For Admirers of All Things Latino - Latinophile.com

Hablemos ingles - Let’s speak English!

admin — Tue, 01 Apr 2008 18:22:46 +0000

In my many discussions about the increasing number of Latino immigrants in this country I encounter resistance from at least some of my fellow Americans. The outcry that I hear most, not too surprisingly, is that they should learn to speak English if they’re going to live here. And while almost everyone agrees that this is a worthy goal, how many of us have really thought about how challenging learning a second language can be, particularly for adults. Even when the desire and motivation is there – and it is for every immigrant I’ve ever met – there are other factors to consider:

Time: Learning a language is not like learning to knit; it takes time. Lots of time. Fluency in a second language may not be achieved for many years, if at all. I’ve been intensely studying Spanish for almost 4 years, and while I can order food in a restaurant, and have a simple conversation with un amigo, I can still only understand about 1/4 of any show on the Spanish channels. I can’t yet discuss - with any depth or nuance - my thoughts, feelings, or plans for the future. Near-native fluency is years away for me.

Money: I have spent hundreds and hundreds of dollars on Spanish books, cds, and tutors. I had satellite television installed so that I could watch programs in Spanish to improve my comprehension. I have a laptop and can easily access on-line dictionaries and tutorials. Not all new immigrants can afford these things. They may be working at low-paying jobs and/or sending money back home.

Personality: I’m gregarious and talkative. I like chatting with new people. I’m the kind of person who strikes up conversations with people everywhere I go. My son groans, “Mom, do you HAVE to meet someone new everyday!?”, to which I reply an enthusiastic “Yes!”. So my personality makes it easier (not easy) to learn a second language. While I am, of course, most comfortable chatting in English, my natural curiousity about people helps me to connect with Latinos as well. And you have to have a fairly strong self-concept to be willing to expose yourself to error; to step out of your comfort zone, to try to say something that you aren’t even sure is right. You have no idea how many times I’ve had to say “qué?” in response to even a rather simple phrase in Spanish. Its humbling and embarrassing. Luckily for me I care more about learning the language than looking “good” and so I am willing to expose myself to this kind of thing over and over again. How many of those people who complain that Latinos aren’t learning English are willing to put themselves in their shoes (or mine, for that matter) and risk sounding uneducated or foolish.

Its easy to say they should learn to speak English; how many of us have really thought about how that is often easier said than done?

The Making of a Latinophile, Part 2

admin — Fri, 26 Oct 2007 16:16:21 +0000

My interests in other languages and cultures started a long time ago. I hate to admit it, but the event that first piqued my interest happened largely because of my own arrogance. I was in elementary school at the time - 4th grade to be exact. I was a very good student, always, and a bit of a show off about it, if truth be told. My class was in the school library for a read-whatever-you want session. I was going through the books on the easy-reading shelf ridiculously fast, hoping the teacher would see what a whiz I was. She did, and I was thrilled. The other kids couldn’t help but notice when she said, “I think these books are much too easy for you. Let’s find something a little more challenging”. I had stepped out of the pack; risen to the top. I walked with her proudly to the other side of the library where after some looking around she picked a non-fiction book on Japan and Japanese culture. I felt so honored and I didn’t want to let her down. I even got to check it out to take home. I felt like I’d won a contest. I carried that coveted book home that afternoon like it was my own child. Mom was very impressed (well, who wouldn’t be!) and I sat down on the sofa and started to read it. Or, at least TRY to read it. I was horrified to find that the book was too hard. It was pages and pages of tiny words, many of which I didn’t know. I had to struggle, really struggle, for probably the first time in my life, to learn something. And I had brought it all on myself, by trying to seem better than I was. How humbling. I HAD to read it now, after such a big fuss. I couldn’t go back to the easy-reading section at school! I did manage to get through the book, with a dictionary at my side, and my reading was much improved by the end of it. I learned a lot about myself in the process (I never acted too big for my britches in school again) and about Japan. By the end of the book I was a budding Japanophile. I haven’t been there yet, but I still love Japanese art, food and culture. My son is a Japanophile too, being quite enamored of animé and manga. He’s picking up a bit of the language and hopes to visit there someday too.

I’ve never lost my fascination with other cultures and languages, but then again, why would I want to.

Reverse Foreigner

admin — Mon, 01 Oct 2007 20:20:35 +0000

Yesterday I went to the Latino Festival in the city. This colorful celebration of Latin culture, music and food draws huge numbers, and Latinophile that I am, I had to see it. My amiga was planning to go with me, but she was out salsa dancing the night before until 4:00 a.m., so she groggily called me in the morning to beg off, and to go back to sleep. Since there were a couple of big football games on I couldn’t entice anyone else into accompanying me, so I decided to put on my “Latinophile” shirt and go by myself. I’m very gregarious and have a knack for fitting in almost everywhere and I imagined I’d make a new friend or two while sampling the arros con pollo and downing a Goya soda. I took the subway since I wasn’t too familiar with the neighborhood and after a 30 minute ride I got off and looked around, wondering which direction to head. I stopped and asked an hispanic woman where the festival was (in English) but she didn’t understand a single word, so I said, “la fiesta?” and she shrugged and said she didn’t know. Undaunted, I walked down the street a bit, figuring there would be signs or I’d hear the music, since I knew it wasn’t far from the subway stop. After about a block I decided to ask for help again, and I approached a Latino couple and asked, once more in English, if they knew were the festival was. Again I got the blank stare, so I switched into my rudimentary Spanish and they pointed me in the right direction. Gracias! I was on my way. After a short walk I saw the banner and the blocked-off street and I joined the growing crowd heading in that direction. I knew that there would be a lot of Latinos there but I had wondered if there would also be a signficant number of Anglos, enjoying the performances and soaking up the atmosphere. When I was a kid we used to go to the Italian festival every year (we’re Irish) and though the people cooking the food and selling the wares were always Italian, most of the people who attended that festival were white. Not so this time! As I stood on the street watching the opening parade I found myself in a beautiful sea of brown faces. I literally looked around for 5 minutes before I saw another white person. A little later, and farther down the street, I saw that a handful of anglos were enjoying the festival, and that several of the business vendors (Verizon, Western Union, etc.) were white, but the crowd (and it was VERY crowded) was almost exclusively hispanic. This really was a Latino festival with a capital “L”! And while I loved being there, taking in all the sights and sounds, something unusual happened to me in that atmosphere. I almost hate to admit it, because it is so “not” me, but I became reserved and uncomfortable. I felt like I didn’t belong. I felt stupid because I couldn’t speak the language well enough. I talked to no one and even avoided eye contact. I tried to become invisible. I was in this enormous throng of people who all had something in common, and though I wanted to connect, I didn’t know how. It is not that anyone there made me feel unwelcome - I have always found Latinos to be warm and inviting - but I suddenly found myself feeling like a foreigner. I walked around, looking at everything, but that feeling never left me. It wasn’t until I was back on the subway heading home that I started to feel like myself again. While this may sound like a negative experience, I am actually so glad to have had it, even though it was uncomfortable. Yesterday I experiended what it must sometimes feel like to be a recent immigrant to this country. And I only felt like a foreigner for this one afternoon; I can’t imagine what it must be like to feel like that day after day! We all want to feel that we are a part of the group; that we belong. And for those of us who usually do, its a good thing to see what it feels like when you don’t. Its a “good” thing for those of us in the majority to see what it feels like to be in the minority. Its a “good” thing for those of us who speak English to see what it feels like to be the only one in a group that doesn’t speak the language. Its a “good” thing for those of us who are socially at ease to see what it feels like to not know how to act or where to look. And its a “good” to remember that we all feel out of place sometimes.

Hey America: Let’s get it right this time!

admin — Thu, 06 Sep 2007 13:03:06 +0000

The way I see it, this recent influx of Spanish-speaking immigrants has given America a golden opportunity to right some wrongs of her past. Our beginnings as a nation are tainted, to say the least, by our displacing of the First Natives. We were the unwelcome immigrants then, coming in droves, speaking a foreign tongue. We weren’t interested in assimilating or learning the languages of the people who were already here. but rather in making this place our own. We planted ourselves onto land that was already occupied and inserted our customs, as well as the English language. Soon after, we decided that in order to work this land we needed slave labor, so we actually went to Africa and bought fellow human beings, as if they were farm equipment! Much as I love my country, I can’t ever forget the inhumane parts of our history. Its a lot like growing up in a dysfunctional family, where at first there’s rosy denial, then outrage, and finally a reluctant acceptance. We know that we can’t change the past, but have we learned enough not to repeat it?

The Latino explosion in this country gives us another chance to get it right. Rather than fueling the anti-immigration fire or fighting for an English-only policy, why don’t we reach out, instead, with a warm American welcome. Let’s shower them with the American values of equality, tolerance and opportunity, and stop talking about building an enormous electrified fence. Let’s embrace the ideas that two languages are better than one, that sharing is always better than controlling and that different cultures can live peacefully in the same land. We blew it with the Native Americans, we blew it with the African Americans; let’s not blow it this time. Our golden opportunity is before us; let’s take it.

Across the street

admin — Tue, 04 Sep 2007 11:33:29 +0000

The tiny house across the street had been vacant for a while. The owners - he’s from this area and she’s from Peru - were getting anxious to rent it. Since they own several local businesses and know almost everybody, it wasn’t long before they heard about a group of Mexican guys who were looking for a rental. There are about seven of them, most of them recent immigrants who work for a local builder who also hails from Mexico. I watched them move in from my front porch, which didn’t take long since they didn’t have much in the way of possessions. I didn’t see any beds go in so I guess they’re sleeping on the floor. They’re so young; a couple of them looked like they couldn’t be more than 17 or 18. They don’t own a vehicle so they walk everywhere (well, one of them has a bicycle). Lately they’re home a lot since the builder doesn’t have anything for them right now. They want to work; they’ve asked my husband - also a contractor - if he needs help, but he already has enough. So in the meantime they play a lot of soccer or just hang out in the yard. One or two of them is almost always outside, sitting on the little front stoop, watching the world go by. They’re nice guys, always cheerfully saying “¡Hola!”, when they see me outside or getting in my car to go somewhere. I like them and I’m curious about them. I want to know their stories: how did they get here, do they fear being deported, how hard is it to be living here while their family and friends are back home? Do they like America and are they planning to stay? I don’t have many answers to these questions, since I don’t trust my Spanish enough to say much more than the basics (my Colombian tutor says I’m better than I think I am and just need to speak more). I hear a lot of Americans say that los immigrantes should be the ones learning English - and they may be for all I know - I don’t think about that much. I’m too busy thinking how great it would be for us to reach out to them.

Grocery store encounter

admin — Fri, 27 Jul 2007 18:53:29 +0000

A simple encounter this morning at the local grocery store reminded me of what inspired me to become an interpreter many years ago. At that time I had a few American Sign Language (ASL) classes under my belt and was hardly what one would call conversational, let alone fluent! But I found myself at an evening PTA meeting where there was a deaf mom with no interpreter. Someone who knew I signed a little asked me if I could at least relay to this deaf woman SOME of what was going on so she wouldn’t be so left out. Terrible as I was, I was the best “interpreter” in the room, so I agreed to give it a try. I’m sure I only got across about one tenth of the information, but still there were moments - these wonderful moments - when she understood me and I could sense her relief and appreciation. I found that I liked bridging the gap between two cultures. That’s the day I decided to become an interpreter. I enrolled in classes at Gallaudet University (then College) and immersed myself in Deaf culture and ASL. I went on to become a certified professional Sign Language interpreter, and I worked in the field for many years before I had my son.

Today’s encounter took me back to that PTA meeting so long ago. I speak a little Spanish - again, not what anyone would call conversational. I ended up in the grocery line behind two young men who looked to be Mexican. They were buying a large bag of limes and the checker asked one of them how many they had, since they were on sale 5 for something. Turns out they don’t speak a word of English, so I - almost without thinking - said “Quantos?”, while pointing to the limes. At first he looked at me funny, thrown off probably by me speaking Spanish (or maybe wondering why I cared how many limes he had)! Then he quickly got that I was interpreting for the checker and he said, “Oh, I don’t know”, which I relayed. Once an interpreter, always an interpreter, I guess. If I can help, even a little with the language, I just HAVE to! Then we chatted a bit while the checker counted out the limes. I wished that my Spanish was better, just like I had often wished that my Sign Language was better. As the two guys - who I found out WERE in fact from Mexico - walked out, the checker, a young sweet-faced teen, shook his head and said emphatically, “I don’t know A WORD of Spanish!”, to which I easily replied, “Oh, you should SO learn some. It’s great!” I expected him to respond with a good-natured, “Yeah, that would probably come in handy” and was surprised when he emphatically declared, “No way! I just refuse!” I frowned at him as I probed a little further, asking why, especially since there were so many Latinos in the area now. I was weirdly relieved to find out that he wasn’t just against Spanish-speakers, he was just negative in general. Maybe it was a teen thing. He told me that all of his friends were taking Spanish in high school so he took German, just to go against the tide. He seemed pretty proud of his attitude and took pleasure in sharing several more examples of it with me. Okay, whatever.

That boy doesn’t what he’s missing! Not that taking German in high school is a bad thing. All languages are beautiful and fascinating, but the best part of learning one is being able to use it with other native speakers. I, myself, took years of French, but to this day have never had the opportunity to use it so, of course, I remember very little. But a student taking Spanish in school now could actually find people to practice with every day, without having to apply for a passport. If the thousands and thousands of Spanish-speakers in this country only spoke English to us - now what fun would that be?

You might be a Latinophile if…

admin — Thu, 28 Jun 2007 19:07:17 +0000

You ordered DishNetwork just for the Spanish channels.

You wave and say, “Hola, amigos!” to the road crews and landscapers you pass when you’re driving.

You get your news from Primer Impacto instead of Nightline.

You have so many Spanish textbooks that you can make a fort with them in your living room.

You think Puerto Rico and Mexico should be the 51^st and 52^nd states (if they want to be!)

You like to try to put together your IKEA furniture using the Spanish instructions.

You know all the lyrics to Tengo La Camisa Negra.

Sometimes you press 1, “para español” when you call businesses, just for fun.

You’ve configured the keyboard on your laptop to type in the accented vowels and ñ.

Your ring tone is the Spanish version of Shakira’s “Hips Don’t Lie”.
Tortillas, salsa and cilantro are staples in your kitchen.

I could go on and on, couldn’t you?

If you other Latinophiles out there have suggestions to add to this list – humorous or serious – I’d love to post them and give you the credit!

Latinos Enhance American Culture

admin — Tue, 19 Jun 2007 16:17:48 +0000

We’re a nation of immigrants where each ethnic group adds color and interest to the American tapestry. Latinos, the largest and fastest growing minority in America, have influenced and enhanced our culture in so many ways.

Some of my favorites:

Their strong connection to family. Anglo-Americans value family too, of course, but we’re not as connected to our extended families as we used to be. I’ve seen Latinos go out of their way to help and support their brothers and sisters, parents and grandparents, even at great personal sacrifice.
Their generosity of spirit. If you’re looking for a job, they’ll call you if they hear of anything. If you’re sick, they’ll bring food. If you need help with your Spanish, they’ll give up work time to help you practice. We’ve all heard the anti-immigration rhetoric; that “these people” want to take our jobs or take advantage of our social programs. I have witnessed just the opposite: that Latinos are “givers”.
An amazing work ethic. Everyday I see Latinos working, and working hard, often at jobs that I wouldn’t do if you paid me 3 times the wages. I know that some of them don’t have much of a choice, if their English isn’t very good yet or if they don’t have a green card. I do hope – perhaps naively – that they’re being paid fairly and treated with respect by the Americans they meet, so that they can work toward the job of their dreams.
Dance. What would the world of dance be without the Latin moves of the cha cha, merengue, tango and salsa? Elegant maybe, but not nearly as sexy! The fans of Dancing with the Stars would be pretty disappointed if they didn’t get to see the Latin dances, not to mention the Latino dancers! Mario Lopez: call me!
La musica! A day without Latin music is like a day without sunshine. Luckily, there’s plenty of both in America! Its easy to find Latin music on the radio and TV (love that MTV en español!) and in the local record stores. From well-known crossover artists like Ricky Martin and Shakira, to heartthrobs Juanes and Chayanne, Reggaeton mega-star Daddy Yankee and Texican rockers Los Lonely Boys, there’s something for everyone. I love them all: Obie Bermudez, Paulina Rubio, Carlos Vives, Marc Anthony, Calle 13, Maná, La Secta…I could go on and on! Nowhere is the Latino Explosion more evident than in the world of music.
The food. Americans eat so much Mexican (and Mexican inspired) food that it seems almost the national cuisine. And since the Mexicans were here before we were, it kind of is! But there’s more to South-of-the-border cooking than tacos and burritos. Thanks to the growing immigrant population we can now enjoy many versions of arros con pollo (chicken and rice), platanos fritos (fried plantains), and ceviche (a cold, marinated seafood dish), to name a few. Latin American food is always fresh, flavorful and meticulously prepared. Favorite recipes coming to the site soon!
The feminine beauty. I love the Latina look: curves and cleavage; sexy and glam. These mamis know what bonita means and they wear their beauty with confidence and class. I’m such a wannabee! I’ve got the curves and cleavage, but would one of you please help me learn to put on eyeliner?
Español. The language is beautiful, fun to learn and you don’t need a passport to get a chance to use it! It’s about time our country became bilingual, don’tcha think?

The making of a Latinophile, Part 1

admin — Wed, 13 Jun 2007 17:49:31 +0000

My husband came home from work one day (he has his own home improvements business) and announced that he’d like to take up Spanish, so he could possibly hire some Spanish-speaking workers in the future. I said, “Que bueno!” (well, that’s what I would have said, had I known it meant “great!”) I asked him how long he had been thinking about it and he said, “Oh, about 3 or 4 years.” What?! This didn’t make sense to me – a person who rarely has an unexpressed thought – at all. But that’s another story… I decided that I would learn with him and ran right out to the bookstore and got us identical books of introductory Spanish. Literally. That day. These first books didn’t prove to be particularly good – I was frustrated that they never ventured past the present tense – but it was a start. That was almost 3 years ago. Husband has learned all of about 12 words but I’ve been steadily studying ever since. I just fell in love with this beautiful language and now can’t get enough. I have amassed quite the collection of books and CD’s, my car radio is always tuned to the local Spanish station, I’ve added the full line-up of Spanish channels to our satellite package and I regularly pick up something new with my phrase-of-the-day calendar. This is my way – I really like to immerse myself in whatever interests me. I’m also found myself to be remarkably self-motivated and so had no problem blocking out time to study. This I did mostly at the local coffee shop, my books and dictionary spread out over the table next to my iced tea. I live in a small town that isn’t known for its diverse population so it took me by surprise that Spanish-speaking people would just come up to the table, after seeing what I was doing, and offer to help. Where did these people come from and why were they being so nice to me? Just a suggestion for you — if you want to meet people that speak Spanish, go to a coffee shop with a stack of Spanish textbooks and study by yourself. You will become a veritable Latino-magnet. It was kind of embarrassing at first, since I could say SO little. I met my first tutors this way, most of whom became good friends. Through them I met others, and here I am today, having met Spanish speakers from 11 countries and the U.S. and Puerto Rico. I am always amazed, that each of them, without exception, is SO delighted to see an Anglo trying to learn their language that they bend over backwards to help. Every Latino I have met is warm, wonderful and funny, and a welcome addition to the community of America. I am proud to say that I am now an avowed Latinophile!

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admin — Tue, 12 Jun 2007 15:24:11 +0000

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