Judith, Mark, Anna and I finally managed to stage our grand comeback to start nivel 7 Spanish class at the Instituto Cervantes last night. As always, the anticipation was worse. We'd been on a four-month long hiatus, and I was more than a tad apprehensive about going back when I'd barely touched my notes since April. I did, on occasion, leave TVE (Television Española) on while I was doing my chores, and read the occasional article and poem here and there, but for all intents and purposes, I'd forgotten how to conjugate, and the difference between preterito indefinido and preterito imperfecto. I was really excited though. I find learning a new language (and a new culture) just plain fun. More than one person has scoffed at me (literally) when they learned I was taking Spanish classes. One particular person said I was jumping on the bandwagon. (I wasn't even aware there was a bandwagon.) Another said he would never study the language of our erstwhile colonial masters. Yet another said he did not understand the status of Spanish as an elite language in the Philippines.
I really don't feel I have to defend myself or the language. I don't have any strong views on any of the issues these hellraisers put on the table. I just enjoy studying Spanish. First of all, I've always been fascinated with Europe and its colorful history. Second, as my great-grandfather was Spanish, my grandmother and her family spoke it fluently. (Yeah, I know, hindi halata. =p) Anyway, it eventually went out of fashion in the family, but my grandmother and my aunts cursed in Spanish, so really, the first Spanish words I picked up were, naturally, the cuss words. My mom started teaching us the language when we were kids, but her early death effectively put an end to our lessons.
I spent a great deal of time buried in books when I was a kid, and I became really fascinated with history in general, Europe, and how our history was inextricably linked with theirs. Naturally, I have misgivings about the whole issue of being colonized, but what good would it do anybody to start banging on the table half a century later? Besides, why blame the descendants for the abuses of their ancestors?
Fast forward to 2010 and the World Cup. I was rooting for two teams: Italy and Spain. However, when Italy was booted out early after that heartbreaking loss to Slovakia (against whom I still hold a grudge), I focused on La Furia Roja. I must admit, my interest in football was rekindled by that gorgeous specimen of man, Fabio Cannavarro. I don't think anyone can deny his appeal. Or his talent. (Well, his last World Cup appearance didn't go too well. At least they won the 2006 World Cup.) BUT. The beautiful game really does deserve its monicker. Although of course, human as I am, I cannot deny that the parade of gorgeous men makes football infinitely more enjoyable to watch. (Wink wink)
So anyway, my Spanish boys won the 2010 World Cup. (Yay!) And so was rekindled my love affair with Europe, and Spain in particular. We signed up for classes right after the World Cup. It most certainly helped that the Instituto Cervantes de Manila was a hop and a skip away from the office. A year later, we're enrolled in intermediate level classes, and I'm still determined to continue. I also plan to study the other Latin-based languages: French, Italian and German. I also eventually want to learn Catalan, in the hopes of being able to meet Cesc Fabregas and the rest of the Barca boys someday. =D See, I plan to make it to Spain and the rest of Europe by my 30th birthday, on my own or with friends, and obviously, I don't want to go around like a fool asking everyone, "Habla ingles?"
Bueno, en fin, creo que voy a poder a ir a España el año que viene, o al menos, antes de mi trigésimo cumpleaño. Cruzo los dedos. =)
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