MSI Press Blog

  San Juan Bautista When I first moved to SJB, I was clearly in Spanglish territory. We initially moved into a duplex, and the couple on the other side spoke mainly Spanish, especially when it was about important, shared matters. I quickly turned to a Spanish teacher at work, where I was administrator of a number of language programs. The teacher, wanting to impress, showed up with a nice binder and traditional lessons in hand. Oops! “Oh,” I told her. “I can read most of those things, and I can talk about academic stuff without much trouble, but what I really need is to understand when I am being asked if I have electrical tape or to be able to ask for help with plunging a plugged toilet.” Those are not the topics of textbooks, but they are the topics of life in SJB. The teacher quickly adapted, and I started learning how to live abroad at home, so to speak. In return, as payment for her kindness, I would attend her classes when she needed an interactive audience or non-stu...

  Mexico: Baja California I had the opportunity to learn, practice, and use real Mexican Spanish (not the typical Salinas Spanglish—though that, too, is Mexican in origin) on our 30th anniversary trip. My husband Carl and I packed up the car, visited our kids in San Diego, rented a Mexico‑insured car, and crossed the border at Tijuana. There I finally got to do some bartering. I didn’t need anything, and nothing truly excited me, but I wanted the experience of bartering. I was not very good at it. I ended up paying nearly full price—well, the full tourist price anyway. I decided the language practice was worth the extra pesos. After Tijuana we drove straight down the coast, and that’s where a bit of marital discord surfaced. I was looking for local color; Carl wanted American “nice.” And that’s when it hit me how different we were. I like living abroad at home. Carl prefers living at home abroad. Slight difference in syntax; immense difference in meaning. He ultimately wo...