Why I Don’t Speak Arabic

When we arrived in the Metro DC area waaaay back in February 2010, TJ was beginning his shiny new career as a U.S. Diplomat and I was wrapping mine up as a Quality Analyst for Express Scripts, Inc.  After begging and pleading for several months, I had convinced my bosses to allow me to telecommute, which I did for approximately six months before bowing out to study some Spanish in the last couple of months leading up to our arrival in Mexico.  The upside of being a diplomat’s significant other is that you get to travel the world and learn languages for free.  The downside is that, unlike the diplomat, you don’t get paid for that free language training.

Weighing the pros and cons, we had decided it was best for me to not take the full six month Spanish course and instead focus on paying down my credit card and saving up what I could, as at that time we weren’t certain what type of employment opportunities would be available in Mexico.   As it turned out, I paid off the credit card, saved next to nothing, and found work almost immediately at the consulate.  Everything worked out more or less as planned…except I didn’t speak much Spanish and that would prove to be a constant thorn in both of our sides for the next two years as we endeavored to grow a social circle beyond the realm of our new consulate family.  Lots of people spoke English.  Lots didn’t.  It made for some strained conversation.  I didn’t feel any more out of place than the other Eligible Family Members who had received positions at post, though…their Spanish wasn’t so hot, either. 

When we began bidding on our second assignment, we were both in agreement that I would take the full language course this time around.  We rolled out of Guadalajara in mid-October and arrived in Northern Virginia several days later, eager to begin nine months of coupled language training. 

Things began well enough.  We started off in a larger group of nine before eventually being broken off into smaller classes.  We found ourselves in a class with another couple that was headed to Kuwait.  Class was challenging but oh so rewarding when you had a good day.  I hated the teachers that made me study so much but loved the me that was learning such a hard language. 

Then in December our tenants of 2.5 years decided not to renew their lease and we discovered that  lots of repairs were needed before new tenants could move into our Orlando home.  Painting, carpet cleaning, lawn maintenance, pest control, yadda, yadda, yadda.  Suddenly, we found ourselves missing that dual income.    

Then I got the flu right before our January 9^th wedding.  I missed a full week of class.  When I returned, I had no idea what was going on and was suddenly dragging behind the pack.  I stuck it out for another month but never managed to get my groove back.  The house was still vacant.

Annoyed with my lack of progress, bitter because I’d rather have learned Hebrew anyway (try being a non-Hebrew speaking Jewish convert that moves to another country like, oh, say, Mexico where he can’t speak Spanish very well and then try to go to a synagogue.  Completely lost.), confident in the fact that many Israelis speak English, and not feeling the joy of the penny pinching that the empty house was causing, I made the decision to forego my Arabic studies and return to the workforce.  Within a week I had found a great position at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center.

Whether it was the best decision to make in terms of my Israeli social life, I can’t say yet.  I’ll let you know in a few months.  But it was definitely the right decision to make for our pocketbook.  The house remained vacant until mid-March.  The new tenants immediately proved themselves to be a bit…fussy is a nice word.  They wanted/needed several other repairs.

The roof leaked.  The mailbox disappeared.  The house was robbed and a window needed to be replaced.  The roof leaked again.  The washing machine had a leak.  It went on and on and on. 

It was not until mid-June that we received any sort of rental income, and it was only ½ of a normal month’s rent.  Five months without rental income.  That’s a huge chunk of change. 

I studied Arabic for a little over three months.  That was not a huge chunk of time as far as Arabic goes.  Had it been Spanish, I would have been halfway to the finish line.  With Arabic, that’s only 1/3 of the way.  I told myself I would do self study, but I didn’t.  Those characters mean nothing to me without the context provided by a classroom.  Sadly, I feel that it is very much a use-it-or-lose-it situation.  Here I sit on the backend of four months out of class and I find myself struggling to remember some of the stuff I’ve learned.  Maybe I’ll work on it in Israel.  Or perhaps I’ll take that Hebrew class I had wanted in the first place.  Maybe I’ll dabble in both.  Or maybe I’ll just write them both off and work to improve my Spanish, as we want to return to Latin America one day.     

Of course, I’m presently more concerned about what happens when my work contract ends in a couple of weeks and then the side of the house decides to fall off. 

Back in the Saddle

Wow.  All I can say is...wow.  I have never been so tired in my entire life, and all I do is sit in a classroom all day.

I had NO idea that language training would be so exhausting.  Or that transitioning between posts could be so frustrating.

The government will graciously pay to ship your car to your next post for you, free of charge.  Or to Washington, DC so that you can have it with you during your training.  But they won't do both.  What this means is that at some point, should you choose to bring your car along for every step of the journey, you will be responsible for a fairly large shipping bill.  That's where a posting in Mexico or Canada is so helpful:  your vehicle can be driven across the border.   Of course, that's slightly more difficult in Mexico, where drug violence has resulted in a ban on driving across large swaths of the country.

And so it was that on the evening of Sunday, October 21st we said farewell to our Jeep Compass, our pets and whatever belongings we could shove into the car and watched as they all disappeared into the evening darkness, piloted by a man we had never met before.  In order to avoid shipping fees we entrusted them all to the brother of the previous ACS chief's boyfriend, who was to meet us at the Nuevo Laredo airport the following afternoon.  As we went to sleep that evening, thoughts of never again seeing our car, in which we had just invested $3,500 in unexpected last-minute repairs, danced through our minds.  Oh, yeah.  The animals, too.  But mainly the car...  

Everything went as planned and we were ecstatic to arrive in Nuevo Laredo early Monday afternoon to find that no animal had used the backseat as its own private bathroom during the course of the overnight, eleven-hour drive.  Whether he was kind enough to stop and walk them, I can't say...though given that he still had all ten fingers and none of them had run off into the desert, I'll hazard a guess and say that didn't happen.  Either way, this plan saved us from a headache like the one we experienced importing our pets INTO Mexico.

After dropping the driver off at the bus station, waiting in line at the border for thirty minutes to return the Jeep's import permit, waiting another twenty minutes to cross the actual border, and then spending twenty minutes at the Laredo, TX DMV to get a temporary vehicle registration for the state of Texas so that we'd be street legal (Yes, only twenty minutes at the DMV, can I get an 'Amen'?) we were ready to begin the thirteen hour trek to Pensacola, FL, where we would renew our Florida vehicle registration.  Gotta maintain that Florida residency, y'know?

We spent Monday night in San Antonio, made it to Pensacola the next evening and then, following another short trip to the DMV (Seriously, did they improve their efficiencies or what?!?!), set our sights on Atlanta, where we stopped to rest and have a short visit with our friend David Z.  David is a friend from Orlando who, after changing his name to DZ set off on a quest for lyric-writing stardom that has seen him travel to NYC, LA and now Atlanta.  He's had many adventures along the way and appears poised to finally have his dreams come true.  I wish him well.  But this is my story, so we're moving along.

After our evening in Atlanta we made our way to Williamsburg, VA, where we set up camp for the next two evenings.  We're theme park people.  We're also Halloween-at-theme-parks people.  With that in mind, TJ pushed us through lengthy travel hours early in the trip so that we would arrive in Williamsburg in time to spend a full day at Busch Gardens Williamsburg, and a night at their Howl-O-Scream event.  The rides were fun, but the haunted houses were kinda...well...I wouldn't say they were bad, per se...just that the ones at Universal Orlando, Busch Gardens Tampa Bay, and Kings Dominion are much, MUCH better.  I did get to meet Cookie Monster, which was pretty awesome.

Saturday, October 27th found us finally rolling into Oakwood Falls Church, the corporate housing community that was our home for nine months in 2010 during TJ's A-100 and subsequent Spanish and Consular training, and will be our home again for the nine months of his Arabic and Economics training.  I wasn't too thrilled with Oakwood last time.  I think we both almost cried when we first laid eyes on it, and I distinctly remember TJ avoiding direct eye contact for fear that it would start a fight.  Throughout the course of our previous stay we were subjected to limited parking spaces, unsightly clutter in our hallway and on the community grounds, and lots of loud construction noises.  That was all due to a large wave of home renovations that the property was undergoing at the time, and I must say that it has paid off.  We have been here for a month and are thoroughly enjoying the new Oakwood.  I still wish it was closer to DC, but with pets there's not a lot we can do about that.  Plus, it's close to The Foreign Service Institute, where we spend most of our time anyway.  But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

We arrived with just enough time to unload the car, meet our friend Jhonny for lunch, and start unpacking before it was time to start thinking about stocking up on provisions.  You see, Hurricane Sandy had decided to come to town that weekend, too.  Anyone that knew us at the time joked that we brought "Snowmaggedon" with us last time, and a hurricane this time.  Writing this, I am reminded of my dear friend Bernard the Snowman, who kept me company during my first few days working at home the last time around.  I'll be with TJ at FSI this time, but I smell snow on the horizon...I think Bernard will be making a comeback very soon.

As more information is gathered about the storm, we are learning that her impact on the region was more devastating than that of Hurricane Katrina on New Orleans back in 2005.  At the time all we really knew was that it pushed our Arabic classes start date from Monday, October 29th to Thursday, November 1st.  We were fortunate enough to maintain all utilities throughout the storm and to face no traffic obstructions in the aftermath, a lucky streak that has been with us since our days in Central Florida facing that region's vicious hurricane seasons.

When access to FSI was finally granted, new problems arose.  Through a payroll error either in Guadalajara, Mexico City or Washington, my final paycheck did not drop.  I should have received it on November 2nd; I finally got paid on Friday, November 30th.  I've heard from other EFMs that have served at other posts that they've had issues getting paid properly as well, so going forward I'll just assume that EFM abuse is an unacceptable yet unavoidable par for the course.

 TJ faced his own pay drama when it was determined that our second night in Williamsburg would not be covered under his travel reimbursement because we had not actually travelled anywhere.  He had previously been told that it didn't matter how much we travelled on a given day so long as we departed post when instructed and arrived for training when scheduled.  The new instruction says "Well, yeah, okay...but you have to travel a little."  Right.  Anyway, per diems and travel reimbursements take forever to receive, so we're still waiting on what we will be receiving.  My final paycheck was nice to finally obtain, but it was sad knowing that my portion of the income will be missing for the foreseeable future.  Upside of being an EFM:  Free language studies/  Downside of being an EFM:  Your job disappears when your partner/spouse leaves post.

Oh, we also found out last week that the tenants living in our house are moving out at the end of December.  Hah.

Somewhere along the way, we hit the campaign trail in support of our favorite presidential candidate, finding ourselves only slightly disappointed when she lost...

...then settled in for our favorite holiday feast.  Thanksgiving was a quiet affair, just the two of us and our friend Joey, who brought a lovely arrangement of bread stuffed inside a homemade cornucopia.  I'm ashamed to say the only photo I took was of the food...and that I still haven't managed to master the art of food photography.  We spent that evening at The Kennedy Center, watching American Idol runner-up Constantine Maroulis and gay icon Deborah Cox tear up the stage in Jekyll & Hyde.  The performances were amazing, but that doesn't save the show from a lack of coherent plot.  The critics seem to agree.

Beyond the above, not much has happened while we've been in town.  We've walked the National Mall, had a few drinks on the town, and studied...studied...studied.  Oh, and slept.

Learning a language as a full time job is exhausting.  My two month "let's-learn-how-to-go-to-Wal-Mart"  course toward the end of our last stay in the area was a cakewalk compared to this.  I now understand why TJ used to come home from work exhausted and lacking the desire to do anything but nap, watch television over dinner, and go back to bed.  I used to give him such a hard time, and now I can but apologize for being an unsympathetic jerk.

We start our second month of Arabic tomorrow morning.  We've pretty much got the alphabet and basic pronunciation down, along with several key words and phrases.  We're not even close to being able to have a decent conversation.  I never managed to obtain fluency in Spanish, but I'm able to communicate effectively.  And, one month into Arabic, I sure feel like I'm fluent in Spanish.  Woof.

We've seen a lot of recently released movies and chowed down on the foods we couldn't find in Guadalajara.  We've wandered out on the weekends and made a couple of new friends.  But nothing "new" has happened since we've been back.  Until today.

Today we managed to muster up the energy to accompany some friends from Guadalajara on an adventure to Mt. Vernon.  It was a lot of fun and I can't wait to tell you about it.  BUUUUTTTTT, it's the first truly new thing we've done since arriving, so that will get its very own post within the next few days...if I can manage to stay awake after class, that is.

¡TJ está enfermo! A Lesson for Foreign Service Families

I woke up this morning to the sound of something we all dread: the alarm clock. The next thing I heard was even worse. "Aaron...please help me..."

It was coming from the bathroom.

"What?" I asked.

"..."

"Hell-ooo?" I retorted, not wanting to deal with this (whatever it was) so early in the morning.

"..."

"Oh, crap," I thought.

I opened the door to our master bathroom to find TJ lying flat on his back in a pool of his own sweat.

He had begun to feel nauseated just before dinner yesterday evening. The trend had continued throughout the night.

Frequent trips to the loo, a couple of cold showers to beat the sweats, unintelligible thoughts, and chattering teeth. This seemed fairly normal to me. If there's one thing TJ does not do well, it's be sick. He's had food poisoning before, so this was nothing knew. Heck, I've even found him sprawled out on a bathroom floor before.

The new part was having all of this happen in Mexico. We've both been lucky so far. I've had nothing more than the occasionally irritated digestive process and TJ himself was able to beat back a much less severe case of food poisoning early in our stay here thanks to some probiotics donated by a neighbor.

But today looked like a trip to the hospital was in order.

Apparently, the doctor thought so too. Three and a half hours, three intravenous infusions, three abdominal x-rays, two prescription medications, and $500 dollars later we were on our way home with only one thought on my mind:

"Geez, I am SO glad that my Spanish is improving."

I had expected to be nothing more than the chauffeur for today's excursion...yet I often found myself in the role of interpreter.

When a family makes the decision to join the Foreign Service, the only person that is required to learn the language spoken at their onward assignment is the officer him/herself. Even family members that work at the Embassy/Consulate like myself rarely need much skill in the host language.

That's how we justified my continuing my prior employment while TJ attended his six month language training last year.

But what do you do when your beloved officer is incapacitated and you find yourself in a hospital encountering what feels like the first person in eight months that doesn't speak English?

You find out (hopefully) that your own skills have been improving after all, that's what.

TJ was awake, yet slightly incoherent. His 3/3 Spanish language ability meant nothing today.

"Usted tiene dolor cuando esta caminando?" the doctor would ask.

"Um. Otra vez."

"Usted tiene dolor cuando esta caminando?" the doctor would repeat.

"...um..."

"He wants to know if it hurts when you walk," I would say, to my own surprise.

This would continue as TJ was asked when he last ate, and if he had any allergies.

When TJ was taken away for x-rays, the doctor asked me additional questions.

To my complete shock and awe, I was able to effectively (if not accurately on a grammatical level) have this important medical conversation in Spanish.

But what if I hadn't been able to? And what if something worse had happened and TJ wasn't able to communicate at all?

That's the take-away today folks. If your family is joining the Foreign Service, it is everybody's responsibility to learn how to effectively communicate.

Today we were lucky. Next time, a life might depend on it.

As for TJ, he's recuperating nicely and looking forward to getting back to work.

Some Cosas Never Cambio

Why do language instructors spend so much time telling their students that proper names will never change?

Do they know how much confusion this causes a person when he walks into a Mexican McDonald's to order a Happy Meal, only to find that it is called a Cajita Feliz?

Or when he learns that not only are "The Flintstones" really "Los Picapiedros," but that Fred is actually Pedro? Remarkably, Pebbles, Bam-Bam, and Dino escape unscathed.

This is something that I am noticing with increasing frequency. Things that should change, don't (Hunt's Classic Italian Garlic & Herb Spaghetti Sauce). Things that shouldn't change, do ("The Jetsons" become "Los Supersónicos"). What does and doesn't change is inconsistent ("Friends" is still "Friends," while "The Super Friends" are "Los Amigos Super". And some translations are just plain weird ("Jennifer's Body" becomes "Diabólica Tentación" instead of "La Cuerpa De Jennifer."

Just an observation. It doesn't bother me at all, and in fact I take immense pleasure in it. Part of the adventure of living in another country is never knowing what stuff is called or how to find it.

At least we had "Los Picapiedros" last month. State-side, I believe you were subjected to "Hola, Gato." I mean, "Hello, Kitty."

And before anyone asks why I have these plushies, I can assure you that it was purely to act as a visual aid in discussing today's blog.

Yup. That's it. For real. I promise.

Problemas con mis Palabras (Problems with my Words)

The frustrating thing about learning a new language is that one quickly learn that there are not only multiple ways of saying the same thing, but also multiple meanings for different words. The funny thing about learning a new language is that one will, without fail, use a word or phrase incorrectly, often with embarrassing consequences.

At the Foreign Service Institute it is common for instructors to ask their students to bring a short news article to discuss with the class. The article can be in whatever language you like, but you are required to discuss the article in the language being studied. In Spanish, we call these "Pequeñas Noticias."

Because this can get a bit repetitive, I like to select my articles from a number of sources, ranging from the credible (The Washington Post) to the incredulous (The Onion). Yesterday I chose an article from The Orlando Sentinel that talked about the recent glee "scandal." Three of the show's young actors posed for racy photos in this month's issue of GQ. Because the magazine is written with an adult male audience in mind, and because the actors portray high school students on television, some of the more conservative circles have chosen to view the images as something akin to pedophilia.

I tried to make the point that, because the actors are in their twenties and only portray teenagers on television, the photos are not really all that inappropriate.

I have consulted a friend on this matter (Thanks, Shalinn!) and now understand that what I wanted to say was:

"Los actores en 'glee' interpretan a estudiantes de la escuela secundaria."

What I actually said was:

"Los actores en 'glee' tocan estudiantes de la escuela secundaria. "

Tocan is the 3rd person plural form of the verb Tocar, meaning "to play."

Or...when used in this way, "to touch."

Yes, while discussing an article about the pedophilic implication of these photographs, I actually stated, rather confidently I might add, that the cast of glee likes to touch children.

Needless to say, I turned fire engine red and much laughter was had at my expense.

El Caballero de Olmedo/The Knight from Olmedo

Last night was the scariest night of my life. It wasn't a night of haunted houses, scary movies, or muggings in the park. I wasn't involved in an auto accident, the dogs didn't go missing, and my mother didn't call at 2am with alarming news. No...it was far worse than any of that.

For last night was a night...of theatre.

It was just an ordinary autumn evening out in the city with friends. TJ and I, joined by four other FSO's and one EFM, enjoyed a delicious dinner at The Heights. We were having a wonderful time. After dinner, we walked around the corner and took our seats in the Tivoli Theatre, where we planned to enjoy an evening with the arts...and then our world crashed down around our ears.

Seven adults preparing to leave the country in a matter of weeks. Seven adults with varying levels of Spanish comprehension. Seven adults sitting in a Spanish theatre eager to flex their language muscles.

Seven adults that spent two hours staring at the English subtitles flashing above the stage and fearing for their lives.

To be fair, the play in question, El Caballero de Olmedo, was written in the 17th Century by Lope de Vega. To put that in context, Shakespeare was a 17th century playwright. For those of us that speak English as a primary language, Shakespearean English is difficult at times. So you can imagine how difficult Shakespearean Spanish would be. My language instructor put it best this morning when I told her about our adventure:

"Antiguos. Yo no lo entiendo muy bien."

Me Talk Spanish One Day (I Hope...)

Yesterday marked the beginning of my second month in Spanish class. We were given a homework assignment in which we had to prepare a short presentation about important people that we have met. We were encouraged to bring photographs. Presentations were due today.

In my class of three, one told a story about how he met President Clinton in Cambodia. The story was accompanied by a photo of the former president holding my classmate's daughter. My other classmate told the story of how she did arts and crafts projects with the indigenous peoples of Africa. Her story was accompanied by beautiful color photographs of beadwork, hand-woven purses, and blankets that she had worked on while living on the Ivory Coast.

As Guadalajara will be our first tour, I have no such stories to tell. My only recourse was to talk about Mickey Mouse and some D-List celebrities I had met as a child. Also, as my photo albums and color printer are currently packed away in storage, I wasn't able to whip up much of a presentation. What I was able to do is print a few photos from the Internet, cut them out, and re-copy them onto one sheet of paper. Except I forgot to bring scissors to the business office. So I had to tear and fold the photos. The effect was not unlike that of a 2nd Grade Art Project.

Oy, am I glad this class is for fun and not for course credit.

Just for fun, here is what I told my professor, verbatim. This will give you the opportunity to make fun of judge me on how poorly I am progressing in Spanish. I think this, too, is not unlike a 2nd Grader...

"Cuando vivia en Orlando, conoci senor Mikey Mouse durante una visita al Mundo de Disney. Mickey y yo nos reunimos en varias ocasiones porque me gusta el Mundo de Disney y visite a muchos.

"Cuando era una nino, mi padre gustaba ir a coche de la demostraciones. A veces, gentes famosa firmado autografos en la coche de la demostraciones.

"Asi es como conoci a Vanna White de "Rueda de la Fortuna," Jefe Cerdo de "Los Duques de Hazzard," y Tio Cody de "Paso a Paso."

"Estoy triste porque mi perro comio el autografo de Jefe Cerdo, y Jefe Cerdo esta muerto ahora."

365 Challenge, Day 62: S O C K S ???

Some Spanish humor in honor of the successful completion of my second week of class...

A Latino man who spoke no English went into an American department store to buy socks. He found his way to the Men's Wear department where a young lady offered to help him.
"Quiero calcetines" said the man.

"I don't speak Spanish, but we have some very nice suits over here." said the salesgirl.

"No, no quiero trajes. Quiero calcetines." said the man.

"Well, these shirts are on sale this week." declared the salesgirl.

"No, no quiero camisas. Quiero calcetines." repeated the man.

"I still don't know what you're trying to say. We have some fine pants on this rack." offered the salesgirl.

"No, no quiero pantalones. Quiero calcetines." insisted the man.

"These sweaters are top quality." the salesgirl probed.

"No, no quiero sueter. Quiero calcetines." said the man.

"Our undershirts are over here." fumbled the salesgirl, beginning to lose patience.

"No, no quiero camisetas. Quiero calcetines." the man repeated.

As they passed the underwear counter, the man spotted a display of socks and happily grabbed a pair. Holding them up he proclaimed "Eso si que es!".

"Well, why didn't you say so?" asked the exasperated salesgirl.

365 Challenge, Day 55: ¿Cómo se dice...fluent?

When freshmen Foreign Service Officers journey to DC to begin their new careers, most do so with a heavy burden to bear: they must achieve a score of 3/3 in a world language within their first five years of employment or risk not seeing a sixth. Some are able to "test out" prior to their first day of work. Others are required to take language courses prior to arriving at post. Others still are assigned to English speaking posts and must delay their pursuance of a foreign language for two years. For TJ, a 3/3 means not only being one step closer to gaining tenure, but also gaining clearance to travel to Guadalajara in November to begin work.

My first week of language training coincided with TJ's last week. Today, I struggled to recall information from high school Spanish as TJ went on to earn a 3/3 in Spanish. I don't know what the scoring consists of, but apparently he's fluent. I don't know. I can't understand a word he says. Yet. But I sure am proud of him.

365 Challenge, Day 51: Yo Soy Betty, la Fea

Tomorrow I start a two month language training program at the Foreign Service Institute.

It will be the first weekday since early February that I have had to wake up before 8am, get dressed, tame my frizzy hair, put on my contact lenses, and leave the house to interact with other human beings in a professional environment.

Essentially, it will be the first weekday in six months that I have not looked like Ugly Betty.

Words cannot express how anxious I am for this. I will be ever grateful for having sustained a paycheck over the last 1/2 year, but working from home could seriously drive a man to tears.

I can only hope that I am able to absorb enough Spanish in the next two months to make life bearable upon moving to Guadalajara. Oh, and that my readers noticed that Betty is wearing her Guadalajara poncho here, thus providing the clever yet weak link between today's photo and story.