They are also a very loud people. I remember my first few weeks when I would enter the staff room (mind you I didn't really speak Spanish then) and I always thought a huge brawl was happening. There was shouting, big hand gestures and incessant interrupting and I would think "Oh snaaaaaap!!" So I would stop staring at the newspaper I didn't understand and instead stare at the screaming I didn't understand. But the arguments always just stopped when the bell rang and everyone quickly dissipated and I was left bewildered as hell. Then as I gradually progressed with my Spanish I realized there had never been close call brawls. I started to understand we had just been discussing, vociferously, who is the best dentist and which is the best means of transit to get to Madrid and who should pick up the baby gift for Lorena etc. I was astounded to find out that their normal conversations have a very very high intensity level. Added to the fact that spaces, (rooms, offices, elevators, apartments, european cars etc) are considerably smaller. So in a confined space with people yelling and flailing their arms, its normal that a confused American felt apprehensive and edgy. I was used to 3 feet of personal space and saying "excuse me" if you just got close to someone. Now I realize grazing cows are more dynamic than Americans. (Unless you happen to be Bill O'Reily or Patrick Risch).
Crossing the point to understanding espanol was a big relief with my one on one conversations with as well because I finally understood that the people actually weren't reprimanding me. They were just telling me they liked movies from my country really, really loudly and really in my face. After two years, I've noticed that I get much closer to people now too. I shout and interrupt when I have something to say. I grab people's arms so that they listen to me and I point my finger and yell that "I think peanut butter is good source of protein even though its high in fats." It will be funny to go back to the states and start a conversation and realize the other person's face is actually saying "Why are you so close to me!? Why are you touching me?! 3 feet!! 3 feet!! 3 feet damnit!!"
When my parents were here we had an interesting situation. Actually many but one that relates to this subject. One evening, me, being the tired old woman in a young person's body that I am, said I had to go get in bed and my parents decided to keep on partying it up like the young people in older people's bodies that they are. They went to the bar next to my house. (In Spain there are more cafeterias and bars than mopeds. Are there many mopeds? Ha. Yes almost as many as bars and cafeterias. They must have ran out of names though because many are called things like "Cafeteria Juan", "Cafeteria Cuba 2" Cafeteria Hot and Cold" etc) Anyway they decided to go to Cafeteria Next to Camille's House. They ordered some canas. In Spain you just say, beer and they bring you beer. You don't say a kind, just a size. Cana means small draft beer. Pitchers don't exist. Don't ask.
(To continue with the story I have to add that Jim Risch is not timid. He loves finding a new stranger he hasn't met yet. They make like to think of themselves as strangers, but Jim Risch sees them as soon to be friends. I admire this quality. The problem though with him and Spain, is that my dad had a hard time befriending people without speaking their language.)
The bartender/owner was a man in his late sixties. I'm not sure exactly how it played out but after several rounds of beer, someone tried to start a conversation with the other person. Lets not name names. Nothing was being understood between the two but both were adamant to get their point across. And the man, being Spanish, begin to yell his words at the foreigner and gesture like mad. So the once befriending foreigner begin to yell back his words. And basically it ended with two men, from two different countries, shouting at each other in two different languages.
My parents came home and told me what happened and I couldn't imagine what they could have been arguing about. How can you argue about something if you don't speak a common language I though. Ha! So the next morning we go downstairs to see the bartender/owner and figure out what the scuff was about. As it turns out, the man had just been asking my dad how much a beer cost in his country.
Moral of the story is, if a Spanish person yells at you and is gesturing frantically in your face, do not rear up for a fight! They are probably just trying to start a conversation. Here's what you do: Get in real close, grab their arm and yell a little bit right back. They'll smile and understand. And you'll know you done real good.
Crossing the point to understanding espanol was a big relief with my one on one conversations with as well because I finally understood that the people actually weren't reprimanding me. They were just telling me they liked movies from my country really, really loudly and really in my face. After two years, I've noticed that I get much closer to people now too. I shout and interrupt when I have something to say. I grab people's arms so that they listen to me and I point my finger and yell that "I think peanut butter is good source of protein even though its high in fats." It will be funny to go back to the states and start a conversation and realize the other person's face is actually saying "Why are you so close to me!? Why are you touching me?! 3 feet!! 3 feet!! 3 feet damnit!!"
When my parents were here we had an interesting situation. Actually many but one that relates to this subject. One evening, me, being the tired old woman in a young person's body that I am, said I had to go get in bed and my parents decided to keep on partying it up like the young people in older people's bodies that they are. They went to the bar next to my house. (In Spain there are more cafeterias and bars than mopeds. Are there many mopeds? Ha. Yes almost as many as bars and cafeterias. They must have ran out of names though because many are called things like "Cafeteria Juan", "Cafeteria Cuba 2" Cafeteria Hot and Cold" etc) Anyway they decided to go to Cafeteria Next to Camille's House. They ordered some canas. In Spain you just say, beer and they bring you beer. You don't say a kind, just a size. Cana means small draft beer. Pitchers don't exist. Don't ask.
(To continue with the story I have to add that Jim Risch is not timid. He loves finding a new stranger he hasn't met yet. They make like to think of themselves as strangers, but Jim Risch sees them as soon to be friends. I admire this quality. The problem though with him and Spain, is that my dad had a hard time befriending people without speaking their language.)
The bartender/owner was a man in his late sixties. I'm not sure exactly how it played out but after several rounds of beer, someone tried to start a conversation with the other person. Lets not name names. Nothing was being understood between the two but both were adamant to get their point across. And the man, being Spanish, begin to yell his words at the foreigner and gesture like mad. So the once befriending foreigner begin to yell back his words. And basically it ended with two men, from two different countries, shouting at each other in two different languages.
My parents came home and told me what happened and I couldn't imagine what they could have been arguing about. How can you argue about something if you don't speak a common language I though. Ha! So the next morning we go downstairs to see the bartender/owner and figure out what the scuff was about. As it turns out, the man had just been asking my dad how much a beer cost in his country.
Moral of the story is, if a Spanish person yells at you and is gesturing frantically in your face, do not rear up for a fight! They are probably just trying to start a conversation. Here's what you do: Get in real close, grab their arm and yell a little bit right back. They'll smile and understand. And you'll know you done real good.
haha love it. true.
ReplyDeleteoh , but pitchers of beer DO exist! you can try saying "bock".
caña=0.2-0.3L. BOCK=0.4L :D
Yes.... but thats not a "pitcher", pitchers are those big things that serve four friends. I do want to like send you a thank you card for writing a comment. They are like e-presents! PS come back so we can go get a coffee sometime. :)
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