Show up, wing it, adapt, talk … and shop?

It’s been a good week. Five ‘missions’ were taken on that included formulating and memorising my Portuguese elevator pitch (Olá, chamo-me Carl. Tenho sessenta e um anos. Vivo em São Martinho do Porto. Sou casado com a Louisa, tenho cinco filhos, três gatos, dois cães e adoro comida e vinho portugueses. Estou a aprender a falar português. E o senhor, há quanto tempo vive aqui?); declaring my intention to raise my game with my neighbours and the lovely people in the cafe; booking and getting a haircut; as well as having a native language only phone call with a local friend.

I made progress, mais ou menos, on all of these fronts, but more remarkably benefitted in a more general way from the spirit of showing up, which was generally appreciated and encouraged by whoever came into my sights! Nike’s ‘just doing’ approach works when it comes to speaking a language, literally lifting things off the page, potentially turning a mute A2 student into a clumsy but active A-Team style SWAT operative, who loves it when the plan comes together, out loud.

Week Two has begun, with commitment to five more missions in the field, along with some new ‘cadets’, picking up and running with my bold, immersion approach. They already have vocabulary, attended classes and downloaded apps, but here they are, with me, on the final frontier of actually speaking. Like I’ve said, I am not Portuguese, I am not a teacher, but I am prepared to lead by example and come up with way after way of engaging, adapting, and growing in confidence and command of our host tongue.

One way that dropped out of the ether in this last week of piping up in Portuguese was the ‘foodie flashmob’, which I share this week, hoping you’ll be inspired to try it for yourself with family and friends.

There’s a particular kind of silence that falls over a foreigner standing at a market stall in Portugal. The trader has just asked you something perfectly ordinary: how much you want, whether you need it cut a certain way, whether you’re taking anything else today, and your brain, which was quite happily following along with “bom dia” and “quanto custa?“, simply switches off. You point. You smile. You retreat to English, or to silence, or to the supermarket, where nobody has to ask you anything at all.

Let’s get over that, shall we? Not with another app, not with another worksheet, but with a flash mob, SWAT-style and a sense of our lives depending on it, which shopping for food can engender, in a primal sort of way. A big bonus here is that you’ll be supporting your local mercado too, which is vital as they stand perilously in the shadow of the retail giants. Use them, or lose them.

Here’s how it works, and I am trialling it in my own town, this week: a group of us, learners at every stage, complete beginners included, are going to turn up together at the mercado municipal here in São Martinho, on an agreed morning. We will prepare lightly, using the SWAT bootcamp module on buying fruit, veg, fish, and meat from local traders, entirely in Portuguese. Then we simply do it. Together, in public, at the same market, at the same time. A foodie flash mob, essentially. Except instead of suddenly breaking into dance, we suddenly break into Portuguese.

Afterwards, we compare notes over a coffee. Who froze? Who nailed it? What phrase came out of nowhere and actually worked. It’s part practice, part performance, part group therapy for the fear of being misunderstood. This is the edge I keep coming back to with my ‘Speak Portuguese’ community and ethic: learning a language and speaking it are not the same skill. You can conjugate every verb perfectly sitting at a desk and still stand at a peixaria unable to ask if the fish is caught or farmed.

The market strips away the desk entirely. There’s no correct answer to memorise, because you don’t know what’s coming next. You have to actually listen, actually respond, actually adapt – in real time, to a real person, with real money changing hands. Yes, it’s scary. But fortune favours the brave, Portuguese people are kind and helpful, and ‘going in’ with others in the same boat gets results and creates supportive camaraderie.

You’ll likely make friends with real traders too, the real people of Portugal, who will notice when you come back the following week and attempt the same phrases, a little more confidently. Over time, in the towns where I’ve lived, independent shop-keepers and market stallholders have become some of my best teachers, like Ernesto the butcher in Curia, and the ‘fish witch’ here in my home town, whose nickname I’ll explain on another occasion, a sardine-bearing siren, for sure!

These lovely people are not being paid to be patient with my Portuguese. They just are, and that, more than any classroom, is what starts to make a place feel like home rather than somewhere you’re merely passing through. Making the effort to buy your satsumas, steak, or sardines in the local language is a small act of respect that costs you nothing but a bit of embarrassment. Most Portuguese people I’ve met will forgive an atrocious accent instantly. Fewer may forgive not trying at all.

To re-cap:

Pick a team
Pick a day
Memorise the basics, and confer before the ‘mission’
Turn up on the day, go shop, and do it only in Portuguese
Support each other, if necessary
Then regroup for a coffee afterwards and enjoy the debrief

Enjoy your foodie flashmob as well as the delicious local produce. And feel proud to know that you have boosted your Portuguese conversational skills and confidence, as much as you have boosted the vital local economy. It’s a wing it win-win with so many upsides.

Carl Munson hosts Good Morning Portugal! and runs the Speak Portuguese community, sharing the SWAT method – Show up, Wing it, Adapt, Talk – at swatportuguese.com

Read Carl Munson’s previous article: How is your Portuguese?