OVERSEAS BRIEFING

Author: ANNA SPENCER

MONTEVIDEO, URUGUAY - It's strange, but one of the things I miss most about living in the United States is eavesdropping. Not the eavesdropping one does through a keyhole or with an upside-down water glass against a door, but the unconscious kind. The kind one does in the dining hall, or on a bus. The accidental, I-couldn't-help-but-overhear, you-were-talking-so-loud-I-assumed-you-were-talking-to-me, casual, everyday eavesdropping.

Surprisingly, it takes highly developed language skills to be able to successfully listen in on someone else's conversation. I know this mainly because I lack these very important skills in Spanish. In Montevideo, Uruguay, I am probably the most polite person around when it comes to improper listening. On the buses, all I hear is a constant rumble of human speech. On the streets, the same thing. If they're not talking to me, I don't know what they're saying.

Clearly, after being submerged in the culture and language for several months, I understand far more than I used to. For example, I can now speak on the phone. It seems like such a small thing, but when one considers how much of human conversation is non-verbal, being able to understand someone one cannot see becomes a much more impressive thing.

This morning, a friend of my host mother congratulated me on my progress. Ironically, this was just after I had replied, "yes," to the query, "How's it going?" But in all fairness, I had correctly relayed the message that my host mother was not in and that she would not be returning until the afternoon. That's two out of three. Much improved from when I refused to answer the phone at all.

I remember the first time I answered the phone. It would have been a disaster if it hadn't been Ana, my host mother, calling home. She called three or four times in a row and I finally could not stand the constant ringing.

Of course, she was shocked when I picked up. "Who is this?"

Me: What?

Ana: Ah! Anna. It's Ana. How are you?

Me: What? Ana?

Ana: Yes. Are the boys there?

Me: What?

Ana: Juan and Diego?

Me: Not here.

Ana: Okay. Tell them to call me when you see them. Okay?

Me, having no idea what she just said: Okay.

After that I answered the phone more often. Friends of the family got used to repeating themselves three or four times and the uncertainty involved in the process: one never could be sure that I understood the message. At least once that I know of, because she called back fairly immediately, I hung up on a person. I thought the conversation was over.

But, back to eavesdropping. It's something we take for granted, much like being able to understand the person on the other end of a telephone line. It takes almost no effort when one is dealing with one's native tongue. Otherwise it takes an intense amount of concentration and is nearly impossible to do without being noticed. To avoid unpleasant confrontations, I don't eavesdrop often. Instead I just sit back and let the sounds wash over me, waiting for the day when the mish-mash of noise will sort itself out into words. I bide my time and dream of sitting on a park bench listening to the people as they walk by and understanding every word.