By Suki Nakamura, Out of Office
I arrived in Santiago with reasonably confident, classroom-tested Spanish and left my first week wondering if I'd been taught a completely different language. Chilean Spanish doesn't just have an accent, it has a velocity — words compressed, endings dropped, entire sentences delivered at a clip that leaves fluent Spanish speakers from Mexico or Spain quietly asking each other for translations. Bhutan, meanwhile, ambushed me with the opposite problem: I arrived braced for a serious language barrier in the Himalayas and instead found English taught in schools since the 1960s, spoken fluently by most people under fifty, and functioning as the actual language of instruction and government business.
One country will humble your language skills into dust. The other will quietly make you feel like you didn't need to bring any.
Illustration: The Alignment Times
| ✅ Do | ❌ Don't |
|---|---|
| Learn Chilean-specific slang (modismos) — standard textbook Spanish only gets you so far | Expect other Latin American Spanish speakers to automatically understand locals |
| Ask people to slow down — locals are used to it and rarely offended | Assume fluency in "Spanish" translates directly to fluency in Chilean Spanish |
| Watch Chilean TV or listen to local radio to train your ear for the speed | Get discouraged early — the learning curve is steep but genuinely climbable |
| ✅ Do | ❌ Don't |
|---|---|
| Rely on English confidently in cities, schools, and government offices | Assume English fluency extends equally to remote rural villages |
| Learn a few Dzongkha greetings — small effort is warmly appreciated | Assume Bhutan is linguistically "easy" everywhere — regional dialects vary widely |
| Use English for business and official matters without hesitation | Expect English-language signage or menus outside main tourist areas |
Chilean Spanish has a reputation across the Spanish-speaking world, and that reputation is entirely earned: it is fast, heavily accented, riddled with regional slang (modismos) that don't appear in any standard textbook, and prone to dropping final consonants with a casualness that makes "¿cómo estái?" sound nothing like the "¿cómo estás?" you painstakingly learned in language class. Words get compressed, sentence endings trail off, and an entire vocabulary of Chilean-specific expressions — "po," "cachai," "bacán," "fome" — gets deployed constantly, unapologetically, and largely without any acknowledgment that it might not be universally understood.
What makes this genuinely funny rather than just frustrating is that it's not only foreigners who struggle. Spanish speakers from Mexico, Colombia, or Spain regularly report needing time to adjust to Chilean speech patterns, which offers immigrants a small, petty comfort: it's not just you. The Instituto Nacional de Estadísticas' broader language and education data shows Chile investing heavily in English-language education in recent decades, and you'll find pockets of strong English proficiency in Santiago's business and tourism sectors — but this doesn't rescue you from needing functional Chilean Spanish for daily life, taxis, markets, and the genuinely essential task of understanding your neighbours. The upside, and it's a real one, is that Chileans are almost universally patient and unbothered by requests to slow down or repeat something; nobody takes offence at "más despacio, por favor," it's just accepted as the price of doing business with a country that talks this fast.
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Bhutan wrongfoots most visitors before they've even landed, because the assumption — remote, mountainous, culturally insulated kingdom — sets you up for a language barrier that simply doesn't materialise the way you'd expect. English has been the medium of instruction in Bhutanese schools since the 1960s, a deliberate national policy decision, and the result is a population where most people under fifty speak functional to fluent English, government business is conducted substantially in English, and signage in cities like Thimphu and Paro is bilingual as standard rather than as a tourist concession.
This doesn't mean Dzongkha, the national language, is sidelined — it remains the language of home, of ceremony, of national identity, and Bhutan's Ministry of Education actively works to preserve it alongside English precisely because the country is acutely aware of how easily a small language can be crowded out by a dominant global one. But for the visitor or expat, the practical experience is startlingly smooth: business meetings, hospital visits, hotel bookings, and casual conversation in urban and tourist-adjacent areas all happen comfortably in English, without the halting, gesture-heavy exchanges you might brace for. Where the real barrier shows up is in the countryside — rural villages where Dzongkha or regional dialects like Sharchopkha dominate and English drops away almost entirely, which is where a few memorised greetings suddenly go from a nice gesture to genuinely useful. Bhutan's linguistic accessibility is one of its most quietly remarkable features, and almost nobody mentions it before you arrive.
Chile will make you earn every conversation, sentence by rapid-fire sentence, and reward you with genuine fluency if you stick it out. Bhutan will hand you a linguistic safety net you didn't know to expect and then, just outside the cities, quietly take it away again. If ease of daily communication is your priority, Bhutan wins by a startling margin. If you actually want the humbling, character-building experience of being defeated by a language you technically already speak, Chile will deliver that in spades, repeatedly, with a smile and zero slowing down.
Illustration: The Alignment Times
Reddit r/chile — paraphrased: my Colombian coworker needed subtitles for a Chilean sitcom, and she's a native Spanish speaker, so I stopped feeling bad about my confusion
Internations Santiago — paraphrased: three years of university Spanish and I still asked "más despacio" at least four times a day for the first six months
Quora — paraphrased: "Is English widely spoken in Bhutan?" answer: shockingly yes in Thimphu and Paro, then almost not at all twenty minutes outside either city
Chile teaches humility the hard way, one impossibly fast sentence at a time, and rewards persistence with real fluency and real belonging. Bhutan teaches you not to trust your own assumptions about isolation and language — sometimes the "remote Himalayan kingdom" speaks better English than the exchange student sitting next to you. Prepare differently for each: bring slang flashcards to Santiago, and bring a few Dzongkha phrases to Bhutan for the villages, because the cities won't need them, but the mountains absolutely will.
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Photo by Ketut Subiyanto via Pexels
Suki Nakamura
Staff writer covering financial markets and corporate strategy. Has strong opinions about spreadsheets.