Two days after returning to San Francisco from a vacation in Barcelona (SF’s newest sister city!) I am sitting in Spanish class for the first time in eight years. I got through college and a few years of adult life without needing to know a second language, but the frustration of not being understood while abroad finally had me realize that it was time to learn Spanish.
Luckily, short of El Paso and a few other cities, I’m hard pressed to think of places that offer as many public resources en Español than San Francisco. I don’t have valid excuses in a city with so many individuals and retailers communicating in Spanish to not learn the language. Aside from pride, that is. I frequently feel embarrassed just trying to order at El Metate in my Midwestern accent.
After my trip, I become convinced that the best way to overcome my Spanish-language shyness is total immersion. I want to start dreaming, understanding, even swearing in the language, and the sooner the better. I set out to create a Spanish-speaking experience at home in SF by finding a language school in my neighborhood, taking yoga en Español at my local studio, and eating at places where I can practicing rolling my r’s.
Before I’ve even unpacked my luggage from Spain, I Google Spanish tutors and group classes in the city only to find that I’ve been living across the street from Casa Hispana on Gough Street this whole time. This must be a sign! When I go in to take a verbal placement test I try to butter up the attractive 40-something instructor by repeatedly telling her she looks 20 years old – veinte años – but unsurprisingly my weak high school Spanish skills can only take me so far. I land myself in the beginning class.
My fellow classmates include a Mexican student, an Indian housewife, a French businessman, a British yoga teacher, a 60-plus retiree named Bill who insists on being referred to as Gerónimo in class, and a young fratty American guy who’s new to the city. Over the six-week course, I never once hear any of the Casa Hispana staff speak English and my classmates are the most loyal and engaged students I’ve encountered in a language class. And after my first lesson I see why. Class is never boring. Instead of the normal classroom fare, our conversational lessons cover topics like travel preferences –and whether we prefer romantic entanglements “con otras turistas o con la gente local.” Ay caliente!
When I’m paired up to practice with the young American guy, I innocently ask him, “¿Tu hermana come carne?” My limited facility for Spanish takes me far enough to inquire as to whether his sister eats meat, but I realize that I don’t even know if he has a sister.
He responds politely enough before asking, “¿Cuando quieres tener sexo conmigo?”
Turning roja, I exclaim, “¿Que? ¡Nunca!”
I try not to look too shocked as I reject my ballsy partner’s sexual offer. Thankfully I’m saved from further harassment when our teacher Anna says it’s time to move on to ejercicio dos.
It takes me a few weeks, but eventually my partner’s sense of humor starts to grow on me. During a lesson, a classmate says the phrase, “Mi padre no sabe mi nombre.” (My father does not know my name.) As if on cue, Mr. Grad Student shouts out, “Pero su madre se sabe mi nombre.” (But your mother knows my name.) I have to congratulate him; it takes skill to pull off a good your mom joke even in your native tongue.
As much as I’m learning and having fun at my classes at Casa Hispana, academic study alone does not a speaker make, even when coupled with a burned disc of Rosetta Stone Spanish – so I hit the mat. Urban Flow at Mission and Van Ness offers Sunday afternoon flow-based Vinyasa classes en Español in its spacious sunlit studio. Rusty Wells, a renowned San Francisco teacher, started the donation-based studio earlier this year in part to make yoga more accessible; given its proximity to the Mission, Spanish instruction is a natural offering.
Upon entering the slightly heated room, I sense that the instructor Eric is a fantastic leader in any language: “Yoga es universal,” he says before chanting and leading the class in a combination of Sanskrit, Spanish, and minimal English. ¡Y, ay caramba! His muscular frame and shaggy dark hair certainly keep students from zoning out. When he prompts “manos a corazon” – hands to heart – that’s exactly where they went for the native speakers, as well as the Spanish as a second (or third) language speakers who take the class with me.
As Eric leads us through breath work, movement, and “poses del nino” (child’s poses), understanding his instruction starts to become instinctual. Although it’s both a mental and physical challenge, the class is a welcome change. It’s a whole different experience to listen and react physically to pose guidance in Spanish, instead of repeating and calling out responses in a normal classroom setting. And the yoga movements somehow feel more balletic when practiced in a Romance language.
All that linguistic and spiritual self-improvement has made me hungry. It’s time for eats! I start my journey on 16th Street at a combination grocery and convenience store just off the BART station. Looking to make cactus chilaquiles, a breakfast dish with eggs and fried tortilla strips, I ask the man behind the counter “¿Donde estan los nopales?” He responds to my question about the location of where to find cactus with a curt “over there” en Inglés. I try again with “Gracias.” “Yup,” he says. I buy cervezas and head home, slightly wounded, for beer and egg brunch.
A few days later I head to the new Mission Mercado, a free community market on Thursday nights at 22 nd and Bartlett. I seek out Spanish speakers among the fruit and flower vendors with mixed success. The first victim of my less-than-stellar pronunciation stares at me blankly when I ask about the price of orchids before she starts talking to me in Mandarin. ¿Como se dice “faux paus”? But a woman representing public service interests in the Mission doesn’t flinch at my phrasing before going into detail about area community groups; I nod though not completely understanding before taking a brochure that I’ll peruse at home con mi diccionario.
But first, I meet girlfriends at San Jalisco, a colorful restaurant with hanging paper chiles and large prints of images by Mexican photographer Agustín Casasola. There is a bit of confusion when I tell the ladies that I want to practice at “that good cheap place at South Van Ness and 21 st ,” but it was mainly caused by the café’s recent name switch from Los Jarritos after a legal battle with the fruit soda company of the same name. I manage to avoid ordering off of the niños menu, but I goof when I ask the waitress about the antojitos (appetizers) selection when I actually want to inquire about beverages, bebidas (yes, I’m aware that they don’t even sound the same) and she starts to rattle off a list of snacks like quesadillas, tostadas, and garanchas. Luckily, it’s nothing that a huge lime, tomato juice, and beer Michelada can’t solve.
After my food misadventures I change my iPhone settings to Spanish and try to convince strong speaker pals to be my dinner dates (drinks on me, por supuesto). I’m fortunate to live in a city with an infinite amount of chances to speak and plenty of good-natured people willing to let me try. I’m also coming to terms with the fact that I’ve definitely got a lifetime of learning ahead of me. Despite my attempts to get fluent quick, it’s going to take a lot more practice and conversation to start mastering Spanish here. Pero Dios mio – but my God – has it been fun so far.
Short of moving to a Spanish speaking country, you too can start to feel comfortable ordering patatas bravas y burritos the way you like them thanks to the many local resources. Casa Hispana offers weekday and weekend classes for beginner through advanced students. A six week, bi-weekly night course costs $395.
Should Sundays find you jonesin’ for a Spanish fix, Urban Flow’s yoga class from 4:30-6 p.m. is available for a donation. And to get Mexican grub while brushing up on your ordering skills, stop by San Jalisco, where you can feast like a king (appetizer, entrée, and drink) for about $20 a person.
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