Dreaming In Spanish
I have so many memories about my days in Madrid. It was transformational and I am glad that I had the opportunity to do it. But everything comes to an end and so my time in Spain.
We, the two Americans and myself, made our way back to board the ship at Le Harve. I remember feeling confident that I had achieved a fluency in Spanish that I never would have attained without the exposure each day to Spanish speakers. The train took us to Paris. It was January and it was freezing. As we packed ourselves into the taxi to take us to the hotel for the night, I said to my friends , “Oh my feet, my feet.” They were frozen and painful. The taxi driver heard the words and interpreted it if it were French. His answer was, “ Oui Mademoiselle, vit, vit!” In French he heard, “Yes, Miss, fast fast!” He zoomed through the streets of Paris and it was frightening and hysterical! We got to the hotel, happy to be alive. The rest of the travelers from our school arrived in drips and drabs, and in the morning, we boarded a bus to Le Harve.
Some of the girls had totally changed the way they looked, in haircuts and clothing, Others, ( unfortunately me too ) gained weight and were looking chubby, still others were sad about going home. The faithful sorority sisters who abandoned their friend, wouldn’t even look at me. I found out about her when I was back on campus.
Seven days , after a very rough Atlantic crossing, the ship docked in New York. My boyfriend and my parents were there.
My mother greeted me by saying, “Did they have to roll you off the gangplank?”
Apparently my weight gain was too obvious for her. We gathered up my things, and packed everything into my dad’s car. When we exited the dock area, my mother turned her head to the rear seat and said, “So when are you two getting married?” I guess my boyfriend’s visit to Spain was just too much for her.
We still tease each other to this day about it. I complained that he never proposed. He always counters, my mother proposed for him. Anyway, we were engaged two months after I came home.
I was right about the credits from school. My art paper got an A, and my Spanish was far better than when I left. As one of my professors used to say, “You will know when you have reached fluency. You will not be translating everything in your head and you will dream in Spanish.”
I can attest for not translating in my head, but I don’t recall speaking Spanish in dreams. I had enough credits to graduate early. The last semester I did my student teaching and was hired for the spring semester at the district where I student taught.
All these years later, I have no fluency, I can read and understand Spanish, sometimes when people are speaking I understand, but the ability to just converse is gone. I suppose, I could still regain some ability if I had the opportunity to speak all the time and be immersed in it. I’m fairly certain that will never happen. It is not dissimilar to playing the piano. I took years and years of lessons, but when I stopped, it was total. Today I am lucky if I can play chop sticks!
There is a Spanish poem that has stuck in my brain and it says, “Juventud divino tesoro, ya te vas para no volver.” “Youth the divine treasure, you are leaving, and never to return.” As it is with all things, the window of opportunity, was over, and probably never to return.
