Terremoto

At 8:30 this morning I was taking a test. It has been quite a while since I have sat any kind of exam. The exam conditions were not strictly monitored, as this paper was intended only to determine placement for K and me in the Spanish classes that we started today.

The short paper was clearly organised to test knowledge of the language in order of increasing complexity. Starting with the basics of agreement of adjectives according to the number and gender of the noun, the test quickly progressed through conjugation of verbs in the present tense, past tenses, future and conditional. I coasted as far as I could on the similarities between Spanish and French and the little I had managed to glean from self-study before the course. However, any points I had managed to gain on the written test were quickly lost in the oral, as the examiner opened his mouth and emitted an entirely incomprehensible string of sounds. One question I did not manage to discern immediately concerned my 'status': "soltero o casado?", "single or married?". Neither of these words had I heard previously - soltero I probably should have guessed from 'solitary', but casado (from casar) invoked a memory of 'casser/cassé', French for 'break/broken'*. I faltered and mumbled a few words. It was clear where I was destined: A1, the beginner's class.

* Of course, casar comes from casa, for 'house', so it basically means 'shack up with'.

Even though these were simple questions directed at a foreign listener, it is said that Chile is one of the most difficult places to learn Spanish, as the Chilenos tend to speak fast, use slang, and drop many of the words and syllables they use in pronunciation. The 's' is the first to go, rendering even 'español' sounding more like 'epañol'. However, if you can understand a Chilean speaker, you can probably get by in any Spanish-speaking country.

Hogwarts - where the magic happens

The school is in an old stone building, which means it has character in its winding staircases and tall ceilings, but manages to keep the heat of the Santiago sun outside and the cold night air in throughout the day. The chilly classroom was warmed up with an electric heater (estufa) and brought me back to schooldays.

In other ways, the school is much more warm and welcoming than any educational institution for children that I have attended. An aphorism is emblazoned on the red wall (a colour that features heavily in the decoration), which exhorts the students to make the most of life - "if lived well, once is enough".

Spanish aphorism

Heartened by my ability to translate this phrase without any lessons, I was confident that I would be able to pick things up fairly rapidly, at least where written Spanish is concerned. However, the first class centred on the grammatical peculiarity that has been tripping up learners of the language since time immemorial: the difference between ser (to be) and estar (to be).

Unlike many other languages, Spanish distinguishes between 'I am happy' (estoy feliz) and 'I am English' (soy inglés) - the former thought to be a state more transitory than the latter. The general distinction is made - with two counterintuitive exceptions - between permanent states (es simpático / he is nice) and temporary ones (está sucio / it is dirty). The exception to permanent states is when talking about an event (la fiesta es en mi casa, the party is at my house), while the exception to temporary states is, again ironically, when describing a location (el correo está en el centro, the post office is in the town centre).

Of course, discussions on the nature of permanence can rapidly turn philosophical, and we discussed the nuances of describing transitory aspects of someone's character (happy, sad) versus more deep-seated attributes (loyal, lazy etc.). Changing the verb can radically alter the meaning of a sentence. Witness 'estoy borracho' (I am drunk) versus 'soy borracho' (I am a drunk).

Oddly there are some conditions that, despite their obvious impermanence, are treated as though they will last forever - él es joven, he is young - while others follow the pattern one would expect - ella está embarazada, she is pregnant. Perhaps this reveals something about the Spanish mindset; that youth can be maintained but that pregnancy is but a fleeting affliction. Along similar lines, contention in the class arose regarding romantic matters. 'Officially' (on documents and such) one is permanently married (soy casado) but sentimentally it is treated as a temporary arrangement (estoy casado con..., I am married to...). More cut-and-dried was the apparent ambiguity about the head of the Catholic church and a popular starchy vegetable*.

El Papa ≠ la papa (from Gianni)

* Spain obviates this confusion by using patata for potato.

A welcome lunch was held for the new students at which we received orientation and a pedagogical vision from the academic coordinator, while munching on freshly baked empanadas.

Empanadas al horno

There followed in the afternoon a tour of Santiago. We had previously taken a tour organised outside of class and, having been here a week, were familiar with many of the areas of the city. Nevertheless, this tour was led in Spanish, in keeping with the objectives of 'immersion'. Technically, I should be writing this in Spanish, but it would be shorter, more boring, and full of more fundamental errors of language than it already is. K and I have sporadically been trying to maintain conversation between ourselves in Spanish, but that too rapidly descends into frantic gestures and an inability to complete even the most trivial task. We revert to English for the sake of our marriage.

Unusual art on the streets of Santiago

Unlike our previous tour, which ended with our guide abandoning us in an area of town, with which we were not familiar - save for the map he had just produced - today's tour terminated at the bar. Café 202, to be precise, which has four taps of 'cerveza artesenal' from local microcervezería, Kross. I selected the Kross 5, which revealed itself to be a rather tasty Belgian number. I'm not sure what the 5 stands for - certainly not the abv, as the ale weighs in at a hefty 7.2%.

Cerveza Kross

As part of the 'cultural activities' organised by the school, tonight saw the introduction of the attendant foreigners to the Chilean specialty, terremoto. Named after the earthquake that apparently occurs after drinking too many, this cocktail is an odd blend of piñon (a type of cheap white wine akin to retsina that comes in gallon drums), Fernet, and grenadine, and is topped off with helado de piña (pineapple ice cream). It tastes exactly like a boiled sweet and slips down far too easily. It lubricated a few halting conversations with the other language students, many of whom have a disgracefully unfair advantage of already speaking Portuguese (being from Brazil) and therefore grasping Spanish at a hugely accelerated rate with respect to the other novices present.

Expending our limited vocabulary brought the evening to an end, rather than the (apparently limitless) availability of jugs of terremoto. Having not eaten anything other than an empanada, we cooked up a simple pasta dish with courgette, mushroom, and tomato back at the hostel.