Words, wordiness

My first five days in Santiago were spent halfway avoiding Spanish; times were not trying, and English served well my purposes. Only in the last 48 hours have I been thrust into the “immersion.” To toot my own horn, I’ve been very graceful throughout it all, both at home and in school—I understand almost all that I hear, and I handle my responses well. To silence my horn with a terrified squeak, I realize that I’m still unable to comprehend the machine-gun like man-on-the-street Spanish, which, unlike that of my teachers and family, is rife with vernacular land mines—so-called Chilenismos—and not as amused by a gringo like myself.

It is interesting (for me, anyway) to note which words I use most frequently. Obvious, perhaps, but I will record them anyway. Hablar, to speak, is one I predictably find myself saying quite a bit. Also, necesitar, as in, “necesito…?” “Do I need to…?” Two that are more surprising are olividar, to forget, and comprar, to buy. Yet another verb I find myself constantly repeating is caminar, to walk. Unfortunately I haven’t paid as much attention to the popular nouns or adjective, but I’ve had to pull out poco, little, more than I expected. Why poco? No sé.

Fascinating, I know. Naturally there is also plenty of “My name is—” and “What time is it?” And, por supuesto, the million-dollar word: gracias.

From the sound of it one must think I’m just boring the hell out of Santiago. I quote from my last blog post: “Hopefully soon there will be more interesting, anecdotal things to write about.” On second reading this line really does no justice to my experience here—for the first time in what feels like ages I’m not waking up to cheap Kroger coffee, strolling awkwardly across Donaghey Avenue into some half-rate professor’s class, and spending the afternoons looking out the window while trying to do homework. No doubt this is why, all summer long, my trip to Chile was surrounded with a certain amount of anxiety as well as excitement—it represented an excursion into the unknown, which in a way represents the gradual unfurling of my future. I am doing something different with my semester, in the same way that I will eventually be doing something different with my life, although the latter is certainly more mysterious and meaningful. I’m having an excellent time down here, and though it’s not exactly a roller coaster ride, there’s nothing like that feeling of maturation. And, I mustn’t forget, I’ve got three months to go.

Yadda yadda yadda. Ciao.