The good news — if you’re me — is that I’m still married. This, despite the fact that for the past two months I have been trying, relentlessly, to learn how to roll my Rs as a beginning Spanish language student. That’s the bad news for my spouse, who — so far — has tolerated this irritating new behavior that I’ve introduced into the 36th year of our marriage.
And yet, I persist.
I took French through middle and high school and pretty much mastered the back-of-the throat sounds and blended vowels of that velvety language. Pour moi, maintenant, c’nest pas trop difficile.
But I’ve felt for a while now that it’s just plain irresponsible not to know Spanish, living amidst so many bilingual people in the Midwest. We also have a daughter who moved to Puerto Rico for work, and she loves the island, the culture, the language, and her novio, Javi. I want to be able to honor all this … Plus, español es una idioma hermosa.
I’ve started learning Spanish with Duo Lingo, thanks to a family pass from my sister, and now I’m deep into the gamified culture of high-fiving and nudging fellow learners.
But pronunciation continues to be a real challenge para mi.
My friend Elizabeth said it was only when she began learning to speak Irish — feeling her tongue move in strange and new ways in her mouth — that she understood why languages were called “tongues.” Think “mother tongue” or “native tongue.” And now I’m trying to find my trilling tongue.
I’d thought that either one could roll one’s Rs or one couldn’t, but I’ve been convinced by professors of Spanish and Internet videos that those seductive Rs can be learned. In fact, many Spanish-speaking children have to learn to roll those double Rs, though they’re likely faster learners than middle-aged me.
So, on my 12 minute walks to and from campus, every work day, I practice a variety of absurd phrases rich in double Rs, hanging onto the hope, promised by experts, that if I practice hundreds of times a day, for four months to a year, I can develop the purring R that will move me closer to sonic fluency.
One strategy is to move from the tapped one-R sound to a rolled one by breaking a double R word in two, starting slow and moving faster: for example: Per-Ro, Per-Ro, Car-Ro, Car-Ro.
Another is to repeat endlessly this classic tongue twister:
“Erre con erre cigarro; erre con erre guitarra.”
Ahora, I’m so happy to be sitting here with a native of Spain, el novio de mi hija menor, Javi, who’s up for giving me a little lesson.
Hola, Javi!
Hola, April.
Lay that tongue-twister on me, por favor. [Javi]: “Erre con erre cigarro; erre con erre guitarra.”
My turn: “Erre con erre cigarro; erre con erre guitarra.”
Give me another phrase to practice? How about “an expensive car”
[Javi] Un carro caro.
[April tries] Un carro caro.
Another I should try?
[Javi]: “El perro de san Roque no tiene rabo porque Ramón Rodríguez se lo ha cortado.”
[April tries]: “El perro de san Roque no tiene rabo porque Ramón Rodríguez se lo ha cortado.”
The finer points of pronunciation, of course, are the least of learning a new language. In our rapidly changing world, with immigrants and bicultural people in nearly every community, making the effort to learn another language is an essential exercise in humility for a responsible global citizen. Language-learning — especially later in life — bows our heads, tests our brains, and expands our empathetic hearts. I’m in, despite my stumbles.
So, my Duo Lingo homies — who needs a partner nudge?
For Michiana Chrrrrronicles (oh, forget it!) aqui Abril Lidinsky y Javi Faced
Music: “Topic” by Chuwi