Being Here - Fish out of Water

A friend invited me to go shopping with her on my first day here. Her cousin came along too, and she introduced me to her in Portuguese. I understood the basic introduction that I was teacher visiting from Los Angeles and that I am fluent in Spanish. She turned to me and suggested that Spanish would really help me communicate in Portuguese. Hah! I've been in Sao Paulo for more than 24 hours now and the language barrier has been paralyzing. Sometimes, if I concentrate really, really hard, I can make out a few words that sound similar to Spanish. But usually, it's all a blur of zjsh, ois, jshs and aoooooooows. The phonics of Portuguese are like nothing I've ever heard before. The aooows sometimes resemble a cat's meow, the zjsh sometimes sound like the cars whizzing by, the beginings and endings of words are chopped off or bleed into the next word, and vowels hang on for what seems like forever. It's a puzzle of foreign sounds that my ears can't untangle.

The easiest thing about Portuguese has been reading it. This way, I can focus on the words and I don't have to worry about the pronunciation of constants, vowels, and crazy combinations of vowel dipthongs or consonant blends. I was able to read and comprehend a lot of the posted information at the Afro-Brasilian History Museum in Ibirapuera Park (the largest park in the city). I was also able to understand an entire article about Leticia Castro in the portguese translation of the Elle Magazine I picked up at an excellent coffee shop called Suplicy Cafe. But conversing and interacting with Paulistas (as city dwellers are called) has been a challenge to say the least.

I suppose it starts with my lack of confidence. I go into the conversation knowing that even if the Paulista can understand what I am asking or looking for, I will definitely NOT understand their reply. For example, I decided to venture into the grocery store because I love all stores that sell food and I was craving an apple. Knowing that I had to have the produce weighed and then had to pay for the apples (2 interactions) set me into a fit of indecision about which apples to buy, how many, and whether to get the pre-packaged apples or select my own. I must have paced the crowded produce section (about the size of a Trader Joe's produce section) for 15 minutes! Luckily, I did not have to use words at the weigh station. I proceeded to walk down every aisle taking in all the varities of bread, canned food, cereal, coffee, meats, and cheeses before I realized I would eventually have to say something at the check out. I knew the checker would ask me something -- paper or plastic, credit or cash, if I was having a good day -- that would force me to smile, stare blankly and nod.

When I made it to the register, as I predicted, the checker said something to me. I leaned forward as if I didn't hear her, but I just didn't understand. Maybe if she repeated it, I could use my trusty Spanish to pick out a few key words. Nada. Although I didn't really mean to, I found my self staring at her, smiling, nodding and willing my brain to quickly translate the mish mash of zsshjjasolbleuscao? into English. I finally gave up and used one of the few sentences I know in Portuguese, "Eu no fallo Portugues. So Americana." Smiling, she took my American Express card and charged me for my apples. Sighing and hanging my head with defeat, I left the super market feeling lost in a place I usually feel so at home in -- a food store!

I suppose I could just begin any interaction by saying I don't speak Portuguese or alternatively I could just speak in English, Spanish, or some mixture of both, hoping that the Paulista might understand and respond in a language that I understand. But there is something embarrassing to me about travelling somewhere and expecting others to speak your native language. This is not the typical American attitude, I know. But I am vehemently opposed to being labeled as, "an annoying American toursit who expects everyone to speak English."

I am surprised at how intimidated I am by the language barrier. A normally confident and take-charge-kind-of-girl, I've become timid and indecisive. Even if I know what I want, I will feel inadequate nodding my head, fake smiling, and worrying that what I get may not be what I had intended. This fish out of water feeling is certainly not something I had anticipated I would experience on my visit to a large, Latin American city, guided by friends of the family. But it's a good learning experience. I was told once, that to truely learn something, one has to connect the new material to something that already exists in your brain or memory. While I was walking down the street, crunching my apple, I reflected on the experience and realized, maybe what I'm learning is that I'm not as self-assured and bold as I thought I was. It also donned on me that the checker was asking for a Paulista phone number or a club card number to register the purchase. I wanted to run back and tell her, "No, no tem numero Paulista!"