When I returned from a long weekend in Madrid in October to meet up with my good friend, Simone, I remember feeling a bit depressed. It was the start of a bunch of bad days. I recovered but it was rough for a bit. I felt like for a few days I could communicate when and how I wanted. I didn't have to just look at the cashier at the grocery store with a dumb look and spit out my ONE full sentence in the language "I only understand a little bit of German" In Spain I could be me. I could talk with people. I could make small talk or deeper talk. I could understand conversations around me even if I wasn't in the conversation. On the bus, overhearing people on the street or in the subway. I felt like I belonged. In the moment, in Barcelona, I didn't think this. I didn't have a light bulb moment or anything and think "I belong" I just did. But I didn't realize it until we returned to Germany. And it was dark and cloudy and cold and I couldn't communicate again.
I really do now have SO much more sympathy for immigrants or those living in a country where they don't know the language. I always kind of did as a former ELL/ESL teacher but now SO much more so. Not being able to speak just makes you feel dumb. It allows you to check out, to not engage and not try to understand in the small interactions because in the big picture they don't really matter. I feel like I have to save my brain power for when it matters and checking out at the grocery store, even if I get it wrong, doesn't really matter in the long run.
I'm happy to say that within a day or two I had already embraced Berlin again but do often wonder how much of this experience I'm missing out on because of the language... on the other hand maybe no knowing the language, struggling to communicate and truly be myself is exactly the experience I'm supposed to have and the lessons learned through it will be and already are life changing.
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