deaf and dumb.

Of course I knew. Of course I did. I knew that coming to another country where my native tongue was not their native tongue would be a trying and difficult task. But the idea of it excited me. I was revved for the challenge and thought many laughs would come from the misunderstandings. And in the back of my mind I had the comfortable thought that everyone in Europe speaks English…right? No, no no no no. so not true. One of the first things I was told when I arrived here is that hardly anyone speaks English in Madrid. So that comfort blanket was ripped away from me.
It has become daunting and tedious for me to do the most simple of things. I can’t go to a restaurant and order what I want. I can’t ask for a beer or a glass of wine. I can’t request my check. I can’t go to the farmacia and buy soap or q-tips or floss. I can’t ask for directions in the streets. I can’t do much of anything. Other than look like a jack ass and feel like one to. I even know how to say all the things I’ve listed above. But the Spanish accent is so strong that no one understands my lazy American tongue. Today, I don’t mind so much. I went to a café for a kebab bocadilla (which is a hybrid of hybrids a Spanish/Turkish sandwich), and ordered, I’m pretty sure exactly how a Spaniard would, and I got the most confused look from the bartender. But, it didn’t bother me. Yesterday I felt terrible. I felt very confused and frustrated and lost. I felt as though I had just lost the ability to speak and to hear. I’m deaf and dumb here. I’ve reverted to a savage state where all I can do is point and mumble at the things I want. I’m a child here. An infant here. I can’t say what I mean. I can’t understand grown up conversations. Sure I can catch a word or phrase and what not, but I have the ability of a two year old to comprehend the world around me.
Today, it’s not so bad though. I knew this would happen, but, my lord, yesterday it struck me pretty hard how out of place I am. Especially being the only blonde haired person amongst thousands of others. Oh, that’s another funny thing. The Spanish are people watchers…huge people watchers. On the metros all they do is observe everyone else. Everyone is watching someone…well, not everyone (lots of people read on the metro and lots sleep too…way too many people on the metro), but there’s a whole lot of people watching going on. And you know what’s great about people watching? Finding the most obscure thing about the scenario and discovering it. Yes, a big blonde haired kid is an easy target. I get stared at a lot on the metro. Though it doesn’t bother me. They aren’t vicious looks or anything. Just observations. My super American--couldn’t be more American and blend in in America looks, are finally helping me stand out. Hehe.
The old Spanish woman hate me though. I’m sure of it. I guess old Spanish women are more stubborn than old Idaho women. They’ve spent their entire lives surrounded only by the Spanish, and it’s only been in the past ten years that immigration and tourism has really picked up in Madrid. So old Spanish women have given me some pretty nasty looks. Oh bother.
On the plus. I was out rolling a cigarette before class, singing to myself, feeling pretty chipper. And two Spanish girls walked by and said some shit in Spanish I didn’t understand. However, my friend yelim (American student fluent in Spanish) was walking by them and told me what they said. They thought it was cute that I was singing and thought that I was handsome…I’m sure in Spanish cute and handsome are way cooler when not translated. So, sweetness, huh? Now I just need to quit being deaf and dumb and learn the damn language. Four days into class I can count and conjugate regular verbs….crap, long ways to go.

huzza!
jake.