Osprey
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Location: Baja Ca. Sur
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The importance of learning Spanish
Immersion
I didn’t count the times but I took fishing vacations in Baja California as often as my situations in the states would allow. Lots of time rockin’ on
deck of workhorse charter boats, pulling in yellowtail from the fighting chair in the stern, chatting with the captains on the bridge as we trolled
and searched for splashes and other boats.
Each trip had its own unique niche in my memory – what kind of weather, how the fishing went, who I was with, our seaside accommodations, etc. On the
boats I was never really comfortable with the Mexican crews. Most of them had very little English; I knew the Spanish words for beer, fish, hook,
bait, sea, waves and lots of cuss words I was fuzzy about the meaning of. Sometimes that vast vocabulary was broader than my companions’ so I often
tried to find out for them what they were curious about – what were are chances, how far out would we have to go, will the seas stay flat and safe,
etc. etc. I rarely took back to them anything that made any sense. We would all laugh it off, have another beer and check the drags on the reels one
more time.
Over time I learned a lot more Spanish while the crews got more fluent with each boatload of stateside fishermen. Now I learned the names of the
captains and the marinaros, the deck hands, things like how long they had worked the boats, where they were born, if they had families. I could tell
them a little about me and my pals, what kind of work we did in the states, our ages, where we lived. Beyond some fishing smalltalk that was about as
far as we could go down the shallow rabbit hole of communication.
After carrying around over 40 years of such memories I’m proud to say my Spanish has greatly improved and now I’m actually able to hold what I would
call “conversations” with new Mexican acquaintances both on and off fishing vessels. So now it matters less that they speak English. How much less
does it matter? What if we both have a very good handle on each other’s native tongue? How much farther do we take things now? Not very damn much
farther.
It turns out that communication is a very tricky little animal. I see a lot of advice on the internet for prospective retirees to Mexico – always a
good idea to learn the language before you find a place in paradise. Sometimes those advisors mean new arrivals will have an easier time of it if they
know the names of food items, medicine, furniture, household goods, weather conditions, greetings and salutations. My personal caveat about how much
your language might help is that you not expect it to make you “part of the family.” Immersion opportunities bring you closer to that but not all the
way. Language takes many forms and the oral part is just a little slice of the whole pie.
To have real conversations you need some commonality that makes positive links and that’s only possible if you have similar world views, share
like-minded opinions about the concepts underlying your verbal objectives.
Let’s go back to my bi-lingual boat captain and take a look at that statement. We are discussing sports. We’ve jumped right over the hurdle of futbol
vs football – we both know we are talking about my love for American style football. I lose the captain when I regale him with the recall of the
sounds and smells of tailgating before a Packers game, swilling down mugs of beer with my fellow Cheeseheads, faces, bodies painted and festooned with
all nature of things emblematic of our heros, the state, the City of Green Bay, the playing field, the fans, etc. etc. ad nauseum. Before we can even
begin to discuss the team, the game, the managers I must set the stage by describing the grilling, the food, it’s singularity in aroma, taste, texture
and symbolism. By the time I’ve chest-bumped him three times in the excitement of my recollection, he might begin to fear for his safety and have the
deck hand tie me to the fighting chair.
I’m not easily put off and while I’m still filled with the excitement of knowing I used the exact, correct Spanish word for Bratworst, he is bringing
our language experiment to an end, asking me to leave the bridge and leave him the hell alone. He’s finally able to show me how much English he has
acquired as the deck hand hauls me down the ladder.
He shouts “Keep this Looney bastard off the bridge.”
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Pescador
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 3587
Registered: 10-17-2002
Location: Baja California Sur
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Your story reminds me of Gene Kira's book where Abundo is fishing with the American whose boat is named the "Masterbaiter" which was an American play
on words but when he went to explain it to Abundo, it set up a riff in the communications and Abundo did not want to be seen or talk to his friend who
was then seen as really weird.
I think that I learned the words and then spent a long time (and continue to spend a lot of time) learning the culture.
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Mexicorn
Senior Nomad
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Registered: 9-15-2009
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Great story Real good!!!
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Osprey
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 3694
Registered: 5-23-2004
Location: Baja Ca. Sur
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Soulman, I think you're referring to the Pacific Yellowtail. We are after the really big jurel, The Great Southern Yellowtail. Moment we put the lines
out I buckle up.
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55steve
Senior Nomad
Posts: 857
Registered: 4-24-2006
Location: Warner Springs, CA
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| Quote: | Originally posted by soulpatch
Good story.....did you really need the fighting chair for jurel? |
Depends on the quantity of cerveza consumed.
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