Me encanta Espanola!

Today was out first day of learning Spanish and I take it all back.

I take back my conviction that I hate learning languages, that I cannot do it (though that one may still be out there for debate!), and that there is simply something in my brain which blocks my ability to take it in.

I absolutely loved it! Everything seemed like an enormous game to me.

"Now we will play a game in which we describe famous people"

"OK! OK! I would love to play a game in which I describe famous people!"

I must interject here to clarify the quality of my descriptions at this stage of the day. I wrote the rather insightful sentence, 'he is the pope and he is catholic.'

Having said the quality of the teaching or the quantity of my overwhelming enthusiasm meant that by the end of the day,

"Shall we play a game in which we have to think of a sentence to describe (physically or emotionally) what we see in a series of still images of people?"

"Yes! Yes! We shall! I would love to play that game!"

...I actually had a whole host of phrases at my disposal.

Learning a language us not embarrassing. I now find. In fact it is hugely funny.

We play a game (nobody else calls them games, only me, but really - it did feel like being a long party, like a children's party on much more enjoyable and with alcohol (in the evening)) in which we split into pairs and each have to describe our partner. M and I have, half accidentally and half deliberately, sat separately so we get a chance to partner up with Seb and Donavan, who are in our class. 

We are both described as having blonde hair, with no objections from the floor, which is a testament I think to the sun's power to bleach, given that we both normally have dark brown hair.

Obviously everyone writes their descriptions using as much of their newfound skills and words as possible. 

I describe Seb as being very strong and very handsome to much laughter from the floor. Seb responds in kind by noting that I 'very soft'.

"What?" cries our teacher, in one of the only moments in which she speaks English to us, "did you FEEL her?!!"

Seb also informs everyone that I have straight hair, and no beard or moustache. I am apparently also 'clean and not dirty' and 'very alert in class'.

Both M and Donavan describe each other as 'very intelligent' and Donavan rather sweetly finishes his description with 'M es mi amigo'.

There is impassioned and uproarious debate about the colour of Seb's eyes, (there is no word for 'hazel') and about the fact that to say you are married, uses the 'permanent' form of the verb 'to be', whereas if you say you are married to somebody, you use the 'temporary' form. 

"But it IS forever!" insists Donavan, of his description of M as being married to me, "I refuse to imply it is temporary!"

"I am sorry," says our teacher, "we are a realistic people."

I never knew it could be so much fun. After class we are taken on a tour of the city, all in Spanish, followed by, to revive our flagging brains, some more speaking Spanish, this time to each other and whilst drinking the famous 'Terremoto'. This proves not as strong as implied, though very very sweet, but certainly not conducive to improving our Spanish skills! By the time we arrive home we are exhausted and fall into bed at eleven o clock which is frankly not nearly early enough!

As I fall asleep I think a little guiltily of Donavan and his policy to rejuvenate himself after class, which involves heavy partying till dawn, as far as we can see.

"Wow," said Seb in class yesterday, "it feels really weird to be here and not have a hangover..."

Even so, as I write this, preparing to launch myself into my second day, I must admit I cannot wait. Whether my skills can match my enthusiasm is debatable, however.

What I didn't tell you about that inspired sentence, 'he is the pope and he is catholic', is that what I actually said, much to everybody's amusement, is, 'he is a potato.'

Brilliant. 

Yo soy muy intelligente....honestly...