. . . and there goes my super power . . .

Among the kinds of things I'm kind-of-obnoxiously proud of, it's my ability to read and write.  

I can read a passage from a book (or a doctor's handout or a memo) faster than almost anyone in the same room with me; moreover, I'm kind of smug about that. (Blood donation centers: you want me to read that 3-page handout before I fill out the 2-page form?  Done with the handout, and done with the form and all its long-winded questions!  So there!)

When it comes to writing, I confidently wield those rules that plague lesser mortals:  its-vs-it's, lie-vs-lay, less-vs-fewer, modifiers that are never ever (no, never) misplaced.  

This ability has been, at times, a mild form of super power for me. I've had a number of journals accept my submissions quickly and with minimal fuss; that's a rare and precious thing for a scholar, really.  For example, here's the letter I got last December from an editor:

The referee enjoyed your paper very much, as did I when I read it, so I will be happy to publish this in the [journal].  The referee made a number of suggestions for revisions, but they all seem very minor to me, so I will leave it to your best judgement how you want to address them.

I love getting letters like that!  

All of the above reading-and-writing-self-proclaimed-awesomeness holds true, though, only when the reading and writing is in English. But this year, I'm doing much of my reading and writing in Spanish.

Going to Panama means giving up my super power. As I started typing this post, I was still reflecting on a very nice (and yet, to me, terrifying) email that I'd gotten the day before from a dean at a Panamanian university:

Valdría la pena considerar que el trabajo de la Sta. Annalisa pueda involucrar a otras universidades, tanto Oficiales como Particulares. En este sentido yo me encargaría de conversar con rectores de dichas universidades para involucrarlos en dicho proyecto, de manera que sigamos la metodología de trabajo similar al que llevamos adelante con LASPAU Y VARIAS  UNIVERSIDADES PANAMEÑAS.

I had to read this over several times.  Why "Sta. Annalisa"? (I think, but am not sure, that it's a typo and should be "Sra. Annalisa").  What does "involucrar" mean?  Is there really a tilde when going from noun to adjective (Panamá to Panameñas? I don't remember seeing that before).  

Even scarier was composing a response. It's one thing to write an essay in a class, but another thing to write an email to a dean I've never met.   

• what's the proper salutation for a letter like this?
• where the heck do all the accents go?
• auto-correct pinged me a bunch of times on masculine/feminine:  "un área", not "una area"
• Idioms don't always translate directly: "pasar tiempo" (pass time?), not "gastar tiempo" (spend time).

Composing a response (which normally would take me, I dunno, 5 minutes) took me a few hours of fear-based procrastination, followed by 15 minutes of writing, consulting translation programs, and pondering auto-correct suggestions for the underlying reasoning.

I have to say, I'm constantly grateful for the AI built into correcting my emails and blog posts. My Spanish-language evaluator for the Fulbright application had written this about my ability:

She demonstrated command of the language at a native level, where occasional minor mistakes had no impact in understanding her ideas.

At the time, I was delighted by the pats on the back this implied, but now I'm realizing that "occasional minor" is a gross understatement. In English, I sometimes find autocorrections annoying, but in Spanish, they're my constant crutch.  

That being said, since I've arrived in Panama I'm learning constantly, because I'm making mistakes and then being corrected constantly.  

Early on, I worked for several hours on composing responses that a PR person sent me, and then asked my host Jeanette to look it over.  She responded,

There were a few sentences that I deleted since it was too technical for Panamanian media and/or I did not understand the Spanish. I hope I didn't change the meaning of what you were trying to say...

Or there was the time I excitedly whatsapp-ed Lissette about how I'd fried up some plantains and added them to my usual breakfast.  When I got into the office, she commended me for my enthusiasm but admitted she wasn't quite sure what I'd meant.   Oh, sigh.  What I'd meant to say was that I'd added the plantains to my oatmeal. What I actually said was that I'd added the plantains to my sand.  

avena: oatmeal.

harina: flour.  [Note that the 'h' is silent]

arena: sand. 

There was the time I tried to explain that sometimes I dye my skin red.  (Oops: did I say "piel / skin"?!?  I meant "pelo / hair"!)  I misgender nouns all the time. I trip over the conjugation of verbs, especially in past tense.  And with the new assistant in our office, I'm constantly asking her to repeat what she said "más despacio, por favor" (slower, please).

And while it's sometimes frustrating as all-get-out having something I want to say and realizing I don't know the key words (and I'm messing up on the words I do know), it's also fun to be in a place where I can constantly laugh at myself.  It's energizing to be learning so much, even with so much more to learn.  Speaking Spanish is not my super power, that's for sure -- but I don't think that's a tragedy.  Sometimes it's nice to enjoy being a mere mortal.