Not All Monarchs Have Migrated Yet
Last night I went out for a bit for the first time in a while. Although Hallowe’en was on Friday, quite a few people donned costumes as they bar-hopped along Sainte Catherine. As I was walking towards Stud, a scantily clad slight guy wearing wings was coming from the opposite direction. And when we crossed each other, he waved his arms in the air and said, “¡Hola!”
I didn’t miss a beat. “¡Hola! ¿Comó está, Señor Mariposa?”
Clearly taken aback, he stopped and turned around to take a good look at me before finally declaring “¡Muy bien!”, then laughing as he resumed his walk.
Goes to show you should never assume, huh!
That brings me to mention that I did write my final exam for Levels 1 & 2 Spanish last Monday, the same day I came back from Moncton. I was convinced as I was returning home on the métro, exhausted because I’d been up since 4:00 am local time, that although I probably passed, I hadn’t done too well. But then on Wednesday, I discovered (with much shock) that I totally aced not only the exam but also the entire course. I think Teresa, the instructor, was extremely generous since I can manage far better in reading and writing Spanish than speaking it. But maybe that’s her way of encouraging me not to give up.
Giving up is not an option, though, as I’ve told Esposo many times. However, after discussing it with Teresa, I decided to register for Level 3 only for the next seven weeks, for I prefer learning more slowly but well than too fast and badly. With a full-time job and everything else going on, coupled with my belief that one needs to put two to three hours of study for each hour in the classroom, the intensive regimen of six hours of classtime per week is more than I can realistically handle.