Lizzie Flournoy

I will never forget the time I had a full conversation in another language. Walking through an art market in Lima, Peru, I stumbled upon an art installation of small collaged paintings. The artist began to speak to me and I decided this would be the perfect opportunity to attempt to use my Spanish knowledge in real life. After four years of Spanish, being immersed in my class for the past two year, I felt confident using it in class. But in the real world, that was a whole other story, especially with a native speaker. He began talking, with a thicker accent that what I was used to from my American teacher. He was even a little shorter than I and talked quickly. He seemed to have a lot of energy, but I tried my hardest to focus on what he was saying. I couldn't understand every word, but he began to try to explain that I should visit a market down the street, that was full of different foods. The next part I could barely understand, and the confusion clearly showed up on my face when he asked me more about where I was from. He slowed down his speech and I began to pick up more again. I understood single words, but few concepts. The only other thing I could clearly gather was that he was explaining something about at stoplight at the intersection down the road. I decided then that I should buy the artwork and carry on with my day, and with that I ended up walking through the stoplight towards the food market, pleased that I could now associate both ordinary objects with a unique experience.