Overcoming the language barrier

Overcoming the language barrier

Why traveling in South America gave me a new respect for my parents

I look at the clock for the third time in five minutes. It is now 11:40 a.m., a good forty minutes after the expected time for our transfer to the Cartagena bus station. I tense my shoulders and try to relax. Peter always tells me I worry too much; that I'm too tense because of loose schedules and late transfers.

A few minutes later, our Airbnb host Nadia pokes her head through the door. She says a few words. I catch enough to understand that she says our bus leaves in 20 minutes. I already know that. She walks us out the door and says she'll call a taxi instead. We wait downstairs. Instead of hailing a taxi, she talks to two guys on motorcycles and then motions for us to get in.

My eyes are wide. “En esto?” I ask uncertainly. “Si,” she replies. She takes my small backpack and gives it to the first guy. She notices my concern, says “tranquilo, tranquilo” and gently pushes me to the bike. “Pero es seguro?” I ask, wondering if it's safe as she leads me onto the bike with my 13kg bag on my back, a helmet that won't close, and a stranger who wants to speed off with me through the streets of Colombia. “Tranquilo,” replies Nadia. “Pero –,” my voice trails off, unsure of what else to say.

And then we set off, Peter as a pillion passenger on one bike, me on the other. This is everything our mothers warned us about when we said we would visit Colombia. What if we are robbed, kidnapped, or killed in an accident?

"So many of us equate intelligence with eloquence. I found it difficult to sound and feel stupid."

We wind our way through the streets and for a while it seems like we're supporting each other twice and then three times. Did they do it to confuse us? Twenty minutes later we arrive at the train station and have just enough time to get on the bus. All is well in the end, but as I sit down I chide myself for my foolhardiness.

Why didn't I insist on a taxi instead? Why had I gotten on a stranger's motorcycle without a proper helmet and with 30 pounds of weight on my back? The answer is that if you don't have the right words to protest, it's easier to comply; you just smile and say ok.

My knowledge of Spanish is enough to get us through most tourist situations - ordering food, booking a room and buying tickets, albeit with pauses and mistakes - but there were times when I was lacking: when a company canceled our dive at the last minute and I couldn't express how unprofessional they were, or when we bought a camera on the Panamericana and couldn't understand their complicated collection process.

Everything is so much more difficult here because of the language barrier. Every sentence has to be digested in my head, broken down and translated into English. My answer then has to be translated into Spanish and then shared out loud. If I don't understand something, getting something done will be a long and arduous process.

We expected South America – a true backpacker country – to be much easier than the South Pacific, but in reality it was more difficult. So many of us equate intelligence with eloquence; To be able to express thoughts, ideas and arguments clearly. I had a hard time sounding and feeling stupid. To their credit, the South Americans have always been gracious to my broken Spanish and have always encouraged my efforts.

These last two months have given me a newfound respect for my parents. They came to England when there was no stronghold of Bengali stallholders selling goods on the Whitechapel Road, no row of Indian restaurants on Brick Lane, no interpreters and translators to explain medical care, school enrollment, bank accounting or bill payment.

They did all of these things with virtually no English. They carried the weight of feeling ignorant for years, not months, and they survived. They survived the rise of the National Front, the skinheads and riots, the fear and disillusionment of the Thatcher years; never being able to articulately let the “other side” know how they feel about it.

I only got a glimpse of how hard it was, but it gave me a new respect, not just for my parents, but for immigrants everywhere who move to a country whose language they don't speak.

If you are one of them, I greet you. You are a braver person than me.

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