Immersion, One Decision at a Time

When I decided to commit to Spanish as my first target language in what I hope will be a long, multilingual journey, I thought the biggest step I could take was moving abroad. To fully immerse myself in the language: street signs, Metro announcements, ordering at restaurants, was just the kind of passive intake I felt I was missing in the States. I simply needed to let the language soak in. 

After two months of so-called immersion, surrounded by Spanish at school and my host home, I’ll admit it: I still rehearse every question for my professor in my head before I even raise my hand. I type sentences into Google Translate before I leave my bedroom in the morning, anticipating what my host mom might ask me, and I still stumble over my coffee order if the worker goes off script. Although my eavesdropping skills have gone through the roof, (the things people will discuss on the Metro…) my speaking, and therefore my proficiency as a whole, still needs a lot of work.

How did this happen? At this point, I thought I’d be the Carrie Bradshaw of Madrid, hailing cabs and grabbing coffee with my native Spanish-speaking friends complete with my new madrileño slang. Instead, somewhere along the way, starstruck by a new city and the onslaught of all that comes with studying abroad, I allowed myself to be surrounded by the language rather than in it.

I treated Madrid as the tool and sat back, rushing through breakfast with my host mom to make class on time and keeping our nightly chats short so I could scroll in peace. One month turned into two and now here I am wondering how I can make the most of the time I have left.

The biggest change I can make? Instead of waiting for immersion to come to me, it's something I am going out and choosing. 

I’ve traded my usual morning playlists for whichever new Spanish songs I found the day before. I make a point of working through the latest issue of Vogue España, which I buy at the same newsstand, in the gaps between my classes. I used to go into libraries, do my work, and leave. Now I wander the aisles and check out books that I translate sentence by sentence, page by page, in parks all across Madrid.

But that still leaves speaking, the hardest part of all. I’ve realized that I’m waiting for the perfect moment—when I’ll feel completely confident and the words will flow from me with ease—and that moment will never come. There is only this conversation and the next.

So I take my time and linger at breakfast with my host mom, walking her through my plans for the day. When I come back at night, I truly sit and listen to all she’s done: the friends she spends time with, the padel tournaments she loves, the dancing classes she makes sure to always be on time for. I cherish those conversations and am proud of what I understand. Whatever I don’t, I replay in my head until I can put it into a translator, and I laugh to myself as I finally get the joke, even if it’s a little late.

Language learning is never easy, won’t happen by accident, and, as I’ve found, isn’t nearly as glamorous as I expected. Immersion takes conscious decisions, one day at a time. It’s the hardest job I have here, but I’m seeing the results in real time, so it’s a role I take on happily. There's time yet to become the madrileño Carrie Bradshaw.