For example, I first saw a black man when I was 5. He was called Mr. Brown, which suited him, I thought. I didn't know that he was supposed to be called black, or brown, or anything really. I just knew he had dark skin, very short and curly hair, and had a descriptive last name. The next black person I saw was when I was a young teen. Really. I'm from a pasty white english-to-the-throne background. Hail the Queen, for the good of the empire, and all that.


I went to school learning Canadian english. I speak with a Canadian accent, and I'm told it's one the strongest ones my friendly southern neighbours have heard. I learned west coast Canadian french in highschool (which is apparently different from quebecois french, which is very different from parisian french), at least enough to forget, and then enough to remember when spending time in the french speaking part of Belgium, and of course, France. I've never been to Quebec, the french speaking province of my own country.

In my teens I knew Vietnamese, Indians, Pakistanis, British, French, Chinese, Japanese, South Africans, and, a few Americans. But I never knew any Mexicans. Or Guatemalans, or Ticos, or Ecuadorians, or, or, or ... there was no one in my life from Latin America. I never heard a lick of Spanish.

Of course, by the time I was adult, by the time I had a partner, a truck, an itchy foot to travel, I'd seen a Mexican and I'd heard some Spanish. I knew it was a latin language, as was the french that with which I was familiar. I knew the Spanish had confused gender with nouns, that somehow they thought that a table, chair, car, picnic, roller coaster ... name your noun ... had a sex. I had guessed that adjectives came after the noun. They were houses white, not white houses. I knew they rrrrrolled their 'R's.

But the fact is, I knew no Spanish.

And then, one day, I crossed the American border into Tijuana, kept driving past Ensanada, found some beach, and pulled up some sand. And then I went to find something to eat.

Ordering your first fish taco is pretty easy. I mean, you don't even have to say anything. Hold up a finger or two. Read the menu, sound out the one you want. Ok, so you don't know the difference between pascados or camarones yet, but who cares, order one and you'll find out. Do the math and pay, and count the change. The garble-de-gook you hear back will be meaningless, maybe you'll hear "hasta-luego", or "gracias" but that's about it. Say gracias and smile a lot.

Be patient. In a week you'll begin to hear the start and stop of sentences. You'll start to hear the rhythm of the language - you'll hear it as a language, that there really is some meaning. And you've become really good with your hands, that international sign language we all know seems to be part of the human genetic makeup.

After 2 to 3 weeks you've met enough people who know enough english to help you out. You've learned key nouns, and you've probably read enough of the travellers guide to spanish to know basic verbs. You can't use future and past tense yet, and you're confused if you should be addressing people in the informal or formal, which is irrelevant anyways because you're unsure of how to do it.

It's been a month now, and you're starting to have real discussions. Maybe you've told people about your familia, your hermanos y hermanas. You know you're a Canadienses or Americano, that you come from a provincia or estado. Sure, it's slow going, and the native speaker is patient and helps you complete sentences, but it's working. 30 days ago you couldn't speak anything!

After 5 or 6 weeks you're able to deal with technical issues. Your vehicle needs repairs and you're able to communicate the problem. The border guards give you trouble and you (barely) manage to keep up with what's going on around so you don't sink in the bureaucracy.

This is how it was for us. Every day a new word, a new phrase. After 3 months you're not fluent, but you can hold your own. You might tell jokes or ask a stranger a question.

And 2 years later I returned and spent the first few days being shocked until I picked right back up where I left off. My pasty white, northern tongue fell back into the rhythm of the truly beautiful language that Spanish really is.

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Like Doug and Stephanie, are you prepared to help out when you are on the road? I'm not just talking about dropping what you're doing to help someone in an emergency; I'm talking about pro-actively organizing yourself before you leave. If you haven't considered this, read on: here are some ideas.

Giving Pictures

Let's start with Doug and Stephanie's Giving Pictures program. They have a small photo printer that connects directly to their digital camera, and wherever they go they take pictures of people and give them as momentos. This may seem trivial to the first world, but there are many places where people have never seen a picture of themselves. What a simple but powerful gift to give. Read about the details of Giving Pictures here.

Trading Languages

The last time we were in Central America our Spanish was pretty green. And when we stayed with people who we would meet on the road we would spend evenings lazing about teaching each other our own languages. What a need these people had to understand and speak English. And what a need we had to know Spanish! This was a fair trade - I remember as a child having foreign guests in our house and what an impact it was on my young mind.

So learn your English, and learn it properly. Of course you can speak and read it, but can you explain it? Understand nouns, verbs, adjectives, adverbs, past, present, future tense. Speak clearly. Do not use contractions. Separate your slang from the Queen's English (slang is important, but it confuses someone who is learning the mechanics of a language).

Bring a grade 1 or 2 reader or language book. Maybe photocopy a series of worksheets that you can hand out.

Sharing Food

We stayed with a family in the Chiapas Highlands in Mexico. We had just travelled through a large city and stocked up on fresh produce. When it came to be dinner time we offered to cook. It was amazing to see the 7 year old girls eyes light up when she saw a fist-sized tomato and red-onion come out of the shopping bag.

Her circle of life was limited to a few square kilometres, and the throughput of outside goods was next to none. Even if the local market had large vegetables this family couldn't afford it.

Pens and Pencils

In Guatemala we bought a stack of pens and pencils and gave them away. These went to mothers, fathers, teachers, and children. They have an education system, but supplies are limited and for many families are cost prohibitive. Sending a child to school seems important to them, at least to learn to read and write or to understand basic math to run a business and sell their wares. A 30 cent writing stick goes much farther for them than it does for us.

Aid Organizations

I belong to a growing organization called Water For People, based out of Colorado. Until recently most volunteer involvement from local chapters was to raise money to send to various clean water supply and education programs they have around the developing world. In 2007 they launched the World Water Corps which allows volunteers to actively participate in water systems scoping studies and post construction monitoring.

Why not, on an overland trip into a developing country, send aside some time to help out with one these types of programs? There are so many around, and often they require you to pay your own way for a few weeks to a number of months of volunteer work. Plan your itinerary to match up with a program, do the legwork before you leave, and put your time in. You'll find the rewards far greater than you can imagine.

Do you have any other ideas? Know of any programs that could use volunteer help? If so, add it in the comments below.

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You and your wife are cruising down the Nicaraguan No.1 highway at 80 km/hr, minding your own business, and 2 armed Policia flag you down. As far as you can tell, there's no good reason to be stopped. You're on the outskirts of Managua, a city not known for it's open-armed welcome to foreigners and the local area is poor and depressed. You're tired because of the late night partying in the hacienda you stayed in, and the 4:30 am wakeup call that gets the country moving. You're a little stressed about the budget due to a bad car battery. It's hot. You're thirsty. You can get by with the language, but you don't have the skills to verbally maneuver your way out of a tough spot. What do you do?

Well, pull over for a start - that's the obvious. But who says what in the car? Do you get out? Do you hand over passports? Maybe your wallet? Maybe you can make a feeble joke, or maybe you've got the resolve to muster up a disarming smile. You both know that you're not walking away from this without a lighter pocket book. And you're both hoping that a lighter pocket book is the worst that's going to happen. There is no time to plan a story or to practice your Spanish. This is life, the real deal, unscripted, and there's no right answer.

Solidarity

You have to meet these situations with solidarity. You both have to agree, no, you have to have already agreed on your actions. The only way to do this is to have your roles clearly defined.

Raenelle and I have a Captain. Yes, like on a ship. What the Captain says, goes. All other ships officers and mates fall in line accordingly, in nothing less than a supporting role. Being a Captain is not a power trip, but rather a guide for your ship and crew to ensure everyone's safety and security. At least to the best of your ability.

Of course Captains make mistakes. But the point is that when there is no time for discussion, and showing your cards or showing indecision could mean the difference between winning or losing, someone has to lead, and someone has to support. And when anyone makes a mistake, it's ok - the goal is not perfection, the goal is to get by, and always have a way to deal with problems.

A Successful Team

So how did this story end? We were in the middle of some silly argument (we were tired, hot, and frustrated, and both in the same vehicle). I saw the policemen first. I looked at Raenelle, and that was it. The look of "drop what we're doing, and get into defense position". Something like Optimus Prime might do to his crew of car and truck robots before transforming into some mega machine..."Autobots-Transform!" (Yes I grew up in the '80s). So, the argument fell away, and the police came up to the window. I told Raenelle "I'll talk - I'll let you know if I need any help."

I got out of the truck, and did muster up what I thought to be a disarming smile. I felt secure enough to ask Raenelle to stay where she was, not move, but to guard our belongings. The 3 of us walked to the back of the vehicle, where had a brief but open discussion about the morality of bribing, how police need a certain salary, how the government doesn't pay it, how travellers like us probably have more than we need. Raenelle, squirming while she could only imagine what might be going on, did as we had agreed, and stayed put.

The police and I agreed upon a suitable fine, and I called to Raenelle to produce the dues. We all shook hands, and walked away, a mildly lighter pocketbook, and everyone involved in excellent health. Raenelle and I forgot the argument we had, but instead felt the surge of adrenaline and strength you get from successful victory.

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