PAN's Flea Bag

I moved to Mexico - the first time - in 2009. It was not supposed to be a permanent move. I flew from Washington D.C with nothing but a carry-on bag. Left my laptop at home, brought only what I thought I would need for my four-week vacation and left with the intention of getting a brief introduction to a country I had never even thought of visiting before. I had been there once, I will admit, about a year earlier, but only for a day, With that in mind, I knew little to nothing about the place that some of my closest friends called home. Four weeks sounded like the perfect time frame. I would get a chance to spend some time with my friends, try new food and then go back to continue with my life. Little did I know that my life was about to take an unexpected turn, and that now - 6 years later - I am living here with absolutely no intention of leaving.

 

Four weeks may sound like a long time when you are planning a trip, but it only took me days to realize that Mexico was way too big of a country for me to see in only a matter of 30+ days. So I decided to stay. Now, looking back, I know it was one of the best decisions I have ever made, but the truth is - moving to a new country is hard. It wasn't hard the time that I moved from Sweden to the United States, that was easy, and I experienced no cultural shock at all. I didn't know why then, but after having spent a few weeks in Mexico - I knew. The first time I moved abroad - I moved to a country where I spoke the language. I already spoke English, and I never struggled. Moving to Mexico was a whole different ball game. At first it was fun to listen to words that made no sense to me, to hear people speak fast and laugh at jokes I could not understand, but that phase faded away over time. A month or two into my stay - I was miserable, and this is where it gets complicated to explain to those who might have never experienced it. I was having the time of my life, and in the same time I was struggling to keep my head above water. I felt guilty for "forcing" my friends to adapt to my lack of language knowledge, as they had to speak to me in English, and I imagined they might feel bad speaking Spanish to each other whenever I was around. I - in my own mind - became a clutch. I needed help with everything, special treatment, assistance. Perhaps it didn't bother anyone, but it bothered me. Those kinds of things start getting to you after a while. 

 

After about 4 months in Mexico, I was able to understand some things. I could usually tell more or less what people were talking about, even though I didn't understand the exact words. It became something of a guessing game, but at least I wasn't completely lost anymore. That, however, was pretty much the only progress I made in a year. I couldn't speak. Whenever I thought I had figured out how to say something, stage fright got the best of me, and I clammed up. Couldn't put the simplest sentence together. People would point out that I was indeed a very quiet person, and while they were right, they didn't seem to understand that the reason to my silence was that I didn't know how to speak. Sure, I had English as an option, but I didn't feel comfortable speaking English either, as it made me feel like a burden. Instead I tried to blend in, I laughed when everyone else laughed, with the hopes of them forgetting that I wasn't quite like them. Sooner or later people get tired of having someone holding them back, and I knew that I was that someone, whether they would ever admit it or not. I didn't want them to get tired of me. See, most of this was probably in my head, but it kept me from developing the necessary language skills at the pace that I would have wanted. Also, I had always considered myself quite gifted when it came to languages, and it was a huge blow to my self-esteem to discover that it would take me so long to pick up a new language. I almost gave up there for a while. Learning a new language in the country where the language is spoken - it can be a pretty lonely road. No matter how much everyone around you try to make you feel included, you will never really be included until you get a hang of the language.

 

When I left after 6 months to go back to the US - I felt relieved. I was myself again, and I could hold normal and intelligent conversations without as much as having to think. The relief I felt was, very much to my own surprise, short-lived, and after only a few months - I was dying to go back to Mexico. My brain had gotten a chance to process all the things that I had learned while living there, and I suddenly felt a lot more confident. At the end of that same year - I was back in Mexico. Things were different after that. I started becoming a part of a country that I quickly grew to love, and I was no longer that foreigner who needed special treatment. Don't get me wrong; I still struggled, but I wasn't afraid anymore. My new motto became; "If they don't understand me, I am sure they will ask what I mean." It was incredibly liberating. I still remember the moment when it became obvious to me that my status had shifted. A large group of foreigners came to our town once, after I had been living there for a little over two years. They literally became the talk of the town. "Hey," someone would tell me enthusiastically, "I just met this awesome Swedish girl!" I would then point out that in case they had forgotten - I was Swedish too. "Sure," they said and waved me off, "but you speak Spanish, you're not that special anymore." Some might have taken that as an insult, but I was knocked back by a sense of pride. I wasn't different, or special, anymore. I think I probably smiled. I was one of them.

 

I look back at all this now, and it seems so far away. A different time, a different person. A different me. I don't struggle at all anymore, not with understanding, not with speaking. Sure, I probably make a lot of mistakes and I stumble on my words sometimes, but it doesn't matter. It is my third language, after all, so I guess I am allowed. Learning Spanish changed me completely. Imagine opening up a secret window, a window you never knew was there, and seeing a part of your backyard that has been hidden from you your whole life. Once you have seen what is out there, you cannot unsee it, and your backyard - in your mind - will never look the same again. Perhaps you got a splinter when pushing that window open, but what does it matter? A splinter for a secret that big - definitely worth it. Yes, I had a hard time learning Spanish, but if I could do it again; I would do it in a heartbeat. It is not just my vocabulary that has expanded, but my brain's capacity to grasp concepts and see beyond. I will never be the same again. There are words for feelings I didn't even know a person could have! "Que hueva," is one example, and something I did not have an expression for before learning Spanish. You can't go back from that. You cannot close the secret window. There are thousands of languages in the world, meaning there are thousands of windows that we will never get to look through. If we can open at least one or two of those windows, by learning a language that isn't our own, I would say we outta go for it. Learning Spanish was the biggest challenge I have ever faced, but knowing now where it took me - I know it was beyond worth it. It made me who I am, and it lead me to meet some of the most amazing people I have ever known. On top of that, it gave me a chance to become a (hopefully permanent) part of a country that is so much more than what the rest of the world gives it credit for. Mexico - you amaze me. Every day. Every. Single. Day.