the problem with English

The temperatures are climbing up to 25…28… on the digital thermometers on pharmacy signs and street corners. The Spaniards are still shuffling around town in their winter coats, boots, and tights, while the Americans stick out like sore thumbs in their flowery skirts, tank tops, and flip flops. One of my professors said winter fashion sticks around among Spanish women until Semana Santa/ Feria (middle to end of April).

My California blood thinks this is hot. The temperature supposedly gets up into the 50s during the summer, which is roughly 200 degrees fahrenheit according to my Spanish buddy’s iffy conversion skills (to which I replied “¡No puede ser!”). But the heat isn’t the point, though I’m a little afraid I’m not going to survive. It’s the division in fashion, as in every other aspect of life, between Americans and Spaniards.

The most prevalent image of the American college student in Seville is similar, if not identical, to the American college student in general. The blonde who staggers up to the hamburger stand on calle Betis at three in the morning with heavy makeup, high heels, clothing not appropriate for the season, looking a bit disheveled and most likely drunk. Then she says in the most annoying non-Spanish accent ever, “Por favor, puedo tener un hamburger con (pointing) esto, esto, esto… and carrots. How do you say… Como se dice carrots? Zanahorias. Quiero zanahorias también. Gracias.”

Cultural interlude…
Instead of going for the more polite, please and thank you English way of asking for something, Spaniards generally don’t say please or thank you and go straight for the direct “Dame una hamburguesa.” (command: Give me a hamburger.) So perhaps I can’t blame someone for not picking this up, I for one feel as uncomfortable saying this command to shopkeepers as I do saying “Dime” or “Si” when I answer the phone (you informal command: Tell me or Yes instead of the American way, Hello or Hi). In fact, I usually try to avoid saying the commando shopkeepers taltogether and go for the more ambiguous incomplete sentence “Una hamburguesa.”
…

In any case, this is the American college student that I always exchange looks with my friends should I happen to see her and hear the ominous “Puedo tener…?” This is the image of the American college student that I feel I have to constantly have to erase from Spanish people’s minds. The American college student that is studying abroad to experience the nightlife, to speak English, to do anything but learn about a different culture or a different language. Because I am the American college student who isn’t blonde, doesn’t wear heavy makeup or clothing not appropriate for the season, and tries her very hardest to speak Spanish correctly, to fit in, and most importantly, to learn.

Maybe this isn’t my problem with Americans. But I think its part of my problem. I was walking with a friend yesterday and we ran into a Spaniard who he knew from one of his classes. They talked for a bit about the class, the homework, and went their separate ways… I commented that the guy seemed pretty cool, pretty friendly; someone my friend should get to know better. As it turned out, they went for a few drinks after class and the guy was talking about how Americans separate themselves by speaking in English. And there are so many of us, so we’re always separated from Spaniards by language, even if we do speak Spanish pretty well. I think if he went to Santa Barbara he would speak in Spanish with whoever possible because it’s hard and scary to be in a country where you’re always a little bit under water about what’s going on, but regardless, I wish we were better. I wish I was better. And I could be better, but I don’t want to completely forget about my American friends either.

I’m volunteering at an elementary school two mornings a week, helping the two English teachers at the school with their English classes of various levels. Yesterday I was reading off words to the more advanced class for a dictation test, and none of the kids could understand my American pronunciation of the words. No one really had a problem with it, the teacher just re-pronounced the words and moved on, but American just seems to be the more inferior brand of English in this neck of the woods. And American people in general; maybe that’s my problem.

I got in a little disagreement with a friend at an Indian restaurant on Monday about speaking in Spanish. The funny part was that we had the disagreement in Spanish… And the restaurant was small, there was a British couple, two Spanish couples, and the waiter spoke everything. I always want to speak in Spanish as much as possible, because I’m here to hopefully become sufficiently fluent and I feel like I’m not getting the most out of my time here if I’m not. He argued that we wouldn’t have the same relationships with our American friends if we spoke in Spanish more than English. It’s certainly an interesting question. But as I was telling my Belgian friend last night in Spanish (even though she speaks English we only speak in Spanish), I don’t feel any different with her than I do with anyone else; the language doesn’t hinder my personality.

Even so, after a whole day of writing in Spanish, listening to professors in Spanish, and speaking to my international friends in Spanish on Friday, it was nice to relax a little with an American friend… in English.

Note: I wrote most of this post a few weeks ago when it actually was starting to get hotter, but then it got cold again and rained for a whole week… and now it’s kind of nice again. But we’ll see.