This article might not make sense in English. I tried to translate it as close as possible to what I wrote in the Spanish version. I hope you can still well enjoy it.
And here I come with my report. After a thousand calendar adjustments, I came to the classroom again, in this linguistic odyssey. Gone are the traumas of the declinations, which due to the parakeet spirit that characterises me, are finally beginning to stay in my memory. I came to the course with the promise of not seeing grammar, syntax, or column matching exercises. We would only talk. What better! A place of harmony, where ... wait, how do you say? ... what do you mean? ... what is it... ?, I don't understand ... why do you speak so fast? ... wait, let me write it down! … No! what do you mean with “ask a question” Don’t you see that I am new at this?
Yes, I ended up in my worst nightmare. In the territory where my best ally is to say ég veit ekki (I don't know). Which should actually be replaced with ég veit hvað þú meinar, en ég veit ekki hvernig þú segir það á íslensku (I know what you mean, but I don't know how you say it in Icelandic), but the former is much more efficient. My classmates who have lived for years in the land of fire and ice, have a much more refined Icelandic. That puts me at a considerable disadvantage, since most of the exercises are a barrage of questions and answers. And I, with my Icelandic working like an AOL server, take time to process the information. A LOT OF TIME.
The class, which on the surface looks like exercises taken from the teacher's sleeve, has helped me to speak al grito de guerra (at the cry of war). Partly, I am suffering as in a battlefield to learn it. Also, because I had to make an exposition about the beautiful city that saw me born: Mexíkóborg. Yes, part of the exercises is to prepare a short presentation about our city. The different nationalities in the room are the perfect excuse to have information from different places. However, my Icelandic does not allow me to improvise at all, especially since there is a sea of words that I still do not know. For example, for example. And with all the rigor and all the obsession that identifies me, I prepared a wonderful Power Point from which it stands out Mexico City’s cuisine. Yes, I told them about what Mexico means (Í nafla tunglsins), the legend of the eagle standing on a prickly pear cactus devouring a snake (að sýna örn sem stendur á aldinfíkjukaktus étandi snák), that in Xochimilco you can see axolotls (tálknamandra), and that there are different types of tacos, including basket tacos (körfu tacos), carnitas (svínakjöt), and barbacoa (lambakjöt), ah! and that there is a place of big quesadillas that we call machetes. My presentation gave rise to endless questions, some of which I was prepared for and others for which I used the trustworthy old weapon of ég veit ekki.
I defend myself little by little, but that does not mean that sometimes I don't know how to say nose and the teacher stands in front of me, singing a song in unison with the group to remind me of the parts of the body. NEF! my insides shout at me, while the teacher continues with her dance ...
