Language tapes can be very helpful to teach someone to say “It is nice to meet you” or “Where is the Columbus Hotel.” And very importantly, “Where are you from? I am from North America.” Language computer programs are great at teaching you to identify a boy, a girl, a soccer ball, an airplane, or a running horse. Neither of these help you ask “Do you have an anchor chain swivel?”
When we sailed to Europe, trying to speak the native language was very important to us. Not only do the locals really appreciate the effort, but it is incredibly fulfilling to be understood in a new language. Grocery stores were pretty easy since we could identify what we were picking up and see its label. But when it came to buying specific boat items, the language barrier became an issue, although a fun issue.
We bought several dictionaries, including one that was called “Spanish for Sailors.” But we spent the majority of our time in Portugal, and even though much of the spelling is similar to Spanish, the pronunciation is quite different. Because of this, dictionaries weren’t that helpful. We could see the word on paper, but forming it in sound was a completely different task. The Portuguese language employs throat muscles that English does not. We tried to mimic what our friends were teaching us, and they would shake their heads sympathetically. We did learn some basic sentences that got us by, and at times I could even have a conversation. But buying boat stuff in hardware stores was often an adventure.
First we had to find a hardware store. If we found a marine hardware store, the task was easy since boat stuff was everywhere. But marine stores were not everywhere, and we often had to go to a regular hardware store and hope we could improvise with what they had. We would pack along a dictionary, a sketch book, and a pen. If we needed to replace an old thing, well that was easy, we would just take it; but this wasn’t always practical.
Once in the store, we’d ask if they speak English, which in many places they do, but not in little towns away from big cities. If they did not speak English, I would say, in Portuguese, that I would try to speak in Portuguese, and that I was learning Portuguese. I got very good at this, and it always brought a smile. Then we would try to stumble through the questions the best we could using words we knew, hand gestures, sound effects, and drawings. I suppose being a professional artist helped with the drawings.
When we needed an anchor swivel, the drawing is what did the trick. We first tried words and pointing to similar things, but when I drew a bow of the boat and the anchor chain cascading down to the bottom and pointed to the actual swivel, the store clerk nodded excitedly and went in the back and got it.
In Spain, in a sweet little town called Ayamonte, I was stripping the old varnish off our teak trim when my precious Ryobi palm sander (25 years old) stopped working. As we did in the past, we wanted to fix it instead of replace it. It needed new motor brushes. So we took it to a hardware store, and Robert and the store clerk, both rapidly speaking in two different languages but bonded by a common knowledge of the little tool, were able to replace the brushes and get the sander working again.
By the time we were in Las Palmas, on the island of Gran Canaria in the Canary Islands, we were nearly two years into our European cruise, and both our Portuguese and Spanish were passable. We had the hand gesture/sound effect/drawing thing down to a class act. While we were in one marine hardware store, a lady was trying to ask for a plug, a wooden, cone-shape plug, the kind you carry in case you need to plug a hole in an emergency. She was practically yelling in English: “I NEED A WOOD PLUG FOR OUR BOAT. IT IS CONE SHAPED.” I couldn’t take it anymore and grabbed a pen and my sketch book and said to the clerk, “Ella necesita este” (she needs this) and then drew the plug, along with a boat, showing a hole and where the plug goes. He nodded and went right to it. The lady got her plug.
Here, in Annapolis, we sometimes go into a hardware store and for a moment we think that their English is really good! Then we realize the cruising adventure is over and we’re really home. For now, anyway. When we do sail away again to non-English speaking ports, we will of course try to learn the local language, at least the basics, and I will always carry a sketch book and a pen.
--by Cindy Fletcher Holden
