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!

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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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The horse that wouldn't go in Tupiza

My one and only interest in going to Tupiza was to ride through the countryside. I'd heard that it was spectacular. But true to form, whenever, and whereever I go riding I get the dud horse. The horse that likes to stop and eat the bushes. The horse that won't go faster no matter how hard you kick it. In New Zealand, I got the horse with the crap canter (Tor got the x-trotter, so she probably lost out more....hahaha) In Tupiza, it was the horse that wouldn't go.

After recovering from our bus polava, Claire and I booked in for an early morning ride through the breathtaking red rocky valleys of Tupiza. It was a definite change from the landscape we'd been used to out the bus window - very American frontier, wild wild west - cowboys or cowgirls in our case, complete with chaps and sombreros.

I kicked and squeezed the crap out of my horse. Perhaps it was the fact that I was wearing Vans, so maybe my energetic kicks weren't as hard as I thought they were.... but still no good. He would continue to meander along like an old man. Claire's horse meanwhile would break into a trot for no apparent reason. There were beautiful valleys to canter through as well :(

Oh well, I suppose that considering the only thing that would have been between the ground and my head had I come off was a sombrero, it was probably a good thing. Bolivian safety standards also ensured I got chaps... cause I was really concerned about my jeans at this point (?!?!?!).

I did get to swap with the guide after a while - after he told me in his broken English that his horse was 'crazy.' Hmmmmm. I thought twice about swapping with him after he told me that, but he was a beautiful (but angry) horse and I couldn't resist - and what do you know, he actually went when you kicked him (so it wasn't the Vans....).

'Who eats wins' also went big in Tupiza. Claire and I hit the local street food markets for food - sampling some tasty (yet unknown) variety of meat with a side of black potatoes. We must have picked the good stuff, because the guy opposite us, after consuming his own meal, proceeded to order exactly what we were having. Black potatoes are not the tastiest thing in the world, but whatever the meat was it was delicious!

We also sampled a traditional Bolivian drink that we'd been eyeing since spotting it on stalls in La Paz. We'd guessed at what we thought it was - my guess was some kind of cured meat like prosciutto, floating in a light orangy coloured water. From far away it looked like a tiny animal foetus because it was all squidgy and fleshy looking. Turns out however that it is dehydrated peach, or 'Mocochinchi', and it actually wasn't that bad. Wouldn't be the first thing that I reached for, but still quite thirst quenching.

Bogged in Bolivia

It was bound to happen. The roads aren't paved; the buses aren't 4WDs; and it had been raining.

When we got back from Uyuni and jumped straight on a bus for Tupiza - the 'wild west' of Bolivia. Woo hoo - reasonably short bus ride I thought. What a jinx. The 6 hour bus ride quickly turned into a 14 hour expedition when our driver, who apparently likes to drive cross country, decided it would be better to go off road (why I don't know when the road is already made of dirt...), and straight into a massive mud puddle. Yes, the journey was smoother, for the good minute before we hit the mud patch, but it meant that we spent the next 3 and 1/2 hours with everyone off the bus tyring to dig it out and jack it up, covering the mud with salt bush in the freezing cold night. At about 2:30am, everyone gave up, went back inside and fell asleep. At 6:30am our tow arrived.

 

 
(No Tor Tor, there were no donkey's to tow us out. And in Boliva, there are no trees to wrench ourselves out with either)

Salar de Uyuni - it's flat. That is all.

Since our mammoth bus ride from Lima to Cuzco of 21 hours (+ extra time for the flat tyre) we have taken to making sure that our bus journeys are max 12ish hours. This means that we often end up in little towns with nothing to do.

Our next 'little town' was Potosi. It's only claim to fame being that it is the highest city in the world - supposedly (we have also been told that Lago Titicaca was the highest lake in the world. Apparently that's wrong...) and the mine tours that you can do here.

We decided against taking a claustrophobic and all round depressing tour of the mines(we'd heard stories of as many half the people on a tour turning back). Watching kids as young as 12 work in appalling conditions is not really my idea of a 'tour.' With the amount of dust down there as well, it would have been asking for an asthma attack. Would not want to do two really stupid things in quick succession.

So after one night we took off to Uyuni to tour the much raved about Salt Flats. We piled into an old red Landcruiser with our Spanish speaking guide Mario - no air conditioning, non-functioning windows and luggage strapped precariously to the roof - for a 3 day tour.

The Salt Flats are tremendously beautiful.... and flat. We drove for hours and hours in one direction, no end in sigh - to the horizon is just one big white glare. Mario stopped every hour or so to give a chance to perfect our touristy photos. We didn't quite get the hang of them....

On the second day we hit the mountains - Lagoons and flamingos and geysers galore. It too is beautiful, but after being cooped up in a Landcrusier for a couple days, I (shock, horror) got sick of the rolling hills and egg fart smell (the geysers and some of the lakes stink because they have very high sulphur content). Mario must have thought we were the most uninterested tourists ever when we refused to get out of the car to take photos and insisted he kept driving.

The third day was the least enjoyable. I spent the most of the night running to the bathroom - I've put it down to food poisoning. Not wanting to spend the whole next day wanting to go to the bathroom in the bush, I took an imodium at about 3am. Twenty minutes later I was back in the bathroom, now vomiting. Damn imodium. So the beautiful sunrise - i missed it. I slept pretty much the entire third day in the car.

The 'Death Road' - the stupid things I do

Having heard of the spectacular views that you get from bike riding down the 'world's most dangerous road' I stupidly signed up. At 68km long, just over the width of a car and with a 3.6km drop off the edge of the majority of the road, this is the probably the most stupid thing that I have ever done in my entire life.

I cannot even remember the last time that I rode a bike. Let alone at 4700m above sea level on a road made of deep gravel which spins your back tyre out from you frequently as you try to maintain a reasonable speed down the hill. You are deceived into thinking it is going to be easy when you arrive at the top of the ride where the road is wide, paved and has side guards. This lasts for about 20kms. Then you hit the 'world's most dangerous road.' Gulp. At least we went with a reputable company. We heard tales from a guy who was trying to claim from his insurance for a suspected fractured wrist. The result of dodgy breaks on his bike. That's what you get for being cheap.

Riding on the left side of the road (yes, the side with the cliff) made the whole experience a lot worse. Normally, Bolivians drive on the opposite side to Australia, however it swaps especially for the 'Death Road' - so that the driver going downhill can see how close he is sitting to the cliff face....

Miraculously, we all made it down without a spill to the tiny town of Los Yungas. I have to admit that the scenery (what I caught when I wasn't concentrating on the road) was magnificent - from my favourite rolling hills to the Amazon basin.


On the way back up in the bus, our guide was good to point out where other people had not been so lucky and had gone over the edge. We also paused momentarily to look at the wreckage of a car that still remains down the bottom. eeeek.

The best part about the entire day was the animal sanctuary at the bottom of the hill - La Sende Verde - which was home to monkeys, boa constrictors, a bear and a coatis. The monkeys were so cute! We had the chance to have a cuddle with the babies, which would jump and climb all over you. It was so awesome. It makes me want to volunteer at an animal sanctuary for a bit.