Thoughts on Monolingualism
Quick Note: The next flew travel blog posts will not be in chronological order. I just happened to choose this topic because it’s fresh on my mind. Also, I’m trapped in the Atlanta Airport after Delta’s delayed my flight 7 times. I might as well blog, right?
————————-
I grew up in a bilingual household. My parents were immigrants from the Philippines, and I grew up in a house where English and Hiligaynon (a Filipino dialect) were spoken interchangeably. Sadly, I never learned to speak my parents’ mother tongue fluently, but when I was a kid, I could definitely understand what they were saying- I just struggled to construct sentences. On the other hand, growing up in a bilingual household definitely contributed to my ability to hear and occasionally replicate different accents.
Fast forward to high school Bernadette- she had the choice of taking German, French, and Spanish. I chose to take Spanish to help my Filipino.
Let me provide some historical context. Spain colonized the Philippines from 1521 to 1898 and had a pronounced influence on the Philippines’ development from its name (the country is named after Spain’s King Phillip II), to its socioeconomic hierarchy, to its Roman Catholic conversion (considered to be the most successful Roman Catholic conversion in history), to the development of its language. Many Spanish words found its way into the Filipino vocabulary. So long story short?
If I studied Spanish, my Filipino would get better… ish
Four Years of High School Spanish
I was never a great Spanish student. I think I was a solid B student, but that was 100% on me. I had a great Spanish teacher (Shout out to the one Sally Kilcullen!). I just wasn’t a great student. (Oh, I know – the irony). But that was pretty much the last time I had really used my Spanish. Of course there were a few times when phrases and simple questions had come in handy, but my Spanish definitely fell by the way side.
Speaking Spanish in Spain
The bulk of my European adventures involved partnering with my current friend and former Mumford colleague Scott (math teacher extraordinaire). We stayed in Spain for 6 days, and English speakers aren’t always readily available. Scott doesn’t speak Spanish, so I became our de facto Spanish speaker.
I’ve been practicing on Duolingo for a few months now to brush up on my vocabulary. According to the app, I’m on Level 8. Not entirely sure what that means, but I had been doing it diligently right until my Master’s program in Ireland kicked in. But as I quickly learned, my reading and writing skills were far superior to my listening skills. And that Spanish accent was something I was not used to listening for.
Our first days in Spain, I wasn’t feeling confident at all. We were in Barcelona. I was intimidated by the Catalan language and my terrible Spanish. But as the days wore on, I realized, I wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought as I was. At least, not when it came to speaking. I often needed to ask people to repeat themselves more slowly, but I was able to help get us around. At least until our last day when we needed it most.
“No hay taxis ahoy. Los taxis están en huelga.”
Scott and I had a flight from Seville to Lisbon at 0700 Monday morning. We had planned to get a flight a taxi at 0545 the morning of. There was a taxi stop nearby our Air BnB and getting one should have been easy. Should.
There were two taxi drivers standing by their cabs, and I asked them to take us to the airport in Spanish. “No hay taxis ahoy. Lo siento. Los taxis están en hualga.”
I was confused. I’m not a morning person. I’m not great at Spanish. I knew he said there were no taxis today, but that didn’t make sense. Did I mishear ahora? There are no taxis right now? It was early in the morning, but that seemed like a weird rule too.
The taxi driver directed us to a bus stop a few blocks away, so with our luggage rolling behind us, Scott and I frantically started running and looking for the bus. We didn’t find the bus, but we did find a few people like us running around looking silly with luggage trailing behind them. A French couple from Martinique approached us and asked us if we knew what was going on. They didn’t really speak Spanish or English. So now there were three languages bouncing between us. The French couple speaking to Scott, Scott speaking to me in English, me occasionally speaking in Spanish.
Scott’s French was far superior to my Spanish, and he was able to hold a complete conversation with them. It turns out that the word “huelga” means strike. There would be no taxis today because they were on strike.
No worries. Eventually we found our way to the airport, and without a moment to spare. We were the last ones to board, and the door shut quickly behind us before we were barreling down the runway on our way to Portugal.
Spanish in the Future
I wish I was better at listening to Spanish. I wish I could articulate my thoughts more quickly. I really wish that I had known the word for strike. I was envious of Scott’s ability to hold a conversation.
But my interactions with people did give me hope. I was better than I thought, and speaking a language is a skill like any other. I could get better if I continued to work at it.
I’ve debated a few things.
- Listening to more Spanish music in general.
- Watching movies I know well in Spanish audio just so I can get used to hearing the rhythm of it all
- I really liked when we had guides who did English and Spanish. They would often give their whole spiel in English and then instantly repeat themselves in Spanish. It gave me context so I could follow along in Spanish and piece together what I was listening to.
- I need to find someone to practice, actually practice, my Spanish with. A real live person.
There were so many historical sights and events that I learned about during our time in Europe (More blog posts on that coming soon), but being able to relate to people in their own language made it so much more meaningful. Give me enough time to practice, and I think I’d be ready for Round 2.
Bernadette Bacero 
Leave a comment