Lessons from a native in Spain.

For the past six years, I've gone abroad in the summer. While the countries I visited--France, Italy, and Greece, for example--were beautiful, I might as well have been on Pluto because of the language barrier. But when I went to Spain in the summer of 2004, I thought it would be different because I can speak Spanish.

About a week into the trip, I was in a music store browsing the Spanish-music section. I reached for a disc at the same time as a small, dark-haired girl about my age. She knew immediately I was American.

A TOURIST?

"You American preppies are usually flipping through the latest Dave Matthews or John Mayer albums," she said in Spanish. "Where is your baseball cap? Have you been to McDonald's yet?"

"No," I said, realizing she was testing me. "I heard this on the radio and this is all new to me--I like it."

My response seemed to please her, and she showered me with Spanish-music suggestions. I left the store with three CDs and a new friend: Her name was Isabela. We spent the remainder of the day trying Spanish foods. For the first time, I was living not like a tourist, but as a native.

"I like you; you're different," Isabela said.

Things were going wonderfully. I asked about her evening plans, hoping

to go dancing with this beautiful girl. But she said she had to watch her little brother. I suggested a baby-sitter.

"[??]Que?" she asked, confused.

Translation can be tricky, so I explained that in America a baby-sitter is someone who is paid to look after a child.

At this, her incredulity doubled: What was only linguistic became cultural. In perfect English, she told me off, saying it is unheard of in Spain to pay a stranger to do what is expected of family. "Is this what you do in America, pawn off your responsibilities to your own families to others?" she shouted.

Then Isabela began to walk away, but not before turning to say, "I was wrong about you. You are just another selfish American whose time and trivial fun mean more than family duty."

LOST IN TRANSLATION

Stunned, I let her walk away. All I wanted was to go dancing. Instead, I learned a lesson. I may have studied Spanish for four years, but I hadn't studied Spain. Bilingual does not mean bicultural. In Spanish culture, family is important: Elders are highly respected and the young are closely nurtured.

Now I'm grateful for my cultural faux pas with Isabela and for her setting me straight. The last thing I want to be is another self-centered American; I want to be a citizen of the world. Muchas gracias, Isabela.

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Colin Lieblich is a senior at Northern Valley Old Tappan High School in Rockleigh, N.J.