Andrea Ibanez shares her frustration navigating English grammar as an immigrant.
Cultural shock in my journey as an immigrant has been less about grammar, and more about the hidden Bolivian words that carry whole worlds inside them — words of affection, manners and ritual that English has no space for.
The first time I was invited to a friend’s house, the table was full of food and laughter. Before picking up my fork, my instinct was automatic. I looked up, ready to say “provecho,” the word that blesses the meal and makes food feel shared. But when I asked how to say it in English, they said, “Enjoy your food.”
It felt flat. Cold. That day, I realized “benefit” didn’t exist here. And when I swallowed that first bite, it felt like swallowing part of myself. But that wasn’t the only word that got lost. On a cloudy day, I asked my friends if they were “friolentas” — people who get cold easily. They laughed and said, “No, I’m not cold.” But they didn’t understand. I wasn’t asking about temperature. I was asking if they were the kind of people who felt the chill before everyone else.
That’s when I learned that Spanish affection has levels, and English sometimes skips straight to the extremes. These moments used to frustrate me. But now I see them as proof of growth — the quiet rewiring of a brain learning to build bridges not just between words, but between emotions.