A list of accomplishments

Every interaction in Spanish, even the shortest conversation, is a success, and achievement, a fiesta. Forget mere speech: every bus caught and every new action is an accomplishment.

For example: walking into the Caja Madrid Bank. The lobby is a tiny glass-walled room with lockers on the left. Step forward through two sliding panels with a blue arros on one, and wait for the panels to close. I am in a one-person elevator-like glass box, and a machine on the left scans my clothes and bag. If a woman´s recorded voices comes on saying ... I don´t know what. Here my accomplishments fail me. If so, step back into the lobby to leave the offending object, usually a coat, in a locker. If not, step forward through another pair of sliding panels into the bank itself. The same process is repeated when leaving, only on the other side of the scanner.

Once inside, the banker and I piece our languages together to answer my questions about opening an account and transferring money. We each speak slowly and repeat and laugh. She apologies for being older and not knowing English, but it´s ok. Two accomplishments.

A third success comes in the papeleria, the paper-and-pencils store where I ask for a photocopier and understand her directions to the copying shop. A fourth accomplishment when I ask for and receive three copies, although I struggle to understand the price. It costs ¨cince,¨ pronounced ¨keen-thay¨ following the Spanish rules of pronunciation. Fifteen cents. I count out the nickels and lay them on the counter with a sharp sound, snapping their edges against the wood.

As I trudge uphill through the alley toward 37 Antigona, where I live, I think of what I should have told the banker: Comprendo tu pero no puedo contestar en aspañol. Accomplishment #6.