It was my family’s third time visiting Puerto Rico, and I had been practicing my Spanish since April. On this visit, I hoped to have learned enough Spanish to order food ask for directions and to keep up with every day conversation. My parents, being fluent in Spanish, had been working with me. I could speak fine with them. By the time the plane left for Puerto Rico, I was able to keep up with most daily conversation. I thought I would be completely ready to get around by myself. Finally, the day after we landed, a situation arose. We were eating lunch at a local café, this time; I was intent on using Spanish.

My aunt’s car made a dusty stop out front of the quaint sweet, smelling bakery. Upon entering, I witnessed large hams hanging from the ceiling and numerous amounts of sweet breads, cakes and custards all lined up in a refrigerated glass shelve. The lunch we consumed was delicious. I had fresh ham on a sweet roll. When it was finally time to go, I knew I could not leave without sampling one of the delectable desserts. I begged my mom to let me get one. She agreed that I could get a dessert, but I had to order it in Spanish. Easy. I had practiced this hundreds of times. All I had to say was yo quireo, then what ever I wanted. As I walked over to the cashier, I decided on getting a slice of chocolate cake. I looked up at the cashier and smiled. I had all the confidence in the world.

“Hola, que quieres?” said the cashier.

I had no idea what he just said. He spoke too fast! “Uh,” I said as I gazed at him with a blank stare.

“Que quieres?” he repeated, this time slower. I could understand him; he asked me what I wanted. I opened my mouth to speak, but all that came out was a breath of air along with my confidence. I knew what to say, but my tongue was as tangled as a garden hose just brought out from winter. I fumbled around with the five dollar bill in my pocket. My palms began to sweat, and my face turned as red as guava juice. 10 seconds must have gone by; we just continued to stare at each other. I glanced around for my parents, but they were already waiting in the car.

“What would you like,” he asked again, this time in English.

“The chocolate cake on the bottom please,” I said in a shamed voice.

As I entered the car, I told my mom what happened. She just laughed and said don’t worry about it, practicing at home with your family, is completely different from actually talking to native speakers. She also said the only way to get better is to practice.

For the rest of the trip after that, I tried to use Spanish wherever I went. By the end of the two weeks I made much improvement. I could then order food (at the speed of a native citizen) and ask basic questions. That experience was very memorable to me. It has taught me the lesson that, you can’t say you know how to do something unless you have experienced it first hand.