This summer I will be visiting Portugal for the fifth year in a row, which is either a huge compliment to the country’s hospitality or a true illustration of the rut into which the Ranganathans have descended. We even go so far as to stay in exactly the same place every time, considering it adventurous to pop to a beach we haven’t been to before.
The reasons for this are mainly to do with how great Portugal is: it has sunshine and beautiful beaches and lovely food and welcoming locals, like many holiday destinations, but without wanting to sound like one of those wankers who’s just been travelling, we just like the vibe. I also love familiarity. I like turning up to the house and knowing whose room is whose. I know that we unpack quickly and head to the local supermarket to stock up. I know that I text my mum to let her know we’ve arrived safely, and she replies telling me to remember that children go missing there.
The one thing I haven’t done, much to my chagrin, is to learn any Portuguese whatsoever. The truth is that there is no real need, as everybody is used to tourists and speaks impeccable English, but still it feels lazy. The first time I went, I didn’t feel bad; I’m not going to start learning a new language for a single trip. But having been many times now, the decision not to try to at least pick up some key phrases seems wilfully ignorant.
Before my wife and I had kids, when holidays were about having a nice time, we visited Barcelona for a weekend. I speak a little bit of Spanish, and used it when we went to restaurants and bars. The main effect was impressing my wife, because she speaks no Spanish and it looked as if I knew what I was doing. In order to keep her impressed, I had to pretend that what arrived at the table was what I thought I had ordered, and that, yes, I had decided that tonight she might like the squid she had always told me she hated.
Learning Portuguese would be a wonderful way of connecting with the locals and engaging with the country in a deeper way. But I know this is not what will happen. What is more likely to happen is that I will try to learn Portuguese for a couple of weeks, forget about it for ages, and then start again in the two weeks before the holiday. Then my wife and children will watch me offend a series of locals by struggling to say something basic, and then being completely unable to understand the response.
For this reason, I would strongly argue that not speaking Portuguese not only makes the holiday better, and subject to fewer logistical errors, but is also better for Ranga–Porto relations. And so I have resolved not to learn the language, and this time feel much better about it, because it is a considered rather than a default position. I am still being lazy and ignorant, but for a reason.
What I could do instead, over the next few years, is learn at my own pace. Gradually pick it up with no deadline, until one summer, as we head to the first supermarket shop of the holiday, I start smashing out fluent Portuguese, understanding responses, and engaging with grocery items in a way that previously seemed impossible. My wife and children will look on in awe as one of the shop assistants unlocks a door accessible only to people who speak the language – where the bread is fresher and the prices lower.
Far more likely is that I don’t, and instead use my one Portuguese word in every interaction and wait for the locals to be impressed, in a way that I haven’t been by the fact they speak completely fluent English. And then I will kiss my new blue passport.
