Spain. Part 3.

Cadaques

We went to Spain mainly because, having traveled there a couple of other times, we love it. We also felt that immersing our daughter in the language would juice her bilingual brain. But, we did not know that Catalan, not Castillian, would be the primary language she would hear.

We went to Barcelona and the Costa Brava for the first time 15 years ago. I do not remember hearing Catalan as much as we did this time. I do not remember sitting down at restaurants and only having a Catalan menu offered. When we travel, I always try to get some basic words down, so when I stumbled I felt like a bad tourist. And, as I said in previous posts, I really had a hard time getting it. The language is more French than Spanish and my French, which once was less-than-adequate is now at the level of Pepe Le Pew. The locals told us there has been a revival in the language, which once was banned by the dictator Franco.

Now, people did speak Spanish, but Castillian was not what was in the air. Even finding kid-appropriate TV programs in Castillian was a challenge. I think even The Simpsons was in Catalan.

Maria, however, did hear me speaking in Spanish a lot more than she does back home. Folks were very kind to her in shops and bakeries and in parks, asking her where she was from and telling her to practice her Spanish. Toward the end of the trip, we felt she was offering up more Spanish of her own free will, though she continued with “I don’t speak Spanish in Spain.”

A few days ago, back in our own kitchen, she and I were baking sugar cookies. I told her, in Spanish, not to eat the dough. “Porque tiene huevo?” she asked. I threw doughy hands in the air and did a little Sardana.

That was a sentence and it was unprompted. She’s had other moments since. So, the Spanish in Spain experiment helped, even in Catalunya. It just also really shows that if I — lazy ass — keep up my end of it and continue to plug away, she will respond. She is a sponge. Una esponja.

Next Spanish-focused trip, however, maybe we should think more along the lines of Calle Ocho. Won’t cost as much and she’ll get an ear full, and learn a few native inflections. And I won’t end up with fried smelt and blood sausage on my plate.