Learning Spanish in Spain Wasn’t the Hardest Part—This Was
I spent years embarrassed by my accent. Now I own it.
When I moved to Spain for good, after two stints of living here prior, I was 26 years old. I didn’t speak Spanish fluently at the time. I had a solid base of grammar and could communicate at a very basic level.
And I chose arguably one of the hardest regions to learn Spanish, Andalucía. El acento andaluz has a reputation for being one of the most difficult Spanish accents to understand.
Full transparency. Even after 10 years, I still struggle to understand people from small towns outside Sevilla (or abuelos, but that’s a story for another day). Their conversations are always a not so delicate rotation of “words cut short” and slang.
The result is no picnic for non-native speakers. Even native speakers admit it’s a challenge.
Quick Detour - A Very Specific Example of the Acento Andaluz
Quick story to share a specific example to help paint the picture. We recently went to a standup comedy show in Madrid. The comedian was from Jaen (Andalucia). Of course some of his jokes played on the acento andaluz.
My favorite was this one:
The comedian looks at an audience member in the front row. “Te gusta el Walking Dead?”
The guy in the audience smiles and says “Sí, a mi novia le gusta más pero a mi me mola (Yes, my girlfriend likes it even more but I think it’s cool).”
Comedian: “Ah, entonces te gusta WOKI DEH?”
The guy looks a bit confused and nods.
The comedian repeats it again and the play on words dawns on me.
He was saying “HUEVO KINDER”, a popular candy amongst children here. Even the Madrileños had a hard time getting that one.
The way it sounded was, “WOAH KEEN-DEH.”
Woah-keen-deh » Walking Dead » Huevo Kinder. Because the words are often cut short, and pronounced quite quickly, this curious word play happens a lot more often than you would think.
The Road to Fluency
That moment at the comedy show is one of a hundred that happen each week in Sevilla when hearing the Andalucian accent. It was quite challenging when I first moved here. But after about 2 years of hard work, ongoing practice, and lots of Netflix shows dubbed in Spanish with Spanish subtitles, I finally got my Spanish to a place of fluency.
My American accent, however, remained. When was that going to go away?
To this day whenever I introduce myself to someone new, as we speak for a few minutes, the question almost always arises: “De dónde eres?”
This used to bother me! I used to feel like, seriously is it THAT obvious I’m a foreigner.
I wish I had a poetic story about the exact moment I realized to let go and just embrace my accent but truly it was a slow, rather imperceptible process that happened with the passing of time. Suddenly one day I was embracing my accent.
The experience serves as a reminder. Change is not always a swift sword made of only dramatic leaps. Profound change can happen on a subconscious level, seemingly unnoticed. It weaves itself into who we are, one stitch a day, maybe just one stitch a week, maybe just one stitch a month. So subtle, they’re almost invisible. But as the years go by, a tapestry is woven, the full picture only visible in hindsight.
The Road to Acceptance
For years I fought against my accent, I wished it away, I tried my best to speak with a proper Spanish accent. Until one day I realized I realized I no longer was trying to sound a certain way. I just spoke as I spoke. I let it roll off my back when someone asked “De dónde eres.” Instead I thought, how nice that they’re curios!
I really upleveled when I started to play with it. Whenever people asked where I was from, I started responding with “Soy de Utrera (I’m from Utrera)”. This response works fantastically well because the town of Utrera is known for its difficult accent. And I coincidentally worked there my first year here, so I have ties to it.
Now when people ask me where I’m from and I say Utrera it always gets a laugh. And I am shameless, I use and will continue to use this joke. You notice my strange accent and want to know where I’m from? Utrera.
So once again, a gift from Spain. I embrace who I am, as I am. I have an accent. I don’t sound exactly like a sexy Spanish señorita. In fact I don’t sound sexy at all! But guess what, it forms part of who I am. My accent is imbued with my personality. Years of labor and love as I continue along the bilingual journery. And that’s something to be proud of.
After 10 years of living in France, I decided to lean into my bad accent there. When people commented on it, I'd say (in French) "yes but you'll remember me now". As I was selling my wine to them, this was actually a very useful marketing tool.
Still, I can't say it didn't hurt when after 20 years in France, you'd meet someone who exclaimed on how bad my French was after all this time. But they were invariably Parisians (usually Parisiennes - why were the women ruder?) and they're famously dismissive of anyone not from Paris.
After 25 years in France I decided that my French was good enough now that I could turn my language massacring attentions on someone else. We moved to Spain. Initially Sanlucar which I'm sure must rival Utrera's accent for impenetrability. Now, in Galicia which I find easier to understand (no lisp).
And it cracks me up that the Spanish think I'm French because of my "accent".
Hi! I'm potentially moving to Spain next year with a low-intermediate level of Spanish. I am finding your posts very informative and reassuring :)