Aventuras in Spain

Talavera de la Reina, 1981      I teach English privately to various groups of students in my apartment on the Calle del Prado. One student is a history teacher who, according to her, speaks the best Castilian Spanish.  Her Spanish is the real McCoy, absolutely. None of this Talaveran slang, and certainly no cutting off the ends of words as the Andalucians have a tendency to do. She's from Madrid, something she remarks upon every occasion she can get.       "I'm not from Talavera, you know. I'm from Madrid."  She moves her shoulders back and forth as if to emphasize this important point. She wants help with her English as the group she's in is more advanced, so we decide on meeting an extra time each week to do an exchange. She'll coach me with my Spanish and I'll help her with her English.        I quite like being told how to pronounce Castilian Spanish correctly. It's so much easier than reading rules and regulations fr...

It's 1983 and here I am, in Andorra, trying to sell the fabulously fantastic Alfa Romeo. With our imminent departure for the United States, and the upsy downsy interpretations of Spanish regulations, I decided it best to go over the border to try and sell the fabulously fantastic Alfa Romeo. Or, at least get rid of it somehow. Nobody in Andorra wants to buy it from me, not even for parts. I guess I can't blame them. This poor car has a really odd pedigree - an Italian car, manufactured in Brazil for export to Poland.  Somehow, it ended up in Heidelberg, Germany where we purchased it. I have to think really hard to try and come up with a solution of what to do next. No matter how hard I think, I can't come up with any solution!  In the end, I do what drivers do best - I drive. I just drive up the Pyrenees. Up and up and higher and higher I go. I climb so high that there is no longer any vegetation. I climb so high that the road peters out to just a goat trail. Oops. I...

1980, Talavera de la Reina I was teaching English privately in my apartment on the Calle del Prado. One little group was made up of two colleagues who were advanced students of English and who worked together at the Colgate company, just outside Talavera de la Reina. They were always punctual, and always very well dressed, complete with suit, tie and shiny shoes.  They were always very formal and respectful, even using 'usted' with me, despite the fact that we were  around the same age, in our early thirties. They had studied English extensively and were coming to me for conversation. Many times I'd use National Geographic as a way to get them to converse in English.  They thought the articles and photographs fascinating and the quality of the paper outstanding. Sometimes we just chatted about this and that. I always liked the challenge of guiding the conversation and then later of coming up with a spur of the moment dictation based on what we had just been talking ...