Hola amigas,
This blog will be short and sweet today.
"Why" you ask?
Not because we lost power during the Frankenstorm. Not because I was out gallavanting on the town all night. But because my friend Klari came over last night and we spent the better part of the evening together. She is taking a Spanish class and asked for my help on her first presentación.
She decided to write about las maratones because she, like many of my other running friends, is a super duper marathoner.
So I spent the evening surrounded by Spanish-English dictionaries and dusting off the Spanish cobwebs in my head. Years ago I took class after class in Spanish and had reached the point where my Spanish was comparable to my French. I loved it. I thought in Spanish, I spoke it, I listened to Spanish radio and I read Spanish magazines. When I went to Cuba and Mexico, I chatted away, albeit hesitantly, with the locals.
Sadly, I do not have any Spanish-speaking friends with which to practice so my skills have faded a bit.
Until last night!
Funny enough, it doesn't take much to get those synapses firing again. Two hours and I'm already thinking in Spanish.
Poor Doug!
I've been talking to Lisa en español, too, ever since I started taking Spanish classes a month ago. For some reason, she seems to tolerate this bit of babbling better than when I talk to her in French. Probably it's because my Spanish is limited to saying silly things like "Me gusta el gato blanco y negro" and "¡Claro!" instead of trying to carry on conversations with her in a language she doesn't speak whenever we come home from Montréal.
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