E L B

Teva-deva, teva-deva, teva-deva, teva-deva”

I am sitting in my room repeating these nonsense words in quick succession.

“I edited it. I edited it. I edited it. I edited it.”

Along with that sentence.

“TdZzzzzzzz…”

Sadly, that is the only sound I can produce.

I am trying to learn how to trill my r’s.

The trilled “r” sound is pertinent to properly spoken Spanish. That doesn’t mean it comes naturally to every Spanish speaker on the planet. It is, in fact, the last sound that Spanish-speaking children can successfully produce. Apparently, some adults never master the trilled “r”. They are labeled as having an official articulation disorder. I am afraid that I may be of that number.

As I’ve mentioned before, growing up in Texas means that you are exposed to many nuances of Spanish language and culture when you are young. In grade school, kids would run around the playground rolling their r’s extravagantly in exotic words such as “maracas” or “rojo”. Try as I might, I could never join in. “It’s easy!” they’d say. It was impossible.

While my classmates were happily trilling away like helicopters or purring cats, I was tackling a speech impediment. Each week, I would visit the school’s speech therapist, who helped me learn how to pronounce “th”, “ch”, “sh”, and “j”. It took me years of practice, and I still have trouble pronouncing these sounds, especially when I am tired. If I am not careful, I can easily slip into a lisp (not that this would be a problem in Spain). I wonder if my inability to pronounce these sounds when I was younger, and my inability to roll my r’s now, are one in the same problem.

A few days ago, my host father, Juan, told me I needed to practice trilling my r’s. He taught me this tongue-twister, which Spanish children use to practice their r sounds:

El perro de san Roque no tiene rabo,

porque Ramón Ramirez se lo ha robado.

In English, it means:

The dog of san Roque has no tail,

because Ramón Ramirez stole it.

The excess of r sounds in this sentence is meant to help one learn how to place the trilled r in everyday speech.

Yesterday in class, my professors taught us this same sentence. They also stressed the importance of learning how to properly place the trilled r. Apparently, there are only two times when one trills the r. Either when:

1) It is the first letter, like in Roque or rabo

2) There is a double r in the middle of a word, like in guitarra or churro

It is a good idea to repeat tricky sentences like El perro de san Roque until you are use to using the trilled r whenever you speak. That is, if you can trill your r’s in the first place.

Welcome to rudimentary Spanish pronunciation 101, where we learn to roll our r’s.

As I’ve said, I can’t roll an r to save my life. Yesterday, when my classmates, once again, were trilling away with ease, I tried to imitate them. It didn’t go very well. While we were walking down the street after class, my friends looked on with worried glances as I continued to try to make the appropriate sound

“I don’t know how to describe how to do it,” they said. In their attempts to help, they looked at me with intent faces and pointed at their mouths while they trilled. I tried to do the same, but ended up just blowing raspberries or hissing. I think a few Spaniards on the street were a bit worried at that point, too.

This morning, over café con leche, I told my host mother, Maria, that I was having trouble pronouncing my r’s correctly. She too said that she wasn’t sure how to describe how to do it, and also pointed at her mouth while she demonstrated how to trill: “perro”. In turn, I demonstrated my inaptitude at the process.

She told me that it was alright, a lot of Spanish-speaking children take years to perfect the “r”. I asked her if there are any adults that can’t trill their r’s.

“Some,” she said, “I know some people who can’t. But there aren’t many, because children learn when they are young”.

“Is it a problem?” I asked her.

“A little bit, because there is a difference between pero and perro, you see, but usually they can be understood”.

I told her I would be practicing my pronunciation, so if she heard me making strange noises around the house, that would be the reason why.

So, I went to my trusty advisor, the internet, and googled “how to roll your r’s”.

The first thing the websites tell you to do is to relax your tongue. Hence, the nonsense words I mentioned earlier. Basically, repeat anything that makes you tap the tip of your tongue against the space between your two front teeth and the roof of your mouth. This should loosen up the muscles in your tongue necessary for trilling and position your tongue in the right spot at the same time.

Once your tongue is nice and loose, float the tip of your tongue in the space between your two front teeth and the roof of your mouth. Apparently, this is called the alveolar ridge, for those who want to know. Next, attempt to pronounce a “dr” or “tr” sound with your tongue in this position. The added “d” or “t” should help, because English speakers naturally pronounce d’s and t’s with their tongues in the appropriate position for trilled r’s. Thus, the “d” and “t” sounds make it easier to roll onto the r sound.

I’ve been practicing all morning, and I’ve gotten it so I can roll onto the “r” from the “d” or “t”, but only for a moment before I lose it and have to repeat my tongue twisters again.

Maria comes to my door and checks on my progress. I try to demonstrate my limited newfound ability, but I don’t think she can tell the difference. We agree that I need more practice.

There is a rumor that some people simply can’t roll their r’s because of a genetic defect. I’ve read that if you can’t fold your tongue vertically, this is a sign that you will never be able to trill. Apparently Spanish-speakers also recognize a defect called Ankyloglossia, or “Tounge-tie”, which means that frenulum (the tissue that connects your tongue to base of your mouth) is too short. If you have “tongue-tie”, you cannot roll your r’s. People with “tongue-tie” have this defect surgically corrected as children. I don’t know if I have any of these problems (and I am not going under the knife in order to roll my r’s anytime soon), but maybe I am one of those who simply can’t trill.

Then again, I’ve also heard that the “genetic defect” rumor is complete nonsense as well. Here’s hoping.

Sites to help you learn how to pronounce the trilled r sound:

Tongue twister: http://www.tebytib.com/gest_web/proto_Seccion.pl?rfID=7&arefid=1647

Consonants: http://www.rocketlanguages.com/spanish/resources/pronunciation_spanish_consonants.php

A step-by-step guide: http://www.spanish-only.com/2008/03/how-to-roll-your-r/

More methods: http://www.wikihow.com/Roll-Your-%22R%22s

A linguist’s advice: http://linguistlist.org/issues/12/12-57.html

How to roll your R’s: http://wander-argentina.org/2011/06/how-to-roll-your-rs/

What if you can’t trill?: http://wander-argentina.org/2011/07/what-if-you-cant-trill-your-r/

— Emily Bowman, DUSA Student Blogger

A little over a week ago, I had just arrived in London. My friend and I were trying to decide where to go for brunch. She suggested Whole Foods. I told her I didn’t come all the way to London to go to Whole Foods. While I doubt most Americans in London (unless they have made the decision to live there) are rushing to Whole Foods in Kensington or Westminster, a tiny part of me regrets the decision to snub the familiar.

See, last night, in Spain, I went to a carnival. I’m talking tilt-a-whirl, cotton candy, toss-a-ring-win-a-prize, full-out carnival. What could be more American?

The Feria de Santiago is in Santander as part of the city’s annual Semana Grande. The main event of the fair is, in fact, bull fighting, but I did not witness that part of the event. No, I went with my host family and two girls who live next door to the carnival. It reminded me of the county fair that my brother and I would go to in my dad’s hometown when we’d visit our grandparents in Kansas for the summer. All that was missing were the cornfields and the exhibit of prize hens. But they had some other things at the carnival in Santander.

Latin pop blasted from every speaker. Everyone happily bopped along to the tune of “Asejeré” (a.k.a. – The Ketchup Song) and songs by Chino y Nacho.

Rollercoasters and swinging ships had names like “Montanita Rusa” and “Super Ratón”. I wondered if the people who manufacture these rides ship them off all-over the world, and simply change the names to fit the language of whichever country they are going to. Probably so, because they felt a whole lot like the same bumpy, dizzying, and questionably secure rides that I know and love.

Even the games were pretty much the same, except for one, which I think is genius. Instead of rows of dartboards or ring toss, one stand that was packed to the gills with various electronics, appliances, and anything else one may want (I had my eye on a bicycle). Older patrons sat in rows of chairs in front of the stand, playing bingo. Win the game, win a flat-screen. Knowing the reputation that carnivals typically have (and this one had children packed into booths selling tickets) I’m not going to wonder where all these prizes came from, but they were there for the winning!

Along with all the common confectionaries, you could find slices of coconut kept fresh under a constant drip of cool water.

There was no beer for the adults (shocking, I know), but there were multiple stalls outfitted with plastic grapes and great bubbling vats of sweet local wine. For €3 you could get a tall shot-glass full of the stuff, with a galleta as garnish.

They even had their own version of fried dough on a stick – churros, of course. Chocolate churros, churros filled with clotted cream, churros as long as ropes, you name it.

If you were really feeling European, you could go to the carnival’s pop-up restaurant, complete with waiters.

And that’s only what was on offer on the fairgrounds. Across the lot, tents were set up to display the food favorites of each region in Spain. The Associación de Castellanos y Leónes en Cántabria had out a spread (f.y.i. – Castilla y León is a region just north of Madrid, while Cántabria is the region Santander is in). Could you imagine there being, say, an Association of Texans in Colorado? There would be a public outcry! That just goes to show you how proud and deeply connected Spaniards are to their home regions.

I ate a traditional tortilla con jamón at the stand representing the region of Aragon. This tortilla was made of fried potato, a bit different than the soft, chewy flour tortillas that are the norm in Texas. But that is exactly my point.

My point is, while I’ve been going to carnivals all my life, this one was different. It’s impossible to ignore the American influence that has impacted countries all over the world thanks to globalization. Fairs and carnivals are actually native to European culture, which Americanization has taken and slung right back across the Atlantic with the U.S.A’s own unmistakable imprint. At the Feria de Santiago, Mickey Mouse and SpongeBob abound. However, even with things as trivial as carnivals it is clear that Spaniards have maintained their own cultural touches.

Travel is important because it introduces you to things that you’ve never seen before. But it’s also important because it lets you see things you think you already know in a new way. Cultural differences never stand out quite as vibrantly as when they are set against a backdrop of what is familiar, like a carnival.

So, when you are out-and-about in the world and someone, especially someone local, suggests going to McDonalds or the like – go! I hear in India they throw their fries from Mickey D’s in a bag of favorite Indian spices to literally “shake” it up. You may be surprised by what you find. It might be trivial, and not too terribly significant to local culture on the same scale as a historical landmark or religious institution, but I promise, you will leave a seemingly bland experience seeing your own culture and the culture you are visiting with new eyes.

Emily Bowman, DUSA Student Blogger

Author: E L B

The Trill of it All

Something like a County Fair in Santander, España