Back to school

So, I just finished up my second day of classes here at the language school.

Yesterday, on my first day, my new papa drove me to school in the morning. When I got to the school, I took a short written exam, followed by an oral exam, for placement purposes. I was the only student at the school when I arrived, but I was told that one more student would be joining us. Supposedly, she had just flown in from Germany, and she was set to arrive at any moment. That would be all, I was told. Two students for the entire week.

When the other student, Heike, arrived, we were in the middle of a short orientation. The staff at the school caught Heike up to speed, and she took the placement exam as well.

We placed at different levels, which actually had some interesting implications. When I signed up for the program, I signed on for twenty, fifty-minute group lessons a week. The policy of the school, though, is that if there are not enough students (two or more) to comprise a group, then 20 group lessons becomes 12 private lessons a week. So, at least for this week, it´ll just be me and an instructor.

Apparently, there is a standard language rating system. There are three levels, A, B, and C, which correspond to beginner, intermediate, and advanced. Then, within each level, there are two subdivisions--A1, A2, B1, B2, C1, and C2. I was rated a level B1.

After class, Heike and I were taken on a short tour of the town. And after the tour, Heike was taken to meet her new family.

I, on the other hand, was dropped off in the center of town.

Alone.

This next part of my life is called: Shitting my pants.

Talk about a ¨what-the-fuck-have-I-gotten-myself-into¨ moment.

The reason I picked the town of Coronado is because I was told that no one there speaks English. They weren´t kidding!

I knew that I needed to buy a notebook, a dictionary, and some lunch, but I walked around for a solid hour before I even had the courage to ask someone on the street where I might find a bookstore. He rattled off a bunch of directions that I didn´t understand. Then I nodded as if I understood, thanked him profusely, and was on may way. Finaly, I found it. Still scared, I managed to navigate the bookstore and pay without saying a word.

Next, it was time to eat. I saw a girl standing behind a counter at a small roadside bakery and decided to check it out. When I approached, she looked up and said something in Spanish, which I can only assume was something along the lines of, ¨Can I help you?¨

I responded in Spanish. ¨I don´t know. What´s your favorite?¨ The girl proceeded to explain what every last thing in the case was, 90% of which was too fast for me to understand. But I understood `Empanada de carne,` so that´s what I bought.

Then came my first unintentional rude moment. I asked for a cup of coffee, and she something about sugar. I decided I wanted to try the coffee black, but instead of saying, ¨None,¨ I said, ¨Never.¨

Do you want sugar? Never. She looked at me like I was a dick.

I´m over it.

All in all, it was an interesting day. Very eye-opening, and I wasn´t quite riding the high that I had the day before. The magnitude of the situation--living in a town that truly speaks another language--really hit me.

I decided that I definitely need to lose a bit of the inhibition if I want to truly maximize my time here. But, you know the old saying, ¨If you walk into a room, and you can´t immediately identify the mark, then you´re it?¨

Well, let´s just say that I don´t see myself identifying the mark anytime soon.