Open Your Mind

I’m a sucker for noticeboards. You could say I’m just being nosey but I like to call it curiosity. That and having a very low boredom threshold, I am constantly looking to see what exciting thing is coming next. A fair, new Zumba classes, an interesting talk on urban hen keeping, things you could be missing out on.

My fondness for noticeboards stems back to when I was in 5^th year at school and the roles of prefects were being given out. I didn’t make the list and was downhearted that I missed out on having a shiny ‘prefect’ badge to wear. However, all was not lost, Barnie, a legendary nun and champion of the underdog, saw my upset and on the spot suggested I could be prefect of the noticeboard. I think we were standing in the hall at the time and there was one in her eyeline to provide the inspiration. I know what you’re thinking. Well it turned out to be a role of great responsibility thank you very much! It involved making sure that out of date notices were taken down, inappropriate notices were taken down, and a general tidy up was given to it weekly to ensure it looked inviting.

Now, 30 years later, I can see that it was the equivalent of that scene in Fr Ted, when Ted asks Dougal to look after the corner flags during the over 75’s football match as a way of keeping him out of trouble. But back them I was chuffed and took my role very seriously, there wasn’t a nicer noticeboard to be found in all of Ireland. This attention to noticeboards has never left me and I will always go over and take a look and sometimes even take down out of date notices!

The most recent find I had on a noticeboard was about a series of Spanish lessons that were running at my local library, it was still in date so I hadn’t missed it. It offered conversational Spanish to make your Spanish holiday more enjoyable. I am not planning a Spanish holiday, but you never know, and speaking in a sunny tongue during the winter months could be just the ticket to keeping my summer side alive. I signed up and bought myself a new notebook with a glorious beach scene on the cover,this would be my linguistic passport to a more sophisticated Spanish experience than I had had in the past.

I have reasonable French, but it turns out that that is of absolutely no help in Spain, quite the reverse I found. Spanish sounds completely alien to my ears and my attempts at pronunciation are deplorable. In Mallorca a few summers ago I was in a coffee shop ordering a café con leche and attempting to order one of those delicious Spanish pastries which I called ensaimada, the guy behind the counter looked at me blankly, I tried again, nothing. I knew I was vaguely close but it seemed that unless you say it exactly right it is completely wrong. I ended up pointing to it and he said ah ensaimada, but that’s what I had said. But I suppose its like going to a sandwich bar and instead of asking for a baguette,you call it a bucket, it’s close but way off.

So, determined to learn a little to ensure I was no longer the tourist pointing at the plastic picture menus, I arrived at my first class. I was a few minutes late and missed the introductions and as the class took off at great speed, I wondered if this was an advanced class. Most people seemed to have some basic Spanish, oh help. I told myself to focus, listen, pick something up, but it was like trying to nail down the wind, as words, grammar and Spanish culture flew past me. By the end of the first week I had a bunch of handouts and a headache.

But I was also cross, I am not stupid, I was paying attention, but it was just too hard. I’ll never grasp this, I’m too old, I’m not likely to be going to Spain. I expressed some of this to my daughter who is studying Spanish in school and she was supportive telling me it was a lot to learn in one class and that her teacher has been building it up with basic stuff first. She is very kind and told me to keep going and it will get easier. I told her it won’t, that I’m too old to learn. Then she was not so kind and told me I give up too easily.

Armed with the motivation to prove her wrong I went back for the second week and the headache appeared after minutes. We had moved onto numbers and a supermarket price list, in pairs we had to find out what price a carton of orange juice was, I could feel the synapses of my brain frying.

But I kept going and stuck out the 6 weeks, we covered, numbers, food, Spanish celebrities, how to complain about hotel room problems. Slowly a little clarity dawned as though peeling back an opaque filter from a view. Double L is pronounced Y, V is pronounced B, H’s are silent, God I love rules, once you figure them out things are less scary. I am no longer completely and utterly lost, some words sound positively familiar to me now. Rafa Nadal, Jamon Serrano, Vino Blanco. Maybe it’s time to look up cheap flights to Seville and get a little practice in, but I’d better make sure the accommodation has no hot water, or there is bad smell in the bathroom, or else I’ll have nothing to talk about.

Hasta luego amigo, oh, and Feliz Navidad!