“Can’t, Ma. It’s a poem. Have to read it in Spanish.”
“But, then I can’t understand it!”
“Look at the pictures and I will translate as we go.”
“But, I can’t understand!”
“Just listen to the rhythm and keep your ears open, you’ll get it.”
“OK, but then you have to read it in English, please.”

It is not possible at all to capture the lyricism of the Cuban poet’s Los Zapaticos in my choppy translation. “And so the girl and her mom walked toward the beach.” “And a Russian woman and an English woman pulled out their hankies…”

I have known this poem since I was a little girl, and it feels like sacrilege to read it in English.

The translation showdown between my daughter and I pretty much sums up what is going on with our Spanish, our quest for bilingualism. It is slow. It is choppy. She gets the simple sentences, and her teacher insists she understands everything he says, but when we read Spanish books together, the complex sentences seem to basically just piss her the hell off. She wants to get it, but she doesn’t want to do the work.

She’ll grab a Spanish book off her shelf, but attempt to bribe me into reading it only in English. No guay, I tell her. Both. She doesn’t like it when I read in Spanish, and then quickly translate it to English. She wants it all  in one language at a time.

My fault, for sure. I speak more English than Spanish to her these days, and when we hang with other bilingual Latinos, guess what language we speak? Jes. Ingles.

I am figuring out how to survive this downward spiral, wondering how to give her a boost this summer. Maybe it will be Miami for an extended period, or I may have to invite myself to Mexico with friends who head south of the border for weeks and weeks every summer.

Or maybe I just have to speak more Spanish to her. There’s a thought.

From Los Zapaticos de Rosa by Jose Marti:

Se vio sacar los pañuelos
A una rusa y a una inglesa;
El aya de la francesa
Se quitó los espejuelos.

Abrió la madre los brazos,
Se echó Pilar en su pecho,
Y sacó el traje deshecho,
Sin adornos y sin lazos

And by the way, the first Blogs by Latinas Awards are going on now. Bilingual in the Boonies and Tiki Tiki Blog, my other blog, are nominated. I’d love the vote! Street Cred and all.

Plus, there are some awesome sites nominated. Go look, find some gems, and vote.

“It is now safe to turn on your electronic and hand-held devices.”

iPod on the plane! iPod for La Nena, actually — an expert flier who travels well but can color only for so long.

Before every trip we’ve taken for the last three years, I load the iPod with a few new kid-friendly songs (God Bless You, Dan Zanes and They Might be Giants) and at least a couple kiddie TV shows. It’s happy-making for all involved, let me tell you.

Unless, of course, the iPod battery fritzes out on you, like mine did on our trip a couple of weeks ago. Argh, carajo. It lasted for just a few minutes, cutting off Ruff Ruffman in a very rude sort of way. We had just taken off on the second leg of our flight North. Maria had colored enough on the first leg y yo de boba had put On the Banks of Plum Creek in the suitcase.

I pulled out my netbook and showed her how to “paint” while she listened to Exposé. Hey, ’80s pop is awesome whether you’re 6 or 42. Amen.

She got frustrated by my touchpad mouse. Here’s what I should have downloaded to the netbook as a back-up: The adventures of Pancho and Pita, playful bilingual trolls who just debuted in the cyberworlds.

The little guys — and their pet, Flan. Yes, Flan — were dreamed up by Raul, a Spanish-born computer programmer who often comments on the Boonie Blog, and his wife, Stephanie. The couple has a young son who inspired Pancho and Pita and the reading adventures, the first being ¿Dónde Están Los Pollitos? / Where Are The Chicks?”

That Raul, he knows I am a sucker for anything with Pollitos. So, a while back, he sent me a free copy of the adventure to let Maria test drive it. She got to decide where to look for the pollitos, thus making her part of the story. I kept marveling at the quality and being damned glad for a safe online game, and a bilingual English and Spanish one at that.

Ay, how I wished on that plane to have downloaded the story to the netbook.

From the press release: “We envisioned an innovative approach that would combine the best features from the existing products: the emotional and educational power of books, the fun of cartoons, and the interactivity of computer games,” Raul Fernandez said.

The Fernandez’s worked with language professionals, animators, voice actors and a music composer to create Pancho and Pita’s adventure and make their company, Palabra Media, a reality that meets the demands of a changing national demographic and interests.

I think it is great that the games/adventures/stories are available (more to come) with just one click. I am so That Kind Of Mami. Between iTunes, Amazon and the new family Netflixs, I’m conditioned to 1-Click it. (Wondering if that is evolution or devolution?)

Raul and Stephanie put their heart into a great quality product that promotes culture y cultura, education and fun. Go download. Support this entrepreneurial y nice Latino. You also can download this pancho and pita coloring PDF, among others and watch video.

And, if you ever hear a woman saying “Play with your Flan” on a plane, that is me.

So, in the next few days, I will be forming the Summer of 2009 Spanish Battle Plan.

Wisheame mucho luck-o.

“Boroditsky suggests that the grammar we learn from our parents, whether we realize it or not, affects our sensual experience of the world. Spaniards and Germans can see the same things, wear the same clothes, eat the same foods and use the same machines. But deep down, they are having very different feelings about the world about them.”

This is a great story and it really confirms what I have often told people about learning a second language — you can’t fully get a people, appreciate a culture or a country until you speak the language. Nuances, colloquialisms, sweet nothings, passions. These are things you just don’t get unless you speak and understand the language. I mean, how many times have you had an English-only friend look at you like you’re a total freak because you think “Gordita” is a term of endearment? 

And, when I am at Zumba sweating to “Mami, que sera lo que quiere el negro?” and watching my good Southern, and mostly white, neighbors in the heart of the Old Confederacy, shaking their booties to that classic, I can’t help but wonder what they’d say if they knew what it meant, and if they’d get that it isn’t a line about race?

Nuances. 

Love them.

“…Azucar, y tu no se lo das!…yo lo que quiero es esa loca!”