Speaking a foreign language is a lot like being a bad politican. You never listen to what the other person is saying, you don't really care what they're saying because all the while you're concentrating feverishly on your own reply so you don't inadvertently say something like, oh for instance "Que embarazoso" before realising it doesn't mean how embarrassing, but "How pregnant" and everyone in the room is avoiding you because of this terrible social faux pas.
This was the case when talking to our academic co-ordinator/useless toothless ornament. All was going swimmingly until I came to the terrible realisation all I could think to say was "Un bocadillo, por favor." Which is nonsense, why would I ask for a sandwich in the middle of talking about a criminal law lecture? Unless I was in desperate need of a sandwich... But why? Hmmm, desperate need of food equals desperate need of sugar, Bingo! As long as diabectico is the same sort of Spanglish hybrid I can say "Soy diabetica, un bocadillo por favor." to avert a medical disaster. Perfect, its all about working with what you know.
Unless of course she's finished explaining all about timetables and is ushering you out the door and in that mental 30 seconds you'd been away trying to conjugate the verb "ser" you've missed everything of importance.
Linguistic adventures don't stop there. Today we're bringing my laptop to FNAC to see what we shall see. I'm afraid I may suffer withdrawal symptoms if its away more than a day getting its wifi life sorted out. Withdrawal from online streamed possibly-illegal-its-all-shades-of-grey-enjoying-creativity-v-intellectual-property-rights movies online. The last such of these featured what sounded like Del Boy and Rodney making a cameo appearance in James Cameron's Avatar (in theatres near you or my laptop)
"What's that you got there then?"
" 'S a Cornetto. I ordered a Magnum."
"Why don't you take it back then?"
"Don't like to make a fuss."
This charming interlude made the plight of the Navi and the pillaging of their ancestral home a little harder to watch when you're wondering if Día would still be open and if the Spaniards have Cornettos.
In other news the hunt for a lovely part time job in an artsy Spanish bookshop took a turn for the surreal yesterday when wandering through Cheuca. Saw a pretty bookshop, saw an opportunity and pottered in to have an ask of a job.
Something wasn't right the moment I entered. A certain growing fascinated horror. Call it women's intuition but I had a shufti at the books on the shelves. "Encontrando el espiritu erotico masculino." One does not need to study Spanish to grasp the meaning. This was to my right. To my left there were some posters of firemen. They were not taking seriously their duties as firemen. In fact I don't see how what they were taking seriously could be performed by a building so advanced in burning to cinders without risking at least second degree burns. I was sure firemen wore more protective gear than that. Fire retardant jackets and so forth...
Enough of that, the point was at this stage I was still walking into the den of iniquity and because of my overwhelming need to be polite was forming the sentence "Would you happen to have any policemen?" I decided rather reluctantly against this and in a manouever known as the Reverse Jobseeker made a complete circle, nodding in a hopefully sage, untroubled manner at the proprietor in his leather waistcoat and walked back out. Leaving CV in next week though.
Besides all that let's see. There were the moments of deep conference when the buzzer rang with a man claiming to be the postman. We were up to now unclear as to how postie got into the building without a key. Apparently he rings and hopes to get lucky. Our obliviouness to this fact had us asking "Do you have post for US" in an effort to ascertain whether he was some form of charlatan. He answered rather amusingly "Well, what flat number are you?" It was not till later til we realised how very strange this must have sounded.
Elsewise UAM related stress levels have turning my lipstick shade from Pearl to Hurricane Pick to Diva Red in a sort of chameleon display of deteriorating mental state, found a shop selling all things British which we raided for Robinsons and Cadburys and <shudder> Marmite. I think I may have been a little too exuberant with the poor lady who I'm sure only wished for a quiet Tuesday morning. There was the advert filiming in Madrid Centre which I found out all about by cunning ways of nonchalantly sidling up beside a policeman who I must say are very friendly here.
Now, I'm afraid I must away with me to FNAC, assuming anyones awake because siesta time here is 2pm to 4 pee em sharp. If for some reason they should blow up my laptop and I never get it back I wish everyone to know it was a pleasure blogging from our front hallway and I'm sure movies are just as good without added audience commentary.
xo
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