Loree: Learning the lay of the land in a new language

I’ve been asking myself why I’m still studying Spanish after seven years with no fluency Rosetta Stone software on the horizon.Well, for one thing, experts tell me that studying a foreign language wards off Alzheimer’s. And for another thing, experts tell me that studying a foreign language wards off Alzheimer’s.I also nurse this fantasy to one day call play-by-play for Mexican League futbol games on Telemundo. But I think the main reason I stay at it are the compliments I often get from native speakers for simply trying to speak Spanish. What with my bulging duffel bag of neuroses that requires me to seek constant approval, I can usually find someone to ask, “?Como esta usted?” The little smile I get takes care of my need for strokes for a good 30 minutes.Once at a roadside fruit stand on Harbor Boulevard, I paid for a three-pack of Gaviota strawberries and said, “Gracias” to the clerk, who up to then was all business.Her face broke into a sunny smile. “!Usted pronuncia ‘gracias’ perfecta-mente!” she said and patted my shoulder.See? That’s a day’s worth of positive reinforcement right there. Of course I felt a little embarrassed, like I was trolling for compliments (ahem), and got one for next to no effort. However, in my favor, I did pronounce an especially good “gracias” that day. Not too much “r” rolling (you only get to go all out with the trill on words with double rr’s, as in “burrito”).Also, I simply love the Spanish language. Partly because it’s phonetic. There aren’t words to trip you up like “thought” or thorough” or even “phonetic.” (In Spanish Rosetta Stone Spain Spanish it’s “fonetica.”) If a word’s spelled “simpatico,” it’s pronounced that way. An accent mark means put it right there. I like “tildes,” those wavy lines above a letter that turn “canon” into “canyon.”I like discovering the meaning of California place names I’ve used all my life. For instance “Atascadero” (state prison) means “a deep mired place where your carriage can get stuck.” “Soledad” Prison means “solitude.” “Sierra Madre” means “Mother’s handsaw.” “Bernardino” can mean “false boast.” “Granada” Hills means either pomegranate or grenade, depending, I’d guess, on whether you live there. “Camarillo” means, among other things, “political clique.”I go to Spanish class every week at the Ventura Senior Center. What with a rote memory that drains the past tense out of a little shunt in the back of my neck as soon as the future tense is introduced to my brain, plus a hearing problem that was exacerbated when my dog ate my hearing aid, I figure I’ve got about 11 more years before I’m ready for the Telemundo gig.Still, I slowly improve year by year. My best sentence is “Hable mas despacio, por favor.” (Speak slower, please.)To speed up my progress toward the futbol fantasy, I went in February with my buddy Sally to Rosetta Stone English Antigua, Guatemala, a lovely old town with some 80 Spanish language schools. At my school, 40 of us from around the world — Russians, Swedes, Italians, Israelis, Koreans, Uzbeckistanis, etc. — each had our little “cabina” with a chair, a table and a certified teacher. We were a Tower of Babel in little cabins.I studied one-on-one with Teresa four hours every morning for a week; we even spoke Spanish on our morning coffee break together. At my request, she drilled me in using masculine and feminine ends and all the tenses — my weak spots. By noon I was thinking in Spanish (which is good), but what I was thinking was, “Mi cerebro esta frita.” (My brain is fried.)However, I noticed that for the rest of the afternoon, I had no trouble saying, over and over again, “?Cuanto cuesta?” to clerks in all the cute little tourist stores I browsed in.The Mayan women I met on the street were all my height, which is 4 feet 11. Clad in their native huipiles (woven blouses), they and I invariably stopped, [Rosetta Stone ] smiled, measured our height with hands and confirmed that yes, we were exactly the same height. One said, “Usted mide cinco pies tambien” (you are 5 feet tall, too). I didn’t quibble with the extra inch she gave me. They weren’t used to short Anglos, and I wasn’t used to adults my size. We giggled in two different languages.Even though I was there too brief a time, I could tell I was understanding and speaking un poquito bit better. The woman in the coffee bar and the hotel receptionist quizzed me each afternoon on future and past tenses. “Will you have a cappuccino?” required a future tense answer; “Did you sleep well?” required the past.The ever-present marimba band at my hotel played and sang “Malaguena” every time I walked by to my room. By the time I’d left, I’d memorized the Spanish lyrics.I recommend marimba bands as an excellent way to learn Spanish.— E-mail Ventura humor columnist Brenda Loree at write.