An early start. A good thing, that little gap between waking and when the day begins. Last night's music was difficult to sit through. A singer and a pianist, a few classical arias, but then Frank Sinatra, Police's Walking on the Moon, all accompanied by 4 revolving disco lights. The words in the English songs impossible to hear because of the phrasing and emphasis which was pure Spanish - walkinonymyuon. This must be what Spaniards hear when I open my mouth - a polite English man struggling to get past buenos dias.
Who is this diary for? For me, for you, for the voice in my head? For what purpose? I don't know, anyway, it's going to be fragmentary.
I just thought to write down the date - Friday - but it's Saturday - dia del mercado. Learning a language is so painful, I would say pitiful, with no adult there to repeat the words over and over. Instead, I have a course, un curso, courses being masculine. It's very good http://www.bbc.co.uk/languages/spanish/mividaloca/ . There were no seats left at the concert last night, and as someone in front of us searched for a seat I observed to the lady next to me, without having to dig into my Spanish kit-bag, completo, she replied si si. We were in the same language for a moment.
A cock crowing, dog barking, the crazy cat (el gato loco) miaowing. The Spanish love animals, but they have no hesitation abandoning them, even drowning litters of kittens. Horrific in England, it doesn't have the same resonance here.
Yesterday I made Rachel Roddy's 'cheesey baked aubergines' for the second time. Berenjenas in Spanish. But they are also egg-plant, which sounds like something John Lennon made up. In Italian they are melanzana, which seems the best word for their loveliness, and I can remember that. Faced with a melanzana I have to switch on the little translate man in my head because 2 words, or none, are swimming around before I open my mouth, berenjenas and remolacha (beetroots). The first time I made the recipe I left out the anchovies because I didn't have them. The second time I made sure they were included and the whole thing was lifted to another level.
Who is this diary for? For me, for you, for the voice in my head? For what purpose? I don't know, anyway, it's going to be fragmentary.
I just thought to write down the date - Friday - but it's Saturday - dia del mercado. Learning a language is so painful, I would say pitiful, with no adult there to repeat the words over and over. Instead, I have a course, un curso, courses being masculine. It's very good http://www.bbc.co.uk/languages/spanish/mividaloca/ . There were no seats left at the concert last night, and as someone in front of us searched for a seat I observed to the lady next to me, without having to dig into my Spanish kit-bag, completo, she replied si si. We were in the same language for a moment.
A cock crowing, dog barking, the crazy cat (el gato loco) miaowing. The Spanish love animals, but they have no hesitation abandoning them, even drowning litters of kittens. Horrific in England, it doesn't have the same resonance here.
Yesterday I made Rachel Roddy's 'cheesey baked aubergines' for the second time. Berenjenas in Spanish. But they are also egg-plant, which sounds like something John Lennon made up. In Italian they are melanzana, which seems the best word for their loveliness, and I can remember that. Faced with a melanzana I have to switch on the little translate man in my head because 2 words, or none, are swimming around before I open my mouth, berenjenas and remolacha (beetroots). The first time I made the recipe I left out the anchovies because I didn't have them. The second time I made sure they were included and the whole thing was lifted to another level.
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