My Spanish Love Affair

LRT Train

“Que chavacano!” my Spanish teacher used to say angrily to us whenever he heard an ungrammatical statement from us. If it was his way of embarrassing us for our mistakes, he failed big time. It didn’t have the same effect as when  people remarked, “Ang barok ng English mo” about one’s English.

Since I didn’t feel insecure or stupid in my Spanish class unlike how some Math teachers made me feel years back, I went on to study the language for few more years. I reached a certain level of proficiency that enabled me to use the language in conversations and in reading. However, work came, and I started doing almost everything in English. Adios, Espanol!

The Spanish language became like an ex-lover after that. Once in a while, I was reminded of it. When I heard Spanish words in songs, I would smile for I could recognize the language while others couldn’t. When I heard people spoke it, I turned my head to the speakers but couldn’t take part in their conversation.  When I wanted to go back and learn it, I told myself it had no use anymore. Spanish to me started to become distant yet familiar still.

I am not sure how long this separation will last. I might have some form of rekindling in the future. I say this because the LRT trains I took reminded me of how beautiful the language is. There were excerpts of Spanish poetry posted all over the train. The translations do justice, yet nothing beats the original. It is always humanizing to read poetry in whatever language, and I am grateful that in my commute something reminded me of that quality when one reads poetry. 

Berso sa Metro

Martian View

In literature class, we were introduced to this poem by Craig Raine. The persona in the poem is a martian who sends a postcard home, thus the title "A Martian Sends a Postcard Home." hehe. The persona describes everything as observed by this martian. A part of the postcard reads:

A Martian Sends a Postcard Home
Craig Raine, 1979

Caxtons are mechanical birds with many wings 

and some are treasured for their markings-- 

they cause the eyes to melt 

or the body to shriek without pain.

I have never seen one fly, but 

sometimes they perch on the hand. 

For some it reads like a riddle; for some it's genius; for others it's poetry. But for the martian, it is its way of describing books.

It's interesting how the martian viewed things from its perspective. Here is another, its thoughts on what it thinks to be 'cars':

Model T is a room with the lock inside --

a key is turned to free the world

for movement, so quick there is a film

to watch for anything missed.

How differently a martian sees things. We no longer look at things the 'martian' way. We peer through the car window and see the objects around us as the objects that they are, but it would be great to let that small car window open our eyes to the world that's beyond ours. Wouldn't it be nice if we see the world unfold before our very eyes?  We drive or ride cars with increasing apathy. For as long as we are comfortable, we ignore. 

There is no resolution to this post. I myself wouldn't know what to do once I get a view, whether good or bad, of the world around me. My apathy tells me that I should stick to seeing things like a human.