We are rounding the bend for 6 years of living in Costa Rica. When we came here we had a few goals that we hoped to achieve. M's primary focus was creating a sustainable food forest on the couple of acres surrounding our new home. Now, with many hours of seeding, planting, chopping, and the invaluable aid and advice from friends and neighbors, his dream is flourishing. Me, I wanted to learn Spanish. I've lived and worked in several English-speaking countries and in each of those locations I plunged into local life. Costa Rica would be no different.
Unexpectedly, my primary purpose is harvesting of the garden's cornucopia and transforming it into delicious dishes. With help of the internet, I’m doing well. Learning Spanish, well that’s been a little bit slower than I anticipated. M was comfortable in conversational Spanish when we arrived; through his surfing travels he had spent time in Mexico and had friends of Mexican heritage. I, on the other hand, had to delve back many decades to my smattering of high school Spanish just to get started. But I had full confidence in my ability to master the language because in my teens and twenties I was fluent in French and, after all, French and Spanish are similar romantic languages, right?
As an English-Canadian, I had learned French thinking that it would lead to future career opportunities in bilingual Canada. I attended a bilingual university in Toronto where seminars, lectures, and papers were conducted in French. With summer internships in Quebec and my Quebecois friends, I became adept with the language. Several of my classmates took their smarts and skills to serve in the federal and provincial governments, as well as universities. Though that appeared to be my path too, a little voice told me that civil service life was not for me, and I went a different direction.
Following university my careers and travels took me to Toronto, Sydney, Perth, Calgary, New York, San Francisco, and Monterey. Naturally, with little or no need for my French language skills in most of those places, my competence slipped.
Upon arriving in my new home here, I thought becoming fluent in Spanish would be simple; I could build on my ability in French and it will all gel. Added to that, I am a bit of a "Chatty Cathy," and have an ability to connect with people through conversation. However, I soon discovered that when meeting my new Tico neighbors I was mute and felt helpless.
So, determinedly, I dove into the app Duolingo, faithfully practicing 15 minutes or more a day. I scanned the online articles of La Nacion and El Financiero and learned to decipher the country idiom of our neighbors and apply it to the "proper" Spanish in the app. And all that effort worked... slowly. My ability has developed to the level that listening to the radio or watching TV I can pick out a few words from the fast talk. (I’ve meet young Ticos that tell me they learned English from music and TV. I marvel at their ability.)
Strangely, my biggest, stumbling block turned out to be my ability in French. I would chat with my neighbors and unconsciously say something in French. They would look at me quizzically and I didn't understand why the conversation had stopped, until M would say, "You said it in French." I found that to achieve my Spanish goal, I had to package up all my French and place it behind a mental wall.
Now, after six years of dedicated practice and a lot of social interaction, chatting in Spanish flows easily. We recently returned after a month in North America. Our good friend, Amado, picked us at the last stop on the Tracopa Bus route, a tiny pueblo called Bella Luz de la Vaca (the Beautiful Light of the Cow – I'd love to hear the origin story on that name!) The paved road ends at Bella Luz and for the next 35 minutes we bumped along pot-holed, gravel roads. This is always a great time to catch up on all the local happenings. Amado's English is good, since he worked for many years for another Gringo. But what I found remarkable was that after the first few minutes the conversation comfortably flowed from English into Spanish. We three chatted, laughed, and caught up on the news, and I didn't have to search for words or question the meaning of what I heard. I truly felt that I was home.
Michael and I have shared many adventures and overcome a few hurdles in our years here. Feeling comfortable and confident in the language of my chosen home is a huge relief and achievement. Navigating the maze of a new language is full of the confusing twists and turns of verb tense and the frustration of searching your memory for an everyday word. Along the way, I find gifts of understanding that opens a new culture to me. Through the language of Costa Rica, I expand my knowledge of its unique society and history. Often my friends greet me with the expression, "Pura Vida." Chatting with Ticos in their first language, I come to understand their values, struggles and hopes. When I return that greeting, I truly feel a part of the Pura Vida way of life.
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