I often hear ex-pats and visitors ask, ‘Spanish what’s the point’, I must say that question does have me in two minds.
On one hand, it surprises me. Why would anybody in his or her right mind think like that? It is ludicrous!
On the other hand, you live surrounded by other ex pats and English-speaking locals who can actually maintain dialog and use more than five adjectives or verbs and they sympathize and understand your difficulty learning their language.
In addition, when I listen and read the rubbish and negativity spewed by our media, our governments, and the opposition, and some Poteños, I often feel that foreigners are protected by their ignorance of the Spanish language.
Then I think, wake up girls and guys. We Argentines have a rich culture and our peoples, from all walks of life, are educated, informed and forward thinking. You are missing 90% of what is going down in Buenos Aires and also 99% of what us ‘Argies’ have to say. It is a real pity.
In particular, shame on our chairperson who speaks little Spanish and invests in all sorts of South American companies. I am now giving him lessons three days a week and for those of you who might be interested in our corporate structure, Buenos Aires Experience recently became part of the Mainline Security Ltd group of companies and I refer of course to Andrew Rae McCance who has interests in many businesses in Argentina. He has more than got by in Argentina, on and off, for nearly twenty years – simply amazing how he pulled off this astonishing feat living and conducting business as a ‘dumb mute’ – jeje! Had to get that in here somewhere!!
You might have gathered from earlier posts to this blog that I am Porteño (ex-pat – read on to find out what I mean) who apart from running this tourism venture for a few years, I have also been teaching languages for nearly 20 years. I am fluent in Spanish, English, Portuguese and French, so there very few places where I can not communicate.
I myself have been an ex-pat. I have been an immigrant for half of my life on many different continents as the dutiful son of an Argentine career diplomat. In addition, I have been the ‘career expat’, a nomad, but that is another story – believe me I have many! I have guided family and friends visiting us all over the world since a very tender age young. Be it France, Algeria, Uruguay, Bolivia or wherever our father took us, I was THE accomplished guide. I fully understand what it means to be lost in translation. Going through life only hearing a bla, bla and bla becomes wearisome. It gets to a point that people are total aliens to your ears, your thoughts, your brain rots…’non-entities’ surround you – how sad. So you just shut yourself away, you isolate yourself in your memories and ideas. You are pretty much just day dreaming your Buenos Aires Experience. You walk about like a mute zombie. Sometimes you try to concentrate and for a second you believe that you can grasp an idea, but only for a second, then you fall back into a communicational abyss.
This linguistic no-man’s-land is now your reality until you bump into another language hermit from your own idiomatic ethnicity. Then it is like Hallelujah – I can finally speak and somebody both understands and answers me – dialog is in motion – you are liberated -but are you? Then, suddenly, I often watch these happy talkers until one of them shudders, realizing that the other side of the conversation is not quite what one bargained for – very funny.
Now would it not be better to learn the language and become part of Argentina’s talking society? Or are you going to live in a linguistic ghetto like the Chicanos in east LA. Well, I am sorry to tell you that there is no little States, or little England or Scotland (Mac). There are not enough of you yet, although looking at the mess the rest of the world is in more will no doubt follow. There is a barrio chino and a petite-Peru in Abasto, but no barrio gringo – not since the English cleared out of San Nicolas.
IDIOMATIC DEBUT
The day I arrived to the States at the age of 11 I had my debut in this idiomatic Absalom. You ever heard the story of Heidi? You know the one, the little girl who lived in the Alps with her grandpa and suddenly goes to live in the city. Well, I am not Heidi, nor was I a little girl, but I will tell you an upgraded Heidi story – a Heidi on steroids story. The point is to show you that being an expat also brings other issues that should concern you besides language – some countries are culturally more hospitable and receptive than others.
The Culture shock tale
I had been leaving in La Paz, Bolivia at 3,600 meters above sea level and 100 years back in time for 6 years. Just one example: in the morning my mother would give me a pot and I would stand outside my house in Calacoto and wait for the “chola” (local native woman who were those colorful skirts and ponchos) . She would arrive with a spotted cow named Sonia and she would milk it right then and there on our doorstep. “Mom!!!!Breakfast is ready!!!” From one day to the next, in a blink of an eye I was crossing the Manhattan Bridge. I had never seen a skyscraper. I had never ridden an escalator or even an elevator for that matter. I asked my father where the mountains were. How was I going to orientate myself. He pointed at those huge towers of steel and glass – “those are your new mountains”. Next day, he was like “those are your new classmates”. “That is our new home.”
First day at Saint Bartholowe´s catholic school I got my first taste of cultural purgatory. I was going to struggle. Clearly, the level of English in my Bolivian school was ‘rather-cow-teat-pulling-intermediate’. For the next few hours of class all I heard was yata yata yata. They could have been speaking about UFOs . Hell, they could have been talking about me for all I knew.
I could not talk to anyone . I could not understand anything. It was quite frustrating and boring and horribly, horribly lonely. THEN RiiiiNG!!! Finally, the bell, at last recess. Now I can play and not worry about language problems. Wrong!
They were all playing baseball. They gave me an oversize leather glove and I was thrown what looked like a white tennis ball. Evidently I did not know how to catch it. The gringos all laughed at me. That was the first and last time they chose me for a team for some time. It took me about a year to understand the classes and about 2 years to actually speak with some fluency. Finally by the third year I was bilingual and the shortstop in the little league baseball team. I had American friends and American sweethearts. FREE AT LAST!!!! A few years later, I was sitting in a French classroom living this cultural nightmare all over again. Thanx Dad! I felt like Bill Murray in Ground Hog Day. Imagine having to start from scratch all over again, and with Parisians of all people (I see Mac nodding in agreement). Thank you pops, your words and your wisdom I carry with me right to this day. You were right, who has had my unique experiences, and who has both my linguistic and travel skills amongst my peer group and today, more importantly, who has my experiences amongst my competitors – ah yes, one has to sell himself – but only subtly and well!!
Hospitable Buenos Aires
Now back to our newly found Anglo-speaking collectivity in BA. You are not alone. In the States if you do not speak English that is it. None of the WASPs speak Spanish or another language for that matter. Not even a “Hola”.
In Buenos Aires however, most people can utter some words in many languages, we are port people, and quite a few are more than happy to act as interpreters. Be it in the supermarket line or in the bank queue. We are receptive to immigration. It is in the preamble of our constitution, and a part of our history. In 1910 more than half the population of Buenos Aires did not speak Spanish. The day you learn Spanish will be a day to rejoice – reading this Mr. McCance?
Like any ‘Argie’, I love vacationing in Brazil, so I decided to study Portuguese. Not because I needed it or was forced . No, I wanted to understand my wonderful neighbors, especially the Brazilian babes. The more I learn their language the more I love Brazil. The more I laugh. The more carioca friends I have and of course the more carioca babes I meet. They celebrate my efforts and they reward me with their hospitality. You may be surprised but very few Argentines actually speak Portuguese – given the might of Brazil and our dwindling fortunes that must change. Argentines go every summer and they do not bother to learn. What is the point? They all understand Spanish. Well my Argentine brothers and sisters who bitch about expats - most of you speak only Spanish and many of you do not ‘habla Español’ that well! We are not exempt from learning languages because we are Argentine.
Therefore, if you think you love Buenos Aires, just wait, when you understand Argentinians doors open, and then you will fall completely in love with your new hogar (home).
Sebastian Airaldi – Your Buenos Aires Experience Director