I spent the first seven months of the World Race at least being able to communicate with some people in each country (Indonesia was a little harder than everywhere else, but we at least had some people to communicate with). For two months in Africa, I was able to communicate a little bit through French, and for the month sandwiched in between French, I was able to speak English. For three months in Asia, I was able to get away with being an English speaker because of where we were located.
When we arrived in Santiago, Chile (as one of our many stops to arrive in Mendoza), I began to realize just how little Spanish I understand. Little did I realize how difficult it would truly be to live in a country where very few people speak the same language.
I have been spoiled for the last seven months, and for my entire life, in living where people always speak the same language. It has been quite an adjustment over the last couple weeks to figure out how to communicate when you know about 3 words in the language.
Since arriving in Mendoza, I’ve been learning a lot of patience, what it means to rely on other people, and a tiny bit of Spanish.
Don’t take your language for granted – and give grace to people who speak a different one than you. Learning a different one is hard.
