Sink or Swim

The moment I stepped off the plane in Madrid I began to doubt myself. I couldn't speak Spanish. Sure, I had spent three years in school studying the language, but who was I kidding? The hours of grammar drills in the safety of the classroom were no preparation for this total immersion. It was sink or swim, and I was already under water.

I was just out of college, and as a graduation present to myself I had signed up for a work camp in Monzon in northeastern Spain. When I bought my plane ticket I gave myself an extra week following the work camp to explore Spain before returning to Madrid to fly home.

But now, as I stood in the airport, I had no idea how I would even get to the work camp -- let alone survive on my own for a week. All around me people were saying things I could not understand. Occasionally I would recognize a word from those grammar drills, but I realized I was completely out of my depth.

To keep my head above water, I focused solely on my immediate need: a train ticket to Monzon. I found a ticket counter in the airport, made a purchase, and asked directions to the train station. It was only with the greatest of effort that I picked out the street names that could get me to the station, even after having the directions repeated three times.

I managed to navigate the streets of Madrid to the train station. Though it was a small success, I was positively bouyant when I boarded the train.

But my apprehension returned as I stepped off the train in Monzon. A boy about my age approached me from behind and spoke with an accent that left me baffled. I could pick out a few words, but not enough to know what he was saying. When it was clear to him that I was not following, he tried his second language -- French.

Somehow, though, I discovered that he was headed for the work camp also. I was content to tag along as he asked directions, and I was secretly pleased to note that even the locals had some trouble decoding his accent.

After we arrived safely at the work camp I could finally begin to relax. I was in a safe environment full of friendly young people. They were patient with me when I asked them to speak "mas despacio, por favor" (more slowly, please). And as the days went by, the Spanish language began to sound more familiar. Gradually I began to pick out more words in every sentence. Often I could practice Spanish with someone wanted to practice English. With every conversation my comprehension and my confidence grew. By the end of the second week I could understand whole sentences, and by the time the work camp ended I felt like I was really getting it.

But then I was on my own. I had a whole week, and no one to help me. I picked a town on the map -- Zaragoza -- and bought a train ticket. On arrival I had no trouble finding a hostel and a restaurant. I still felt nervous with every conversation, but I felt relieved that I wouldn't lack for food or shelter. And once I established the routine I followed it for the next several days. In the morning I would take the train or bus to Miranda de Ebro, to Oviedo, to Valladolid. In the evening I would find a place to sleep and a place to eat.

I was starting to get comfortable enough that as I was walking across a bridge in Miranda de Ebro, someone actually stopped me to ask for directions. I shrugged and let them know I was from out of town, and they went on their way.

After six days of traveling like this I made my way back to Madrid, and spent a full day seeing the sights in Spain's capital city. Walking downtown after visiting the famed Prado museum, I saw a street vendor selling juice. To quench my thirst and practice my Spanish, I stepped up to the cart. There were a few people ahead of me in line, and I listened to them out of habit, to see if I could understand what they were saying. I heard one person ask for "jugo de pina" -- pineapple juice. That sounded good to me, so when it was my turn I asked for the same thing. The vendor told me the price. I counted my coins and paid him.

As I walked away, I heard the next person in line ask in English, "What kind of juice was that?" The vendor replied in English.

As I heard his response, I realized how far I had come. When I first stepped off the plane I couldn't pick out more than a few words here and there. Now I was conducting a transaction in Spanish with someone who also spoke fluent English. I was no longer a confused foreigner trying to navigate uncharted waters. I had learned to swim.