Spanish lessons from a 7 year old

There are many ways in which you can escape learning and speaking more Spanish than you want to, even in a Spanish speaking country. While everything in class is always ‘EN ESPANOL’ (that is our teacher, Maria-Illena, yelling at us if we cheat and whisper to each other something in English), on any ‘pausa’ at Spanish school, everyone talks to each other in English and Claire and I cheat and always talk to each other in English at home. Even the guy at the local coffee shop we run to during our breaks figured out (in 2 seconds) that we speak English, and talks to us in English as a result - even though we put on our best accents to order our hot chocolates, coffees etc.

It is actually rather frustrating. At times when you want to speak Spanish to practice someone replies to you in English, and when you really need to speak Spanish you can’t find the words fast enough. Grrrrrr.

We definitely haven’t got the full benefit of our lessons as a result, however we do understand a lot more now when people talk to us which is really good… whether we can reply fast enough is another question. It can take a good 5 seconds for us to conjugate the right verb into the right tense, by which time the moment has usually passed.

The best Spanish lessons I’ve had so far are not at LatinoAmericano. They are from a four foot tall 7 year old, named Thelma. She belongs to the owners of our hostel. Better yet, she speaks absolutely no English besides ‘Good morning, how are you?’ She loves to play Barbies, show you all her makeup and has absolutely no qualms about correcting your Spanish. It is a whole lot less intimidating talking to a 7 year old and she keeps you on your toes. She will break into random stories, such as the Emperor’s New Clothes, entirely in Spanish without warning. We had to pull out the dictionary to figure out what an ‘emporador’ was, thinking that it couldn’t surely be the same thing. We sit there jotting down words she says to look up later. You really have to listen hard to her as well because she speaks so quickly. However, like any good teacher, if you ask her to slow down, she will, to a snails pace, and will annunciate every word. (Though I must admit that I do cheat and sometimes speak to her in French, which she is also fluent in).

Spanish lessons with Thelma start everyday around 2pm, when she hears us come through the front door, and last for the next 4 hours or so when we have built up enough courage to kick her out of our room. Though I must admit to sneakily coming through the front door in the hope that she won’t hear us so we can have an hour or two to get our homework done. One afternoon, I had to  physically remove her when it was siesta time and she wouldn’t leave. She insisted that I come and get her when we had woken up. Thelma was later spotted by one of the hostel guests calling our names outside our window when we hadn’t emerged 2 hours later. It seems we have made a new friend.

We play barbies, do puzzles, and make up stories – last time I was an ant that was eaten by the hostel cat ‘Michi.’  On Saturday, ‘Cleo’ (how she pronounces ‘Claire’) and I spent a good 6 hours with her. She corrected our homework – ‘es nosotras, no es nosotros porque ellas son chicas’ – from which I conjured images of our teacher asking us whether a 7 year old had written our homework – and made bracelets with us. You learn the words for the most random of things that you wouldn’t be taught at school – ants, flies, monsters. The imagination and energy of Thelma is amazing – assisted slightly by the Coke Zero we gave her…

Definitely the best, and cheapest Spanish lessons ever.
Thank you Thelma!

Flickr Tags: blogspot,spanish lessons,sucre,bolivia,latinoAmericano

Photos…

When I was last in the ‘La Ciudad Blanca,’ aka Sucre, I took no photos. I was so mad with myself when I left because it really is a beautiful city. Now that I’ve got a second chance, you’d be right in saying that I’ve gone a bit camera crazy. My camera comes everywhere, even to the supermercado…. that’s the magic of a digital camera – delete the poo photos later! ***Insert Claire here saying that I never delete them and have a hundred million photos***

This time round, we’ve had some really good photo opportunities of Sucre. For instance, we climbed back up to the top of the Mirador because it was so good last time. Though a very intense leg workout– see the photo of Claire puffing up the hill, *click* – when you get to the top you can relax in deck chairs and jugo or beer if you prefer in hand watch Sucre from above. **Click, click, click.***

Other amazing sites to click away at include the view from the San Felipe Neri Convent. On a recommendation from the owners of our hostel, we scaled the stairs to the top of the convent, which is now a girls school. On the roof, you get a spectacular view of Sucre, *click*.  You would never know that you were allowed up there. We spent a good hour and a half wandering around the roof - the seats where the monks meditated remain. With the sun just about to set, the golden light splayed across the city and made for magnificent photos… *click, click.*

 

The view from the top

  

The local market – where we buy our chicken….

    One of the local government buildings   

Other trying to capture Sucre moments on film include:

(1) Trying sneakily to get a good photo of the traditionally dressed, aviator wearing, grandma street vendor (I think she is was onto us, but we will get the photo, she is awesome!); and

(2) Having a chili almost thrown at my head by a yelling vegetable vendor at the Tarabuco markets who did clearly not want her photo taken.

My next photo opportunity was Tarabuco. I complain a lot about Bolivian driving so I will spare you the details of our helish, and very rapid journey (which took 40 minutes, instead of the supposed 1.5 hours) to the town which is about 60kms from Sucre….but it was scary!!! – the week before, on her return journey, a girl in our Spanish class saw one of the mini buses we were travelling in upside down on the wrong side of the road. Uh-oh….
 

I also have to mention that Claire, firstly got slobbered on by a very elderly Quechan woman. The poor lady struggled to climb into the van, so she did so on her knees (cause she was so small she could not step in). Then, with head on Claire’s leg while having great difficulty now attempting to get to her feet and into her seat, she coughed and slimed Claire’s knee. Yuk. The icing on the cake had to be though when Claire thought she was being peed on by the same lady (who was now sitting opposite, knees intertwined with Claire’s, for we were sitting opposite her in a very small bus). Liquid, from who knows where, began to trickle down Claire’s leg. Turns out that it was coming from the lady’s bag, but it made for an interesting 10 minutes of immense concern.

An amusing observation – People don’t give up trying to talk to you even though you are staring back at them blankly.  The Quechan lady included continued trying to talk to us even though we clearly had not even an inkling of what she was trying to say, regardless of how many hand gestures she made. This lady seemed fascinated with my aviators, pointing and chatting away about them (I think…), and then moving onto point at Claire’s sunnies when I didn’t understand. Whether she wanted to try them on, she wanted to have them or what I will never have any idea. Nor did anyone on the bus – we all sat there in absolute confusion and ended up just nodding and replying ‘si, si…’ in the hope that she would give up eventually (which she did, she fell asleep). But this happens all the time – we were trapped once by a lady in a haberdashery shop in Guaylagauychu (where we bought our Carnival accessories). She chatted to us for 5 minutes about the town, ignoring our blank looks and pleas of ‘no entiendo, no hablo espanol.’ 

Anyhoo, every Sunday people from surrounding villages all converge on Tarabuco, in their traditional attire, *click*, to sell their produce. Having caught onto the fact that tourists don’t really want fresh fruit and veg, locals also flog the usual alpaca jumpers, scarves and beanies. I may have gone a little nuts, and while momentarily forgetting the size of my bag, splurged on an hammock (which I will now have to ship back to Sydney) and a scarf that I wished I had bought last time we were in Bolivia.

Anyway, to cut a long story short,  here are some more photos. Enjoy!

  

Flickr Tags: Sucre,Tarabuco,blogsherpa,markets

Hablas Espanol??

One week of Spanish lessons down!

Waking up way earlier than we are accustomed to on a frosty Monday morning we walked the ten minutes to school. Yawning as we passed the local market already abuzz with locals organising their produce in their stalls and through crowds of youngsters in white uniforms racing to school, I wondered whether I was up for these ‘early’ morning starts (yes, 7am is early when you have not had an alarm go off in 3 months). It felt weird having a backpack, full of books on your back again – though I do love my little Winnie-the-Pooh pencil case, so that keeps me amused…. small things….

Our walk to school – there was a strike on this day, so you’ll have to imagine a lot of people.

Our first taste of Spanish lessons was a placement test. We were then put into classes depending on your ‘ability’. Why I was even tested I don’t know! I told them several times that I was pretty much a complete beginner, but they were adamant that we sit the test. The exam consisted of me trying to use my French grammar knowledge in the hope that they would cross over and I wouldn’t get things entirely wrong. When that failed, I resorted to completely guessing the answers.
 

The Courtyard of our school

My guesses as to what was masculine or feminine, my probably completely inaccurate conjugations of the verbs for ‘to be’ in Spanish (they have two) and my crappy speaking skills saw me assigned to a class with two other girls (one a very loud Canadian, and the other a Swiss German) and ‘Yerko’, my teacher for the week.

The most enjoyable part of the whole thing?? Definitely the class excursions. Firstly, to the local market, which Claire and I are already pros at getting around and buying produce from - Our expertise includes figuring out how to buy chicken thighs from a lady who looks like she only sells whole chickens. Turns out she just pulls out a massive knife and hacks away at it until she’s left with the pieces you want.  We were sent on ‘mini missions’ by our teachers to find vendors who sold mysterious types of Bolivian fruit such as ‘Tuna’ – an avocado looking type thing and ‘Cherimoya’ – a fleshy, creamy fruit thing. We then spent the afternoon taste testing all the produce we’d been sent to find and describing them in Spanish. They definitely have some interesting fruit here including weird dried out looking cucumber things. I think I’ll stick with my mangoes and lychees, but Cherimoya is tasty.

Our next excursion was even better – to the best ‘Saltenaria’ in Sucre called ‘El Patio’ – a gorgeous open patio with white umbrellas and purple flowers climbing the walls. Taught the ‘proper way’ to eat Saltenas, we played a board game (in Spanish) as we tried to avoid getting juice all down our hands and arms.  Definitely some of the best Saltenas we’ve had.

The trip to El Patio was interesting. There was a massive strike in Sucre. Bus drivers, taxi drivers and others blocked traffic in the main square– protesting about  a new law that the Bolivian government has introduced which sees anyone caught drink driving permanently lose their licence. A couple of months back there was a head on collision involving two buses, and drunk driver(s) which saw 43 people lose their lives which spurred on the government to implement such a harsh law. The scariest bit was not the protestors, who yelled at and bounced on cars that tried to pass. It was the Sucre Police that lined the streets, and lapped the plaza on motorbikes – one officer driving and another on the back, complete with semi-automatic weapon.

Sucre Police men

Running out and around the corner during recess to find the popcorn lady is also one of my favourite parts of the day… We’ve just discovered that there is a saltena lady a bit further down the street so recess will now entail running down to her for a bit of saltena action. 

The worst part – having to play introduction games with the entire school, including those who are pretty much fluent in Spanish. With Spanish limited to ‘Cual es tu nombre’ and other very simple questions, trying to talk with someone who has studied years of Spanish was 1) very difficult and 2) very intimidating. It is very tempting to break into English… I may have cheated a couple of times.  Apparently we do this every Tuesday…. joy.

As for our new hostel, La Dolce Vita – it is awesome. Our room is the size of a living room – complete with table for us to dine and study on (which is getting more use than you would think with homework being assigned every night). With private bathroom, hot water and deck chairs to boot we are living in luxury at the moment. The best part was unpacking entirely for the first time. We shoved our backpacks under our beds to get dusty, not to be seen for another 3 weeks – woo hoo.

  Our room – that’s my bed, our wardrobe, desk and the bathroom door

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