And The Plot Thickens...

Included in my list of agenda before leaving the UES is to enroll in a Spanish class here in the Philippines. I wasn't able to catch the first set of classes mid March, but finally I was able to enroll in Instituto Cervantes last Friday. I have been teaching myself Spanish through CDs, books and podcasts (I HEART CoffeeBreakSpanish.) and I reckon it is time to get some classroom education for this new endeavor.

There are a lot of Spanish-speaking communities in the US. They are the largest ethnic group in the country and people translates into patients in the medical business. Since my surname is Spanish in the most strictest sense, I have a feeling they will all gravitate to my clinic schedule. Thus, I want to make most out of the opportunity and being fluent in the language will help me in the future. Besides, I think it's time to learn a new one. I would also want to watch movies and read books in Spanish. Most of the time, subtitles lose the essence and the passion of the language when translated into another one.

Dumbfounded by the question, I proudly raised hand when the teacher asked if who among us test takers haven't attended a single class in Spanish. It was a diagnostic class anyway; my goal is to enroll in a class as far as possible from Level I Spanish. The test was hard. I got lost in the subjunctive, imperfect and even on the preterite tense. Nevertheless, I answered the best I could.

After a few minutes, the teacher went out and talked one by one to the people in the room. I was the third person. She said, "You're Level 6." WHAAAT? "Your grammar is great." More WHAAAT? Then, she showed me the paper. I told her my predicament: I haven't been speaking the language that much (well, except with Mariaelena in PA) so I don't think I can cope with a higher level of Spanish. When I took the exam, I am assuming I have enough Spanish to get me past I and be in Level II or III. It willl definitely hurt if I pay thousands of pesos just for them to teach me how to count in Espanol.

"No...I don't think you'll like Level III, at least Level 5. If you are confident after that, we can skip 6 and get you through Level 7."

Hahaha. Wow! I was so happy! I totally did not expect this! Like a kid with a gold star, I ran home (figuratively. In reality, I rode a FX for 2 hours...again) and told my mom about it. She was also happy and told me she had 24 units of Spanish in college. I tried coaxing her to speak it in the house, but she shooed me away. She dismissed me before I could start to speak a word.

So the plot thickens....I am juggling several jobs, attending class, commuting 4 hours to and from work, drinking like a hobo in some nights, playing badminton TTHS and trying not to fall for someone. The plot twists are draining me out.

The Most Uneventful Holy Week Ever

I simmered at home for 2 days: it was hot and sticky and there was nothing to do but play Naruto on PSP with my cousins. It was Kiba, Sakuri and Rock Guy who filled my days with excitement. It's really fun, even though I ended up with a completed bruised pride after my 12-year-old playmates kept kicking my arse.

It was eat-play-sleep cycle for 2 days. But on second thought, I owe this time for myself. I was working hard at the start of the week doing a teaching stint and going on call at nights. I had two hours of worthless sleep last Tuesday. Also, everything happens in Makati or Manila. The bus ride becomes my mobile home. I am getting used in texting, reading, listening to podcasts while enduring the gruesome commute to work.

Everyone was restless by sabado de gloria. Just like everyone in our little suburbian town, we went to the mall to look for a place to eat and basically, see other people. True enough, some of my badminton buddies were in the area, desperately looking for something to pass time. Not everyone is in the mood for a game, though. That night, we all trooped to Pasig as one of my badminton friends prepared dinner for us. It turned out to be a sizeable feast: sizzling bulalo, pepper steak, chicken satay, chicken pandan, tokwa't baboy, sizzling corn complete with several pitchers of a cocktail drink called zombie. That night, as we await for easter, I know we were more or less bound for the third tier of Dante's Hell.

Easter was as uneventful as the other days. Finally, I got my feet on the court again after a week of not playing. My playtime dwindled since the dual meet in Antipolo three weeks ago (We were not much of a loser, we lost 2 out of 6 games, so I wasn't that disappointed with my play). Real life and work caught up; ergo, I was busy running around Manila like a lap dog.

Now, it's Monday and I can still feel my liver working out the liters of Tanduay in that zombie-shit drink. I keep telling myself to work. I've been procastinating for quite sometime now.