Tuesday 19 February 2008

Pois...

In the very early days of learning a new language, "getting by" is almost entirely based on blagging, faking, and downright bluffing. I´m no linguist, but after nearly five years of simultaneous language learning and teaching, I like to think I´ve learned one or two interesting things. Someone with a high level of English who looks permanently bemused and even traumatised because they don´t understand every single word you say is a much less appealing conversation partner than one who possibly only comprehends the merest smattering of what comes out of your mouth, but who does their best to respond in an appropriate, enthusiastic way, complete with exaggerated facial expressions and wildly flailing hand gestures.

Needless to say, I have always strived to be the second of the two, mainly because I love nothing more than blathering on for hours, even if, as is frequently the case in a foreign country, I really don´t have a clue what I´m talking about, and also because once my partner realises how bad my grasp of their language is they will either a) politely excuse themselves and walk off (or maybe just walk off if they are Spanish), or b) attempt to repeat everything they have just said in English, thus spoiling the whole point of the exercise. A big round of applause to the Portuguese for their astonishing linguistic abilities, but it really does make it hard to learn their language.

My first few months in Andalucia were therefore the language equivalent of learning to swim by being hurled into a swimming pool with a shark. I was on my own, skint, and the only way I could find work was by pasting hand-drawn posters all over town, advertising English classes. Soon, my new Spanish phone began to ring. And I had to answer it.

The first thing I developed was an immensely acute bullshit filter. Sevillanos just love to talk. Not content with telling me they would like classes at such and such a time on Wednesdays, they preferred to entertain me with their entire language learning history, starting way back in the dictatorship when Franco promoted French, so they never studied English at school, right up to how they employed an English-speaking Ukranian nanny for their kids so that they wouldn´t have to suffer in the same way. They would then repeat the story with various additions and tweaked details once I turned up at their posh apartment for each lesson with little Juanito.

And so I learned the art of Spanish conversation. It is emphatic, excited, and crucially, requires one person to speak at full volume until they are interrupted by someone who is able to speak louder and more forcefully than them. This means there is virtually no possibility of being dragged into a conversation in which you would be way out of your depth, and provides endless opportunity for study and listening. All that is required is the odd "Sí?" or "No!" uttered with the appropriate intonation as fuel for the speaker.

Thus the conversation proceeds in this way:
Loud Spanish Housewife (LSH): Rapid, deep, unintelligible Spanish
Vicki: (frowning deeply, visibly concerned) ¿Sí?
LSH: Raised pitch, increase in speed of hand gestures
Vicki: (Raised eyebrows, mock horror) ¡¡¡No!!!
LSH: Look of complicity, slightly reduced velocity
Vicki: (Nodding in feigned comprehension and compassion) Sííííí....
LSH: Varied intonation, short, sharp hand movements, looking to the sky
Vicki: (Really getting into this now, reaching Andaluz volume) ¡¡¿NO?!!
LSH: Stops dead. Stares at Vicki, incomprehension. Repeats: ¡¡¿NO?!!
Vicki: (Realising she has got it wrong. Stuttering) Err... ¿Sí?

Conversation ends, Loud Spanish Housewife highly offended, having realised that Vicki has not actually followed any of what has been said for the last quarter of an hour, Vicki making excuses about going to the bathroom. Game over.

So imagine my joy upon finding that Portuguese, while infinitely harder to understand than Spanish, has this nice little get-out clause in the form of one little four-letter word: Pois.

Pois means Yes or No. It means Really? It means Hmm. It means Seriously! or I get you or Exactly. It is gold dust for foreigners. The Russian Roulette days of ¡Sí! and ¿No? are over. I´ve learned all the Portuguese I need to for now.

Pois?

3 comments:

santiiiii said...

Beautiful post Vicki. I specially love the dialog with the Sevillian woman. Great parody, though we Andalusian don't come off particularly well...

Vicki said...

Heh heh, Santi, from your impeccable post you have just proved that the Spanish are really not at all as bad at languages as my stereotypical blog would suggest!
The truth is I´m very fond of the typically Andalucian traits, some things make make me laugh but I do miss it a lot sometimes! Even the rudeness seems more comical and harmlessin Sevilla, whereas in other countries it seems to be more offensive.
I guess I just notice the "Andaluz-ness" more now, in comparison with the reserved, moody Portuguese "saudade" (oooh, stereotyping again...).

Zelloss said...

Ummm... there's some times we Spanish use our language not to comunicate ideas between ourselves but merely as a tool, sometimes simply oil to ease the ebb and flow of the story, sometimes a crowbar to crack open the shell of a tale that must be told.