Spanglish

Second day of class today. The topic of the group lesson was the agreement between the gender and number of nouns with their definite and indefinite articles, and with descriptive adjectives. Having learned both French and German, the theory is well known to me, but is anathema to those English people who have never studied another foreign language. Long ago, we simplified out any difficult declension, requiring us only to use one form of 'the' and 'a', and the odd 's' on the end of words to indicate more than one of anything.

Spanish still clings onto the fact that every single object (as well as less tangible things) has to be either male (el lápiz, the pencil) or female (la mesa, the table). This leads to a never-ending list of nouns that have to memorised and classified into two camps. Fortunately there are some rules governing which gender things might have. Nouns ending in 'o' are largely masculine, while those with 'a' are feminine. Of course, where there are rules, there have to be exceptions - la mano (the hand) is feminine, while el día (the day) is masculine. And, if you have managed to get your head around this, aesthetics comes to mess things up for you. While agua (water) is, as you have every right to expect from the last letter, feminine, nobody in their right mind would say "la agua", because the extended vowel sound from the combined a's is offensive to the ears of sensitive people. So, it is rendered as the gender-swapping "el agua", but don't forget that any adjectives have to agree with the real gender, resulting in the following confusing juxtaposition: "el agua fría" (cold water).

Despite the exceptions - goodness knows English has enough - the theory is simple to grasp and the lesson was a good chance to get to know a stack of vocabulary. I tend to prefer learning the structure of a language, and so spend more time absorbing the grammatical rules and patterns, while being lazy about reading word lists and using the language in practice.

Fortunately, our course includes a private conversation class each day, solely for the purpose of getting me to open my mouth and think on the spot. However, with a currently limited vocabulary, this quickly turned into a cultural lesson covering la gente indígena (indigenous people), the benefits of being united by a common language throughout Latin America, as well as the differences in pronunciation between the countries (Peruvians apparently enunciate, while Chileans gabble).

For making it through the day, we rewarded ourselves with a visit to the tucked-away vegetarian restaurant, Soju, in el centro histórico. While the location is not the best - stuck inside an arcade/gallery, like a miniature mall, of the sort that seem quite popular in Santiago - this cosy place serves up Chilean 'specialties', such as hamburguesa a la pobre ("poor man's hamburger", with a fried egg on top) and chorrillana (a heart-stopping plate of chips topped with cheese, fried onions, faux meat, and a pair of fried eggs). After the ubiquitous bread and pebre (a very fine salsa), we were served an unusual mushroom, tofu, and onion ceviche. This vegan version of the traditional dish involving raw fish cured in lemon juice was a much welcome flavour bomb.

El sandwich

To eat, I plumped for "El Chorizo", a mock meat hamburger flavoured with the eponymous sausage spices, in an enormous bun. K went for slices of 'beef gluten' (known elsewhere as seitan) with rice. Both were tasty but felt a little nutritionally deficient. This kind of food is all too easy to find in Chile, which is a shame, as the fresh produce is fantastic, including enormous and tasty tomatoes and avocadoes.

Mock beef and rice

The immersion continued as we plucked up the courage to join the weekly 'Spanglish' party at Le Pub 36½ in the trendy Providencia area of town. Just half an hour's walk brought us to an area buzzing with people, bars, and restaurants. As is commensurate with our British reticence, we hung in the doorway for a good while, wondering whether we had arrived at the correct venue. Fortunately, the host soon approached us, greeting us with the exuberantly continental 'air kiss' that seems to permeate all countries that speak a Romance language. We were immediately introduced to a group of girls from Argentina and Mexico, studying in Santiago, and keen to improve their English. Judging that their competence significantly outweighed ours, we switched between hesitant Spanish and a rather more fluid conversation in English. Part way through, a native 'Santiaguino' burst into the group, announcing himself, barely able to contain his energy. The conversation negotiated the usual territory between foreigners, through respective travel plans, slang, to cultural differences. The Mexicans maintained that the people of Chile were cold and Mexicans were more friendly and looked out for each other far more, while the born-and-raised Santiaguino thought that the problem was one endemic in large and capital cities across the world. I must say that the people we have met so far in Santiago have been muy simpático.