Identity Crisis

Learning a foreign language is hard, especially at my age. (I'm not old, of course, but I'm also not  kid anymore, either.) Figuring out new pronunciations, conjugations, phrases and idioms - I'm not gonna lie, it's taxing to say the least. I never before understood the reality of a physical headache that comes from language strain. Let me assure you, though, it's very real. But, despite how challenging and annoying that can be, it's not the hardest part about learning a language. That hardest part is losing your identity.


Allow me to explain.

In the U.S., I speak English, and I speak it well. I am an English teacher, after all. I'd like to believe (and years of experience have supported the idea) that it's easy for fellow English-speakers to assume within just a few moments of conversation that I am a Christian, educated, informed, intelligent, open, friendly, kind, trustworthy, sincere, genuine, and contain a sharp wit and a great sense of humor. (Alright - maybe people don't think all of those things, but it's my blog, so I'm allowed to take a few liberties.)

Here, though, it's not so easy.

I'd like to think I'm still all of those things, but now I don't have any way to communicate them to others. Let's face it, someone unable to come up with the word for 'sit' doesn't exactly come off as amazingly smart. I'm afraid that the long pauses in conversation during which I roll my eyes heavenward, searching (physically and metaphorically, as it were) for a certain phrase or way of saying something tend to make me look a bit untrustworthy at best - as if I'm engaging in a lie and trying to keep all the facts straight in my head. At worst, I'm afraid some people have wondered if I literally had a mental disorder or disability. And then there is the inappropriate level of exuberance I express in voice and energetic hand gestures when trying to convey such simple things as wishing to buy two pounds of potatoes, instead of one.

Of course, it also doesn't help that, apparently, we no longer know how to say our own names. Mark has (out of necessity) become Marcos. Rachel is now Raquel. Even Rebecca, Sarah, and myself, whose names are technically also Spanish names, have had to learn to drastically change the pronunciation. As for 'Farrier' - forget it! It's strange how even American words from American corporations (like Big Mac, or Angus Deluxe, for example) have to be said with a pronounced local accent in order to be understood. It is a surreal experience at McDonalds to ask for chicken nuggets and be received with a blank stare, but be understood perfectly by contorting the word into "noo-goots".

<sigh> I'm afraid that all of Xela have become aware of the family of giant gringos living in their midst, and they're thoroughly convinced that we're all a bunch of idiots.

So, to overcome that misconception, we're doing our best to smile a lot. We are very well versed in the Spanish phrases for, "I'm sorry," "please," and "blessings from Jesus." And, we do our best to express the love and grace of Christ everywhere we go. Perhaps we can at lesat be known as polite idiots who love the Lord, after all.

For all of you out there living in the land of your native tongue - soak it up! Enjoy being able to express who you are, and never forget how powerful your words can be! (I'd try to say that in Spanish for you, but I'd rather maintain my reputation as an intelligent, intelligable person instead - at least in one country!)