So, week number two in Spain.
The speaking of Spanish doesn't seem to be getting much easier. It's a stroke of luck that Spaniards often end their sentences with 'si?' or 'no?' - on more than one occasion I've used that as a massive prompt as to how to respond, smiled and nodded or shook my head accordingly and left it at that despite not having understood the question at all. Although, on Sunday I was reminded how much worse it could be when I was introduced to a multilingual lady who'd been told I study Russian. She smiled broadly and said "ah! Ты говоришь по-русски тоже?" I stared at her blankly for a few seconds before realising she'd asked me to confirm my Russian prowess. Not for the first time, I couldn't even remember the word for no, floundered blindly for something to say then gave up and muttered something about it not being my forte. In English. She was unimpressed.
But language barriers aside, the week's gone pretty well. Cristina has continued to be a source of constant entertainment, my favourite quote being her response to "Goodnight Cristina, sleep well" - "I don't want to sleep well". People used to say I had to have the last word in everything but I've surely met my match here. We've enjoyed a few more trips to the beach and watched more episodes of 'Los Hermanos Koala' than I'd care to mention. On one of the beach trips I was once again ambushed by a shoal of fish. I'm starting to think they've got it in for me.
On Friday night, Beth and I went out in Figueres with a few of her friends. The club was small but quite busy and there was a lot of dancing (I flipping love how people actually dance in Spanish clubs - people were dancing the Merengue to Levels by Avicii). Not being one to shy away from a party, I got stuck in. And it was great. When 4am came, however, the party animal in me was getting rather sleepy, so I sat out in the smoking garden to start writing an email to Canada (thank goodness for technology, eh?) Beth's friend David came over to ask if I had a lighter. I said no, so he went to ask a bloke in the corner. Next thing I know, he was flying through the air back past me, propelled by the fists of this absolute nutter who'd starting pummelling him like a madman. Chaos ensued. There was a lot of blood, a lot of shouting and a lot of drama. When we finally thought everything had calmed down we tried to leave but on the way out David spotted the same guy and it all kicked off again. Somehow, I found myself momentarily in between them desperately trying to think of the Spanish for "please calm the feck down you absolute mentals before someone gets killed". Aaaanyway, we eventually made it home and David whisked himself straight off to A&E, or the Spanish equivalent. Never a dull moment, eh? I bet that'd never happen in Klute
I'm currently staying with an English lady from Sheryl's church called Justine-Kate and her husband Josep, who's Catalan. They have a beautiful little boy, Joshua, who's been kind enough to let me share his room for a few nights. Josh is five and is bilingual (I swear these linguist children are doing nothing for my self esteem). The last two nights I've woken in the middle of the night to find him on the end of my bed, chatting about his toys or telling me his dream or giving me instructions on how to work the fan. It's sort of adorable, if not the tiniest bit strange, that he happily chats away to my sleeping self. Then when I wake up he stops talking and says "oh, hello, is it time to get up?" I'm working out whether he'll fit in my weekend bag - I'd quite like to take him with me. There's probably laws against stuff like that, though.
I've met so many people in the last two weeks (Sheryl is a networker) it's getting hard to keep track. I know this is going to sound ridiculously stupid, but it really hits me just how many people there are in the world, y'know? I mean, in the Durham bubble you can feel like you know everyone, totally oblivious to the world outside and the billions of people living their lives who haven't heard of Durham or Chichester and don't have a care to. I told you it was stupid. I'm just having one of those days.
The speaking of Spanish doesn't seem to be getting much easier. It's a stroke of luck that Spaniards often end their sentences with 'si?' or 'no?' - on more than one occasion I've used that as a massive prompt as to how to respond, smiled and nodded or shook my head accordingly and left it at that despite not having understood the question at all. Although, on Sunday I was reminded how much worse it could be when I was introduced to a multilingual lady who'd been told I study Russian. She smiled broadly and said "ah! Ты говоришь по-русски тоже?" I stared at her blankly for a few seconds before realising she'd asked me to confirm my Russian prowess. Not for the first time, I couldn't even remember the word for no, floundered blindly for something to say then gave up and muttered something about it not being my forte. In English. She was unimpressed.
But language barriers aside, the week's gone pretty well. Cristina has continued to be a source of constant entertainment, my favourite quote being her response to "Goodnight Cristina, sleep well" - "I don't want to sleep well". People used to say I had to have the last word in everything but I've surely met my match here. We've enjoyed a few more trips to the beach and watched more episodes of 'Los Hermanos Koala' than I'd care to mention. On one of the beach trips I was once again ambushed by a shoal of fish. I'm starting to think they've got it in for me.
On Friday night, Beth and I went out in Figueres with a few of her friends. The club was small but quite busy and there was a lot of dancing (I flipping love how people actually dance in Spanish clubs - people were dancing the Merengue to Levels by Avicii). Not being one to shy away from a party, I got stuck in. And it was great. When 4am came, however, the party animal in me was getting rather sleepy, so I sat out in the smoking garden to start writing an email to Canada (thank goodness for technology, eh?) Beth's friend David came over to ask if I had a lighter. I said no, so he went to ask a bloke in the corner. Next thing I know, he was flying through the air back past me, propelled by the fists of this absolute nutter who'd starting pummelling him like a madman. Chaos ensued. There was a lot of blood, a lot of shouting and a lot of drama. When we finally thought everything had calmed down we tried to leave but on the way out David spotted the same guy and it all kicked off again. Somehow, I found myself momentarily in between them desperately trying to think of the Spanish for "please calm the feck down you absolute mentals before someone gets killed". Aaaanyway, we eventually made it home and David whisked himself straight off to A&E, or the Spanish equivalent. Never a dull moment, eh? I bet that'd never happen in Klute
I'm currently staying with an English lady from Sheryl's church called Justine-Kate and her husband Josep, who's Catalan. They have a beautiful little boy, Joshua, who's been kind enough to let me share his room for a few nights. Josh is five and is bilingual (I swear these linguist children are doing nothing for my self esteem). The last two nights I've woken in the middle of the night to find him on the end of my bed, chatting about his toys or telling me his dream or giving me instructions on how to work the fan. It's sort of adorable, if not the tiniest bit strange, that he happily chats away to my sleeping self. Then when I wake up he stops talking and says "oh, hello, is it time to get up?" I'm working out whether he'll fit in my weekend bag - I'd quite like to take him with me. There's probably laws against stuff like that, though.
I've met so many people in the last two weeks (Sheryl is a networker) it's getting hard to keep track. I know this is going to sound ridiculously stupid, but it really hits me just how many people there are in the world, y'know? I mean, in the Durham bubble you can feel like you know everyone, totally oblivious to the world outside and the billions of people living their lives who haven't heard of Durham or Chichester and don't have a care to. I told you it was stupid. I'm just having one of those days.
I still haven't sorted out a bank account or phone number, mainly because I'm a bit scared to tackle it. But they're on my list of things to be brave and do.
Oh, and I figured out how to watch Dr Who (thanks to the beautiful Miss Neal). Awesome.
X
Sent from my iPhone
No comments:
Post a Comment