Mucho Gusto
Author: Todd Hoskins Issue: 2023-06-07
Mucho Gusto
by Todd Hoskins
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It’s a familiar pattern: I prepare a sentence to speak in Spanish. I stumble through my words cautiously, then feel relieved as the listener understands me! That pleasure typically lasts a millisecond, as suddenly I am receiving two or three sentences in Spanish and I only understand four words.
I remember recently returning a carton of ice cream to the “super,” what Ticos (Costa Ricans) call their village markets, or mercados.
*“¿Puedo cambiar este helado por otro sabor?,” *I asked, perhaps with an equal amount of pride and apprehension.
The owner of the super asked me a question in Spanish, then another. It felt like she was talking at a rate of 200 words per minute. I deduced that she wanted to be certain that I purchased the ice cream at her store. Was she asking for a receipt? Did she ask what flavor I wanted? I froze as I wasn’t sure.
I uttered the phrase that symbolizes defeat, “*No comprendo.” *We ended up doing what probably looked like a pre-rehearsed miming routine with hand gestures and head tilts until I got the new ice cream carton from the freezer and handed her the old one. She nodded and smiled, and I walked out feeling somewhat embarrassed.
Her smile was genuine, as if to say, “Thanks for trying.” This is my common experience in Costa Rica. The Ticos are patient. There is no judgment for poorly spoken *español. *There is not even judgment for not speaking their language. But there is a quiet joy when non-native speakers make an effort.
I took four years of Spanish classes in high school, as well as two years in college. Thirty years ago I could understand a lecture, or give a presentation in Spanish. When we moved to Costa Rica last Fall, I expected that the language would come quickly and easily.
I was wrong. It’s a slow process, at least at my age. It doesn’t help that for hours a day I am talking on the phone and on Zoom in English. My Colombian colleague has volunteered to do meetings with me in Spanish. I usually last about two minutes, as the work of understanding and speaking a new language feels like work on top of work.
But it also feels important. We live in an area of Guanacaste where there are no signs in English, or staff at *sodas (*neighborhood cafes) who speak English. An hour to the north, or an hour to the south, there are resorts. Where there are resorts, the use of English extends beyond the swimming pool bars to stores, restaurants, and adventure guides.
Learning Spanish is not necessary to survive, or even thrive here. I can get by with miming, a limited vocabulary, and some English-speaking friends. The importance for me is in breaking the pattern that others must conform to “us,” regardless of whether that “us” is defined by wealth, ethnicity, gender, or culture.
Maybe that’s why there is patience, acceptance, and smiles as I try to learn their language. The “us vs. them” mentality is rare here unless it involves futbol. Perhaps they are inviting me to become a part of the “us.” It’s gracious, and considering where I come from, amazing.
There are a couple of lessons I am learning as I learn Spanish. First, I miss the small talk. I miss teasing people. I even miss talking about the weather. I am convinced that daily interactions in a community, even if it’s about mundane things, truly matter. It frustrates me that I’m not yet able to fully participate, and the vantage point allows me to see how all the seemingly insignificant conversations sustain people living close to one another.
The second lesson, one which I deeply believe in but often have a hard time living up to, is that learning a language (or anything important) is a process. I can’t suddenly speak Spanish. Over time, I learn. I learn because I want to, because I practice, and because I’m surrounded by it. We’ve decided to elevate the practice, as we’ve hired a local for weekly lessons. We started speaking our daily gratitudes in Spanish, often with help of Google Translate.
For now, I am limited mostly to the short exchanges of “*buenas,” “hola,” “pura vida,” *and “*mucho gusto.” *The phrase “mucho gusto” is uttered after meeting someone (“pleased to meet you”), or as a response to “gracias.” Meaning “with great pleasure,” it embodies the warmth and acceptance of living here.
*Mucho gusto *is the phrase the owner of the super said to me after I thanked her during the awkward ice cream exchange. And it’s how I will feel when I can have a real conversation en español. Mucho gusto.
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