I decided to learn Spanish for a few reasons: it's the second most spoken language in the United States, I've always wanted to understand and really appreciate the lyrics of salsa music I'd been listening to most of my life, I wanted to travel and more closely experience all the cultures in LatAm, and I wanted to know my roots. I'm American. Born and raised on Long Island. However my mother is not. My mom is from Peru and so was my grandmother. Most of my childhood they spoke Spanish even though they both spoke English very well. I never really understood what was going on but it always felt warm. There were jokes being told, gossip being shared, arguments being had, and telanovelas being watched and I didn't understand any of it outside a few words. There was also Héctor Lavoe or Oscar D'León on full blast as they cooked and when I was getting dropped off at school at 8AM. Who needs coffee. My mother also speaks Italian, as does her sister, and the man I call my grand father. He's from a town in Avellino, a countryside province in southern Italy. Until I was a teenager I thought he was my biological grandfather. Then one day someone mentioned my mom's father living in Peru. I didn't know what they were talking about, wasn't my grandfather a few miles away at home? Everybody seemed to know except for me, I think it was more related to the age gap between myself and everyone else and the topic of her father never being brought up.
My mom told me about her father, her childhood, and how she came to the United States. I became curious. I mentioned one day going to Peru and meeting him, something she encouraged. She showed me photos of him and it became clear who my brother and I looked like. It's funny thinking about it now. My mom has dark copper-like skin and, given a bit of time in the sun, my brother and I do as well. There's some of my dad in both of our looks for sure but where did the curly hair and big bump on our noses come from? I never really thought about it. Other than my brother and I, nobody in my family looked like my mother, not even my grandmother. It made sense now. So I had another reason to learn now: I wanted to speak to this man and maybe get to know him a bit during my time in Perú. I had a while to prepare, around 18 months. So I used those resources that are pinned on the homepage, attended a Spanish school in Medellín for a while, and practiced daily when I could.
I decided to learn Spanish for a few reasons: it's the second most spoken language in the United States, I've always wanted to understand and really appreciate the lyrics of salsa music I'd been listening to most of my life, I wanted to travel and more closely experience all the cultures in LatAm, and I wanted to know my roots. I'm American. Born and raised on Long Island. However my mother is not. My mom is from Peru and so was my grandmother. Most of my childhood they spoke Spanish even though they both spoke English very well. I never really understood what was going on but it always felt warm. There were jokes being told, gossip being shared, arguments being had, and telanovelas being watched and I didn't understand any of it outside a few words. There was also Héctor Lavoe or Oscar D'León on full blast as they cooked and when I was getting dropped off at school at 8AM. Who needs coffee. My mother also speaks Italian, as does her sister, and the man I call my grand father. He's from a town in Avellino, a countryside province in southern Italy. Until I was a teenager I thought he was my biological grandfather. Then one day someone mentioned my mom's father living in Peru. I didn't know what they were talking about, wasn't my grandfather a few miles away at home? Everybody seemed to know except for me, I think it was more related to the age gap between myself and everyone else and the topic of her father never being brought up.
My mom told me about her father, her childhood, and how she came to the United States. I became curious. I mentioned one day going to Peru and meeting him, something she encouraged. She showed me photos of him and it became clear who my brother and I looked like. It's funny thinking about it now. My mom has dark copper-like skin and, given a bit of time in the sun, my brother and I do as well. There's some of my dad in both of our looks for sure but where did the curly hair and big bump on our noses come from? I never really thought about it. Other than my brother and I, nobody in my family looked like my mother, not even my grandmother. It made sense now. So I had another reason to learn now: I wanted to speak to this man and maybe get to know him a bit during my time in Perú. I had a while to prepare, around 18 months. So I used those resources that are pinned on the homepage, attended a Spanish school in Medellín for a while, and practiced daily when I could.