15 Minutes of Fame Contest

Let me start by saying that - as an English teacher - I have no idea what "a short essay" means, but I will try to keep it to the point.

I have participated in two language programs through Amerispan, one in Costa Rica and one in Ecuador. I have literally hundreds of pictures of so many amazing people and places that I was overwhelmed by the idea of picking one to represent the entire experience. I pondered and pained over whether I should submit a picture of the penguins in the Galapagos or my second family in Costa Rica. Should I mention the monkeys of the Amazon and the cozy classrooms on the beach in Samara? Or should I boast about being in Quito when LIGA won the soccer championship Copa de Libertadores? I could go on and on about how amazing my familia tica is or the thrill I felt hanging from the edge of a waterfall with my new international friends. But let's face it, anyone who has been through your program has had just as many wild and even life-changing experiences to talk about. What you want to see is one picture that can really send a message, really sum up the whole deal.

Well, attached is a picture that catches my eye every time I glance through them all. It is the one that I think of when I get nostalgic or when a friend asks to see my favorite. The picture is simple; it is a Spanish lesson. It was taken at La Playa Samara, Costa Rica, on the beach, which is also the front yard of the language school, Intercultura. At this school, classes rotate between morning and afternoon so that all students get a chance to spend some mornings sleeping in and some afternoons at the beach. Of course, dance lessons and tours around the area are also popular when you are not sitting in class all sandy. This picture was taken one afternoon when I was sitting on the beach with a classmate. You see, in Samara, class and leisure time meld into each other due to the casual and encouraging atmosphere. My friend and I were doing homework while catching some rays, and I was stuck on the conjugation of Spanish in the preterit tense. Solution: he showed me how to conjugate a regular -ar verb by drawing it in the sand. Genius. You can see 'hablar' conjugated, my green wrap/dress, and my classmate's knee in the picture.

I don't know if it's the sand, the Spanish, or my friend's knee, but this picture represents the good times I had in Costa Rica as well as the amazing people I met there and the Spanish I learned throughout my stay. This picture does more than show how studious we were; it illustrates just how welcoming and helpful people were. It is completely normal to screw up speaking a new language, and on my trip there was always a classmate, professor, or host family member to help me out. I believe that these programs bring out the best in people. The classmate in the picture is from Sweden, but the picture makes me think of my new friends from Holland, Brazil, and several of the United States as well. It reminds me of the friendliness of the schools' staff and how pleasantly persistent they were about our using only Spanish. It reminds me of the classroom where notes in Spanish were sprawled all over white boards and posters that we created. It reminds me of the fairy tales we told each other for homework and the nights we spent out dancing. And it reminds me of the times my host family would stay up late just to tutor me.

If you'd like, I could bombard you with pictures of amazing cities, beautiful natural wonders, or fantastic activities with people from around the world. But I think this picture says it all - even better than the one of us eating lunch on a volcano or the one of us hopping over the equator - because it embodies the atmosphere, the people, and the learning that I am still so in love with to this day.

El Vaso de Cobre Blanco

When I look at this vase, it takes me back to Morelia, a colonial Mexican city built into hills, and reminds me of the grace and craft of my temporary home and the hospitality and camaraderie of my host family.

My three week stay in Morelia in 2006 was a decade in the making. I knew I wanted to see a part of Mexico that wasn't on the regular tourist route, and I asked a friend who had previously been with the State Department in Mexico City what he had heard about the city. "Muy bonita con historia interesante," he said, in two languages.

Finally, I was ready to study. I had been taking Spanish classes in Dallas for several years while my husband and I raised two children. Now that they were both in college, I felt free enough to leave. When I looked at various language school options online, Amerispan seemed like the best fit. My first scheduled stay was postponed when my husband developed a rare neurological disorder and had to be hospitalized for two weeks. Then my plans were in limbo as I waited for him to recover. Finally, he told me to go; he would be fine.

So I went. The city is sometimes called "la alma de Mexico," the soul of Mexico, and if the people are any indication, the title is well deserved. For what I found during my three weeks of study were interesting and skillful teachers, a city easily navigable on foot, new friends and a surrogate family.

The first week, a class friend and I went in the evening to the top of one of Morelia's hills to have a margarita and watch the pink and gold sunset. We walked into a shop and I was immediately attracted to the vase. I thought it was beaten silver, but the sales person said it was "cobre blanco," white copper, which I had never seen. The price seemed high, it was my first week, and I felt sure I would find the same thing in the markets for much less.

So my studies continued­four hours a day, evening events such as cooking class and conversation with local young people, plus lunch with my family, often with their two grown sons and their wives. I was exhausted; everything I thought I learned in class didn't help when I was confronted with the rapid chatter of this family. I was lucky if I could understand one word in ten, but they were patient and friendly and encouraging.

By the end of the three weeks, I had relaxed and could speak and understand more. I had also taken side trips to Patsquaro, Guanajuato, Santa Clara del Cobre (a town of copper) and my family's lake house, where we cooked, chatted, drank banderas and played dominos.

But I never saw anything like the vase anywhere.

The last few days of my stay, I thought more and more about the vase. I decided that if I returned to the shop and the vase was still there, I would buy it. When the time came, Jorge and Cristina drove me up the hill to the shop and went inside with me. Jorge took my arm and said, in Spanish, "let me talk to them." I stood while he bargained with the sales person, and I walked away with the vase, at a much lower price than I had expected.

Since my time in Morelia, my husband has recovered completely, and we are now living in Copenhagen, where the language is strange and impenetrable. At this time of year, it's cold, dark early, often drizzling or lightly snowing. I put flowers in my beautiful beaten cobre blanco vase, and I dream of warmer climates, tall red poinsettia shrubs and whole conversations in Spanish.

"Good day," I whispered, "Or should I say, dzień dobry." I sighed and practiced again. My pronunciation wasn't too bad but I was still speaking quietly. And this was supposed to be easy – I was only facing myself in the mirror. The challenge was going to be performing this feat in front of others in a few days. Conversations with native Polish speakers, I realized, would likely involve more than casual greetings. As doubt and apprehension began to prevail inside my mind, I searched for a source of confidence about my upcoming trip. Would I really be able to adjust to a place over 4,000 miles away from New York? For a moment I thought about canceling the journey ahead. But then I felt recalled that I was about to explore a part of the world that had always intrigued me.

Although I had only been learning Polish in a classroom for just a few months, it was a foreign language that wasn't entirely foreign. Perhaps it was because my father intermittently sprinkled Polish words into our conversations over the years to expand my vocabulary. Perhaps it was because I had heard so many times about my paternal grandfather, a soldier who had been born in a city called Nadwórna in the Second Polish Republic. Or perhaps it was because, as a student fascinated by international relations, I needed to understand the state that had gained independence from the Austro-Hungarian empire, had been torn apart by Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union, had hosted the signatories of the Warsaw Pact, and had acceded to the European Union all in less than a century. In a way, Poland was as unfamiliar as any other nation I had never stepped foot in before. But on a deeper level, visiting Poland was a natural step in my progression from inquisitive adolescent to even more inquisitive adult eager to explore new places and new ideas. So as I checked over my itinerary for my trip to Krakow, I grew excited not just about learning the intricacies of gramatyka and sampling all of the imaginable types of pierogi. My mind raced instead about the opportunity to learn about the intricacies of modern European kultura and sample all of the imaginable types of lifestyles people lead in Rzeczpospolita Polska. "Mów głośniej!" I said to the mirror, "I'm going to need people to hear my questions if I hope to find any answers."

As an insatiable xenophile and a product of a bicultural home, I understand firsthand the subtitles, beauty and intrigue of different cultures. People often assume culture encompasses only food, language and holidays; yet, a full cultural experience exposes one to so much more. I hope to gain this type of experience from my AmeriSpan trip. I want not only to educate myself on the common practicies and usual customs, but to immerse myself in a completely new atmosphere- to eat, sleep, and breathe Mexico and all its intricate beauties. I want to shop amongst locals, laugh with fellow students and comfortably meet new friends. I want to share ideas, thoughts, feelings with the people of Guanajuato and learn about the art, both physical and abstract, of their unique city. I plan to come away with increased Spanish skills, but more importantly, increased understanding, appreciation, and love for the city and its inhabitants who make it so special.