I’ve lived in the Netherlands for two years. I’ve finished A2 classes in Dutch. But my speaking and listening skills are not close to where it should be. 

I guess if my survival didn’t depend on it, there’s no incentive to learn. The Dutch are great English speakers and most of them would rather reply to me in English than watch me painfully struggle. And for those that are patient… I’m just lazy. 

Fast forward to Bolivia and my English couldn’t save me no matter how hard I tried. Spanish is key and I was locked out. 

All I had with me were 15,000 experience points in DuoLingo, being born in a country with a shared colonial past to the locals, and some common words between Filipino and Spanish. Of course, I also had Google Translate, mediocre skills in charades, and plenty of desperation.

The first step is acceptance. I try not to get worked up or upset about the matter. After all, I am the visitor. I am here to observe and not criticise. The last thing I want to do is invade people’s homes and comforts. I chose to be here. 

And then comes trying… there are small victories – telling time, ordering food, paying for the bill, and asking for directions. And the feeling of getting my thoughts across is magical. 

Weird enough, I get embarrassed by mistakes I make in English or when I try speaking Dutch to my fluent or native friends. But here… all that shame went out the door. 

There is no glamour in broken communication. But glamour doesn’t fix the problem. Putting myself out there does. And I will never get the payoff if I’m not willing to make the trade-off. 

I am going to make a bold proclamation. And I hope voicing my heart’s desires work to help me and not paralyse me.

I will finish the A2 Dutch exams this year. I will be fluent in Spanish within 3 years. And hopefully, before this decade ends, I’d be conversing in French during my visits to Francophone Africa.

Wish me luck! 

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The trip to La Paz happened in May 2023.