catalan

Subtle language decisions that you can’t avoid in Catalonia

~ Kate Wilson ~ Leave a comment
My week of Castellano

It was quiet in the park today as so many people go away on a public holiday.
Today of course is May Day!  Or  El Dia del Trabajadors.
But Bonnie and I did meet a couple with two dogs, one a very lame German Shepherd and the other an unidentifiable tiddly thing. Ages – 12 and 14.
Of course I asked them which vet they use and we had a good conversation about dogs and vets and getting older.  They go to the Lauro 24 hour Vet Hospital where I took Bonnie a few months ago.

But I had to have this conversation in Spanish although they were obviously people who would normally speak Catalan and it was interesting how embarrassed I felt.  As if I was being  rude or disrespectful and I was tempted to explain my language challenge but really, Kate, not necessary! They won’t expect you to speak Catalan anyway.
Just get on with talking!

I’m sure if I had explained it wouldn’t have been clear and they would have switched to Catalan and that would be that.

But I wonder if I am being too rigid in this language challenge – I want to be disciplined but I have to take into account the particular language courtesies here.

Listening to Catalan in the early hours

~ Kate Wilson ~ 2 Comments

I was up early this morning to take out Bonnie and Blue before the shoppers start to walk down the street and it gets embarassing for me to be out there in my badly hidden nightie. Also Blue has developed the habit of peeing as soon as we get out the front door – or sometimes worse!  And thirdly our Resident Adolescent was out at a disco last night and expected home around 6.30am which I knew would wake the dogs up and perhaps lead to puddles in the living room.
So….after wandering around the square for a while with two sleepy dogs I came back and made a cup of tea and opened the computer to pass the time while waiting for two teenagers to get home.
Where do you go when you want to look at something on the internet but aren’t sure what?
Youtube perhaps?  I’ve just been watching some videos by a man who makes films of himself speaking Catalan and Spanish…. and English sometimes which is the language he is learning. He’s called Oscar and he sits in his home talking to the camera in a really informal and informative way. I like these videos because he speaks very clearly and he just chats about interesting things like language learning or problems faced by people learning a new language. It’s all very relaxed and a great way to practise listening skills. Sometimes he goes out for a walk with his dog in the Catalan hills and chats to his iphone as he goes. There’s something very appealing about him and if you are learning Catalan or Spanish I’d really recommend finding him on YouTube and subscribing to his channel.  Then you’ll automatically get sent his new video.
This is not the most interesting one he has made but I put it here as an introduction to Oscar and it’s short and topical! He speaks English, Catalan and Spanish in a brief Christmas greeting.  Click here to watch.
Hope you enjoy him!

Sometimes I feel uncomfortable here

~ Kate Wilson ~ 6 Comments

Sometimes I don’t know what to write here. After all it’s not a diary and shouldn’t I be entertaining you?  But if my mood is ‘interesting’  or complicated then I have trouble knowing what to say or how to say it.

If you would like to see something funny that caught my eye tonight then here is a photo of a shrine by the side of the road. I don’t know what came first – the statue or the brickwork.

Here it is….

And if you are here because you like to know what is going on for me then this part is for you. If you prefer to read interesting cultural things then this bit might not be your cup of earl grey tea!

I am feeling uncomfortable in my skin

I don’t like the unsettling cloudy humid weather which spoils our plans to go to the beach or watch Life of Brian in the open air cinema.

I keep crying over little things.

I feel a failure at everything I try to do – I can’t drive like Catalan people, I don’t know how to use the Samsung phone, cooking is difficult, we are getting nowhere with finding a new home with a garden.  The resident adolescent still ignores me.  I can’t speak Catalan, understand Catalan, remember any words in Spanish, wear the right clothes,  look presentable in a photograph, etc etc

I went to a family meal and spent three hours at the dinner table in almost total silence. Half way through I lost my ability to smile and nod. Not much later I lost the will to live as my spirit left my body and floated somewhere up on the ceiling watching my abandoned body continue in some reflex way to lift the glass of cava to my mouth and drink…..too much.

Memories of the school playground

Remember at school those skipping games where you have to run in while the rope is turning, jump a couple of times and then exit without breaking the rhythm?   There were always scary girls who confidently popped in and out without any trouble.   I was not one of them.  I would stand at the entrance for ages, bobbing my head forward and back as I tried to find the right moment to make the move. Then I would chose the wrong moment and catch the rope on my ankles or around my neck.
This is how I feel when faced with groups of people speaking in Catalan in a social setting. The words are fast and constant. You need confidence to get in there.  And if you jump in at the wrong moment, the conversation stops, everyone looks at you as if you are stupid, and you just want to run away and hide.
And if you don’t try to jump in they look at you anyway,  asking ‘what’s wrong with you?’

I am too slow for so many things.

Driving for example. I love driving and taking to the road but I hate having to speed along because that is the ‘right’ way.  The ‘Catalan’ way.   I don’t like overtaking when there is a lot of traffic – somehow the same bobbing head syndrome kicks in and I have to take deep breaths before claiming my space in the fast lane.

My brain feels tired. I feel dizzy and muzzy.  I wake too early and go to bed too late.

I want to go HOME – but I don’t know where home is.

Many people have said to me that they couldn’t do what I am doing.

They couldn’t come and live somewhere different, learn two languages, have a new family and an adolescent step child in a different culture and begin all over again with work and friends and everything. Honestly in many ways it hasn’t been too difficult but….right now…..I’m not sure I can do it either.

I want to – but I am tired of feeling that I am always failing.

Is it because I am not good enough?  Perhaps the task is just too hard!

The swift that I tried to rescue wanted to fly.   Again and again she stretched her wings and launched off   into the unknown only to crash down head first onto the ground.  It was hard to watch but I loved her desire to survive.  Eventually she got tired and had to rest. In the end she accepted this, and let go to death.

She tried and failed and it wasn’t her fault – it was just too hard.   I feel very poised on this edge, facing this question, and although there are helpful hands around me, it is a lonely moment…..can I fly?

Now, for anyone who is still tuned in,  here is a lovely little car I saw on Carrer Corro last night. This is my kind of car, ideal for pootling along enjoying the journey without having to feel bad about not going faster or being bigger or more stylish or a different shape or colour

And especially for Oreneta, Bodhi, Christine, Pearl, Pepsi and all those who leave me messages,

this is for you

summer school

~ Kate Wilson ~ 6 Comments

Today I took Duna for a walk down by the river. We met a new dog, one of the tiny variety that is so common here and for once Duna let it sniff her without raising her lip and snapping. You can never tell with these small ones – she really doesn’t like some of them but others pass some secret test and she will chase them around for a while. Here they are at the back of this picture getting to know each other

And here is Duna with the horrible flats in the background but….look at those glorious flowers!

I talked to the owner  – in Castellano this time. When I asked ‘Com es diu?’ (what is he called?) he answered   ‘Se llama Nury’.
It’s complicated like that here. You can’t be sure who speaks what until the conversation begins. And sometimes people who actually are Catalan change to Castellano because they think I will prefer it. Oh it makes life interesting!
In the summer school we did automatic drawings and also drawing with the non-dominant hand. To help us get more into the Miro world of imagination and dreams. I led this exercise which is the first time I’ve done that and managed to do it in Catalan.  The language wasn’t the problem, it was more getting 6 children to stop chatting and asking questions. They loved doing the drawings of moon and suns and stars and birds with their eyes shut and were amazed to see what they had done without all that intense ‘trying to get it right’ energy.
Then it was the rehearsal and it was wonderful to see them getting nervous behind the scenes then coming out and playing their parts, acting out a little story about Miro.  Songs, dressing up, props that we made, dancing, drama, the final bows.   All in one week – to my surprise it comes together and creates magic.
Tomorrow is the show. The audience are the parents and we are there to whisper prompts. No-one minds if things go awry. But it absolutely is the real thing – the nerves, the adrenalin, the buzz., the applause.

I will let you know how it goes.

Vocabulary

~ Kate Wilson ~ 1 Comment

Two new phrases learned today – not sure how they are connected, if at all but they caught my fancy.

Mala Llet          Literally means bad milk. Someone  who has mala llet is an unpleasant character.            Shouting. Angry. Mean.       Tenir mala llet is permanent. Estar de mala llet is a passing bad humour.

Torracollons      Someone – it can be a man or a woman – who nags and complains and won’t get off your back about something.

And that reminds me of the one that Oreneta told me.

Tancat com una tomba   Shut like a tomb. Useful for describing adolescents in the grunting phase.

Bona Nit!