I think it’s safe to say that it is hard enough for certain people to create connections with others in their first language, let alone a second. I had a lot of anxiety surrounding making friends in Santiago, Chile, the destination I chose to spend my spring 2019 semester. Not only was I anxious about making friends within my USAC group, also known as “the other U.S. Americans,” but before departing, I was already putting pressure on myself to make friends with the local Chilean students. I remember being told by someone during my study abroad orientation that it was almost impossible to make local friends when studying abroad. Upon hearing that, I made it one of my top goals to create connections with Chileans, specifically Chileans my age. I purposely chose to live with a host family in part because I wanted to be opened up more to communities of Spanish-speakers and local students alike; I knew it would already be a challenge living with people that didn’t speak my first language, but I wanted to push myself further in my attempt to be “fluent” in Spanish after studying abroad.
Before I talk about the friends I made while living in Santiago, I want to address the idea of “fluency.” What does it mean to be fluent in a second language, and could I ever achieve that? Perhaps I have already achieved it; I remember on the car ride to the Santiago airport at the end of my stay, I was impressed with my ability to understand my driver completely and answer him in sentences that didn’t seem to take me very long to think about. But I also realize that “fluency” is something that can only be achieved after relentless study and practice. Some may argue that fluency can only be achieved by native speakers. While this may be true, I cannot deny that, after studying in a Spanish-speaking country, my confidence in speaking my second language was heightened to levels it had never been before. I can speak clearer in more cohesive sentences. I am able to hold a conversation with a native Spanish speaker and, while I do make plenty of mistakes, I almost always realize them and remember to fix them next time. Confidence is the key to communication of any kind, and that is certainly an important lesson I have learned through both studying language and allowing myself to acknowledge that learning anything in-depth is a process.
“Going out” was consistently important to me throughout my experiences living in both Spain and Chile. I am not only talking about “going out” to bars and parties; I am referring to the intentional interaction between myself and strangers. During my first study abroad stay in Salamanca, Spain, I would connect with strangers outside of bars through our shared love of city life and new languages. Partaking in smoking cigarettes and eating out late at night (think 10 or 11 pm) was also a way for me to interact within a different culture of social interactions and habits (however, I do not personally condone the use of nicotine). I definitely found it easier to talk to people that seemed “different” than me through integrating myself within their customs and habits instead of imposing my own. It allowed me to learn more about how social interactions worked in a different culture through firsthand experience and willingness. Through my awareness, I was also able to practice my Spanish and improve my conversational skills. My confidence grew as I realized I could speak to many different people in many different places; my Spanish was improving, and so was my cultural sensitivity.
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I’ve been tired for nights,
I blacked out the day before and I have a weird cut on my arm
In the middle
And in between two dark brown freckles. I wish I was called more and I wish
That people wanted to talk to me, I wish I could remember
All of the embarrassing things I didn’t catch myself doing and I wish I couldn’t
Hear myself thinking.
But if I didn’t, who would listen?
I lost my ring at the bottom of the pool and played a dumb song I wrote
Two years ago on a poorly-stringed acoustic guitar with a guy
That pulled out a trumpet.
I knew my eyes were bright red, guilt shining on top of my cheeks and forehead
And a tongue that didn’t want to taste anything other than water.
I kept drinking, kept smoking,
Wanted myself to forget why I was there and who was there and why my
Spanish still didn’t feel sufficient enough to speak to my Chilean friends.
The point is I was always tired.
Alcohol covered up the holes.
The remnants would spill out soon. – 3 March 2019
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One of the first nights I was in Santiago, I went out to a club with most of my USAC study abroad group and a few of the Chilean students from my host university. On the first day of orientation, a separate presentation was made by a student organization on campus called “Inti-UNAB,” a club that focused on organizing events and practicing language exchanges with international students at the university. The club leader was a girl named Tamy, a small, vibrant person with a constant smile on her face. Her English was pretty good, I had noticed, and she was also really great at taking charge and making sure everyone was accounted for. She told us all after the presentation that one of the first Inti-UNAB events would be a trip to a club in which we would receive free admittance and a free drink (albeit between the hours of 10 and 12, the timeframe in which Chileans tend to have a “previa,” or pregame). Although my location of choice may not have been a club, I was willing to step outside of my comfort zone and hang out with these Chilean students that were making themselves so open and available to anything we may have needed as a group. Needless to say, my introduction to this group served as a basis for my subsequent group of Chilean friends, acquaintances, and connections.
On that first night I went out, I met Tamy and another Chilean student, Gabriel, outside of the Baquedano metro stop. Upon meeting them, I told them confidently, in Spanish, that “pueden correctarme si quieren cuando hablo en español” (you can correct me if you want when I speak in Spanish). Gabriel immediately laughed and told me that it was corregir instead of correctar (“correctar” isn’t even a word). As my face turned bright red and I became discouraged, I also remembered that I was already putting myself in a somewhat uncomfortable situation by trying to make friends in my second language. I needed to stay positive and realize that improvement would only come from consistent effort.
Gabriel and I ended up becoming friends; he was surely one of the most interesting people I met while in Santiago. He has a unique sense of humor, is an amazing visual artist (he was studying graphic design and was really skilled in ink drawings particularly), and we share a lot in common when it comes to music. He was my first friend in Santiago, and my first friend that I made through speaking Spanish. At the end of my stay, he forced me to go try sushi with him for the first time. Even though his accent (and slang use) was difficult for me to understand at times, he taught me that I could be funny in my second language and that I could be understood even when I made a mistake (preterite vs. imperfect rules are LIES!). I am very thankful for the connection I made with Gabriel. Today, we send each other memes and give each other advice on “lo que sea.” I can’t wait to see where he ends up in the future, and hopefully we will share a 50-piece sushi spread again soon in my favorite city.
One of my favorite nights “going out” in Santiago was to a house party my friend Kenzie was invited to. Kenzie became a close friend from the USAC group, and we initially made a connection through the fact we lived an hour away from each other in the U.S. She was also my neighbor in Santiago and walked with me to the metro stop every morning before school. She invited me to this party with her because she didn’t “want to be awkward and go alone.” We brought another girl from our group with us, Dani, and made the trek to the other end of our neighborhood. Upon arriving at the house, we were greeted by two small white dogs and Kenzie’s Chilean friend Ivan, a very confident and funny person with somehow enough means to supply a lot of people with a lot of alcohol (although it is definitely a custom in Latin America to share with guests without asking for anything in return, something we lack in our U.S. American culture). Ivan introduced us to his friends, and each one was unique in their own way. I felt like I was in some sort of TV show that already had a premeditated ending. Eventually, I began talking to a couple of boys in the backyard of the house; they had noticed that there were three “gringas” present and immediately started practicing their English skills on us. One of the boys, Sebastián, became another of my first local friends in Santiago. He could speak English well and we bonded over our shared identities as parts of the LGBT community. He was super loud and animated and made Kenzie, Dani, and I feel welcome in an environment that seemed it would judge us at every turn. Another one of the boys, Lender, was a bit less loud and animated and more interested in starting smaller, more personal conversations. I learned that Lender was from Venezuela and moved to Chile a year and a half prior; he worked a factory job in the city and was focused on taking English classes. I became quick friends with Lender; he soon ended up being one of the most important people I met while abroad.
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CHELAS CHELAS CHELas
FALLOPA FALLOPA FALLopa
The streets are full of drunk men and beautiful
Women, people that don’t know themselves yet and people
I will never know in my lifetime. I wish I could speak their language like I could
Eat a bowl of rice
When I’m hungry. “We can’t really drink
Beer on the bench, can we?” I say to my
Friend as we watch two super drunk men walk by with giant cans of Escudo. We disrupt
The smog with our
Explosion of laughter
And he opens his mouth super wide like he always does when he thinks something is super
Funny. I make everyone look at me with my cackle, scaring
The store owner before I throw a Luca at him. I pull out a
Cigarette immediately when I walk outside, eventually
Intending to start a conversation in Spanish with Igor on the
Sidewalk bench
While gulping our chelas until
Our stomachs are full of bubbles
And heavy laughter. – 8 April 2019
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Lender came to my host mom’s house one night for dinner in March. I was so happy that he wanted to come share food and conversation with us; we had “gone out” many times together and we helped each other make friends throughout my stay, but he had never met my host mom. We also never spoke as much Spanish together as I had hoped; we were definitely on the same “level,” I suppose, when it came to our second-language learning. But I always got too nervous speaking to him in Spanish. I admired his confidence when he spoke English. I also knew, though, that it was interesting how I was able to express myself fully in my first language while he struggled to express himself sometimes in his second. I constantly reminded him that I could understand Spanish, but his readiness to practice English was always present.
It was through this dinner with my host mom that I saw a new side of Lender I had never seen before. He started to talk to Gina, my host mom, about his family and their reasons for leaving Venezuela; she doesn’t understand English, so he spoke in Spanish. He told her of their journeys from Venezuela to Chile and how he has had to work for everything; many times he lost hope in returning to his home country any time soon. I listened to him explain in perfect detail all that he struggled with and all he overcame. If I didn’t speak Spanish, his stories would have been nothing but empty sounds to me. It was somewhat beautiful understanding someone else’s emotions and feelings through a completely different means of communication, a means I was never used to and actually doubted I could ever grasp. I was beginning to understand what learning a second language really meant to me, and why Spanish was the language I chose. I didn’t want to be so disconnected from others anymore, I didn’t want to have other people translate for me, I wanted to be a tool for myself. Most importantly, I wanted to understand Lender and his stories, and not solely for a selfish purpose. I was creating a genuine human connection that I knew would benefit us both, one based on understanding and learning and re-learning.
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I learned how to say goodbye when my parents
Would go on work trips when I was a toddler.
Eyes teeming and cheeks red,
We would hug knowing we’d see each other in a week or so. It didn’t
Stop me from crying to them on the phone.
I cry in private now. The only times I couldn’t help it have been
Recently.
I have been restricted by medication and personal ego. I envy
People that can cry when they want
And cry often.
I’m not sure why, because to me sometimes it signifies weakness.
It can also just be an escape from feeling nothing.
Yesterday walking up La Montaña de Siete Colores I started to cry. I don’t
Necessarily know what caused it;
I just sat down and wept and knew my friend was listening to me.
I cried when my host mom pulled me into a tight hug and told me
That she would miss me.
She said I was intelligent and organized and she really enjoyed
Having me at her home. I remember the first day when she,
Felipe, and I sat on the orange couches in their living/dining room,
Smelling like heat and tired from traveling.
I can’t say goodbye easily, nor can I cry easily,
But goodbyes remind me I am capable of feeling something for others
And for the future I create for myself. – 10 May 2019
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Lender was one of the saddest goodbyes. He was also one of the strongest huggers, pulling me in close and telling me that one day, and hopefully one day soon, we would see each other again. I can’t explain the feeling of not knowing when or if you’ll see someone again. I suppose that it is more likely we will meet again than not, but still, there is nothing like thinking you will lose someone from your life forever, no matter how long you knew them for.
Lender and I still talk today, we send each other voice messages and I am about to send him a written letter. Him and his family have moved to a different spot in the city, and he has become acquainted with Tamy and the rest of the Inti-UNAB group (I will fully take credit for that connection, but I won’t be too obnoxious, I suppose). He makes friends with the other international and USAC students that come to Santiago; I know that, even though I am not there, I have helped him grow into himself more. Not only that, but I have listened to him and helped make him feel heard. I know I will see Lender again, and I know that I will see Gabriel again, I will see Sebastian again, and I will see all my USAC friends again soon somewhere in the states. I carry with me the lessons they have taught me every single day, like objects in my backpack, taking them out when I need them and keeping them safe until I can share them once more.
A piece of advice for my fellow Spanish majors looking to study abroad: go to a place you know nothing about. Be open to making mistakes, because that is exactly how you will improve. Talk to everyone about everything, and don’t hold yourself back. Make friends in your second language, you will never regret that. Let yourself cry and laugh and have fun. Take and give, but never just take. Write about yourself and look back at it when the journey is over; you will realize you have learned more than you were ever fully aware of. I will never be able to express how much speaking a second language has changed me and opened me up to completely new ways of thinking and amazing experiences I look back on every single day. Use your skills to the best of your abilities, but don’t be too hard on yourself if it takes time; it will, it’s a process, and you will be better because of it (and definitely change others on your own path to success).