Palenque (parte dos)

As it turns out, Palenque has more in common with camp than a remote location and inspiring excitement. It’s day three here and I’m still excited. Much like Pinemere, everyone in Palenque knows each other, but instead of 300, there are 3,000 people (at least). People in Palenque are incredibly welcoming and generous (not unlike Pinemere). And, the little kids will love you if you throw them up in the air and play their game of human tug-of-war (yep, another similarity). It’s rustic too — though probably less so than camp. And there are animals everywhere — horses, donkeys, goats, pigs, dogs, cats, hens, roosters, turkeys, lizards — and Pinemere DID used to have a goat, a few dogs, and the occasional bear. However, at Pinemere, the food wasn’t nearly as delicious as it here. The freshly squeezed and chilled fruit juices weren’t as satisfying and difficult to pronounce as in Palenque. The temperature never hovered around 90 degrees (with 100% humidity) in Stroudsburg. And I never attempted linguistics research at Pinemere. That’s where the comparison ends. 

I will admit here, publicly, that this is challenging. I don’t mind showering with a bowl and well water, waking up at the crack of dawn to roosters crowing, or sweating sitting still. This place is absolutely beautiful and so are its people. So what, there’s no air conditioning? Palenqueros’ generosity, insightfulness, and friendship more than make up for a lack of certain creature comforts. The challenge is the constant reminder of what I’m missing. It turns out that a high school and college Spanish education will only take me so far when dealing in Coastal Colombian Castellano mixed unpredictably with Lengua Palenquera. As I talk to more and more people and begin some interviews, I get hit over and over with this dose of reality: if I thought I was close to fluent, the truth is I am far from it. Sure, I can communicate essentials. I can learn. I can ask thoughtful questions. I can navigate complicated topics. But, it has to be on my terms. When a Palenquero or a group of locals diverges from our conversation — or simply starts up with vocabulary I’ve never been exposed to — in some mix of Spanish and Lengua, I am lost. 

During nearly every interaction, I know I’m missing out on something fascinating and it’s painful. Here I am, this student coming all the way from the States to research language, and half the time I’m stuck. At best I’m a lame duck, at worst, a burden. Nonetheless, I have to embrace the process. This is new to me — not Spanish, but this clash of languages and dialects and cultures. Of course I’m not throwing in the towel after 72 hours. It’s just time for a new one — one that I’ve cleaned out back, after shooing the pigs away from the hose.