Friends with (linguistic) benefits

"What's happening to your Portuguese?!?" she said, ...and it wasn't a mere enquiry. In fact, it was the opposite of a compliment.

When I still lived in Spain, Teresa, my Portuguese teacher and friend, and I used to see each other every week. Since my move back to Germany nine months ago, we've been catching up on the phone once or twice a month. And, of late, she was clearly less than impressed with the deterioration of my fluency.

Something had to be done. I'd put in too much effort (and money!) to let it all go to waste. I love, love, love Portuguese! Plus, I wanted to maintain my friendship with Teresa without having to switch to Spanish or English when it came to expressing more complex issues.

So, I posted a message in a facebook group called "Portugueses em Munique," offering German and/or English in exchange for Portuguese. I made it clear that I was looking for someone who lived close to me, either in my town or an adjacent one.

I had quite a few responses, mostly from people who actually lived in Munich, which to be honest, is a bit far to meet up for a coffee on a regular basis. I just don't have the time for a 4-hour round trip twice a week. I very nearly agreed to get together with one woman who lived in an inconvenient-to-get-to part of Munich...until she revealed that she had a 12-month-old baby. No way(!) am I schlepping all the way out there and back to listen to a bawling baby and endure monologus interruptus about the trials and tribulations of motherhood in a foreign country. Meh...!

I also had a response from a guy who lived very close by, but who then turned out to be a young teenager. Sorry, sweetie, I was actually looking for people with friend potential... although I could probably have done with someone who could drill me on smartphone shortcuts.

And then there was Ana. Who - I could hardly believe my luck! - lived just around the corner from me! Actually, Ana had been the first one to respond, but we didn't pick up the conversation until the next day.

We met in a restaurant down the street a couple of days later, and we clicked right away. Ana told me that she worked as a secretary at a local engineering firm that was owned by a Portuguese company. She had only been in Germany for a couple of months and wasn't fluent in German yet. Although she had studied German at university a decade ago, she hadn't really been using the language and had forgotten most of it.

For just over a month now, we've been meeting up about twice a week, exploring the nearby towns and villages and indulging in far too much ice cream. We are both delighted to finally have made a local friend.

And I am also delighted to report that my last conversation with Teresa was something resembling A PROPER CONVERSATION :)

I'll Always Have Lisbon...

I've been keeping secrets from you. OK, maybe it's not a secret as such, but I'm like a million years late in telling you about a major linguistic event in my life: I spent last March in Lisbon for a mega dose of Portuguese immersion.

I didn't blog about this while it was happening because there was a lot of other stuff taking up all my spare headspace at the time, like discussing my return to Germany with my family.

A few months before my trip, I picked a language school* purely on the basis that its lesson timetable suited me: Grammar torture sessions lasting an hour and a half three times a week, alternating with conversation classes on the other days - perfect for a digital nomad like me who ought to be reachable for their clients during office hours.

And I got lucky. The classes were small, between 2-5 students, lead by really motivated, experienced teachers who enjoyed what they were doing. I even did my homework every day... including extra grammar exercises, and that's totally unheard of. I learnt a ton - and I so wanted to stay on for another couple of months (or forever!) to keep filling those gaps. The school also laid on a series of free guided tours in Portuguese once or twice a week during the afternoons.

So, the school part was excellent, no qualms about that. A minor sticking point for me was the accommodation. I had opted for a home-stay with one of the school's staff members (a techie, not a teacher). That way, I had hoped, I was going to get some daily conversation in a domestic setting. My Portuguese was pretty OK at this point, so I wasn't "hard work" like communicating with a beginner would be.

The reality didn't quite turn out that way. Although the guy I was staying with was perfectly nice, polite, helpful and always responded warmly when I was in need of some info, he clearly preferred to keep himself to himself. And since I'm not one for forcing myself onto people, I was careful to respect his space. Also, it was unseasonably cold for March, and there was no heating in the flat, which is normal for Lisbon, but still bloody uncomfortable. And then I came down with a stonking cold. And a cough. And conjunctivitis. Those daily trips to the pharmacy worked wonders for my Portuguese, though.

I also managed to get together with a local chap I met a couple of years ago on conversationexchange.com. Lucky for me (but not so much for him), he was off work with a broken arm and so had plenty of time to waste on me. We went on long walks through his home city, switching between several languages every few minutes.

I'm really suffering from those dreary winter months in Germany right now; they make me think back often to this trip and I dream of doing something like this again, if not in Lisbon then maybe in Porto. I even have a local school recommendation from one of my classmates! Unfortunately, next year is not looking very likely...

*   *   *   *   *

* The Language school I attended is called Português Et Cetera and the link is here https://www.portuguesetcetera.com. They also have a facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/portuguesetcetera/ 

Portuguese class isn't working for me, and I can't figure out why!

I went to my Portuguese class last night. Or rather, I dragged myself there. Signed up for it in October, it was advertised as an advanced conversation class, held in central Munich. It takes me about 30-40 minutes to get there. There was nothing closer to where I live at this level - all I could find was beginners' courses in Brazilian Portuguese (I want European).

I really enjoyed the first few classes, I guess it was a bit of a honeymoon period. The classes are centred around a book, O Viagem Do Elefante (The Elephant's Journey), by José Saramago.

I'm at a loss as to why this has become such a struggle. True, the level is high - C2! - but I can follow the book and the discussion in class just fine. I even contribute. Maybe not as much or as eloquently as I'd like to, but it's a small class (6-10 people), so there's room for everyone to chip in.

I like the teacher, she's warm and friendly and very knowledgeable - and from Lisbon, I think. My classmates are nice people as well as interesting - there's an American woman, a French woman, someone who spent his childhood years in Lisbon, a son of Portuguese immigrants, and a guy who has a house in Portugal and spends half the year over there. And I do love books. I'm really enjoying "The Elephant," it's clever and witty and am thinking of reading more by this Nobel-Prize-winning author.

So, what don't I like about this class?

• Having to read out loud. In any language. It's a foible of mine... but I can do it, and everyone is really patient with me.
• Schlepping into town on these cold, dark evenings is the pits.
• Being the worst in class. My level of Portuguese is noticeably lower than everyone else's. But I expected that when I signed up - it's a C2, after all, and that's the highest level there is. I get frustrated with my incompetence and can't stop thinking that, if it were Spanish, I'd be sailing through this and contributing lots and lots.
• For some reason, I'm not connecting with my classmates. I expected to be making friends, but it just isn't happening. The fault, I fear, lies with me, not them. I can feel myself shutting down, isolating myself. It feels like I've got some kind of wall around me while I'm there. Not sure why this is happening or how I can get over myself. I'm worried that, since I've now set up this unfortunate dynamic, it's going to be hard to change it.

The class runs till 24th January, and I've not yet signed up for the next semester. I wish there was something closer to where I live, but there just isn't. There's another class in town, a C1 conversation class. I might try that one for the coming semester. Oh, I just don't know...

I love Portuguese with a passion and not only do I want to keep up my level, but I want to improve! I feel I need a new strategy, and I'm currently ruminating over it.

Socialising Dilemmas: Which Language?!

Multilingual life can throw up some curious problems in social situations. Even if the people who get together have several languages in common, things can still get unexpectedly awkward.

A few months ago, my Portuguese teacher's son, Jaime, invited me and his mother for lunch in Madrid. Jaime lives and works in Switzerland, and since his German is a bit on the wobbly side, I'd been helping him with his CVs, interview preparation, emails, etc. for the past year and a half. He was briefly in Spain for a wedding, and this would be the first time we'd meet face-to-face.

Teresa was already there when I got to the restaurant, and we chatted in Portuguese while waiting for her son to turn up. When Jaime arrived, we first had to settle on which language to speak. (I usually speak Spanish with him, and some German.) In theory, we share three languages in common: Spanish, Portuguese and English. We decided on Spanish, based on the rationale that my Spanish is significantly better than my Portuguese and that this way, nobody would be left struggling with the conversation. Or so we thought.

After ordering our food, Jaime and I launched right into catching up, since we'd not spoken to each other in a few weeks. At some point, I turned to Teresa to ask her something. She looked at me blankly. Then she said, "Sorry, I'm not actually listening to the conversation... in my head, I'm correcting everything you're saying into Portuguese!"

Ooops.

You see, Teresa and I never speak in Spanish to each other. Except for when I can't think of how to say something in Portuguese, then she helps me out. I also tend to mess up my Portuguese by mixing in Spanish words and expressions (this drives her mad), and in her capacity as my teacher, it's always been her job to correct me relentlessly. It's a deeply ingrained protocol which has served me (and my Portuguese) very well, but in this lunch situation, not so much...

My New Year's Language Resolutions

I have a confession to make: I ain't got any. What I do have instead is a loose plan... or maybe it's more of a project. I want to give my Portuguese a kick up the butt. It feels like I've been hovering at the threshold between upper intermediate and advanced forever and ever and what it needs now is a concerted push. I love that language.

To this end, I'll be spending virtually the entire month of March in Lisbon. I've booked myself into a language school to do an "extensive" course. Extensive as opposed to intensive - this means an hour and a half of classes two to three times a week. I'll be staying with someone who works at the school, so I should be able to get some conversation practice in a domestic setting, which is hard to come by in a classroom or when reading books.

I do have another agenda for this trip: I really like Lisbon and I'm considering re-locating there. So, this is going to be a bit of a recon mission, if you will. I've been to Lisbon only twice, and for very short durations. I have a couple of acquaintances there, but no "friends", no network. Nor do I know much about the "language scene" there. I've done a few web searches which haven't come up with anything useful, like book clubs or groups of people who meet up to practice languages. I'm thinking, though, that these must surely exist in a capital city. So, I'll have my research cut out when I get to Lisbon!

Is Russian Worth Another Go?

I'm rekindling an old romance. I don't think it's serious... I'm just toying with him... but you never know. His name is Russian. We parted thirty years ago, after going steady for two whole years. I left him for English. Who was a lot less complicated.

Russian was so not my idea. We ended up together because of a school friend of mine. Actually, it was her mother's fault. She was a beautiful woman, my friends's mother, whose manfriends changed at regular intervals. My friend was forever competing for her attention, and the latest beau spoke Russian. So, as soon as she got wind that the neighbouring school was putting on extracurricular Russian classes and was looking for more students to make up numbers, my friend had to go for it. But not alone.

So, you want us to walk all the way across town to learn... Russian?! 

Yeah, it's gonna be such fun! 

On a Friday afternoon? You think I've nothing better to do?!?

And so, off to Russian we went. There were only seven of us. One of them was the teacher's long-suffering son, another one had long blue hair. As for the rest, I do not remember. We were taught by a flame-haired Hungarian woman who was all but four feet tall, but made up for it by sheer force of energy, killer heels and lashings of green eye shadow.

Every week, she made us take turns reading aloud from the textbook and I was terrified before each lesson because of that. I hate reading aloud. In any language. To this day. But I loved writing, and so I started writing my teenage diaries in Cyrillic script. I still have them, and I'm glad I do, because I can remind myself of how to write cursive Cyrillic. (Just in case it gets serious again.) It seems I was quite creative back then, using half a Cyrillic "х" (as in the word хорошо) to represent the letter "h", which doesn't exist in Russian. My invented cursive version looks like a back-to-front Roman "c".

My sweaty-browed weekly stammerings culminated in a glorious reward: five days in Moscow, during a time when the iron curtain was still firmly drawn shut. We ate blinchiki topped with sour cream and red caviar for breakfast every morning. My friend managed seven in one sitting. I was in awe. She was severely bulimic, which I didn't know at the time. It did, however, get her mother's attention.

We queued up in a bakery for half an hour and came out with two carrier bags full of mini-bagel shaped things that tasted of nothing and had the texture of recycled cardboard.

You asked for 2000g instead of 200g, didn't you? 

Next time, YOU do the talking!

Russian and I are on cautious terms. So far, our dates have been limited to a daily ten-minute frisson on Duolingo - four days and counting.

I have a confession to make: I ditched Italian for Russian. Poor Italian didn't see it coming. We had a two-day fling back in early October. Yes, you could say I led him on. But it's just not gonna work out for us right now. I've already got plenty on my plate with his rambunctious brothers, Spanish, Portuguese and French. There's waaaay to much Romance in my life! It's their verbs that get to me the most: there's fifty different versions for each and every one of them; different tenses, different moods - I cannot cope with another helping of this nonsense, I just can't.

Russian, on the other hand, bypasses superfluous verbiage altogether. "She my mother." "Where Park?" "Your father here." "This not bus. This taxi". Nothing could be more attractive to me right now. Darn it, Russian is roping me right in with his seductive straight talk!

Today, I Write About my Portuguese

"You never write about your Portuguese," says my Portuguese teacher, with a palpable hint of accusation.

I had to think about that. Maybe it's hard to write about things you're quietly enjoying. Like a box of chocs or a glass of wine at the end of a fraught day. It's easier for me to write about French, because we're still at war with each other. Or German, because it's such a big part of who I am. Or Spanish, because a third of my life happens in that language.

Portuguese is more of an indulgent escape. It's a silly kids' cartoon I watch while unwinding over lunch, a novel I retreat to when I should be working, a chat about the events of the week with teacher (and pal) while I'm fussing her cats.

Don't get me wrong - I've still got a long way to go, but I've left behind the agonising stretch of frustration that wedges itself between the beginners' honeymoon period and the point where you can actually do something enjoyable with a language.

And talking of enjoyable, Teresa (my teacher), just got back from a visit to her home town, Lisbon, with this goodie bag:

Deliciously sweet queijadas, a hunk of cheese from the Azores and a new book with grammar exercises . she sure knows how to stoke my motivation!

So, in short, all is well on Planet Portuguese :)

Getting Back to Normal Life

I'm back in Spain after seven weeks of home leave in Bavaria. Great though it was to spend time with family and reconnect with old friends, part of me has been anxious to return to my routine. Anxious, in particular, to shuffle both French and Portuguese, which had been brushed to one side over the summer, back into the mix.

In an effort to resuscitate my derelict French, I've signed up for busuu.com (the free part). At rock bottom level. A1. This is just too easy, I'm thinking, as I whizz through the first section, and then I spell je m'appelle with one "p". Not so easy after all. A couple of episodes of dailyfrenchpod.com are meant to help me muster up the courage to re-instate my weekly 1-hour-long French lessons. I think I'll give myself another week's respite.

French conversation group starts again on the 13th. Cristina, our fierce and dedicated group leader, has maintained WhatsApp contact with me over the summer, maybe because she senses that I might jump ship at any point. She keeps us on a tight leash. That must be the reason that this group has been going for years, instead of disbanding after six months, as most of them do. Kudos to her.

On the Portuguese front, I'm watching kids' cartoons over lunch and I've received an email from my long-suffering Portuguese teacher. I've been ordered to her house for tomorrow morning. I already know what she's going to say about my deteriorating Portuguese, and it won't be flattering. I'll be armed with Austrian chocolates and a short essay which I'm going to write today. I'm also going to tell her that I've booked a weekend trip to her home town, Lisbon, for October.