My husband has always wanted to have more command of the Spanish language. He goes on bouts of studying on his own, pouring over text books, dictionaries, and listening to CD's on headphones while he mutters his responses to himself. He used to communicate with people working in his store, and now his main reason is to be able to speak fluently to our son-in-law, who is from Honduras. When he found out about Lake Tahoe Community College's Intensive Spanish Summer Institute, (ISSI), I knew he was going to sign up for it. What I didn't expect was that I would join him. I envisioned myself gardening or writing, or maybe even painting, which I never seem to get around to, keeping myself busy at home. He went in to chat in Spanish with the program's director, Susan O'Connor to help her decide what level he should sign up for. She boosted him right in to Intermediate level ll. I hadn't realized there were so many levels, and wasn't really planning on signing up, but the more she talked about it, it sounded like fun, although time-consuming, and besides, we usually do things together. I boasted to her about the Spanish I had learned in the "clinica de los ojos" at Kaiser. I knew all the letters on the eye chart in Spanish, and could communicate pretty well with the patients till the interpreter arrived for their appointment. The most beginning class was called "Low Beginning", and I thought that I could skip that with all my "knowledge" that I had acquired in the school of life. We both enrolled and became college students again! We walked out to our car making up a silly fight song for the school's team, the Coyotes.
Within a month till the class started, my decision of skipping the basic course started to worry me, since I realized that, having studied French in high school, there would no doubt be verbs and tenses to memorize. Doug was madly studying night and day, and I had an aversion to even trying. Finally, I realized that I must change my class to Low Beginning, which had sounded to me as if I had never ever communicated with a Spanish speaking person, which is pretty hard to get away with in California. After I changed my class, I felt better. No pressure. Yet another reason not to study before class.
We had signed up for an extra class, called, "The Difficult Trip", and were each sent a packet of fake documents: ID's, customs forms, play pesos, and traveler's checks. Poring over each piece of information, we filled everything out in advance for the 4th night of class, when the entire lobby of the school would be transformed into a Mexican airport, complete with customs, car rental and baggage check.
Yet another packet came telling us where our homeroom for language and grammar instruction would be, a map of the campus, and all the optional mini courses or breakout sessions that were offered each day. This award-winning course is in it's 23rd year, is always in the first week of August, and folks (especially Spanish speakers) from the community of South Lake Tahoe and beyond come to share their knowledge in classes in everything from Don Juan, to the Incas, and even Salsa dancing. We chose carefully to take a few of the extra classes together, so that we could see each other at some point during the day.
On the first day, we showed up for school at 7:30 like good little boys and girls, and were happy to see snacks and coffee provided and lots of folks with badges there to point us in the right direction. Much of the college itself is arranged in a sort of cloverleaf, with many of the buildings attached by hallways presumably to make it easier to navigate to class when it's snowing outside. They're working on heated pathways to the outer buildings for the winter too.
When we went to the introductory assembly, outside, we were surprised to see how many grey heads there were in the audience. Many of these "life-time learners" had come each of the 23 years and were already speaking Spanish with each other. There was no shortage of younger people too, some wanting to get a jump on their Spanish in their first year of college, and lots of educators, wanting to be able to communicate better with their ESL students. Yes, we were in a group of folks who were excited about life, and wanted to keep on learning new things....and at least for the older ones, they say that learning something new is good for the brain.
So there we were, students on our first day of school, and yes with a little bit of anxiety of the unknown. We each went our separate ways, to our grammar and vocabulary classes. My teacher, Profesora Carol, had a nice smile and was happy to be there. The other students were friendly as we introduced ourselves to each other, already using our new language. "Como se llama usted?" "Me llamo Patricia", I answered, rolling my R.
Mi Profesora, Carol, threw us in to the deep end (gently), in the afternoon, to have us conjugate present tense verbs ending in er, ar, and ir. To our surprise, we were catching on, working from our workbook in pairs. Doug had a little bit of review in his class, but I'm sure he was way ahead of us newbies. When it came to choosing the "breakout sessions, Doug and I had different tastes. He preferred to push himself with lots of conversation classes, and I chose to learn about the art of Frida Kahlo,
...or how to make chiles rellenos, using the proper type of chiles, dark green poblanos and Mexican cheese, (and of course, she let us eat them).
I especially loved the class on how to make Spanish Paella, made outdoors as is the tradition. Our energetic chef gave us an animated demonstration, telling us as she cooked, that "you can make a paella from whatever you have on hand. If you only have chicken then that's okay. If you're on the coast, you would most likely add el pescadore (fish), or camarones (shrimp), also, many times chorizo is included." She showed us the special huge, flat paella pan she used, passed around the saffron for us to smell, and tantalized all of us with the wonderful aromas. The cooking classes were so well organized with young people from the college helping out with the prep work and serving us.
Within a month till the class started, my decision of skipping the basic course started to worry me, since I realized that, having studied French in high school, there would no doubt be verbs and tenses to memorize. Doug was madly studying night and day, and I had an aversion to even trying. Finally, I realized that I must change my class to Low Beginning, which had sounded to me as if I had never ever communicated with a Spanish speaking person, which is pretty hard to get away with in California. After I changed my class, I felt better. No pressure. Yet another reason not to study before class.
We had signed up for an extra class, called, "The Difficult Trip", and were each sent a packet of fake documents: ID's, customs forms, play pesos, and traveler's checks. Poring over each piece of information, we filled everything out in advance for the 4th night of class, when the entire lobby of the school would be transformed into a Mexican airport, complete with customs, car rental and baggage check.
Yet another packet came telling us where our homeroom for language and grammar instruction would be, a map of the campus, and all the optional mini courses or breakout sessions that were offered each day. This award-winning course is in it's 23rd year, is always in the first week of August, and folks (especially Spanish speakers) from the community of South Lake Tahoe and beyond come to share their knowledge in classes in everything from Don Juan, to the Incas, and even Salsa dancing. We chose carefully to take a few of the extra classes together, so that we could see each other at some point during the day.
On the first day, we showed up for school at 7:30 like good little boys and girls, and were happy to see snacks and coffee provided and lots of folks with badges there to point us in the right direction. Much of the college itself is arranged in a sort of cloverleaf, with many of the buildings attached by hallways presumably to make it easier to navigate to class when it's snowing outside. They're working on heated pathways to the outer buildings for the winter too.
When we went to the introductory assembly, outside, we were surprised to see how many grey heads there were in the audience. Many of these "life-time learners" had come each of the 23 years and were already speaking Spanish with each other. There was no shortage of younger people too, some wanting to get a jump on their Spanish in their first year of college, and lots of educators, wanting to be able to communicate better with their ESL students. Yes, we were in a group of folks who were excited about life, and wanted to keep on learning new things....and at least for the older ones, they say that learning something new is good for the brain.
So there we were, students on our first day of school, and yes with a little bit of anxiety of the unknown. We each went our separate ways, to our grammar and vocabulary classes. My teacher, Profesora Carol, had a nice smile and was happy to be there. The other students were friendly as we introduced ourselves to each other, already using our new language. "Como se llama usted?" "Me llamo Patricia", I answered, rolling my R.
Mi Profesora, Carol, threw us in to the deep end (gently), in the afternoon, to have us conjugate present tense verbs ending in er, ar, and ir. To our surprise, we were catching on, working from our workbook in pairs. Doug had a little bit of review in his class, but I'm sure he was way ahead of us newbies. When it came to choosing the "breakout sessions, Doug and I had different tastes. He preferred to push himself with lots of conversation classes, and I chose to learn about the art of Frida Kahlo,
 |
| Frida Kahlo class |
 |
| The perfect chile, stuffed and ready to cook. |
...or how to make chiles rellenos, using the proper type of chiles, dark green poblanos and Mexican cheese, (and of course, she let us eat them).
 |
| Look at that Huge Paella pan! |
I especially loved the class on how to make Spanish Paella, made outdoors as is the tradition. Our energetic chef gave us an animated demonstration, telling us as she cooked, that "you can make a paella from whatever you have on hand. If you only have chicken then that's okay. If you're on the coast, you would most likely add el pescadore (fish), or camarones (shrimp), also, many times chorizo is included." She showed us the special huge, flat paella pan she used, passed around the saffron for us to smell, and tantalized all of us with the wonderful aromas. The cooking classes were so well organized with young people from the college helping out with the prep work and serving us.
We did agree on the Sing the Songs of Cuba and Latin America class, where Marco Pereda sang and played his guitar while we sang along. "Cielito Lindo" was one of our favorites. Some day, I'll be able to insert a video of him singing.
I hope you will all want to find out more about this award winning course. Go to www.ltcc.edu/issi. You'll find out how to know about everything from Spanish Swear Words and Street Slang to an Environmental Series about Baja California.
Pero (but) you still have to hear about the evening that most students look forward to in this course. It's the Difficult Trip.
I must tell you, that I was nervous, being in the "lower beginning" class. We were offered to be guided to our first destination and I ran for that line. We were lead personally by Henry Wilds, who invented this crazy "trip". He first took us to El Banco, where we stood in line to change our fake Travelers Checks in to play Pesos. I learned from the people in front of me that I should say: "Puedo tener pesos para mis cheques de viajero, por favor?"
Then I was sent off to fend for myself. We all had to go to a list of places in the lobby/aeropuerto and have things checked off. I chose to go to customs first. The first thing I'm asked is my name. I can handle that. "Why are you traveling?" ....... How much money do you have? I'm nervous, can't find the papers he asks for and can't figure out how many pesos I've cashed my travelers checks in for.... after all I've just learned the word for a hundred, "cien" that morning. I start to perspire. My face is flushed.
There's a commotion behind me. I turn to find my husband, Doug, arguing with a (fake) policeman. He's saying something about not needing a passport, and would the cop take some dinero?
I'm thinking that perhaps he's having too much fun and I'm too worked up and serious.
Doug has moved on to my spot at customs and also tries to bribe the officer into letting him in without a passport. I'm moved over to baggage. As I'm finishing up my encounter, I see my husband telling the "baggage" person that she "should lift his bag very carefully because it has grenades and rifles in it. But don't worry. It's for my work." The woman looks over at me and says, "Su esposo?" I say, "No, I've never seen him." She looks at a note that has been passed to her from customs about this man. She flips a coin to make a decision. He's a lucky guy. He doesn't have to go to (fake) jail.
I went to the Pharmacia to get pretend pills (Skittles) for a headache (Tengo un dolor de la cabeza). Doug told the pharmacist that his headache was from too much Tequila, and he needs opiates for it. He asked to have it without a prescription, and finally, the amused pharmacist gives it to him literally, "under the table". (More Skittles, of course.)
We met again at the makeshift restaurante, where we could gather our thoughts and buy a yummy tostada for $2.00 with real money. Then we were approached by a waiter and handed a menu that had everything on it as if it were a real Mexican restaurante. This was one of the places to be checked off our list. It turns out that you can order anything you want, but all you'll really get is a dish of chocolate or vanilla ice cream. Doug spoke to the waiter in his best Spanish and ordered half the menu. I just ordered chiles rellenos. "Chocolate, por favor."
The evening was coming to an end, but we hadn't gone to the mercados upstairs. We each went our separate ways and I learned to negotiate and barter with the merchants. I'd say "cuanto cuesta?" when I was interested in say, a scarf. "Cincuenta pesos,", she'd say. We were all encouraged to bargain, so I said, "Puedo darle veinte." (I can give you 20) She came back with "treinte" (30), and we smiled and agreed. I gave her 30 of my play pesos, but I didn't actually get the scarf. She signed my card to say I had gone through this exercise.
After a couple of more transactions, my card was all signed, and I met Doug in the lobby. Proud of our accomplishment, finishing the Difficult Trip, we walked out to the parking lot. "I bought you a gift!", he said, as he dashingly pulled a fancy fan from his pocket and opened it. Aww, I thought...but.... "How did you do that? Nothing was really for sale."
"I paid for it with the play money." he said.
"But nothing was really for sale! We were just learning to barter and then they would sign us off. You have to return it. It belongs to one of the real vendors."
Doug looked sad, but said he would do it in the morning.
We both must have thought our car was in a different spot, since I was going right and I saw Doug veering left. Then I saw something move behind him. "Bear!!", I called in a whisper. It was dusk, and a bear had gotten in to a dumpster. Doug moved quickly toward me and the car.
It was the first bear we had seen this season.
"We're in a Prius", he said, "It doesn't make much noise. Keep the lights off and go past him and we can see him up close!" I had second thoughts, but did it anyway. Thank God, the bear, rather large, darted away from his foraging long enough for us to pass, and then went back to his business.
The next day, the last day of classes, I had to tell my conversation teacher about Doug and his antics. She paid me a nice favor in reaching in to her briefcase and bringing out a lovely black fan to replace the one I had made him return. Thinking it was all funny, she had me repeat my story to my class.
Later that day, Doug and I met for lunch, and on our way we met "mi professora." I winked at her and presented "mi esposa". She said, "You! He causes me problems all the time!" It turns out that Professora Maria was Doug's "homeroom" teacher.
Well, the good ending to all this, is that we decided that we should make plans to go to Spain to try to really be immersed in the Spanish language. Our hope is to include part of the Camino Santiago de Compostela, the 500 mile pilgrimage that folks make that ends in North Western Spain, with the cathedral that houses the tomb of St. James, a disciple of Jesus. Our plan is to hop on and hop off, (no, not on a Red Bus, but from our rental car), taking in a few miles at a time, and ending, God willing, with a grand finale of a few miles at the end.
Folks might look at us strangely with our light packs, and going the opposite direction back to the car.....but from what I hear, this is called, "the Harbo way."
Pero (but) you still have to hear about the evening that most students look forward to in this course. It's the Difficult Trip.
I must tell you, that I was nervous, being in the "lower beginning" class. We were offered to be guided to our first destination and I ran for that line. We were lead personally by Henry Wilds, who invented this crazy "trip". He first took us to El Banco, where we stood in line to change our fake Travelers Checks in to play Pesos. I learned from the people in front of me that I should say: "Puedo tener pesos para mis cheques de viajero, por favor?"
Then I was sent off to fend for myself. We all had to go to a list of places in the lobby/aeropuerto and have things checked off. I chose to go to customs first. The first thing I'm asked is my name. I can handle that. "Why are you traveling?" ....... How much money do you have? I'm nervous, can't find the papers he asks for and can't figure out how many pesos I've cashed my travelers checks in for.... after all I've just learned the word for a hundred, "cien" that morning. I start to perspire. My face is flushed.
There's a commotion behind me. I turn to find my husband, Doug, arguing with a (fake) policeman. He's saying something about not needing a passport, and would the cop take some dinero?
I'm thinking that perhaps he's having too much fun and I'm too worked up and serious.
Doug has moved on to my spot at customs and also tries to bribe the officer into letting him in without a passport. I'm moved over to baggage. As I'm finishing up my encounter, I see my husband telling the "baggage" person that she "should lift his bag very carefully because it has grenades and rifles in it. But don't worry. It's for my work." The woman looks over at me and says, "Su esposo?" I say, "No, I've never seen him." She looks at a note that has been passed to her from customs about this man. She flips a coin to make a decision. He's a lucky guy. He doesn't have to go to (fake) jail.
I went to the Pharmacia to get pretend pills (Skittles) for a headache (Tengo un dolor de la cabeza). Doug told the pharmacist that his headache was from too much Tequila, and he needs opiates for it. He asked to have it without a prescription, and finally, the amused pharmacist gives it to him literally, "under the table". (More Skittles, of course.)
We met again at the makeshift restaurante, where we could gather our thoughts and buy a yummy tostada for $2.00 with real money. Then we were approached by a waiter and handed a menu that had everything on it as if it were a real Mexican restaurante. This was one of the places to be checked off our list. It turns out that you can order anything you want, but all you'll really get is a dish of chocolate or vanilla ice cream. Doug spoke to the waiter in his best Spanish and ordered half the menu. I just ordered chiles rellenos. "Chocolate, por favor."
The evening was coming to an end, but we hadn't gone to the mercados upstairs. We each went our separate ways and I learned to negotiate and barter with the merchants. I'd say "cuanto cuesta?" when I was interested in say, a scarf. "Cincuenta pesos,", she'd say. We were all encouraged to bargain, so I said, "Puedo darle veinte." (I can give you 20) She came back with "treinte" (30), and we smiled and agreed. I gave her 30 of my play pesos, but I didn't actually get the scarf. She signed my card to say I had gone through this exercise.
After a couple of more transactions, my card was all signed, and I met Doug in the lobby. Proud of our accomplishment, finishing the Difficult Trip, we walked out to the parking lot. "I bought you a gift!", he said, as he dashingly pulled a fancy fan from his pocket and opened it. Aww, I thought...but.... "How did you do that? Nothing was really for sale."
"I paid for it with the play money." he said.
"But nothing was really for sale! We were just learning to barter and then they would sign us off. You have to return it. It belongs to one of the real vendors."
Doug looked sad, but said he would do it in the morning.
We both must have thought our car was in a different spot, since I was going right and I saw Doug veering left. Then I saw something move behind him. "Bear!!", I called in a whisper. It was dusk, and a bear had gotten in to a dumpster. Doug moved quickly toward me and the car.
It was the first bear we had seen this season.
"We're in a Prius", he said, "It doesn't make much noise. Keep the lights off and go past him and we can see him up close!" I had second thoughts, but did it anyway. Thank God, the bear, rather large, darted away from his foraging long enough for us to pass, and then went back to his business.
The next day, the last day of classes, I had to tell my conversation teacher about Doug and his antics. She paid me a nice favor in reaching in to her briefcase and bringing out a lovely black fan to replace the one I had made him return. Thinking it was all funny, she had me repeat my story to my class.
Later that day, Doug and I met for lunch, and on our way we met "mi professora." I winked at her and presented "mi esposa". She said, "You! He causes me problems all the time!" It turns out that Professora Maria was Doug's "homeroom" teacher.
Well, the good ending to all this, is that we decided that we should make plans to go to Spain to try to really be immersed in the Spanish language. Our hope is to include part of the Camino Santiago de Compostela, the 500 mile pilgrimage that folks make that ends in North Western Spain, with the cathedral that houses the tomb of St. James, a disciple of Jesus. Our plan is to hop on and hop off, (no, not on a Red Bus, but from our rental car), taking in a few miles at a time, and ending, God willing, with a grand finale of a few miles at the end.
Folks might look at us strangely with our light packs, and going the opposite direction back to the car.....but from what I hear, this is called, "the Harbo way."
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