Spanish School and Great Germans

Confidence is a fickle thing, be it when you're learning a language or playing sport. Having spent last week in intensive Spanish lessons at the wonderful Academia Buenos Aires, the importance of confidence when speaking a foreign tongue was brought to the fore. 

Fortunately, I have always found lying an excellent way to boost this fickle supply of self-esteem. Allow me to justify this ethically dubious position with the following examples, based on two conversations I had last week. 

Option A: Honest. 

- Oh, your Spanish is really good. How long have you been here?

- Nearly 2 years now.

- Oh. Wow... Oh... Your Spanish is... You know... Um... Do you know any Argentines?

Result: Devastation. 

Option B: Dishonest. Result: Esteem enhancing.  

I prefer this conversation.

- Oh, your Spanish is really good. How long have you been here?

- I just arrived from the airport. 

- Oh, wow. You should be famous. 

- Thank you. I agree. 

Result: Smugness. 

More tips if you need them, just let me know.

My Spanish classmates have generally been from a small range of countries, namely Germany. My conclusion is that Germans are some of the most underrated people in the world. Now, I admit that that statement is not without a racist inference, but I think many people from the UK assume that your average German will be nice if humourless, will be holding a map and be too honest about perfunctory and embarrassing things such as bowel movements. 

And whilst there was a little too much excitement about syntax (man, do they love the grammar. Systems, organisation, syntax, the opportunity to make jokes such as: Ah, so you do have a structure to your language! This must be the only structure in this country. Only today, I was waiting for a bus and... I digress, and regress) it is possible that being nice, interested, tri-lingual and thoughtful are actually more important qualities. 

And they DO mention the war. I mentioned it many times and didn't need to get away with it. We had a great discussion about the shadows of a countries past on their present populations. 

And they all love Scotland.

And they find Brits hilariously repressed with our inability to talk about anything that might refer to, you know, how can I put this, well, might refer to... it.  

So, Isabel, Katharina, Christiana, Yves, Stephanie and Fritz, I salute you. And not like John Cleese does. 

Snug

Middle of the city, middle of the day. Not massively like the Brits, the Brazilians...

New Year's Resolutions

Yes it may well be fully a fortnight into 2009, but I take my New Year's Resolutions seriously, so wanted to give them some proper thought.

Proper thought has been tough to come by of late, as with an ill baby you don't get a lot of sleep, and worry when you should be sleeping. Anyway, enough self-pity.  

Some things to learn:

Spanish. I have banned myself from saying, Yes, I speak Spanish, until I can use prepositions properly. 

To proof read emails for typos. I'm a dreadful typist, which is no excuse.   

Some things to be less dull:

To talk more about my child around those who care, and less when around those who don't (and to have the wisdom to see who fits which category).

Something to change:

To finish books that I start. (For interest, by my bed at the moments are books that I am reading. Reading in as much as I've started but haven't finished. They are: Mister Pip, The Learning Game, Gilead, The Piano Tuner, The Inheritance of Loss, Among The Believers... Open like web pages at the bottom of your screen.)  

Something to give up:

Going to the gym.

Swearing so much - just because it's in a different language doesn't mean it doesn't count. Apparently.

Somethings to start:

The use of sporting metaphors while teaching. It's time to stop being an intellectual snob. These are effective and make sense to students, and my dislike of them stems, on reflection, from people who can only use sporting metaphors and analogies. The exam kicks off at nine. I hpe you're polished your boots, we've trained for this...  My mind recalls a tedious assembly holding up the likes Wayne Rooney as a role model, saying that he brought out his natural talent on the training field, first to arrive, last to leave... and this is a lot like coursework, because...

Something for someone else:

Leah:

To not wake up the SECOND I sit down to do something. It's uncanny. 

Katie:

To wake up the SECOND Leah wakes up. 

Single ambition for 2009:

To see this side of 0700. At no point when becoming a father did I think I would have to take some sort of a monastic oath that meant I should see every sunrise for a calendar year. Enough. 

 

And that is that. Updates on relative success to follow. 

Where Does One Winter?

The royal we wintered in Rio this year. A marvelous choice. If you have the means, I highly recommend it. Before I share some photos to make a maharajah jealous, allow me to share some learnings I picked up about Brazil.

1.Rio de Janeiro was found and founded in the mid 1800s by some lost Portugeese sailors, who found an enormous bay with a Christ statue there and thought it was a sign from God, so they stayed.

2. It is appropriate to eat a chocolate cake, and nothing more, for breakfast. 

3. Following the success of the Beach Volleyball team in the 2000 Olympics, the government declared it a law that - like in this hallowed sport -  no citizen of Brazil may wear more than 17 cubic centimetres of clothing. This can be evidenced by the sporting of speedos in the supermarket.

4. It is appropriate to eat/drink acai in place of chocolate cake in Brazil. No one knows where acai comes from, but people whisper that it was a government drug used during World War II. 

It is highly addictive, and is a rare 'fruit' made from the digested berries of Squirrel-Lions, indigenous creatures to the Rio river. (See video clip.) 

5. Brazil's recent economic downturn is not related to the wider financial crisis, but is exclusively due to the unpronouncability of its currency, the Real. Don't be fooled. This is pronounced somewhere between an American Ye-Haa and a Chinese Judo chop noise. Exchange that.

6. There is not one cat in Brazil. I looked.   

7. Portuguese is no way similar to Spanish. It is similar in as much as it looks sometimes a little like Spanish, assuming that is the Spanish written phonetically by a dyslexic shorthand typist, then pronounced by a German speaking Japanese.    

8. The film Brazil is a very poor guide to the country.

9. Nakedness is to Brazilians what punctuality is to the British. Cherished, important, the basis of an entire culture.    

10. Our luxury beach house overlooking the white sand of Itaicu was very different to the film City of God. Which was a relief.     

11. Many people say that the statue of Christo is more impressive the further away you are from it/Him/It. Parisians say it is quite stunning. 

12. Getting lost in a favella is quite a lot like the film City of Men. 

13. Favella, literally translated, means 'banana'. No one knows why. 

14. Rio people don't like Sao Paulo people. They say Sao Paolo people work too hard and have no sense of humour. Sao Paolo people 'accuse' Rio people of only being interested in sex, dancing, having fun and hanging out on the beach. Which is about the worst accusation ever.  

15. Sugar Loaf Mountain is not made from sugar, nor is it a loaf, nor a mountain. This follows a long tradition of national landmarks and lying. For example, Big Ben (small), Arthur's Seat (I have never met anyone called Arthur in Scotland) or the Sydney Opera House (which is in Wales).

16. Pele's is actually a nickname. His real name is Eduardo Bikini Machu Pichi de Elordy Frankfurt Sanchez Vicario.

And now you know some things.

Palermo in pictures

One day people won't come to Buenos Aires, they'll come to Palermo. Nothing socio-political to say, just a few photos. The last one of which was quite a costly effort as my shades were nicked from my head as I was taking it. Still, a decent snap.

Fat Is A Feminist Issue

Quick bit of context. At the Unicenter (giant shopping mall place) last Bank Holiday Monday (you can imagine what an absolute pleasure that was, two weeks before Christmas). 

We were in Speedo, shopping for Speedos: Katie was trying on a bikini and I was playing with Leah, when a large maybe 35 year old woman came in. And I do mean large, as in UK or USA large, not Argentina, 'I heard she ate breakfast once' large.

So, Large Lady wanders in. The sales assistant, girl, skinny, maybe 20, goes over to her.

- Buenos dias, can I help you?

- Si, por favor, I'm looking for a bikini, but... well... it's always difficult to find things in my size. 

- Si, said the assistant, giving the woman a fairly blatant once over. Obvio.

And no. Large Lady neither punched nor sat on nor took the mildest bit of offense to the comment, and continued talking the assistant through her various weight gains over the last few years (second child crucial, apparently).  

As I've said before: the more you understand the language, the stranger the country becomes. Yeah, it might be better, but it's just weird. 

Wanna feel cool? Just compare yourself to Dan.

This is an email forwarded me from my brother, who lives in the United States. Now, yes, you could argue that he brought it on himself by a) living in the US, b) clearly somehow giving his email address to 'Dan', c) becoming involved in a 'Residents Housing Association'.

 

But never, and I mean NEVER, in my life - and I used to live in Scotland and currently live in Argentina - have I seen one person waste more time over something so pointless as 'Dan', sender of the following email. Quick glossary: a luminares is a lantern. The problem is that a candle is a flame of some sort, and is therefore dangerous, and flames, as we know, can burn people to death. 

Over to Dan: 

 

Hey all. 
 
I will be ordering the materials for the luminares today.  The newest item for discussion is the bag weight.  In years past, we have hand measured play sand (one cup per bag) and dumped it into a grocery bag for each home owner (If you had ten luminares, you got 10 cups of sand)  The homeowners then dumped equal portions into the bottom of their bags and put the candle on top.  The problem was that if the sand was wet the bottom of the bag would disentigrate.  I was trying to figure out if there is a better way of weighting the bottom of the bags.  I asked a guy I know that packages peanuts in heavy duty plastic bags to make me a re-usable "sand bag" sample.  Attached is a picture of what he made.  These would be reusable, storable weights that would keep us from having to measure out sand each year. 
 
The down side is that they are rather expensive (.60 each)  We will need close to 900.  The old way, the annual cost of sand was probably under $100 and it took two volunteers about 3 to 4 hours to prepare all of the bags.  I've laid out some pros and cons for the board to consider.  If we decide to do the plastic sand bags, we have to order them before Friday in order to get them in time.  
  
**Good                                                            
-Saves 2 people 3 to 4 hours of prep time
-Easier to use year to year
-Doesn't get the paper bags wet
-Less general mess
-Saves a TINY bit of natural resources by re-use
 
**Bad
-Up front expense of around $550
-Somebody has to collect and store them
-Some people may throw them away or destroy them accidentally
 
Please give me your thoughts
 
Dan

 

Well, I'd be delighted to give you my thoughts, Dan.

 

Dear Dan, 

 

Get a bag. Climb into it. I will then, and I stand by this promise, personally volunteer however many hours are necessary to 'dump sand' until I have filled the bag in its entirity. I asked a guy I know how long it takes to bury a grown man in a bag. He looked at me strangely, and could not provide a photo. The old way, we'd never be having this conversation, because people didn't really care about dying (due to flaming lumieres), they cared about living.  

 

PS Under your point GOOD, saves 2 people 3 to 4 hours of prep time' I have two points.

Number 1: judging by the depth and research of your email, it looks a little bit like you have the time.

Number 2: Why don't you just DIE?

 

My thoughts,

Dougal