PRONUNCIATION

We recently got an email from an enthusiastic 24 year-old student. He wanted to know whether it was possible for him to learn and get to master the English language like a native speaker. Specially regarding oral skills. He wanted a direct and honest answer.
Given his interest and enthusiasm he will, with the help of a good teacher, no doubt learn English well enough to read, work, write letters, travel and enjoy films in original version. But the road that leads from there to fooling someone into believing you were born in Sussex is long and winding.
English pronunciation is a sticky matter. One of the best paid jobs I ever had was helping a top executive to read out a speech for a video that would be viewed by the directors of the multinational company he worked for. He was obsessed with sounding like a true Englishman. (We did not discuss whether this referred to the Queen's English or he had a specific accent in mind). After working on his pronunciation and intonation for one long week, I'm afraid all we achieved was to make him sound like a foreigner who spoke perfectly understandable English. All through the week he kept asking every English speaking person who walked into the studio: "Do you think I sound like an Englishman?" And when the polite answer was "yes" (Oh, the importance of subtlety in English manners!)he'd embarrass the person further by asking "Where would you say I was from?". This led to hums and haws and well... until one person actually asked him: "Does it matter?" and politely refrained from adding "who cares?"
I must admit that hearing Meedows instead of Meadows in Spanish newsreels can be highly irritating but then again, English pronunciation is a pain.
Here go a few examples that would dampen any future student's enthusiasm:
We must polish the Polish furniture.
The soldier decided to desert his dessert in the desert.
Since there is no time like the present, he thought it was time to present the present.
I did not object to the object.
They were too close to the door to close it.
When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes

MUCHA, MUCHA, POLICÍA...

Si este verano os habéis quedado en Madrid y por casualidad habéis necesitado (espero que no) acudir a un policía y no habéis encontrado ni uno por vuestro barrio, yo os contaré el por qué: están todos en la plaza de Lavapiés. No he visto nunca en ningún barrio de Madrid el número de efectivos policiales (como gusta decir a la prensa) que tenemos día y noche y esto ¡también en agosto!
CajaMadrid cuenta en la plaza con los dos cajeros automáticos más seguros de toda la capital. Lo más grave que te puede pasar al ir a sacar dinero - además de que estés en números rojos o te queden 6 euros y el cajero no te los quiera escupir - es que la sombra de un equino no te deje leer la pantalla. Policías en todas sus modalidades : en moto, en coche, a caballo y a pie. Sólo faltan los que van en bici - pero es que creo que esos sólo están en los pueblos de costa.
¡Para que luego digan que el barrio no es seguro!
Claro que al Sr.Botín seguramente no le importaría que de vez en cuando se desplazaran unos metros más allá para echarle un ojo a su sucursal del Santander junto a la boca de metro, que con su cajero "fauces" y tanto cartel y grafiti no se lleva nada mal con el moderno y austero Centro Dramático Nacional.

Oh la la, LAVAPIÉS

El traslado de nuestra sede nos ha traído a uno de los barrios más vivos, vibrantes y coloridos de Madrid, desde el cual son tantas las noticias e ideas que se generan, que ya no tendremos excusa para dejar nuestro blog en el estado de abandono en el que hemos permitido que se encuentre.
Intentaremos intercalar entre los temas de interés unas crónicas para hablar de este barrio fascinante que encaja a la perfección con el concepto multicultural de FaceToFace.
Empezaré por hacerme eco de las palabras aparecidas en una entrevista de la Vanguardia (creo) a uno de nuestros insignes vecinos, Ian Gibson:
"Conoció España con 18 años y vive aquí desde 1978, Madrid, Granada y, de dos años a esta parte, Lavapiés o “el Montmartre de Madrid, un pueblo multiétnico en el corazón de la metrópoli”. El desorden de sus calles empinadas le ha traído al escritor la plenitud: “Nunca he sido tan feliz como ahora, dentro de mi hipocondria”,

Night

A new workshop in progress: Eli Wiesel's "Night". Silence and indifference, loss, guilt. The Holocaust.
No vacancies this time, but you can book for a repetition of the workshop if you get three more people interested. (Minimum 4 students).

Will you still need me, will you still feed me when I'm 64?

Google's logo for ST.Valentine's Day reminded me of the following story I picked up somewhere on the net (could be The Onion - if not, hope I'm not infringing any copyright)

"Oh, for goodness sake," Joan, 62, said Monday after returning from the trip, a Happy Valentine gift from her daughters. "Why the girls thought either one of us would find such an experience enjoyable is beyond me."

She added: "I was planning to weed my flower bed and maybe scrub out the back sink, which is just covered in muck, but now the whole weekend's shot."

The Smiths said the unbearable ordeal began at check-in, when the reservations clerk handed the couple their keys, winked, and said, "Enjoy your stay." From that moment forth, virtually everything that occurred during the weekend induced cringes and winces from the aging pair.

"I love Joan, and I enjoy spending time with her," Robert, 68, said. "But when you're at that place, wherever you go, you know that the staff thinks you're either just coming from, or on your way to, having sex. I don't care for that kind of attention."

Thinking that "once they got settled, they would at least be able to relax," the Smiths realized upon entering their suite that there was no escape from the crippling awkwardness that awaited them. At the sight of the red plush carpeting, red light bulbs, garish neo-Victorian nudes, and ceiling mirrors above the waterbed, Robert said he began having a severe attack of acid reflux.

The retiree, whose nighttime routine includes a shower at approximately 8 p.m., said that when he saw the heart-shaped hot tub in the center of the room, his first thought was, "How am I going to take a shower in that?"

According to Joan, a complimentary gift basket on the dresser contained flowers, Godiva chocolates, passion-fruit bubble bath, body oil, condoms, and "several battery-operated 'marital aids' that I don't care to describe."

"The chocolates were good," she said. "But they were the only thing we had to eat. Was that the hotel's idea of a proper supper?"

Joan, who privately told her daughter that she has been haunted by the image of her husband's posterior ever since she saw him emerge from the hot tub Friday evening, said, "There was a film on Channel 13 that I was hoping to catch Friday night."

As the romantic weekend away from home progressed, so did the aging couple's agony.

"I could hardly sleep, which kept Joan awake, too," Robert said. "And that waterbed made Joan so seasick, I had to get up and make a 1 a.m. trip to the drugstore to get Dramamine."

On Saturday morning, the couple said they were informed that the Love Suites does not offer morning newspapers—leading Robert to spend close to an hour angrily bellowing, "What do I have to do to just get a copy of the paper?!"

"It was even worse in the breakfast dining room," Edna said. "There we were, surrounded by young couples who were all over each other, and Robert is barking at me about 'What kind of a hotel doesn't have Eno fruit salts?'"

That night, the Smiths suffered through a moonlight cruise on the lake, complete with violin accompaniment. During the cruise, which lasted for several hours, Robert said he had no way to return to shore to access the overnight bag containing his foot medication. Additionally, the couple missed their normal evening newscast.

On Sunday morning, the couple checked out.

"We've been married for 30 years. There comes a point in a man and woman's life when you're happy just to get a good night's sleep," Robert said.

Kennedyan airs

WORDS DO MATTER! I like Obama, he reminds me of JFK. I like people with the gift of speech. This video is absolutely wonderful.

YES WE CAN!

PARTING

Parting

People tell you
the hurt will pass,
but that's not true.

Pain builds a nest
deep in your soul
where she still lives
and helps you on.

The baton's yours,
dear friend,
to flood with light
the emptiness

she left behind.