My first day in Puerto Escondido, I cut the base of my foot walking back from a turtle release program1Each of the 7 worldwide species of sea turtle are endangered. We supported the repopulation effort by releasing hatchlings within 10 meters (30 feet) of the water’s edge. From this distance it was much easier for hatchlings to reach the safety of the ocean – though they still had to contend with speedy sand crabs and the occasional hungry seagull., requiring stitches. The worst news: no surfing for a week while it healed.
Puerto Escondido’s main attraction is its surf – it’s known as “Mexican Pipeline” for the immense size and perfect shape of Zicatela, its foremost break. Waves are the main reason Puerto Escondido is a destination to begin with. But in need of something sedentary to do, I decided to take Spanish lessons.
Lessons took place in a cozy, air-conditioned building a short walk from the beach. Children’s books of all languages covered classroom shelves. Lessons at my level were one on one; I drilled grammar with Marguerite, and honed all-around skills with Adriana. Noun and adjective gender agreement, indefinite and definite object pronouns, combining subjunctive and conditional tenses – I drilled this and more, until I was overwhelmed2Like a Windows 2000-era computer trying to run Rollercoaster Tycoon 3 – everything slowed down until even the easiest operation, in this case translating a simple sentence in the subjunctive, was enough to grind me to a total halt..
But the most important thing I learned, or rather re-learned, was the importance of deliberate practice. To be great at any activity, you need to put in many, many hours of work – exactly why I’m immersing myself for a full year. But equally important, and something I was missing, is that these hours need to be spent on the right work: deliberate practice.
Deliberate practice means putting myself through exercises explicitly designed to improve my performance. It means drilling specific skills repeatedly, with a mechanism for continuous feedback (the more instantaneous the feedback, the better). Exercises should be tough, requiring focus and mindfulness.
In short, the activities that are easiest to procrastinate – especially with the deluge of distractions that accompany a travel adventure.
Looking back at my first month in Mexico City, I was deliberately practicing just from being immersed. In Chapter 3, I filled up an entire page’s worth of “miscellaneous notes” bullets on the challenges of chatting in a group – it was definitely out of my comfort zone. Speaking or listening in almost any capacity pushed my skills. I got quality, continuous feedback whenever I tried – either I understood and was understood, or not. I was executing on the plan outlined in Chapter 1, and it was working. But as a result of that month, things started to get easy. My vocabulary expanded; my ear attuned.
The tricky part is that to grow, the practice has to be difficult. But by the time I left Mexico City to hit the road, I’d reached a level where Spanish immersion was more fun than challenging. That’s not to say that my Spanish was perfect – far from it. But I’d reached an acceptable level, and begun to coast.
Spanish lessons brought this back into sharp relief, and I’m thankful. I’ve certainly improved over the past 3 months3I think I started the summer at upper B1 level on the CEFR, and I’ve moved up to full B2. For an explanation of the CEFR scale, check out the next footnote, but to reach my goal of full fluency, (defined in this case as C1 level in the CEFR4I’m using the Common European Framework of Reference for Languages, usually abbreviated as CEFR, and owe you a quick explanation. CEFR is the most common scale for romance languages like Spanish. The levels, in ascending order of proficiency, are A1, A2, B1, B2, C1, C2. A1 and A2 are beginner levels. B1 is the first “intermediate” level, at which point you can converse over a variety of topics, but communication is awkward, halting; you can’t express enough complexity for interesting discussions. B2 is the first level that could be called fluency, speech is spontaneous and more or less natural, despite grammar errors. C1 represents mastery for a foreign speaker; C2 is native fluency. It is theoretically possible to reach C2 as a foreigner, but my trip goal is to reach C1. For more information on each level, here is a good primer.) I have much further to go. My challenge will be to balance deliberate practice with distraction; to put in the right work while still exploring destinations to their fullest.
Even with a stitched foot, Puerto Escondido was a hell of a destination. Surf break Zicatela very much lived up to its hype as the best wave in Mexico5The craziest part was that it broke incredibly close to shore, maybe 30 feet away, so that even when the wave was 1.5 to 2 times overhead, the paddle out was relatively simple, and crafty surfers could make it out without duck diving.. Fish tacos were consistently incredible, especially a restaurant named Pepe’s, nestled inside the house of a former professional surfer, minutes from the beach. My hostel was filled with lively people and livelier nightlife. Even on Sunday night, a DJ arrived to the rooftop terrace and started spinning deep house tracks. Everyone got up to dance. So did I. Why not? I need to practice, but I need to have fun, too.
Leaving Puerto Escondido, I stopped by San Jose del Pacifico for a day6Epic mountain views, great hikes., then cruised into Oaxaca City. In the city I reunited with Smiley, from Chapter 8.
Smiley found Oaxaca almost by accident. When he decided to work remotely, he first looked at Mexico City, but hated it for the size, smog, and similarity to New York. He aired his frustrations with a friend in the city. “I want to live somewhere sunny, smaller, and filled with artists” he lamented. “Oh” she replied, “you should move to Oaxaca.”
The city certainly lived up to its billing. It had its share of tourist attractions, but lifestyle was the real attraction here. Delicious regional specialties mingled with endless cafes and art workshops on every other block. Every day I would discover a new gem, whether a cool library or a chocolate shop with interesting architecture. For a musician searching for inspiration, there could be few better places to stay.
On my first night in town, Smiley invited me out to Nueva Babel, a small bar with live music for dancing Salsa. That first night, the music was moving too quickly for me to do much more than watch and practice my 8 count.
Observing the fluid rhythm of different dancers, and with deliberate practice in mind, I was inspired. I had a week here in the city of art and artists – why not learn to dance?
I started the next day that I could, Saturday, at a dance school only 2 blocks from my hostel. Even at the beginner level, classes were intense and moved quickly. We spent the first half hour on solo steps – basico, lado a lado, vuelta, vuelta izquierda, suzie cue, on and on until they were ingrained in my head. The remainder of the time was spent on the partner dancing, and again I drilled different turns – vuelta, vuelta los dos, cross, cross con vuelta, vuelta dos manos7Vuelta means turn, which is why you see it so often here. – until they felt natural.
After another 2 hour session on Sunday, I showed up for Monday lessons with a different teacher. Apparently, we were going to learn bachata. And, because there were limited students, we would combine with the intermediate class. Talk about challenging work – I’d never danced bachata in my life, and 30 minutes into learning it I was doing intermediate spins with more advanced students. Still, the quick pace kept me on my toes8Literally and by the end of the hour I could passably dance the routine.
Next were intermediate salsa lessons – I didn’t think I could hack it, but the teacher from the first hour convinced me to try. We learned salsa on 2, which Smiley later told me is so different from Salsa on 1 that it might as well be a different dance entirely. Once again, I was pushed to my limit, and struggled throughout the class, but by the end I’d learned something.
The rest of the week continued in a similar manner – I’d do a tourist attraction in the day, relax in my super chill hostel9Hostel Luz de Luna Nayoo is the mother of all chill hostels and I’d recommend it to anyone heading to Oaxaca. It came complete with hammocks, a prominent pocket garden featuring a christmas-light-draped cactus, a soundproofed entrance blocking any street noise, and a music playlist alternating between zen, lofi and classical., practice Spanish, then take salsa classes in the afternoon. Every day I’d walk out of the dance studio high on endorphins, excited to have learned something new. I could feel myself getting better, slowly but surely – no longer straining to hear the 8 count, able to differentiate between different songs, making steps more smoothly.
Smiley was the other keystone of my experience in Oaxaca. Everywhere we went, we would run into his friends – on street corners, lunch spots and bakeries. We’d only spent a couple days together between Guanajuato and Guadalajara, but had built a comfortable rapport from shared stories and mutual curiosity. He also invited me to several parties, where a tight-knit group of expats got together to celebrate given any opportunity. I met tons of interesting people from these parties, which often ended with tipsy salsa dancing.
The real test though, would always be the dancehall. Thursday night rolled around again – perfect timing to go out with Smiley to Nueva Babel and test what I’d learned. We got there at midnight. Smiley called out the dance style for each song; the first one was a cumbia joint. The second was cha cha cha. Shit. I’d learned only salsa and bachata.
But finally one salsa song came on, then another one. I found a partner and we danced through the first, and the second. The band kept playing, and I fell into a pleasant rhythm of dancing to salsa and watching others when it was a different step. Each song I salsa-ed to was an adrenaline rush, and though each partner was different, I could feel myself relaxing, learning and improving slightly with each song. I wasn’t fantastic – no, I certainly wasn’t fantastic – but I could do this.
Deliberate practice can be arduous, demanding, exhausting. But every so often, there is a breakthrough moment that makes it all worthwhile. I’m excited to build on the practice from here out – in Spanish, Salsa and beyond.
Miscellaneous Notes:
- For more on the benefits of deliberate practice, check out this excellent blog post from productivity and mindfulness guru Cal Newport. I’ve been a fan of this guy for years; his blog is great.
- Ironically, deliberate practice was certainly on my mind while surfing – trying to surf every day and get a bit better every time – but not something I was thinking through in Spanish.
- I’m skipping over the tourist stuff that I did in this chapter. To be fair, there wasn’t too much that I did in Puerto Escondido due to the cut on my foot; I spent a lot of time just chilling out, going to the beach on occasion, getting fish tacos, and so on.
- However, in Oaxaca I did quite a lot: a trip to Monte Alban10Incredible ruins that vaguely evoked Machu Picchu. It’s an abandoned Zapoteco city up on a hill in cloud forest, and while less remote or extensive, it was a very cool spot., an outing at the Cultural Museum11Had some of the excavated treasures from Monte Alban, but focused more on an incredibly detailed retelling of Mexican history highlighting Oaxacan involvement., the botanical gardens next door12Contained hundreds of indigenous Oaxacan species, but could only be accessed through a 1 hour tour. Highlight: plants whose leaves curled up immediately when touched. Other highlight: a tree that appeared to be peeling – nicknamed the gringo., and a free walking tour which covered lots of art shops, local foods and the major churches and landmarks in the city.
- Worth its own bullet point was a 1 day tour which included the biggest tree in Oaxaca, a trip to a native Zapoteco weaving town, a mezcal tour1315 minuts of tour, 30 minutes drinking free samples of all types of mezcal and mezcal-based liquors. Everyone was flamas., a tour through archaeological site Mitla, and petrified waterfalls Hierve el Agua. My group consisted most of Mexican girls, who nicknamed me Güero – literally, “whitey.” In Mexico it’s very common to comment on someone’s physical appearance, much more so than in the US. The nickname was affectionate, not insulting.
- Smiley was both a linchpin of my experience in Oaxaca, and a good influence on me. He’s easy going, well informed, and always meeting people – I highly doubt the average expat had his level of celebrity in the city. Indeed, I felt like he was the proverbial “big fish in a small pond” – a great dancer who spoke relatively perfect Spanish14Smiley would say he’s stronger in English, and could particularly work on expanding his vocabulary. Still, the words he knows, he uses perfectly. He speaks slowly, with none of my hesitation or searching for the right verb tense. who had lived in other parts of Latin America such as Brazil and Nicaragua.
- Anthropological tidbit I learned from Zuno, a Guadalajaran dude I met at the hostel in Puerto Escondido: the Mexican machismo is a well documented part of the culture, but he says the women taken revenge in an unexpected way: making extra spicy meals. Apparently, whenever he was in serious trouble as a kid, he endured the spiciest dinners of his life.