Habla ingles?

I'm sorry to say that we ask this question all too often, seeing as we are in a Spanish speaking country. Of course, our goal is to be able to converse completely in Spanish, but we're not there yet, and we are working on it. In the meantime, the Ticos are very kind and patient with us and not a single one has said anything like "this is our country, speak our language." When we ask if they speak English, they usually say "a little bit" just like we say "un poquito espanol."

Often in our halted conversations with native Spanish speakers, it's useful - and fun! - to teach each other new words. "How do you say?" or "Como se dice?" are common phrases used when pointing at something or trying to figure out how to help someone understand what you want to say. During one of these conversations, Melanie found herself alarmed when hearing a Tico trying to learn a new word from her and trying to  copy her Texas accent.

"Ba-a-a-a-g," he said over nearly three syllables. Realizing he was saying exactly what she had said in her Texan drawl, Melanie immediately course-corrected. "Um, no," she said. "I'm from the South, but in the North they say 'bag,' she said in a clipped one-syllable version of the word. "Bag."

He tried again and had a better sense of the word that means the handled container that carries things. "Bag," he said. "Ok."

Not surprisingly to those of you who know her, this happens fairly often to Melanie. Exuberant to begin with, she is endlessly trying to learn something new and to teach in return. Her Texas Spanglish only adds to the fun. On those occasions when she is convinced she's correct but is actually not, it is both a source of entertainment for me and of education for her.

On one of our first days here in a mini-market on a quest for peanut butter (mantequilla de mani), Melanie asked for "manzanilla de mani." This was tantalizingly close but not quite correct, seeing as that actually means "peanut chamomile." Attendants in two stores ignored the 'peanut" part and took us to the rack of chamomile tea, which made us wonder what is wrong with these people when what we actually want is peanut butter. Clearly.

Wandering around the store, I finally said hopefully, "maybe it's this," holding up a stick of butter. "Mantequilla.” Butter. Mantequilla de mani. Butter of peanut. At which point, the attendant took us to a different aisle and immediately produced a jar of peanut butter. 

This is how we learn.

I don't mean to imply that Melanie is the only one who has issues with Spanish. We both do. But while I am recovering from foot surgery, she is the one more out in the world with more opportunity to practice. I am staying at home with my foot propped up and using Duolingo, which is teaching me things like "Mi hermano toca la guitarra." ("My brother plays guitar.")

While I am learning "her skirt is blue" on Duolingo, I have reserved much of my Spanish language capacity for things important to me - "cerveza" (beer), "guayaba" (guava), "hermoso dia" (beautiful day), béisbol (baseball), amable (kind) - and for the necessities as of late: "Mi pie está mejor pero aun mucho dolorosa" - "my foot is better but still very painful." Melanie's important words are things like "pajero", "flor", "jardin", and "sol" - bird, flower, garden, sun. She says her very favorite phrase is "muchas gracias" because she says it so much, sometimes adding an extra "muchas" when it's warranted. 

I was recently appalled when she mangled one of my favorite words, using "ceviche" (a Peruvian seafood dish) instead of "cerveza." But, even so, she’s still my favorite human so I have forgiven her for that.

We are collecting words that are especially fun to say - "desayuno" (breakfast),"semaforo" (traffic light), "fin de semana" (weekend),"tendedero" (clothes line), and "bibliotecaria" (librarian).

No matter the difficulties with language, though; intent always comes through. While workers have been carrying out their tasks around our house, I watch from the window while they work. Today, one of them stopped at the window, waved, pointed at me, pointed at his own foot, made a sad face, then put his hands over his heart and then clasped his hands in prayer, pointing at me again. I was so moved by his message for me, even though no words were actually spoken.

The most beautiful Spanish I have heard since we've been here involved words I did not know the meaning of but which came from a stranger with, again, very clear intent. Before my surgery, while waiting for an ultrasound in a medical waiting room, my mangled and discolored ankle was propped up on my crutches. I could not fit on a shoe (still a distant dream) and at that point, even a sock was too painful to attempt. Consequently, my foot was on gruesome display. 

An elderly woman, escorted by her daughter, hesitated then stopped when she saw my ankle. She immediately launched into a prayer and offered the sign of the cross my way. Touched by her blessing and kindness, all I could muster in return were hands clasped in prayer, a slight sitting bow and "muchas gracias" through my tears ... that, my most perfect Spanish conversation yet.

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For those of you who have asked, my recovery is going well. I am back in physical therapy with Diego, and we are working on getting back to full articulation of the joint. Still no weight bearing, though, for another three or four weeks yet, so I am still working on my upper body strength with crutches. An interesting thing I have learned - the "bike chain" plate in my foot has the circle in the middle for a reason - my body is busy (miraculously) regenerating bone that will live there. Crazy, eh? The sensations that I feel as the bone is regenerating are pretty weird and interesting. But I am learning to say to myself "Hmm, must be making more bone."

I am learning to say "lenta pero segura" - slow but sure.

All is well here in Costa Rica. We are living our best lives, loving every minute - well, most of them - and grateful every day.