Language

Catalan Radio

~ Kate Wilson ~ 2 Comments

Walking Bonnie this morning I listened to a podcast of a Catalan radio station El Millor de Casa.
It helps to improve my comprehension especially when they speak fast and I don’t have to smile and pretend to understand as I do in real conversations.

Today starts the huge Barcelona festival The Merce. On the programme they were interviewing people who are involved in one part of the festival, a celebration of music and culture from Asia. It was interesting listening to the interplay of languages. The interviewer was speaking Catalan of course.  One of the guests started off in Catalan but gradually words from Castellano intruded and after a few minutes she totally gave up any attempt at Catalan. The interviewer continued in Catalan, without missing a stroke and clearly she understood all he said.
Then another guest began to speak, he spoke Catalan fluently and this encouraged the Asian woman to try again, her sentences became 50/50 and stayed that way till the end. It also became clear that  Castellano was also not her first language. She said she had been studying it at the Official School of Idiomas in Barcelona.
The way she spoke was pretty near perfect for me – bits and pieces of Catalan and Castellano, an ease of switching and perhaps an underlay of English. I understood her every word.  I thought how brave of her to go on the radio to speak in public. Also I felt pleased that I am now able to track the changes between the two languages.

But as always the most striking thing for me is how language here is such a complex thing. Catalan is the language of the nation but because everyone also speaks Castellano there is a possibility of switching, between people, between sentences, between words.
And it all happens without breaking the flow.  It creates more and more layers in every conversation.

I’m hot!

~ Kate Wilson ~ Leave a comment

Today the temperature in Granollers hit 33 C. Or was it 31C  or 29C?
It’s hard to know as all the weather summaries differ and you can walk past three pharmacies which have clocks hanging outside, alternating time and temperature and they all say something different.

All I know is

  • you need to walk along the shady side of the street
  • waiting to cross the road at traffic lights everyone crowds under the shadow of the building.
  • Bonnie and I went out to walk at 8am and by 8.45 she was panting and I was sweating and we decided to stop for a coffee instead.
  • last night we had to wait till after 8pm to feel comfortable walking far.
  • inside the house it is cool but within half an hour of sitting at the computer sweat is dripping off my brow
  • it is the time for sleeping with only a sheet….and even that can be oppressive in the middle of the night
  • clothes must be loose – things that normally float around me are sticking to my swollen body
  • it is bliss when you turn a corner and there is a little breeze
  • at midnight there are small groups of people sitting in the nearby plaças, talking while their children play and their dogs sniff around the edges. Normal bedtimes do not apply.

I am not complaining. I love the summer and I like that feeling like I am walking through warm water when I go outside. I love the sweatiness of it, the feeling of my body cleaning itself from inside out. When I go somewhere on the bike I create a little fan of air and that is a wonderful feeling.
Also I am not really hungry which makes a big change to my eating patterns which normally tend towards greedy.
We will be leaving soon to set off north for the UK so I am soaking it all in and hoping to carry some sunshine over there as I know too well how hard it is when summer comes and it is cold wet and windy.  We will do out best – I promise!

In Spanish you must say Tengo calor. In Catalan Tinc calor. Never never say Estoy caliente which means something totally different!  Unless that is what you want to say, of course.  In english you could say the same words and mean both things, depending on the tone of voice. Try it – I’m hot!

A Pick Up in Granollers

~ Kate Wilson ~ 7 Comments

Conversation in the street.
Translated into English but it was all in Spanish.

(and I mean Spanish – not Catalan)

Man:   Boy or girl?   (indicating Bonnie not me)
Me:     Girl
Man:   I have one like that – they’d be a good pair. What about getting them together sometime?
Me:     She is beautiful isn’t she?  But she’s had the operation you know.
Man:  You mean she can’t fuck?
Me:     No, she can’t
Man:  Oh well, that’s a shame. Bye then.

If you ever have this type of conversation on the street it is useful to know these words:-

Macho, Hembra, Ligar, Follar, Guapa y lo mas importante – NO!

El Cant Dels Ocells

~ Kate Wilson ~ 5 Comments

I know I have let things go rather on the language front – if you’ve been reading here then you’ll understand why.
But I made this little video in the hermita of Sant Nicolau near Ordis.
It is a beautiful Catalan traditional song, made very famous by Pau Casals playing it on the cello.
The words are:-

Al veure despuntar
El Major lluminar
En la nit més joiosa
Els ocellets cantant
A festejar-lo van
Amb sa veu melinosa

For me it is a hymn to the birds and I sang it as a thank you to all the birds of Sant Nicolau who gladdened my days and nights there.
And also as a thank you to Pep for all the love laughter and music he has brought into my life.

A red dress on Market Day

~ Kate Wilson ~ 5 Comments

I went to the market today, wearing something a bit more cheerful than usual and it’s amazing how this can affect your mood. People stared at me but at least I could imagine this time it was because red attracts attention and not because I look like a weird foreigner

While waiting at one of my favourite stalls I filmed a little so I could see how it felt doing it in public.
Answer – it felt awkward!  Here I am – don’t know why my voice is so squeaky!
It will be another challenge to get comfortable doing this but I’d like to be able to film local sights and it helps if I can talk at the same time.
In the end I did my shopping in Catalan as usual as it doesn’t feel ok speaking in Castellano with people I normally talk to in Catalan. Unless I explain every time what I am doing which sometimes I do, but more often not.

So exciting that the cherries have arrived!
As I was waiting an older woman arrived at the stall and instead of asking ‘la ultima?’ she started buying her stuff although it was obvious I was there first. I really had to squash down the urge to turn away and buy things somewhere else. The guy knew it had happened and was friendly when he came to me so I commented how often this happens to foreigners, that you can end up feeling you are invisible. He listened but didn’t really reply – sometimes I wonder if it is because I haven’t explained it correctly or if it’s just that people here don’t say things like that.
Wondering if my red dress makes me stroppier?  Or perhaps it’s being a year older so I am beginning to feel like the old woman who wears purple and doesn’t care. I also had my toenails painted this week which is another amazing magical way of gaining confidence

Then I went to the olive stall where the man is not very friendly – nothing personal I know as he was the same with Pep one day. After buying three bags of olives and he seemed as grumpy as ever and I couldn’t keep quiet any more. I said – in English with a smile – ‘you are very scary’.  He ignored me totally but as I was just on the point of paying he couldn’t go away so I said it again then translated into Castellano and Catalan…….’tengo miedo de ti’…… ‘tinc por de tu’
All the waiting women in the queue started laughing and said – ‘yes, you are very serious today’ and he laughed too and suddenly the atmosphere was so much better

Funny how you can change things with just a few words.
I wonder if I am changing into someone who says what she thinks – in three different languages?




Warning – When I Am an Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple


By Jenny Joseph

�

When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple
with a red hat that doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
and satin candles, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I am tired
and gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
and run my stick along the public railings
and make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
and pick the flowers in other people’s gardens
and learn to spit.
�
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
and eat three pounds of sausages at a go
or only bread and pickles for a week
and hoard pens and pencils and beer nuts and things in boxes.
�
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
and pay our rent and not swear in the street
and set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.