I'm awkward in English, too

Oh my sala de profes. It is the only place where I have free internet access. It has an unlimited supply of nescafe that is miraculously refilled the second it runs out by a nice man who always smiles at me. It is my only current access in the country of Chile to a computer table/desk of appropriate height and stability. It even has nice frosted windows to let in natural light, and air conditioning that is unfortunately usually turned on only when it gets dark and cold out.

Being a sala de profes, it is also, obviously, filled with other profes. And herein lies the problem.

I do all of my work here. I make an endless supply of power point presentations. I check my email. I chat with friends. Now that I've created a blog/imaginary friend, I also write here. And so it comes to pass that I spend several hours a day sitting in a small room with up to seven or eight other people who may or may not be trying to talk to me.

Usually I don't realize that I've been spoken to until the unfortunate friendly person turns to a friend and says, "No entienda," usually with an expression half of amazement and half of exasperation. At this point I have a choice:
1. Look up and smile the "I have no idea what you're saying, but I recognize that it is aimed at me and I appreciate the effort, perhaps in a few months we will be able to have a conversation" smile. It's not a fun smile to make. That's an awful lot of information to convery in one facial expression.
2. Keep staring at my computer and pretend that I don't even understand that I don't understand.
My choice depends on mood, moon cycle, perceived friendliness of the speaker, etc. I would place this situation at the lowest end of the awkwardness scale.

Next up, as we mount the scale: the fact that Chileans always greet each other both when entering and leaving a room. When I walk into the room, I have to start with an hola. This often leads to someone getting the mistaken impression that I am capable of communicating with them. But I follow it up with a quick "I'm very sorry but I don't speak Spanish" smile and scurry around setting up my computer, and that usually solves the problem. If possible, I stumble through a very basic series of greetings and pleasantries until the other person realizes that that's as far as I go, and gives up. Once settled, I greet all entering and leaving profes with the "confused but friendly" smile, and usually all goes well.

Becoming more awkward: the people who continue talking to me past the point where it is clear that I don't understand them.....but don't adjust to accomodate my massive limitations. There is one very friendly man who will talk to me at least once a day, but in general I tend to feel that it's more for the benefit of his friends than for genuine conversation. He'll start with a monologue that I don't understand. Then he'll express amazement to the room at large that I haven't followed. Then he'll ask one question very slowly, usually something odd. So far: Do you like to dance reggaeton? Do you like pisco sours? Do you listen to rap? I answer cautiously, becase the next step is always a long, very quickly stated question that I don't understand, then a conversation with his friends that seems to be fun for all. And I just sit there smiling the "I'm a good sport but I don't understand you and I hope you're not making fun of me" smile. For full effect this must be accompanied by nervous glances at all participants in the conversation.

And finally, rounding it all off: When the room is actively engaged in conversation, and then I start to pick up words: Ingles. Gringo. Worse: Rubia. At those points I'm completely in the dark. Are they talking about me? To me? About something entirely unrelated to me? And then I have to try for the "I'm not accusing you of anything, because you're probably talking about something entirely normal, but in the unlikely event that you are talking about me, I would appreciate being included in the conversation such as I can" smile. Oh! Writing is a mirror to life...it's happening right now. It kind of feels like middle school, that would be the best comparison......

So yes, the minefield that is the sala de profes. As you can imagine, it takes a good amount of effort to smile in such nuanced ways, and I live in constant fear of pulling out the wrong one. Beyond this, when not feeling compelled to interact directly with people, I am still the weird little deaf-mute sitting in the corner while everyone else hangs out. It's kind of a general low-level awkwardness punctuated by peaks and valleys.