For lack of a better word

As Annie and I sat on her bed watching season two of The Office and inevitably cracking up every thirty seconds, our host Mom walked in and asked us about the show. I described the setting, the basic premise, etc. but told her that really the show revolves around the hilarious character interactions. So I tried explaining Michael Scott’s character to her. And I couldn’t. “He is…um, pues…él es…awkward?”

I realized at that moment that the Spanish vocabulary is missing one of my favorite adjectives of all time. “Uncomfortable,” in a physical sense, just doesn’t quite cut it. “Clumsy,” as the literal derivation from torpe, is most often used in describing a person but again: it just doesn’t work. And for the situations that Michael always finds himself in, the Spanish use what can be most accurately translated as “embarrassing.” For awhile I thought that I couldn’t have felt more disconnected from Spanish culture. So much of the humor (and even a few people) that I appreciate and love stems directly from this word.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that “awkward” doesn’t even exist in Madrid. The fact is that Spaniards don’t even allow the opportunity for an awkward situation to manifest. The language itself, based on commands rather than requests, couldn’t be more forward: “Give me your ID number… Leave that folder there… Bring me some water, waiter!” If there’s a slight lull in the conversation, my co-worker will turn to me and ask why I’m so quiet. Tired? Not understanding? Both? Even a question like that is considered a courtesy rather than impoliteness. In a Spanish discussion, being “politically correct” is considered beating around the bush—if you’re avoiding a specific phrase, then you’re not articulating yourself accurately. Even personal tensions and individual conflicts are always verbalized between people. And if it doesn’t get resolved, the Spanish start to yell (one thing I learned quickly with my time here: they don’t get awkward, they get angry). The people here are direct, forward, and communicative. And if you chose to create an awkward situation (either through cultural ignorance or simply because you weren’t following the conversation), they will be sure to call you out on it—which, surprisingly, isn’t even awkward in itself.

This communicative nature of the Spaniards transcends the culture and permeates so much of what I’m going to miss about Madrid. Obviously there are plenty of people I miss from the states and trivial things like oatmeal or popcorn; but with only one month left on the other side of the world, I already find myself compiling a laundry list of the distinctly Spanish things I’ll miss: late Sunday lunches of Thanksgiving-like proportions (in both the number of guests and the number of plates), chatty and candid coffee breaks with my co-workers, greeting and saying good-bye to everyone in the room, and simply the warmth of every single person I’ve met. The openness of my host family, the inclusiveness of my coworkers, and the hospitality of complete strangers really has made my time here extraordinary.

When I finally return to the U.S., I hope that I can retain some of those characteristics I’ve adopted and grown to love: to always maintain that Spanish frame of mind, to tell someone exactly what I’m thinking, to tell someone exactly how I feel about them… and perhaps I’ll retain enough of the language as well and still be able to strike up a conversation months from now with a Spaniard, if I have the fortune of running into one. And hopefully I won’t come across as inarticulate or…well, awkward.