Stop the presses: Mark dreamed in Spanish

Contrary to popular belief, there is no correlation between dreaming in another language and fluency in that language. It is possible for you to dream in a language you only know a few phrases of, or one you haven't spoken since you were a child. I didn't know this fact, however, until I began writing this blog post and had to research the subject. Before today, an irrationally large amount of my self worth was hinging on whether I would have a dream in Spanish before I left Argentina.

Last night, I did.


All the international students at my school went on a trip to a most likely fictional location in Argentina. After arriving at the hotel, we were divided into groups and told that the following morning we would be competing in a relay race across the entire town.

For some reason I was given the disproportionately long eight-mile leg. I am the only person on any team designated a task of such length. This concerns me, as apart from a few alcohol-assisted sprints down Avenida Córdoba, I haven't gotten too much physical training down here.

I nevertheless accept the challenge. The following morning, I line up at the starting line. The race has now transformed into a full-fledged marathon. I am terrified. The gun goes off and I take off. But before I get very far, I am stopped to attend a series of business meetings, which are conveniently located alongside the marathon course, which has now moved indoors. The parents of American Idol season 8 finalist and UNC alumnus Anoop Desai were observing from the balcony, but I think that's because American Idol season 8 finalist and UNC alumnus Anoop Desai was somewhere in the building competing in a singing contest.

Because I kept getting tied up by these business meetings, by the end of the day I have traversed less than one mile of the 26.2-mile course. I recognize my progress as slower than desired, so  I promise to myself I will run at least 13 miles the next day of the marathon. I go back to my hotel to get a good night's rest.

The next morning, the marathon is still miraculously going on, because in my dream world, marathons evidently function like the Iditarod.

Here's the part where my memory gets fuzzy. Next thing I remember is I'm outside a packed school auditorium. Everyone is exiting the auditorium and starts navigating the hallway to get to the exit of the building. I'll never know if I ever finished that marathon, but I'm going to assume that I didn't, because who finishes a marathon in two days?

Anyway I happen to be sitting in the hallway outside the auditorium, spinning a dreidel. When the doors open, I am now blocking the pack of people who are trying to walk through the hallway. But rather than get out of the way, I start doing that thing where you flick the side of a dreidel while it's spinning to make it spin even more. And the people behind me don't walk around me; they just politely wait for me to achieve my task. I keep flicking the dreidel, spinning it forward a few feet, and every time I flick it forward I scooch up a bit and the crowd follows.

Eventually we must have reached a big intersection in the hallway because pretty soon all the people disappeared, and I was by myself, just flicking the spinning dreidel forward foot by foot. Then a Latino couple emerged, probably in their late 20s, and I noticed in front of us a few movie posters lining the walls, including All the Right Moves starring Tom Cruise. They asked me in Spanish when that movie came out, because they presumably had never heard of it. I answered (IN SPANISH!) that I thought it came out around the early 90s.

Then, in real life, my roommate Jorge knocks on my door and enters the room, waking me up. He says some Spanish stuff I didn't understand, and left when he realized I had been sleeping. Dude, you don't go ruining people's dreams like that. I don't care if it's 2 p.m.

So the actual Spanish part of the dream may have only lasted two sentences. And it turns out All the Right Moves came out in 1983. But tonight I will try my hardest to track down the couple and let them know. And if I have the time, strike up some more conversation.

Getting 'tina'd

Six months ago, I was sitting in a classroom in UNC's Global Education Center listening to an adviser during a mandatory meeting for students studying abroad in Latin America in the fall. Midway through the meeting, she invited in a panel of students who had studied in Latin America to share their advice and provide us with expectations. 

The most memorable moment came when every student told us to expect our English to be horrible upon our return. Expect to say crazy things like “I have 21 years” rather than I'm 21 years old, because after five months you´ll be translating directly from Spanish to English instead of the other way around.

Horseradish, I thought. I'm a linguistics major. I'm untouchable. I went to Juilliard for Christ's sake.

How wrong I was. The Spanish–to–English literal translations have already begun, to hilarious and embarrassing effect. In fact, you could say my Argentinafication is taking place at an alarming rate.

The first time it happened was during the first week of class about a month ago. When telling a group of friends why I needed to go home, I told them “I need to get ready my apartment.” Certainly an understandable phrase in English, but awkward compared to “I need to get my apartment ready.” I immediately realized I had been thinking of the Spanish verb alistar, which expresses “get ready“ in one word, and my Spanish–accustomed brain didn't split it up upon translation.

Other examples: When contemplating whether to pour myself a glass of soda now or later, I thought “When I have thirst, I'll drink.” Argentina–fied. When talking about the weather, I let slip “It's bastante cold outside.” 'Tina–fied! When describing my experience at a nightclub, I told someone “There was a mountain of people there.” Bam! 'Tina'd. 

I'm actually quite proud of my verbal mishaps. Exchange students tend to wear their blunders as a badge of honor that represents their attempts at cultural immersion. And if I come back to the U.S. sounding like a nearly fluent English speaker from South America, I will know my 'tinafication is complete.