It’s been nearly two weeks now since my holidays in Tenerife and Murcia came to an end, and so I thought that it was about time that I drop back in and update everyone on what I’ve been up to since then. Apart from work, which is still being done remotely from my flat, I’ve been making the most of the cooler late-summer nights to visit some interesting spots around the city and take a few pictures.
Now, the title of this blog post, “De Madrid al Cielo”, is a famous phrase used around here which roughly translates as “from Madrid to the heavens”. It’s common poetic use implies that Madrid is about as close to heaven as you can get, but I like the double entendre which brings me perfectly into my first little story, which certainly involved us getting as close to the heavens as possible.
One evening, Jhosef and friends invited me up to the mountains which surround Madrid in order to escape from the bright lights of the city and watch the meteor showers and take some long-exposure shots of the night sky. I figured that this wasn’t an everyday opportunity, and so I hopped in the car and off we went into the night, secretly hoping that I’d see my first ever shooting star.
After a lengthy ride up a very bumpy dirt track, we arrived in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night, and scouted out a rock to throw some blankets down and set up camp. We first spent some time munching on snacks we’d brought along and chatting away, with some of us later opting to huddle together and rest rather than run around taking photos.
I didn’t bring my camera with me, which was perhaps a silly decision looking back, but after a few walks with Cake Club in the same area in the past, I wasn’t about to end up having to haul my heavy camera up a mountainside! Jhosef and his friends took some lovely photos of the sky, however, and I even managed to make out the shape of the Milky Way and see a grand total of six shooting stars. It was magical!
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a background so dark.
After arriving home from our outing at 4am, I then spent the rest of the weekend resting and trying to knock my sleep schedule back into line! During the week, however, I kicked back after work by heading down to the Matadero cultural centre near my house in order to find a seat in the shade and write my previous two blog posts out in the fresh air.
One evening even saw me take a bike all the way up to the city centre, where I sat myself down on a lovely terrace in Madrid de los Austrias, the oldest part of the city. After some more blog post writing and a cheeky beer, I decided to walk back home as the journey is downhill, and at that time of night the sun was hitting everything just beautifully as I walked down the ancient streets of the centre.
Once I’d seen such lovely evening skies over the city, I was determined to catch some more photos of Madrid’s gorgeous sunsets, which have had me hooked since I first saw a stunning example of the purple skies way back in 2016. Even Ellie, after a couple oftrips to the city, always asks to check out the sunsets!
To chase a nice sunset, I headed back down to Parque de las Delicias, a lovely park which I discovered is a mere ten minutes walk from my house as I began exploring the neighbourhood more once lockdown was lifted but a 1km limit still applied to any excursions.
I wandered first past the fenced-off abandoned train station at the northern peak of the park, which is covered in black netting to keep prying eyes out, but which was no match for my determination to bag a photo of the abandoned trains and lazy cat which I could see within. After drawing some odd looks for shoving my phone through any hole I could find in said black net, I headed further south and into the park, snapping more photos as I crossed the large railway bridge.
This bridge led me out to a path which leads further into the park, but curiosity got the better of me as I noticed that some people had scaled the straits of the brutalist planetarium building which sits just to the left of the bridge. I snuck off to investigate whether the metal stairwells and various open-air platforms of the tall concrete structure were public, which they turned out to be.
Once on top of the planetarium, I took these few photos of the gorgeous sunset, and then managed to get lost as I searched for a rental bike spot in order to cycle back home. In the end I’d to give up and find a bus back home, but as it was getting late and I was working the next day, I think it turned out to be a good idea!
This past weekend was a particularly warm one, and I had some errands that I wanted to run and some things I wanted to pick up, so I decided to head to an indoor shopping centre to make the most of the free air conditioning! Instead of visiting one of my usual haunts like Parquesur or La Gavia, I decided to head to a centre in the north of the city that I’d been meaning to check out for a while.
The trip there ended up taking me much longer than I ever expected, as I managed to just miss the next bus or train at every stop along the way. I then got completely lost in a housing estate after hopping off my last bus, but I did eventually make it to the shopping centre!
Another activity which never disappoints is a leisurely bike ride down the banks of the Río Manzanares by my house, and so I have spent a couple of evenings this past week doing just that. The many bridges along the way provide great spots for one or two lovely photos of the heavens of Madrid, and the sunsets this week haven’t disappointed!
I’ve also been catching up with friends since I arrived back from my holidays, including a movie night in at home, a meal out of delicious vegan burgers with a friend I haven’t seen for a while, and then an evening in the park with Bogar and Hugo. The three of us, alongside Hugo’s boyfriend, met up in Retiro, Madrid’s biggest and most famous park, where we set up a little picnic and had some beers as the sun set around us.
And thus I conclude this little look back over the past week, with all the photos of the evening sky of this lovely little city I call home that one could possibly wish for. Coronavirus may still be quashing all dreams of travelling in this rather terrible year that is 2020, but once we are all free to move around once more, I do implore that you visit Madrid and see why the locals say “de Madrid al cielo”…
My last post left off with me catching a plane after a lovely few days down in Tenerife, but this plane didn’t bring me back home to Madrid, but rather eastwards and to Alicante. I wouldn’t be spending my time in Valencia like last summer, however, as I was picked up by my auntie and uncle and whisked off to Murcia to spend the second half of my holiday at their place.
Upon arrival, the weather was thankfully much warmer and brighter than the last time I visited, but the sun was already beginning to set by the time we arrived at their apartment. We weren’t about to waste the evening though, as my auntie had organised for us to meet some of her friends at a local restaurant to take advantage of their happy hour!
After snacking on some lovely croquetas de bacalao (cod croquettes) and sneaking in as many drinks as we could before happy hour finished at ten, we returned home to carry on our conversation and get rested for the next day.
As I’d agreed to make my auntie a carrot cake as a late birthday present, and I wanted to pick up some home comforts from the supermarket, we kicked off the next day with a trip to Mercadona (my local supermarket chain). We also stopped by at the British supermarket to buy some cordial (seeing as I could bring it up to Madrid with me on the train later), and then spent the rest of the day lounging around the pool.
In the evening, we headed down to a town on the coast and a restaurant that my auntie and uncle had recommended, where we had a lovely meal as we watched the sun set over the sea. After some table-layout-related chaos, and a starter containing gulas (baby eels) which had my auntie and uncle intrigued, I enjoyed a lovely cut of pork and a homemade dessert which left me fit to burst!
We were up bright and early(ish) the following day, as we’d a trip planned up to a covenant in the mountains. My auntie and uncle had spoken quite a bit of this place in the past, but I’d never managed to make it up there, so I was keen to see what the fuss was all about.
It turns out that the cluster of buildings perched on the mountainside is absolutely gorgeous, with panoramic views over the city of Murcia to match. These views revealed themselves as we walked between two buildings and through a lovely archway, but I’d been told that there was a little chapel that was worth a visit before exploring further. The interior of this place was decorated to the rafters with gold and frescos, but we were soon ushered out by the lights going out as mass was soon to begin.
We then stopped in the covenant’s café for drinks and some of their delicious homemade empanadas (imagine a Cornish pasty), which gave us the energy to begin climbing some of the pathways and taking in the amazing views over the covenant, the mountains, and the urban sprawl below.
The views from the covenant were as varied as they were spectacular.
Once we’d knackered ourselves out in the heat, we hopped back in the car and began searching for a restaurant that my auntie and uncle’s friends had recommended. We were told that it was an unassuming spot, attached to a service station, but upon entering it became obvious that it was a hit with the locals. I spotted that a lamb dish on the menu had won an award, and so I opted for that despite not being a fan of lamb, but I sure was glad that I did – it was delicious and an absolute steal at just 8€!
The next day we decided to spend relaxing around the apartment and pool, and I decided I’d whip together aforementioned carrot cake as my auntie had invited a group of friends over for a drink. In the end I made a two-tier monstrosity, something I don’t usually do, but it went down an absolute treat. I also must mention that we were joined in our gathering by my auntie’s friend’s dog, Paolo, who was a very good boy and a joy to have around.
Paolo was very well behaved and a treat to play with.
We spent the evening in a quiet local bar, where we shared a range of dishes on the terrace, chatting about all sorts of nonsense as the sun set around us. It had soon become my third evening in Murcia, and I still hadn’t decided when I was returning to Madrid, as I was still waiting to hear if my sister’s trip was definitely off due to the quarantine situation.
Walking through the quiet streets of small-town Spain is always a calming experience.
For breakfast the next morning, my auntie and I jumped in the car together and headed down to a lovely restaurant on the coast that we always tend to stop at. Singing a range of songs in the car on the way down (which reminded me of my car karaoke project for university), we arrived to enjoy a classic Spanish breakfast followed by a cheeky beer as we looked over the Mar Menor.
After this followed anther relaxing day at the pool, when I finally found out that sadly Ellie wouldn’t be able to make it over to Madrid, and so I booked my train back for the Thursday to give me a few days relaxing in my flat without rushing back.
Now that we knew exactly how much time I had left, we made a plan of action for the following day, involving taking a little shuttle train from a tiny local village up to Cartagena, a city on the coast. This is another experience that my auntie and uncle had talked a lot about, but that once again I had never done, and so I hopped on to the tiny one-wagon train in earnest.
Upon arriving in Cartagena, we walked around the city wall and into the centre, where we soon stopped for a drink to cool off from the summer heat. After this we were sure to stop by a local bar, Ramón’s, where I once again got chatting to Ramón himself and we enjoyed the local speciality coffee, un café asiático.
For lunch we sought out a restaurant that my auntie and uncle knew, and sat down on the terrace for what was to become the start of a wild two-hour experience! After we placed our orders and they gave us a plate of patatas bravas “as a gift for the delay”, we had an inkling that things might not be running smoothly behind the scenes, and this hunch turned out to be right!
With our starters coming out at random intervals, it soon became evident that a complete chaos had been caused by the numbering system of the tables, which had fallen apart as new tables had been put out and nobody new which numbers they were. When it was eventually time for dessert, the head waiter had clearly had enough, and opted to just stand in the middle of all the tables and shout out the list of desserts that were available, instructing everyone to just raise their hands for their preferred dessert as he did so. What a laugh!
Once lunch was finally over, we headed slowly back down to the waterfront, wandering along the docks of the port and back forwards the train station. I then spent a relaxing evening in the pool by myself, watching the sun set as I called some friends around the world.
All too soon my final full day came around, and after a morning hanging around the pool, me and my auntie headed out for lunch at a local bar whilst my uncle headed out with his friends. This involved a few courses of local dishes, all of which was delicious, and which I then digested whilst lounging around in the pool once more.
I did have one thing I wanted to do before I left, though, so we made the most of my last night to squeeze it in before my return up north. This involved a trip down to the mud baths of Lo Pagán, which I’ve made the most of during a previous visit, but which my auntie has never experienced. This involves wading into a shallow pool, slathering oneself in sulphur-infused mud, allowing the stuff to dry in the sun, and then washing it off.
After watching the sun set and stopping off for a kebab (it’s hard to get a decent one in Madrid, so I’d to make the most), we headed back home and had one last drink for my last evening. The following morning was then spent lounging around the pool, before heading off for a lunch at a restaurant that we usually visit just before I head back on the train.
This time, however, there was a rail replacement bus service in action for the first half hour of my trip, and so I’d to wave my auntie and uncle off from the car park before a rather uneventful socially-distanced train ride back to the big city. Although sad to leave my auntie and uncle and resigned to the fact that my summer holidays were nearing an end, it was lovely for me to come back to find that all my plants had survived my absence thanks to my friend for nipping in to water them!
Much like Cami, Sam, and family, I’ve to once again thank my auntie and uncle for putting me up and putting up with me for a whole week after my five days were extended by the unfortunate cancellation of my sister’s trip to visit me in Madrid. I feel like any time out to travel is a real luxury this year, and so I’m really grateful to have been able to visit Tenerife and Murcia.
For now, it’s back to work for me, and I know that Ellie (my sister) and Johann (her boyfriend) will be back in Madrid just as soon as they can!
Once again I was to spend my time staying with Cami, Sam, and Cami’s family, which I was very much looking forward to after they were the most gracious of hosts last year. The odd thing this year would be the whole experience of travelling under new coronavirus restrictions and safety measures, as this two-hour flight represented the first time I have travelled in any real capacity since Madrid was plunged into lockdown back in March.
The trip began as my holidays usually do, with a frantic last-minute check that my flat was secure, my plants were watered, and my electronics were turned off. I then headed up to the airport on a practically empty train, arriving at T4 with time to spare in case of social distancing related holdups. Apart from an abundance of hand gel stations and social distancing markers – all of which I feel we are now accustomed to – the airport experience was quite normal. I filtered through security as usual, headed towards my gate, and began to look for a bite to eat for lunch before my 3pm flight.
This is where I managed to royally cock everything up. I had noticed that the usual offer of shops and restaurants was all but shuttered, and so had headed out towards my gate in the hope of finding a little sandwich stall to bag myself a meal deal. This, it turned out, involved catching an underground shuttle train, as T4 is split into a main building and a “satellite terminal”, which is a fancy name for a smaller building with even more gates surrounding it.
Well, upon arrival in this “satellite terminal” it soon became clear that no such eating establishments were to be found. Not to worry, I thought, as I had plenty of time to spare before boarding began, I would simply return to the main terminal and carry out a more comprehensive search there: I was sure I could at least find a McDonalds. I thus hopped back on the shuttle in the opposite direction and arrived at the other end only to be immediately stopped by security.
The two security guards in question began to ask where I’d flown in from, whereupon I explained that I’d just come back to the main terminal from the other building in order to search for some lunch. They were very understanding, but told me that I’d have to go through the security checkpoint which is otherwise only used for connecting flights in order to return to my gate. This I did, only to be spat out of the other side of the security control and straight into the jaws of another couple of security guards.
These two also asked where I’d flown in from, and so I explained that I hadn’t come from anywhere, that I’d come from here, from Madrid, and that I’d yet to set foot on a plane. This was received with some suspicious looks and a thermometer aimed at my forehead, and one of the guards persistently asking if I’d come from Marrakesh. I rattled off the story of how I’d ended up stuck in the connecting flights area of the airport just because I wanted a bloody sandwich, and I was eventually let back through to the shuttle, where I resolved never to make a u-turn in an airport ever again.
I was stuck in the wrong part of the airport just because I really wanted a bloody sandwich.
There’s a happy end to this story, as I eventually found a kiosk, grabbed myself a sandwich, and made it to the gate in time to get confused by the boarding procedure, which is now undertaken in rows of five in order to maintain some level of social distancing. The tinny sound of the airport PA meant that I was left as one of the scragglers at the end who had no idea what was going on, but I had no trouble eventually finding my seat (at the very back) and settling down for two hours of trying to sleep in a stiff airplane seat with a mask bound to my face.
At the risk of making this whole blog post about my misadventures in airports, I shall skip to the bit where I arrive in Tenerife, leave the airport building to get some sun, am immediately greeted by an unbearably cold breeze, and then try to head back into the airport only to be told that I couldn’t enter as I didn’t have a boarding pass to fly.
I was soon saved from my this blustery debacle by Cami and Sam, who arrived in their car for a hug-filled greeting and the half-hour trip down to the south of the island where they live. After setting me up in a spare room of Cami’s parents’ house (complete with en suite and balcony, I may add), the three of us headed out to pick up some snacks from the British shop and then for a delicious street-market tea, which involved a mix Arabic, Chinese, and Spanish dishes.
The next day I woke up to the news that Cami’s parents were to prepare a barbecue, which I was very excited for after my delicious experience last time. Before that, however, Cami’s parents took me down to a car boot sale just down the road whilst Cami and Sam were busy with their two dogs, Luke and Nas.
If what you were seeking wasn’t in this car boot sale, it simply didn’t exist.
After a snoop around the endless stalls of odds and ends, we returned home and began to prepare four our barbecue lunch. Once again I had brought my film camera, and so I took plenty of photos on that which I’ll have to wait to see in a few weeks time, but I was way too busy enjoying the delicious meats and fresh salads with homemade sauces to even stop and take a photo of any of the food!
Once we were full to burst with delicious food and Chilean wine, we sat out the mid-afternoon heat indoors, before regrouping to head down to a beach next to La Montaña Roja (The Red Mountain), an interesting rock formation whose name comes from its red tint. We had a paddle in the sea before walking along the sand to dry off, but we were lured back into the water by some of the biggest waves I think I’ve ever swam in!
The red mountain wasn’t a mountain or even that red really.
One particular wave left me with a mouthful of seawater and my sunglasses floating in the surf, and so I took that as a sign that I should probably make for dry ground, and we ended our day of explorations with a few drinks and a game of Scrabble at Cami and Sam’s house – we were all still too full for tea!
The next day’s plans involved a trip down to some natural pools, plans which were nearly dashed by the high waves from the day before meaning that the pools we were planning on going to had been closed for safety reasons. Luckily Cami devised an alternate plan on the spot, and we eventually rocked up at another natural pool a little further down the coast.
I wasn’t really sure what to expect when I was told that we’d be visiting some natural pools, but we ended up at the base of a cliff where the constant sloshing of the waves had filled a basin with fresh seawater. We left our bags on the rocks and dipped down into the pool, relaxing in it’s tranquil waters for a while before venturing over to the wall where the waves collided. Here we could sit peacefully for a few minutes before the odd well-timed wave would hit in just the right way as to send a rush of water upwards and crashing into the pool, thoroughly drenching us and occasionally throwing us from the wall and into the pool.
The black volcanic rocks of Tenerife make for a lovely contrast with the blue sea.
Once we’d tired of our frolicking at the pool and I’d managed to burn my shoulders in the sun (something I’d find out later on), we headed to a pizzeria where Cami and Sam insisted that I try a pizza which had slices of potato on it. I was dubious, but after trying the potato, sausage, mozzarella, and rosemary pizza, I can confidently say that it’s an absolute winner! I am sat here in Madrid writing this now, and as I think about that pizza, I’m starting to get rather hungry…
Anyway, by this point it was getting somewhat late, and so we opted for another relaxing evening at Sam and Cami’s place, where Cami whipped up some delicious homemade chicken nuggets and the three of us called Kevin in the US. It was Kevin who introduced me to Cami and Sam when the three of them all lived in Asturias, and we had an absolute riotous time in FaceTime, reminiscing about old times and laughing at Kevin for buying a garden tool cupboard thinking it was a wardrobe.
The next day took the three of us, along with Cami’s mum Nati and a family friend, up to the north of the island. We visited one of the older towns with more traditional architecture, La Orotava, where I naturally spent the time snapping away taking photos of everything!
Once we’d tired of wandering the many steep streets, we went to a rather special place for lunch. In Tenerife, they have a culture of independent restaurants called guachinches (which sounds like “gwah-chin-chez”, a bit of a mouthful) which are special as they usually begin with someone selling homemade wine and food out of their living room. If the food and wine are any good, and word spreads about the place, they begin to expand, installing tables and chairs in garages, gardens, basements, and basically anywhere else that they will fit!
The guachinche that we went to was unassuming from the outside, but once we were shown to our table around the back, the scale of the place became evident. There were tables abound, tucked in shipping containers and under lean-to structures and even in an opened-out basement, and all of them were full of people enjoying their lunch. I left Cami and family to decide what to order, and soon found myself tucking into sharing plates of garlic mushrooms, fried octopus, grilled pork, and the most delicious meringue-topped dessert!
Once again I was too absorbed in conversation and the food to take photos, but the camera did come out again when we headed to the second city for the day, La Laguna. Here we wandered up and down the picturesque streets of the historic centre, stopping eventually for a cool drink and to recover from a long day on our feet.
After heading back home and recovering from our adventures, we decided to have tea at a local burger joint, where I was served a towering monster of a burger along with a mountain of chips – and all this after a huge lunch at the guachinche!I somehow managed to finish the thing, and we then headed back to bed before my last full day on the island. How time flies!
Our last day was spent rather lazily, as we met up for breakfast at Cami and Sam’s place, before heading down to a pool that they have access to in an apartment complex near their house. We would have gone to the pool that’s part of their complex, but they insisted that this one was much more tranquil, and they were right. For the majority of the afternoon we were just sharing the pool with another couple, who didn’t seem interested in actually bathing, and so it felt like we had the place to ourselves!
After a good splash about, we headed back up to Cami and Sam’s place, where we had a bite to eat. I also spent a couple of hours a carrot cake for Cami’s parents as a thank-you gift, after which we equipped ourselves for an evening’s walk up the “red mountain” (La Montaña Roja) from our trip to the beach a few days prior.
Sam parked the car near the base of the “mountain” (it really is too small to be considered a mountain, let’s be honest), and we began our walk with Luke and Nas, their two dogs. Once the climb began to get steep and I began to get tired (quarantine has done me no favours with regards to my fitness levels), Sam told me to grab hold of Nas, the bigger of the two dogs, who was actually strong enough to half haul me up the hill!
As we scaled the large rock formation the sun began to set, and the hills and volcano in the background turned into a dark silhouette. At the halfway point we stopped to recover, taking in the views and watching a plane take off from Tenerife Sur airport, which lies just next to the rock.
When we’d caught our breath we made the last push to the peak of the “mountain”, where we discovered a mysterious cage covered in red lights which seemed to contain nothing more than a solar panel to power said red lights. I would have thought it was some kind of lighthouse or wayfinding device for ships, but the lights were way too dim to have much of an impact, and so we just made the most of the interesting lighting and unique location to take some photos.
The red light is flattering on me because it hides a lot of the grim detail.
Of course I couldn’t miss the opportunity to climb to the highest point of this rock, and so I left my camera with Cami and Sam as I climbed atop the concrete base of a metal pole which marked the absolute peak. Clinging on for dear life in the wind, I was awestruck by the 360° views over the sea and the island, and the uneasy feeling of absolute and complete exposure to the elements in the dark.
After taking my last pictures of the trip from atop the red mountain, the three of us descended back to sea level, nearly falling flat on our arses with the loose gravel of the decline and getting half lost in the dark as we did so. We made it back home in one piece, however, and settled down with one last evening of beers before my last day.
Said last day didn’t really consist of all that much, as I crawled out of bed relatively late, meaning I had time to do very little besides pack my bag, grab some breakfast, and say goodbye and thank you to Cami’s parents who had once again been the most fantastic hosts. I then headed down to Cami and Sam’s place, where I said goodbye to their dogs and jumped in their car to head to the airport.
On the way we had just one last stop to make, at a place which is locally renowned for selling some of the best sandwiches around. I grabbed two, one for lunch and one for if I got peckish on the flight, and we carried on our way to the airport after I’d enjoyed a delicious toasted baguette with a fresh fruit smoothie.
Saying goodbye to anyone at the airport is never a nice experience, but my farewell to Cami and Sam was made much easier by the knowledge that my holiday wasn’t ending there, as my flight was not headed to Madrid but rather to Alicante. There I was to be picked up by my auntie and uncle to spend another few days with them down on the coast of Murcia, but that is another story for another day…
I can safety say that once again I had an absolute blast in Tenerife with Cami, Sam, and family, who found the perfect balance between the rest that I so desperately needed and the trips to interesting places that they know I cherish. I can’t thank them enough for putting me up, driving me around, and generally making me feel like part of the family for the few days I was there. If there’s one complaint from the trip, it was that it was too short – next time it’ll have to be at least a week!
Amongst my typical blog posts exploring my travels and day-to-day adventures, I sometimes pepper my blog with other little updates and observations. These can range from exploring the process of designing my new website to sharing silly stories from things that have happened to me. Today’s installation talks about something a little less visual, but something I hope will be equally as interesting: a new adventure in learning a language.
My relationships with languages other than English (even if my native dialect can be somewhat confusing, but that’s a whole other blog post) began quite earlier than most, as I began learning the some very basic French vocabulary at age 10 before I’d even made it to high school. This was some kind of initiative that my primary school had set up, whereby an external teacher would come in once a week and teach a select group of us words like ananas (pineapple), chat (cat), and garçon (boy).
As you may have picked up on from my apathetic tone, I don’t remember any of these words or basic phrases ever sticking with me as I moved into high school and the obligatory bi-weekly French classes that I had to endure. Now, I say endure for two principal reasons:
The first reason is that I don’t really believe that the way we were introduced to language learning was the best, with strict weekly vocabulary tests and listening to a monotone French lady whittle off a series of set phrases which they didn’t even bother obliging us to repeat.
The second reason is that, and forgive me all of you French speakers out there, but I just was not interested in France or the French language. I have since come to appreciate it as the beautiful and multi-faceted language that it is, but my thinking back then at the ripe age of eleven was much more basic: if we are being obliged to learn a language, and if me and my family always go on holiday to Spain, then why couldn’t we learn Spanish instead? At least it could come in useful*.
* Many, many years later I discovered that the principal language of Mallorca, where we usually holidayed, is in fact Catalan (even though Spanish is spoken). Oops.
At one point I even ventured so far as to sign up for extracurricular German classes that were being offered on Thursdays after school, only to give up on them rather quickly, but not before we’d all had a good laugh about the German word for the letter “G” (geh) sounding like “gay” and the word for “six” (sechs) sounding like “sex”. I found the pronunciation quite the tongue-twister, the structure an absolute nightmare, and the three genders an absolute pain in the arse. I certainly did not envy the other half of my year group who were made to study German instead of French.
Once it came time for my GCSEs, and after having cheated my way though many a French vocab test (Lucy, next to me would learn words 1–10, I’d learn words 11–20, then we’d just copy each other), they finally announced that they’d be offering Spanish as an option provided enough people were interested. I can only assume that many people thought like me, and that after being pressured into taking a language, they decided that that language might as well be useful when they were ordering drinks on holiday.
Thus began my journey learning Spanish. Two years of learning set phrases and stringing together basic sentences in secondary school were followed by two years of much more intense learning of the structures, patterns, and phonology of the language (the way it sounds). This knowledge was put into practice back in 2016 when I began an internship at Erretres, when six months of having my constant mistakes politely corrected on the daily served to radically improve my fluency and confidence. Since graduating from uni and returning to Spain, my vocabulary and fluidity have naturally been honed down much further, to the point where I now feel confident enough to say that I am fluent in the language. Of course people will still note my accent and the occasional error, but I have no problems now making myself understood or understanding others.
During these years of living between Spain and England, I also squeezed in twotrips to the absolutely gorgeous city that is Lisbon. I’d also been to a town called Lagos in the south of Portugal a couple of times with my family in the past, but it was in Lisbon and Madrid that I made friends with quite a few people from Brazil, and so began another adventure in language learning: Portuguese.
Portuguese joins languages like Spanish, Romanian, Italian, and French (amongst many others) in forming a group called the Romance languages, which are all derived from Vulgar Latin, the language spoken in the Roman Empire. Because of this, they all share a lot of common features and vocabulary, and naturally Spanish and Portuguese are rather similar due to the geographical proximity of their respective countries. This meant that with a bit of help from Duolingo and many of my Portuguese-speaking friends, I soon developed a decent enough level the language to hold a conversation, drawing on Spanish as a base and applying some general rules and a sprinkling of the most important vocabulary (it’s said that the two languages have a 90% similarity in terms of words, so I’ve just to learn that 10%).
This all brings me on to my latest adventure in language learning, involving a language which many people don’t even realise exists: Irish. If you are indeed aware of the language’s existence, please don’t be fooled into thinking I should be calling it “Gaelic”, as the name “Irish” is preferred by its speakers, and so it is the term that I shall be using.
Well, if I thought German was a nuisance with its genders and structures and odd word order, it has absolutely nothing on Irish. This ancient language has the most bizarre way of expressing basic things (“I have a drink” translates as “There is a drink to me”), it completely lack an equivalent for the words “yes” and “no”, and has a very intricate and terror-inducing system for spelling words (“beochaoineadh” sounds like “bay-oh-keen-yu”). Then there’s all the mutations, which can affect both the beginning and the end of words, and completely change the sound and meaning. These mutations are sometimes just to make sounds flow better (“pláta” becomes “bpláta”), sometimes they change the relationship of one word to another (technically called cases, but it’s a whole other rabbit hole that I’m not about to go down), and sometimes it’s to conjugate the verbs (like in Spanish and even English to a degree, so this I can manage).
I have just spent a whole paragraph complaining about and semi-bashing the language, then why on earth, one may ask, am I dedicating my limited free time to learning it?
To start with, there’s the most basic reason, which is that I like a good project to sink my teeth into in my spare time. I don’t think there’s much in the world which is as complex and multi-faceted as an entire language (programming languages included), and I know there’ll always be more to learn and improve on as time goes on. And, as mentioned, the complexity of Irish is sure to provide quite a decent challenge!
Then there’s a more personal reason, which is my Irish heritage. My grandma grew up in a small town in Ireland, where Irish was taught in schools, and she taught me a few phrases as a child. I’ve always been interested in finding out more about the place, and I’ve always liked to think that one of the best way to find out more about a culture is through its language.
So, here I am in the early throes of my Irish learning journey, currently using Duolingo on the daily in order to build up some basic knowledge. In my spare time I’m investigating things I don’t understand, teaching myself the complex structures and spelling rules, and listening to the news and some music in Irish. It’s going to be a long journey, and I definitely won’t be anywhere close mastering the language for a very long time, probably until I manage to get some real exposure to it, but I think it’s a challenge worth my time. It’s already had me challenging the different ways languages work, and how there’s so many different ways we could express ourself – Irish is one of the world’s oldest living languages, and it certainly shows!
Whilst I carry on with my journey, I’m hoping to launch my new website with an option to read in Irish whenever I get round to it (it’s currently only available in English, Spanish, and Portuguese), but until then, I’ll leave you with a lovely Irish song that I found.
Slán!
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