¡Hola!
Toda via no puedo escribir todo en español aún si me gustaria y si sé qué Roberto (nostro compañero colombiano de Wall Street Institute) espera de ver mi desarrollo increible en su idioma. Ahora puedo hacer frases pequeñas en el presente y nada más pero espero che podria hablar en el pasado y el futuro proximamente.
Vale, inglés. Let's present briefly our fellow students. As you know Michael and I are in different groups. Upon looking more closely at our books, I happened to notice that he is just one EU level above my A2 (I had imagined two more than mine which was hard on my ego. After all, he has only studied one month eight years ago whilst I have studied 5 painful years in high school but to be fair with little if no enthusiasm); which doesn't stop him from acting as a teacher!
So even though our groups are different we got a chance to meet most students during our Bilbao/San Sebastian tour of hell's furnace. In general most nationalities have two ambassadors. Jonas (not sure on the spelling) and Lothar are German. They come from different parts of Germany but felt immediatly at home in each other's company. Though Lothar is scrupulous about speaking Spanish to the rest of the group he does indulge in a bit of German with his compadre now and then. On the other hand, we have the woman made of steel, the seventeen-year-old Claire who speaks constantly and in Spanish without ever breaking into French even when speaking to her fellow ambassador from Biarritz, the middle-aged Michelle. A possible future match for Claire is the other seventeen-year-old of the group: our lovely Scottish Hamish. He is handsome because he inherited his mother's latin american traits but speaks with a typical British accent. He usually hangs out with his northen ally the Irish Alan who always looks bored in Spanish class. All I know about him, so far, is that he thinks Irish women are ugly; he hates smokers and doesn't drink beer (Irish, really?). Another pair is the Roman duo: Priscilla and Ilaria. As yet, I haven't had a chance to know them well but I admit to enjoying a little Italian here and there. We all agree that Spanish is a strange Italian dialect. Spaniards use funny expressions that an Italian would never dream of, but well, they are at the very end of the Roman empire after all; what can you expect? (Roberto, esto es una broma, vale?) From Eastern Europe we again have women, Veronika and Branimira respectively from Poland and Croatia. Veronika brought her husband here by force to babysit their son even though he doesn't know a word of Spanish and no one here can speak English. Oh no, that would just be too easy for our Spanish challenge. Branimira also called Branchee (because apparently no one can correctly pronounce her name) is the tough woman of the group. She knows her stuff. Just like Veronika she is in the super advanced level (there are only three levels) and corrects our pitiful mistakes (but nicely). She is one of the only ones who can have a true Spanish conversation with our cute guide Rosario (a girl though the name sounds male to me). Rosario is small but strong. She took us around on that infernal day (ok, infernal afternoon) even though she hadn't slept all night. She works in a bar that conveniently opens from 10pm to 6am.
That's pretty much it for the moment. I will save the other members of the group for another time.
I think Michael told you about the rain. I hate it. Who said that in Spain it's hot and you can go for a swim? Well guess what, I haven't been for a swim once so far! I want my money back. Saturday in San Sebastian was my perfect opportunity but no one had told me to bring my bathing suit and I had imagined it more as a sightseeing tour than as a beach escapade unlike the other group of Americans who happened to share the bus with us.
At least the cool evening breeze allows me to sleep well at night with my blanket, although I must say that my matress and the springs under it are horribly soft. It feels as though the bed is trying to eat me. And since we sleep on two separate beds put together, we suffer from the crack monster: this terrible void that tears us apart at night. But Michael and I will survive this terrible ordeal and find the perfect bed in Madrid.
Love to you all,
Shanti
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