Learning to Speak

Slowly, slowly the language is coming. For any of you have dealt with not being able to communicate fully and to the fullest extent of your expectations for whatever reason you know how it is to not be able to express your thoughts and feelings and reactions to life. Right now I am feeling between two languages, in a place where speaking at all has become a challenge. During the past week I have been able to see how much Spanish I don't know. In a way I was given a glimpse of the top of the mountain I have to climb to fluency and apparently it is freaking tall. As I climb the mountain during my classes and the time I spend doing homework, I find myself letting go a little of my grasp of my native language. When I talk to the other students here in English I find that some words don´t come and sometimes they come in an unusual semi-english form. What I find particularly interesting is that what I express is shaped by how well I can speak. If I don't have the words to express something I don't say it. It has gotten to the point where I question most things I say before I say them and if I feel too insecure about what I am about to say I just don't say anything. Yikes. It's not that bad because I am pretty aware of it and have found ways to balance myself. But it does make me wonder, how does our capacity to speak outloud shape how we present ourselves to others? And how does our capacity to present ourselves to others determine how we think about ourselves? This is the kind of shit that is going through my head as I go around trying to interact with people. Having to work within the limits of a second language has in a way removed me from the paradigms of language that I use to feel comfortable with myself. To a degree I have to ask myself on a regular basis who I am and where I am within these new confines.
This relates to something else I've been thinking about lately which has to do with the familiar. Months even before I left Vancouver I was noticing, and of course worrying about, how much I love the comfort of the familier. Here I find that even the familiar is unfamiliar and that in this new place I have to somehow identify myself. I know this much about myself and that is that I have to be able to navigate to the source of myself in order to do anything constructive. And now, without the signs of the familiar to guide me, I have had to find a new way to myself. Holy cow, I tell ya.
The other day we hiked a volcano which is the subject of another post, but when I got home I was tired and all I felt like doing was watching a movie that was familiar and comfortable. So I went to a cafe where they show a different movie every night. We watched Meet the Fockers which is a movie I do like and appreciate for being familiar and comfortable (chessy, yes I know). But the experience of watching the movie did very little to comfort me because of the context in which we watched. An entire Guatemalan family served a restaurant FULL of gringos who were all after the same thing, finding the comfort of the familiar. That's what we were all doing and of course I was fretting over the situation the whole time as I watched the family, from kids to Granmas, serving these loud obnoxious gringos. I couldn't find the familiar in the gringos because even they were weirdos.

Can you imagine? Jesus. I bet I am making you all question how much you would actually want to travel with me. I think too much. I have come to terms with that and actually I've found solace and companionship in Orhan Pamuk, the Turkish author, and his book that I'm reading 'Other Colors'. Wow. He thinks too much too but he finds value in that tendancy so I'm trying too toooooo...
Until the next overanalysed post....
much love