Hello Tick-y

During Spanish class today I felt a bug crawling between my eye and my brow. I tried to brush it away, but there was nothing there.  The creepy-crawly facial sensation got worse when my classmate, Tex, wondered aloud if I didn't remember seeing some advanced tense of the verb Olvidar (to forget) in a text we'd read two weeks ago.  Hello Kitty, a new student from Korea decked in apparel by the same name, was humming a soft melody as I was was trying to remember the verb, "to forget".  No, I told Tex, I have absolutely no memory of that verb.  I forget! With that, Hello Kitty, humming her ancient tune, widened her eyes and rifled through her Hello Kitty stuffed animal pencil bag.  It was then that the facial tickle turned into a full-fledged tick.


I rushed home to explore exactly what my medical issues are.  Here's the Google definition:

The causes of facial tics are still poorly understood,but some things are thought to trigger or worsen the symptoms. Tics ... can also very often be symptoms of other conditions such as Tourette syndrome, whose causes are most likely neurological... Stress and anxiety have also been shown to provoke and significantly increase the frequency of facial tics.


I have the following symptoms:

1. The urge to lunge at Hello Kitty when she hums incessantly from 9:30 am to 1:30 PM
2. The urge to lunge at Tex for showing off her photo brain every chance she has.
3. The Urge to swear uncontrollably (when learning Spanish).
4. Uncontrollable facial tics (while in class).

Symptoms disappear after 1:30 PM when class is over.

School Daze

 (chimp brain)

When, on a Saturday night, you can't adequately tell the Spanish police that your son is missing -- yo busco mi hijo! I look for my son! -- the first thing you do on Monday is re-enroll in the intensive Spanish program at International House.

You sit yourself down next to two twenty-somethings, one German and one Texan, and you hope for the best.

La Profesora speaks no English, but hey you're in Spain! You get it! You're supposed to be speaking Spanish by now. You're ready to engage.  Your new metal pencils from the cool Japanese store at the airport are leaded and ready to escritor.  But you're like the animal in a Far Side comic.  You see the teacher's lips moving, but nothing makes any sense... just a word here, a word there.

Did she just say Quesadilla? I'm pret-ty sure. What, we're talking Tex-mex?  No wait, she isn't talking food ...  maybe she said, "que es dia" or  "que sa dia?" but that doesn't make any sense. What is day??? Maybe if I listen.  Huh?  Something about preterito perfecto... 


... What's that Texan doing in this class anyway? Gimme a break. Every Texan I've ever met is secretly fluent in Spanish.  She practically lives in Mexico. No she did-INT just say she has a photographic memory! HATE her. Why not stay home and read the Spanish dictionary? Why don't I have a photographic memory?  What if I have a brain disease? What if my brain is shriveling with age and it's too late to learn another language... 


... Wonder if that laser hair removal appointment is tomorrow or Friday.  Better check.  Either way, I'm outta here at 1:30, home by 2, then I apply the cream.  I'll just have an hour to numb.  Hope it doesn't hurt... Yikes. She's looking at me... God, I hope she doesn't call on me... her lips are moving.  Do I say, "I'm sorry I wasn't listening", or "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you", or "No se?"


Luckily, the Texan answers for me.

Language "Barrier"

I drank the Berlitz Kool Aid.  I believed that if I applied myself for 2 and a half hours a day, twice a week, for 4 months this past Spring, that I would be passably fluent in Spanish by the time we moved here.  Chip figured he'd just absorb the language when we arrived.

We've been here almost 2 months and are just now becoming proficient at stating our address to cab drivers. (We do have a tough address.)  We hid in our apartment for a few weeks after realizing how dire the situation was, venturing out only with the help of our interpreter.  Unfortunately, she has a life and refuses to accompany us 24/7, so now we're out there on our own sometimes.

Bravely, Chip walks to the "la farmacia" in search of Advil.  No such thing, so he tries the generic name of Ibuprofin.  He even throws in a little spanish accent for good measure.  The lady behind the counter finally seems to understand and puts a small white box on the counter.  Chip looks down and tries to tell her that he wants the giant size bottle.  "Mas grande -- mas, mas grande!" Holding his hands wide apart, he indicates the huge economy size bottle he's looking for.  She's embarrassed for him and gives him a quizzical look.  She stares directly at his torso, before going behind the counter to retrieve another box of the same size.  Chip recognizes the "XL" on the new box, picks it up, and realizes for the first time that she's given him a box of condoms.

In this country, famous for its Latin lovers, does he admit, he really didn't need want the XL box of condoms and then try for the Advil, or does he take the XL's and go elsewhere in search of pain medication?