You Won’t Believe What Happened When I Tried to Speak Spanish
I didn’t expect this to happen
I, a quintessential Bengali with a penchant for overestimating my abilities, decided to start with an audacious journey of learning Spanish. The language, with its rhythmic flow and passionate undertones have always captivated me. I feel like there's something really exotic that's hidden in this language. I used to be lost in the dreams of becoming the bilingual 'Senorita' who would effortlessly talk in Spanish. Little did I know, I would end up as a mixed - lingual speaker , who speaks mostly a soup of English, bengali, Hind - with sope sprinkles of Spanish words.
The initial stages were a breeze. "Hola," "cómo estás," and "mucho gusto" rolled off my tongue with the smoothness of a well-oiled rosogolla. I was convinced I was the next polyglot sensation. But that was before the language decided to reveal its true colors in front of me.
The letter "r" was a particularly cruel tormentor. It demanded a guttural sound that my gentle Bengali vocal cords were simply not equipped for. Hours of practice left my throat feeling like a sandpaper-lined chimney. Then there was my ever supportive family.
Hearing my failed attempts of Spanish pronunciation, my mom tried really hard to motivate me, but after a point, she just burst out into extreme laughter. With her evergreen sense of humor, she suggested I try gargling with gravel.
Then came the verbs. Conjugations were a labyrinth I couldn't escape. Oh my god ! It was like trying to solve a complex mathematical equation while simultaneously juggling flaming torches. Then I spend hours poring over grammar books, only to emerge more confused than when I started.
My attempts at speaking Spanish to unsuspecting victims were nothing short of catastrophic. I once tried to compliment a waiter on his excellent service, at a Mexican restaurant. It was way more expensive than any usual restaurant since most of the employees there were bilingual. I decided to start a conversation with a waiter. I was trying to ask him about the cute and small logo of the restaurant. However, he became completely speechless and had a confused expression on his face. His eyebrows were wriggled and he just went away. He did not return to my table after that.
After coming back home, I did a lot of Google search, only to figure out the kind off blunder that I did. I realised that I accidentally called him a small, furry animal. The reason behind the look of shock and confusion on his face was now clear to me. It was then only I realised why his face had a clear indication that I'd committed a linguistic faux pas of epic proportions.
Undeterred, I pressed on. Being my typical self, obviously that wasn't something that would have stopped me from learning Spanish. I watched countless Spanish telenovelas, hoping to soak up the language through osmosis. Unfortunately, all I managed to learn were the intricacies of Latin American soap operas and a questionable obsession with overly dramatic hair flips.
So, here I am, a struggling linguist, surrounded by Spanish dictionaries. But amidst the chaos, there's a certain charm to the whole process. And who knows, maybe , maybe.....one day I'll be fluent enough to order ' tortilla de patatas' from an actual food joint in Spain, without causing an international incident. Until then, I'll keep practicing.
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