When in Spain speak Spanish, right? Well, kind of.

I recently traveled with 22 other students to Toledo, Spain for 18 days and lived with a student, Carlota Flores, and her family. While there, we went to school with the students, embraced the food and culture, and tackled the language barrier head on.

I tried to utilize my Spanish as much as possible, but when surrounded by 22 other Americans in a foreign country filled with American movies and music, it’s hard to completely block out English. I was determined to stay away from it, at least for one day.

Carlota was fluent in English, so whenever there was a communication problem, I had my own personal translator handy. So one night before we went to bed, I told her the next day to only speak to me in Spanish.

That morning, I woke up and went down to breakfast. I was used to conversing with her parents because they only spoke Spanish with me in the first place. I kept up fairly well, only because I had practically memorized the morning dialogue. Did you sleep well? SÍ. Do you want coffee? SÍ. Do you want toast? SÍ. Easy, right?

The first day I made the mistake of telling Carlota’s father that when I didn’t understand things, I just said “SÍ” and nodded my head. After that, he always laughed whenever I answered yes, and I’m pretty sure he just thought I was confused the entire time.

It just so happened that the day I chose to not utilize my native tongue was the day Carlota and I had to go to her aunt and uncle’s house for comida (a big meal around 3:00 p.m.). When we arrived, Carlota conveniently had to leave for a dentist appointment, and I was left alone. At first I was scared, but her uncle was so enthusiastic to speak Spanish with me and took it very slowly, so I surprisingly got along very well.

When Carlota returned and comida began, the conversation grew much faster and as the colloquialisms and inside jokes grew more numerous, my comprehension level progressively began to worsen. Throughout the meal, they’d randomly stop talking and look at me and ask if I understood what they were talking about. I’m pretty sure I looked like a deer in headlights, and I would just nod, and they’d laugh.

At the end of the day, Carlota admitted that she was impressed with how well I did without her.  I had never realized how privileged I was until I was handicapped. However, she still knew fully well that should could mess with me and get away with it. Overall, I think my Spanish improved in Spain, but I am nowhere near fluent.

Claire Grunewald is a Lifestyles Editor for The Patriot and jcpatriot.com