My life has been filled with the magic and fun of the people in this gran ciudad. They have picked me up when I have stumbled and danced with me ‘til the dusky dawns. Lunched with me when my day was in pieces; offered coffee and cake when empathy was in need. Driven me far across the city to collect a something important, but forgotten, and handed out free shots-a-plenty in the musty confines of a rock bar.
Indeed, this sparkling society has provided me with more than one belly ache of amusement, my dear flatmate Hugo having topped the list of offenders. Glorious mistakes in language I promised, and glorious they have been. One night in particular, getting ready for a fabulous night out on the town, I bounced into the living room to ascertain his opinion on my outfit:
“Uh huh, good!” he nodded, asked me to twirl around. (I obliged, with style.)
“Now … bend!” he shouted.
Slightly bemused, I doubled over at the waist to form an approximate ninety degree angle. He choked a giggle: “no Sam, BEND!” Even more befuzzled, I dropped down to my ankles, which only provoked tears of potent, sweet laughter.
You see, Latin Americans pronounce their “v”s as “b”s and in my excitement, I had forgotten the expression “ven”. Pronounced as “ben”, it can rather easily be mistaken for “bend”. (Perhaps not, but to save face, I have to say that.)
De hecho, it means “come over here”.
Ah …
Whoops-a-daisy, it has been some time. It seems I have been indulging in photographs instead and learning Spanish. A conscientious student, como siempre!
Yesterday I started level four of the nine that I will take here. Four, phew, that happened quickly! I have clocked up 122 hours of Spanish classes and I finally feel semi-literate. Graduation from a shaming ignorance happened when I could, at long last, understand my mobile’s omnipotent voicemail queen. (Alas, she was neither as intriguing nor as fearsome as I had first anticipated.)
What is more, it seems that I am not only thinking in Spanish, but dreaming in it, too. Yes, that is correct! Last night it was most bizarre: I was on a bus, aside a woman with three dogs. They were muddy little pups, and I had taken it upon myself to clean them. Además, my English reservations were satisfied because the woman was blind; she could not be offended by an act that she could not see!
But oh no! She began to pet the dogs and I froze as she felt my hand. Here is the punch line, and I distinctly remember it: “por favor, señora, ¿puedo limpiar sus perros?” [Lady, may I please clean your dogs?]
Goodness me, I must be going mad.
That, or the deep tipsy-drunken slumber might have played a hand …
