Aventuras in Spain

It's 1981 and I'm living in an apartment on the Calle del Prado, Talavera de la Reina. Based on what I can understand of discussions on the transistor radio about the assassination attempt on President Reagan, it sounds as if a Mr. Brady has a serious brain injury. I wonder who Mr. Brady is?  I get busy with tidying up and washing dishes, all the time wondering about the significance of the shootings. Why would anyone be shooting at the President and this Mr. Brady? I don't have an answer. If the people on the radio do, then they're talking just too rapidly for me to comprehend. Might as well get on with my day. I plan on going to my exercise class, something I really look forward to. In fact, I just bought a new leotard and tights and can't wait to wear them. On the way to the gym I always stop off for a few minutes at my Cuban friend's apartment located close by. She's a poet who smokes endlessly. Any time you see her she's puffing dramatically an...

I'm living here in Talavera de la Reina, on the Calle del Prado. There aren't many people who speak English, which is good. I want to improve my Spanish, and I want to get to know the Spaniards. I lived in Andalucia for four years and learned a lot. Later, I also studied Spanish at Mary Washington College in Fredericksburg, Virginia. I should be well-equipped to at least get by here in Talavera de la Reina. Right? Hmm.  Hope so. People talk of being immersed in a foreign language, of thinking, eating, drinking, even sleeping with the foreign language. That's how you learn. You need to become obsessed. You need to memorize vocabulary lists, and you need to write and re-write verb conjugations until you get them completely correct. Never, ever forget that accent mark. And, never, ever place an accent mark where it doesn't belong! That subjunctive? We all know of it. It's one of the hardest parts of Spanish grammar. How do we forge through it? I love the 'if...

It's 1980 and I'm living on the Calle del Prado, Talavera de la Reina. I seem to be constantly chastising my young son for leaving his room in a mess. " Pick up your toys and put them away." " Make your bed." " Put your books back on the shelf ." It's usually a rush to get him dressed and out the door in time for school. The school bus stops in front of the Simago supermarket across the road. Many times I just wear really casual clothes, figuring that I'll dress nicer later when I venture out to the gym or shops. I usually manage to brush my teeth and splash water on my face before venturing out, but that's about all. There's this other mother I meet every morning at the bus stop who is the exact opposite, even first thing in the morning.  She always looks as if she's going out to some fancy restaurant, or to a cocktail party. She tends to wear stiletto heels, a beautifully tailored suit with shoulder padding, and a f...

From Monday to Friday I was busy teaching at the bilingual school in El Puerto de Santa Maria. When I wasn't teaching I was studying Spanish and practising new vocabulary and verb tenses with the two Spanish teachers I lived with. Week-ends were completely different for that's when I got out and about and mixed with other foreigners.  On Saturday afternoons I made my way to Rota, to hang out with the Americans who worked on the Naval Base. There were also people from Australia, Great Britain, New Zealand, and Scandinavia who were travelling the world, just drifting around. It was bit like meeting characters from James Michener's book,'The Drifters', and I felt intrigued as if my nose and ears were tingling with sensory pleasures. There was the smell of Brut after-shave, Head and Shoulders shampoo and Dial soap as well-showered faces greeted guests, ready to entertain and be entertained. I couldn't tell the difference in accents between the Australians and...