zforbes - 1-27-2007 at 11:32 AM
Some of you may already know from reading Bajaboy’s trip report that I visited Shari and Juan in Asuncion for a week of Spanish immersion in late
October/early November 2006. I won't repeat what he has shared, but will concentrate instead on some aspects of learning the language. Maybe this
should go under the Language topic, but it feels more like a trip report, so here it is.
I had seen Shari’s home overlooking the Pacific on her website, and I knew that was where I wanted to be on my next vacation. We began corresponding
to make that happen. Bajaboy offered to drive me down and back, so my transportation worries were minimal. We had made reservations at Baja Cactus so
that we could have an easy two-day drive from San Diego to Asuncion.
We arrived in Asuncion around 3:00 pm on a Saturday afternoon, unloaded my bags in Sirena’s room where I would be sleeping, chatted with visiting
yachties, made friends with the puppies and settled in for snail burgers under the palapa. After that it was immersion time for me. I didn’t know
quite what to expect, and I was hoping that it would not be too structured.
Shari had prepared a pocket-sized notebook for me, personalized with a photo of the sea lions that crowd the rocks on Isla Asuncion. In addition, she
had prepared a small student manual of commonly used words and phrases that I would encounter. These two written tools combined with conversation and
body language would provide the structure for a week of learning. Our conversations were based on what was going on around us, and ideas that we
wanted to share.
Much of the learning took place at the kitchen table. This is where family and visitors congregate, and there was usually something going on in that
area. The sound of voices on the radio (communications with Juan at sea and other fishing friends and families) punctuated conversations at the table.
Puppies and chicks peeked in the door, attempting a forbidden entry.
In the mornings, Shari would cook breakfast while I drank coffee at the table. At first I had a hard time sitting there while she waited on me, but a
bit of easy persuasion was all it took to let myself relax and accept her good food. As she cooked, she took me through the morning greetings and we
talked about what had been happening, in Spanish, of course. I got to ask all my questions, she would elaborate on things she thought I should know,
we would make plans for the day (always flexible to meet emerging needs and interests), and then off we would go. Sometimes we walked to town and
sometimes we drove, depending on how much needed to be done.
I wasn’t the only person learning a language at the kitchen table. Several afternoons a week Shari teaches English in her kitchen to local women. As a
visitor, I sat in on several classes and we traded conversation – they in English, I in Spanish. We worked from the student manual that Shari had
created. Many had husbands or partners who had learned some English by interacting with gringos outside the home. The women wanted to be able to make
change and answer questions that they were likely to encounter as more English speakers arrive in town. We spent a lot of time talking about husbands
and men in general, which gave me good insight into some aspects of the town I might not otherwise have encountered.
Shari’s classes were very popular, and the class size kept growing. Among the students was Dulce, a young woman wearing a black shirt with white
letters spelling “Policia” on the back. One afternoon the class was having so much fun that we ran past our ending time. Dulce was due to be on shift
and was already late, but she couldn’t quite tear herself away from the laughter. Her male co-worker sat patiently in the squad car waiting for her to
emerge so he could drive her back to work. Classmates near the door could see him in the car when he arrived, and let her know that he was waiting for
her. After several friendly announcements from classmates failed to produce the desired result, her coworker finally summoned her over the
loudspeaker, demanding that she come out and get in the car and go to work. That only caused more merriment among the class members in the kitchen,
but it got Dulce away from the table and into the car.
The kitchen table also served as the site for a much more solemn conversation. Several evenings into the stay, Bajaboy, Shari, Juan and I sat chatting
around the table. At the doorway appeared two gentlemen, friends of the family, waiting to be acknowledged and invited inside. After a brief
conversation, one of the visitors left, leaving Efrain behind. I had met Efrain earlier in the day while he worked in the sun to complete the beach
house. His appearance that evening was considerably different. He was freshly shaven, dressed for visiting, and he was delighted to stay. We continued
our conversation, this time in Spanish.
Bajaboy had asked Juan if he was familiar with the Ouija board. Yes, he was, and a conversation ensued about the various merits of Ouija boards and
Magic 8 Balls. This required an explanation to Efrain, who was unfamiliar with these particular methods of communicating with the spirits. As the
explanation unfolded, Efrain became visibly agitated, and cautioned us against summoning otherworldly spirits. We questioned him. What did he mean?
Why was he so upset? He began to tell us the story of how he came to accept Death as his patron saint.
From the beginning I found his story to be compelling, almost hypnotic, as the rhythm of the words and the visions they evoked took over the room. It
was a mystical tale, filled with spirits and animals that had threatened, warned, protected and guided him through the years. Although the story began
many years ago, it continues to influence his life and decisions in the present. We listened in rapt attention to the details he shared with us.
Occasionally, Shari would need to explain an unclear part in English, but I could understand most of the story, and I began to feel that I was
participating in a Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel.
Another kitchen table moment occurred the last night of my stay. Tatina and Josephina, members of Juan’s family that I had met earlier, had come with
their husbands and a friend to the kitchen door. They were greeted and invited inside. We pulled up chairs for them and made introductions all around.
Of course we took pictures to commemorate the occasion, and toasted to another visit at the earliest opportunity. I felt content and happy that my new
Spanish vocabulary allowed me to be part of the conversation. The high point, my graduation, came that evening when I made a spontaneous joke, a play
on words, that made everyone laugh. Yes, I had improved my Spanish and I had gained friends for the next visit.
Shari’s immersion lessons are tailored to the interests and abilities of the individual language learner. She is an adept teacher, and has experience
with a wide range of ages and interests. You can count on her to keep track of the learning aspect of the visit, which allows a great deal of freedom
to explore, linguistically, culturally and physically. To any of you who are contemplating an immersion experience, I highly recommend a visit with
Shari and Juan. Their open hearts, warm welcome, community involvement and knowledge of local life provide the opportunity to have fun and fill your
life with new experiences and skills. For a good time, call Shari!
FARASHA - 1-27-2007 at 11:43 AM
Thank you Zoe for sharing your experience. It really sounds like an inviting place to go for a vacation - AND learn Spanish.
Something I consider to do some time soon too!
Question - do you think a 12 year old youngster could be enjoying it there too?? >f<
Bajaboy - 1-27-2007 at 11:52 AM
A most excellent post...I almost felt as if I was there.
Zac
Taking the youngsters...
zforbes - 1-27-2007 at 11:57 AM
Yes, Farasha, I think it is a great place for young children. (Toddlers would requre very close supervision.) Shari has experience with children from
her summer immersion camp for young people (and with Sirena and her friends, of course!). There are many activities available, including beach and
surf toys, horse back riding, hiking, fossil hunting and EATING. Shari can give instruction in natural history, culture and I'm sure many other
things. I would feel fine about leaving my child alone with Shari if I were not able to go. She manages her household and guests well, pulling them
into ordinary activities as well as offering them special vacation treats. Yes, a 12-year-old would have a wonderful time!
capt. mike - 1-27-2007 at 12:25 PM
i can't wait till i can get 2 weeks off and go there to immerse!!
ursidae69 - 1-28-2007 at 09:10 AM
What a cool story. Thanks for sharing that. 
shari - 1-28-2007 at 09:22 AM
Muchas gracias amiga for your kind words...they brought tears to my ojos just remembering our great times. You forgot to mention our Halloween
adventure to the haunted village...I had always wanted to make that sojourn at midnight and I was so impressed that Zoe agreed to accompany me....it
was truly a night to remember as upon arriving, the bat entered and wouldn't leave and our trip to the abandoned church...our shreaks and peals of
laughter. Zoe...YOU are the bomb!
On a serious note...I enjoy my role of bridge between the cultures and love to pass on what I have learned in my 18 years in Baja. Everyone can learn
something and it's true that for a good time, call me!
Forget Halloween in San Roque? Never!
zforbes - 1-28-2007 at 12:33 PM
We arrived in San Roque after dark, leaving a dusty trail behind us as we followed the road to the deserted town. We pulled up to a dark house on a
beach lit by a three quarter moon. After lighting candles and turning on propane, we tugged in a new mattress and did some rearranging between
sleeping rooms. The house was built by Juan’s grandfather when he was raising a large family, and contains original cabinetry. The windows are
designed to let in fresh air, starlight and beach sounds at night. I would later fall asleep with a smile on my face.
In the meantime we shared stories and drinks, again in the kitchen, around the table. Juan told how he met Shari, and then she told her version. We
talked about families and history until the bat flew in through my open bedroom window. Mind you, this is Halloween night, and although I knew that in
Mexico the celebration is Dia de los Muertos in a day or two, I suspected that I might be trailed by some gringo juju. The bat flew from room to room
repeatedly, although all the windows and doors were open and he could have left easily.
I’m not usually alarmed by bats, nor am I terribly superstitious. I watched with interest his journeys from room to room. After a while, though, I
followed Shari’s example and eased my jacket up over my hair, just in case. After perhaps 10 minutes, with Juan attempting to reassure us that there
had never been bats there in his 41 years, Mr. Bat left the building. Family members later confirmed that bats had never visited in their history at
San Roque. Why tonight? I filed this away as an interesting experience and nothing more.
The guys turned in for early fishing in the morning. Shari and I, perhaps due to the bat’s influence on our adrenaline, decided to take a walk in the
moonlight and see what was going on over at the church in the distance. Moonlight illuminated a flat path and I could easily see where to walk. I
wasn’t feeling nervous, but I was very conscious of the sounds and movements around me, and I made sure to pay attention to where the house was. The
path led to the front of the church, where a wooden door hung slightly open.
We explored outside the front of the church looking for the rope to the bell. We thought to rouse the men to the mysterious sound of the bell ringing
on Halloween. No luck with the bell pull, so we resorted to tossing small stones. Alas! Our puny arms could not throw high enough. By this time we
were laughing in a way that I think men don’t and women do.
We turned our attention to the slightly opened door with our flashlights at the ready for any real or imagined dangers. Not knowing what lay inside, I
was perhaps a little less eager than Shari to push open the door. I was in the lead, however, and wanted to demonstrate how fearless I could be, so I
eased the door open into the church with my right hand. A sudden whoosh of wings exploded in my face! I stepped back in alarm. Was it angels? No,
thank goodness, only pigeons resting in the sanctuary. We began to giggle hysterically, I admit it. We held our stomachs and sides and laughed until
we ran out of breath. Then we laughed some more. When we recovered, we began to explore the church in earnest.
There was no working bell pull on the inside of the church, either, but there were other remnants of earlier worship – a couple of weathered wooden
crosses, and faded but colorful hand painted murals of the Virgin. We explored until we had exhausted our interest and then we stepped outside to
continue our exploration of the deserted town.
There is more to this story, but I haven’t fully digested it yet. It involves lights in places where lights should not be. I think I need to return to
San Roque for another night of investigation under Shari's excellent tutelage.
Bajaboy - 1-28-2007 at 03:20 PM
Church at San Roque
