shook my hand he asked, “Como estas?”. I replied “bien, bien. Y tu?”, then quickly corrected myself and said “y usted?” (My mistake was using the familiar “tu” when I should have used the formal “usted”.) He politely ignored my mistake and asked with a bit of surprise in his voice, “hablas español?” “Un poquito”, I replied. Luis chimed in and said what he usually says about my Spanish comprehension, “ella comprende mucho” – she understands a lot.

As more family members showed up they also inquired about my Spanish understanding. Luis proudly told them that we had had a whole conversation in Spanish on our drive up to Guadalajara, which was true. I was kind of surprised that he was bragging about me that way. His usual manner is to tease me about what I do and don’t know – “no sabes nada!”

Then he told them that I was learning Spanish faster than he had learned English. Of course he said this in Spanish, but I understood what he was saying and only asked him to repeat it in English so that I heard him correctly.

For those of you who have heard about the language barrier from me, you’ll understand what kind of effect that had on me. I was flabbergasted. And I was proud of myself. All this time I had thought that I was lagging, that by 3 months here I should know more, be able to have longer, better quality conversations. And here Luis was actually complimenting me and telling me that I was doing something better than he had! I felt quite proud, and not a little bit surprised.

After that I sat and listened to their conversation. Every once in a while the topic would turn to me, usually in some relation to Luis, and I would listen harder and try to pick up what I could, and respond when I could.

At one point Luis was talking about his brother Jorge who lives in Sacramento, CA. I’ve met Jorge a number of times, so I kind of know what he’s about. This story concerned a time when Luis was living with Jorge. One evening Jorge brought a girlfriend home (before or after their date, I don’t know). He then went into the bathroom or his bedroom and left the girl with Luis for a few minutes. They started talking and she asked Luis how old he was. Thirty-three, he replied. She commented on how odd it was that Luis was 33 and the youngest of his family and Jorge was 45 and the oldest. At this point in the story, everyone at the table laughed, as did I. Jorge is 54, but quite prideful, so 45 years seemed to fit him better for that date.

But the best part of that story is that I understood it in Spanish.

So not only had I had a conversation in Spanish that day, I had also understood a story told by someone else, and got a huge compliment on my comprehension from my man! A good day all around.