Living in a Bilingual World (Menuetto Allegretto)

'No te pares frente a mi,
con esa mirada tan hiriente,
puedo entender estrechez de mente,
soportar la falta de experiencia,
pero no puedo aguantar
estrechez de corazon'

Thus sang, not the 80s Southamerican pop rockers Los Prisioneros, but my two children in the car recently with perfectly rolled 'Rs'. They've taken to Latin pop and rock like fish to the water. It all started with Daughter humming and then actually saying the words to Charly García's Raros Peinados Nuevos, one of the anthems that defined my teenage years. Currently Daughter has the lyrics pinned to the walls of her bedroom and once in a while we give it a good go; Charly would be proud. Son followed suit and now we have Los Prisioneros on in the car most of the time.

Today and, according to the Times Education Supplement, it's European Day of Languages, yet, I've not heard anything about it, have you, my dear fellow bloggers/readers/posters? Wouldn't it be a wonder if we could tune in to the good ol' BBC Morning News and see a presenter telling us about recent events in French? Or how about a John Humphreys-like figure (I'm still with the Beeb) roasting a politician in German?

Because I've seen up close and personal how learning Spanish has made my two children brighter, smarter and more culturally aware, it's harder to understand why this is not a priority in the government agenda, especially in the modern and globalised world we live in today. Lest we forget, let's recall that just scarcely a few years ago, David Blunkett, whilst still Home Secretary, called upon foreign parents (yep, that's me, then!), to give up talking to their children in their own language at home and switch to English instead. Yeah, right, Dave, well, if I was to follow your advice, matey, my children wouldn't understand a word of what's being said when we travel to both Spain and Cuba. How do you think one learns a foreign language, Dave? By osmosis? But it's not just the linguistic element that one absorbs when devoted to this activity. It's the cultural one attached to it. Language and culture journey together through the annals of a nation. The mere existence of a particular phrase or word can take you back on a historical voyage to a time and context that you were unaware of to begin with. My son, who translates texts from Spanish to English at present, although reluctantly, has discovered a world of talking rats and honest elephants. Daughter, on the other hand, immerses herself in a realm populated by capricious queens and magical whales. All in all, both, with support from my wife, who speaks Spanish fluently, have found an alternative world that they can flee to and where they feel welcome. In the meantime, they have both taken to singing Chico Buarque's 'Cálice and learning the words. Portuguese, now, so soon?

Copyright 2007

Illustration courtesy of Garrincha

I've got a song in my head

I've got a song in my head and I can't stop. I've got a song in my head and I continue to bop. I've got a slender song in my head that can lift its body a third off the ground and look down onto me . I've got a song in my head that can flatten its neck sheltering me in the hood of its larynx. I've got a song in my head that slithers along, nestles in the crook of my arm and stays in, warm and uninvited. I've got a song in my head that is solitary and territorial; it prefers deep forests, but can also range in open areas. I've got a song in my head that, from the first time I heard it, has overpowered me from any angle, using its puny size to knock me off my balance.

It's a mad song, it is, my song. It talks about a phallus in pigtails and blood in my nose. It describes how my tissue is rotting/where the rats chew my bones. I love my song, because it is mine, you see. I know, I know, it was written by one David Bowie but I've appropriated it now, just like IT has got a hold on me. When I first got 'Space Oddity' years ago, it was the title track I was familiar with. But it was the second song, 'Unwashed and Somewhat Slightly Dazed' that got me hooked to the album. It starts with a simple acoustic arrangement and Bowie singing in a nonchalant manner Spy, spy, pretty girl/I see you see me through your window/Don't turn your nose up/Well, you can if you need to, you won't be the first or last/It must strain you to look down so far from your father's house/And I know what a louse like me in his house could do for you and suddenly... pandemonium.

The guitar grows muscled forelimbs with which to render the listener powerless, there's a harmonica that lets rip right into your soul, and doesn't let go until you lie on the floor, motionless, still, immobile, from having exhausted yourself through pure musical ecstasy.

I've got a song in my head, I've got a song in my head that makes me hop and bop, and I won't stop till I drop... I've got a song in my head...

Copyright 2007