## Saturday, March 25, 2017

### Logical Song

English is mathematics.’ Well, that’s what I always tell my students, many of whom are top-notch engineers who have no problems calculating in their heads that an object starting from rest with a constant angular acceleration of 2.0 rad/s2 will reach an angular velocity of 1.59 rev/s after 5.0 seconds. These very same eggheads, however, will come unstuck when challenged to explain the difference between “a journey” and “a trip”. Or between their “fingers” and their “toes”, for that matter. ‘How many fingers have you got?’ is a great Plan B to have up your sleeve for a rainy day, with answers invariably ranging from eight to twenty, via ten and eighteen, depending on whether your calculations include thumbs (dedos gordos = “fat fingers”) and/or toes (dedos de pie = “foot fingers”). And you can only imagine the looks on my poor students’ faces when I follow this discussion up with, ‘So how many fish fingers do you have in your freezer, Fernando?’. But I digress...

Fortunately, writing a simple mathematical equation on the whiteboard is all it takes to get everybody back on track:

As my students open their notebooks enthusiastically and jot the equation down even more enthusiastically, everything miraculously falls into place. Now everyone can see that the “journey” is the boring yet necessary part of the trip:

By the same token, it follows that the “visit” is the only reason we took that bleeding plane in the first place:

Now that we are all on the same wavelength, the rest of the class is a breeze, and the hour flies by. Along the way, I’ll throw in a few “percentage discussions” because these always help to clarify concepts with my fellow maths lovers:

‘So, if I say to you, “It may rain this afternoon”, is it going to rain, Luis?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Exactly! So, what are the chances of it actually raining, María? Mathematically speaking, I mean.’
‘Sixty-four percent?’
‘Is that what Meteoblue says?
‘Mateo who?’
‘Never mind. And what if I say, “It may well rain this afternoon”? Am I increasing or decreasing the probabilities, Unai?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes what?’

Well, I won’t bore you with the entire transcript but, suffice to say, we get there eventually:

Yet another victory for common sense, I’m sure you’ll agree. That said, the last thing I want is for my students to relax too much, so the other day, I decided it was time to ruffle a few feathers:

‘Can anybody complete this saying?’ I asked. Unsurprisingly, everybody fell into my little mousetrap by agreeing that, “When the cat’s away, the mice will dance” –  because that’s what all Spanish mice do, apparently. Cuando el gato no está, los ratones bailan. Little did it matter that “dance” rhymes terribly with “away”; for most speakers of English, at least. Nor did my underlining “away” and repeating, ‘When the cat’s aWAY... When the cat’s aWAY...’ make a scrap of difference to the jury’s verdict.

English is music!’ I berated my students. ‘When the cat’s aWAY, the mice will PLAY! Not dance, for heaven’s sake! Since when did “dance” rhyme with “away”?’ On and on I went. But nobody was listening to me.

‘English is music? But didn’t you say English is mathematics?’
‘Yes, that’s right, Elena. English is many things,’ I went on, fully aware that I had just made a dangerous addition to our cosy equation:

‘OK, what about this one?’ I said, ploughing on as if my revelation that mathematics and music are one and the same thing were no big deal:

Opinion was divided on this one. After all, grass can be fresh, long and green, can’t it? Indeed, everybody agreed that all three options were perfectly valid, so I tried underlining “grass” and repeating, ‘The GRass is always... The GRass is always...’ But to no avail.

English is poetry too!’ I declared, throwing all caution to the winds. ‘The GRass is always GReener on the other side. Perhaps it’s fresher and longer too, but who cares?’

The uproar that ensued had to be seen to be believed, so you’ll have to take my word for it, I’m afraid.

‘But English is poetry, or English is music?’
‘Both, Joaquin.’
‘And mathematics also?’
‘And mathematics as well, Laura.’

One of the advantages of speaking English better than anybody else in the room is that I win all the arguments. And this one was no exception.

‘You see, English can be anything you want it to be,’ I explain.

‘It’s maths, it’s music, it’s poetry.

It’s the first, the last, my everything!’

And talking of Barry White, I really can’t think of a better note on which to finish, so let’s leave it here, shall we? Thanks for reading, and see you next month, I hope.

---------------------------------------------------

It was one of those breaks. Too short to do anything or go anywhere, yet too long to do nothing or go nowhere without feeling that you had wasted a golden opportunity to do something or go somewhere.

Colin’s day was full of mini breaks like these, ranging from 10 minutes to 20 minutes in theory, which meant 2 minutes to 12 minutes in practice, as he always lost eight valuable minutes – nearly 500 seconds! – cleaning his whiteboard, gathering his things and thoughts, and seeing off the last lingering students. Haven’t you got a home to go to? he used to think to himself, until it eventually dawned on him that this was precisely their problem and, for all his woes, it was reassuring to know that maybe he wasn’t so badly-off after all. Well, that was the theory. In practice, of course, he was far far worse-off than anybody else in the whole bloody looniverse, even if he was the only person who actually realised this.

So what could he do with his 12 minutes? Find a boss and have a quick “one-minute chat”? Did he really look that desperate for somebody to talk to? Or listen to, rather. How about boiling three eggs, one after the other, just for the hell of it? Why was everybody so obsessed with boiling eggs, anyway? The last person Colin had ever actually seen boil an egg was Granny, and that was about 30 years ago. What ever came of that egg? he wondered. In any case, by the time he’d tracked down three eggs, a saucepan, some water and a cooker, his 12 minutes would be up.

dayrealing, Chapter 20, “Is She Really Going Out With Him?”

## Friday, February 24, 2017

### Don't Give Up

Got __ ____ ___ __ here
I ___’_ ____ ___ more

Dear Miss Slapper

I am writing to let you know that I have decided to …

To what?

People deal with depression in different ways …

Some people start eating; some people stop eating; other people go on eating.
Some take to drink; some take to drugs; others take to d- words.
Some people start gambling; some people start ambling; other people start rambling.
Some send texts; some shop in Next; others surf the Net.
Some people can’t forsake their bed; some people can’t face their bed; other people can’t find their bed.
Some accept there’s a problem; some deny there’s a problem; others don’t know there’s a problem.
Some people behave as if nothing were wrong; some people behave as if everything were wrong; other people try to tie a knot in their dick.
Some go crazy; some go cranky; others go quiet.
Some people fight; some people bite; other people write.
Some write wonderfully; some write woodenly; others write whateverly.

Colin was in the last group. He was always in the last group. Writing was Colin’s catharsis. Whatever “catharsis” meant. And whatever “whateverly” meant, for that matter.

Well, whatever, writing whateverly, wheneverly, whereverly was a wonderful way to wish one’s woes away with words without wasting one’s whatnots by whacking walls or wailing to the wind.

dayrealing, chapter 10, "Don't Give Up"

## Saturday, January 28, 2017

### When You Say Nothing At All

My wife left me today. Just for a few hours, mind you. ‘It’s now or never!’ I said to myself, retrieving my poor laptop and sinking into my favourite armchair. Just one minor problem, of course: I couldn’t think of anything to write about.

As the minutes ticked away and my blog deadline loomed ominously closer, I could see that urgent action was called for. Thirty minutes and three hundred “Like” clicks later, I realised that trawling aimlessly through my friends’ Facebook updates wasn’t getting me any nearer to my goal. But then I had a brainwave: I would write about... nothing! Just like Ronan Keating.

At this stage, I had two options: I could either google “Ronan Keating” and waste a further half an hour or so checking out Boyzone on Wikipedia... or I could settle down in my favourite armchair and— Hang on a minute! What’s with all this “favourite armchair” nonsense? OK, then, in the absence of anything better to talk about, let’s talk about our favourite chairs, shall we? Here’s mine:

Please note the absence of cushions. And here’s one my wife made earlier (Gosh, I hope she doesn’t read this!):

I used to have a similar battle whenever visiting Mum and Dad at ‘Penlan’ in High Wycombe, but I always made it eventually:

A glance at my relaxed ‘Best Practice’ pose might lead us to a discussion on the relative merits and drawbacks of sitting up straight. Such thoughts, however, would be missing the point: it was quite impossible to sit ‘properly’ in Mum and Dad’s armchairs as they had a mind of their own (the chairs, I mean). Once you descended into one of those big beasts, you could say goodbye to any plans you had made for the rest of your day; even more so if Dad happened to be sitting in the armchair opposite you.

Penlan is up for sale as I write these lines, so I was pleased to see that the man-eating armchairs are being thrown in for the unsuspecting buyers.

Dear oh dear! If Microsoft’s word count is to be trusted, I have written a pitiful 400 words in the best part of two hours. And that’s your lot, I’m afraid. I’m off to the swimming pool now to see if I can mend my broken back. According to my swimming notes – yes, “swimming notes”, I know; How sad can you get? –, the last time I went swimming I got wet was on January 10th 2015. I wouldn’t normally go back to the swimming pool in such quick succession, but it will most likely be time better spent than carrying on with this nonsense.

----------------

Colin was slouched in his favourite armchair, whisky in hand, laptop on stomach, gazing into space, pondering, wondering, and tapping keys randomly with the other hand. That’s what writers did, wasn’t it? It was a tough life, but nobody had said being the non-thinking man’s Bill Bryson was going to be easy.

dayrealing, Chapter 45, "Wonderful Life"

----------------

141
–Dos para la piscina, por favor.
–¿Son socios?
–¿Cómo vamos a ser socios si acabamos de bajar del avión?

–Are you members?
–How can we be members if we’ve only just got off the plane?

142
–¿Quieren hacerse socios?
–No, gracias. Sólo queremos usar la piscina.
–Aún así, compensa, señor.

–Would you like to become members?
–No, thanks. We just want to use the pool, please.
–Even so, it’s worth it, Sir.

143
–Así que son sesenta euros, por favor.
–¡¿Sesenta?! ¿Para nadar durante media hora?
–Efectivamente. Le sale el minuto a dos euros. ¿Seguro que no quieren hacerse socios?

–Sixty?! For a half-hour swim?
–That’s right. It works out as two euros a minute. Are you sure you don’t want to become members?

144
–Cariño, ¿No habrás visto mis chancletas por un casual?
–Sí. Las tiré..

–Darling, you haven’t seen my flip-flops by any chance, have you?
–Yes. I threw them away.

145
–¿Por qué nos están mirando todos?
–No lo sé. Ni caso, cariño.

–Why’s everybody looking at us?
–I don’t know. Ignore them, darling.

146
–Tienen que llevar gorro.
–No tenemos.
–Haberse hecho socios. Se los regalan.

–You have to wear a swimming cap.
–We don’t have any.

147
–¿Puedo usar el gimnasio?
–Claro que sí, señor. Son treinta euros.

–Can I use the gym?
–Certainly, Sir. That’s thirty euros.

148
–¿Crees que hay que pagar la sauna?
–¡Rápido! ¡Que no nos vean!

–Do you think we have to pay for the sauna?
–Quick! While nobody’s looking!

149
–¿Por qué la pista de tenis no tiene red?
–Porque es la cancha de baloncesto, idiota.
–Ya decía yo que algo no encajaba.

–Why doesn’t the tennis court have a net?
–Because that’s the basketball court, you fool.
–Yes, I thought something wasn’t right.

150
–¿Has visto mi llave de taquilla?
–Sí. Se te cayó en el jacuzzi.

–Have you seen my locker key?
–Yes, you dropped it in the jacuzzi.

Spanglish for Impatient People, Lesson 15, “at the sports centre”

## Thursday, December 15, 2016

### It Makes No Difference

‘Would you rather be attacked by a lion... or a tiger?’ I asked my students the other day. Beats, ‘Do you prefer tea or coffee?’ for an opening gambit any day, doesn’t it?

 Can you tell the difference between a lion and a tiger? Which would you rather be attacked by?

There followed an embarrassing minute’s silence while my students debated whether it was too late to ask for their money back and, if so, who would be the brave soul to lead the way? Much to my relief, however, one of the ladies present took up the gauntlet:

‘I have a friend who can’t distinguish between a lion and a tiger,’ replied Garbiñe the Gauntlet Taker.

One of the greatest things, if not the greatest thing, about my job is that, every morning when I crawl into work, I have no idea whatsoever as to what conversations I can be expecting over the next ten hours or so.

‘A tiger, probably. If I’m going to be killed, I prefer to die as quickly as possible,’ said Jabi the Jungle Watcher.

Fair point, but I was still trying to come to terms with the fact that there are people out there, apparently, who can’t tell the difference between a lion and a tiger.

‘Did you see that video on YouTube?’ asked Lucía the Thread Spinner, as the discussion wove its way in competing directions. And talking of competing directions...

Is my wife the only person who can’t tell the difference between an up escalator and a down escalator in a department store? To be fair, they look much the same, though there are usually a few clues to be found if you are paying attention.

 Can you tell whether this escalator is going up or down?

Reasoning to herself, I suppose, that she has a fifty-fifty chance, my wife heads for the first gap that she spots within a five-yard radius. Meanwhile, her loyal husband tags along, ready to chip in with, ‘Let’s try the other side, shall we, darling?’ in the event that some idiot has programmed the stairs to be moving in the wrong direction on my wife’s approach.

Interestingly, my wife’s mother adopts a similar strategy every time I give her a lift to or from home: On stepping outdoors, she simply stops at the first vehicle she sees, then waits for her chauffeur to open the door. Mathematically speaking, her chances of success are about one in twenty (of hitting on the right car, I mean; her chances of having the door opened for her are exactly one in one). Well, it’s worth a shot, isn’t it?

 Black car or red van? So long as it’s comfortable, who cares?

Incidentally, and irrelevantly, my mother-in-law’s inability to distinguish a Mini from a double-decker has nothing to do with failing sight – she can spot a church, chemist’s or cake shop from a mile off.

‘Hang on a minute, clever clogs,’ I hear you objecting. ‘If you’re so smart, how come you brush your teeth with shampoo and wash your hair with toothpaste?’

Ouch! That was a bit below the belt, wasn’t it? I’m sure you’ll agree that we all have our little bathroom battles first thing in the morning. And I’m not just talking about bowel movements here, you understand.

 Would you be able to tell these apart at 5:55 in the morning?
Having showered and dressed, it’s time to hit the road, where I notice that many of my fellow motorists are quite incapable of distinguishing between Stop signs and Give Way signs, red lights and yellow lights, continuous lines and dotted lines...

Once in class, I discover that nearly all my students are prepared to answer, ‘Did you have a good weekend?’, while my follow-up question, ‘Did you do your homework?’, draws blank stares all round. Hardly anyone appears to understand that “eight o’clock” and “ten past eight” do not mean the same thing. One hour later, however, as our class draws to a close, everyone is quick to ask me, ‘Is nine o’clock, no, Mike?’.

To hear my poor prisoners students, you would think they have better things to do with their time than be discussing the relative merits and drawbacks of being attacked by a lion or a tiger. So do I, now that we mention it, so I think I’d better sign off here.

Off

----------------------------------

20 Reasons Why I Should Be Allowed To Teach English

1.        I know the difference between singular and plural nouns.
2.        I know what “uncountable” means. I think I know what “countable” means too.
3.        I know all about verbs, tenses, stuff like that.
4.        I even know the difference between a gerund and an infinitive.
5.        I’m not so clear on the difference between a gerund and a gerundive, but I’m pretty confident I could find out if necessary.
6.        I’m well up on prepositions.
7.        I can spell words like “accommodation” and “correspondence” correctly (most of the time).
8.        I can be unreasonably pedantic: anyone who can’t distinguish between “fewer” and “less” should be shot (even if fewer students means less money).
9.        I know my articles and I know my particles.
10.    I can underline the adverbs and adjectives in phrases like, “He’s pretty jolly” or “She’s jolly pretty”.
11.    I can distinguish between idioms and idiots.
12.    I know how to use words like “whom” and “whose” correctly.
13.    I can churn out more phrasal verbs than you can take in.
14.    I can make a coherent statement without using moronic interjections such as “you know”, “like”, “sort of” … that kind of thing, right?
15.    I use commas, full-stops and semi-colons correctly; most of the time.
16.    I know the difference between “I hate English” and “I hate the English”.
17.    I know loads of silly jokes and puns – ideal punishment for silly students!
18.    I can bluff my way out of any difficult language question.
19.    I’m very good at making up ridiculous rules.
20.    I am English.

Numbers 18 to 20 were a bit of a cop-out, but Colin couldn’t stand odd-numbered lists, in much the same way that he would never understand people who, having started a perfectly good sentence, couldn’t be bothered to

In the end, Slapper had relented, even if this was more to do with Looniversal Learning’s resident English teacher having gone down with postphrasal depression, as opposed to any genuine confidence in Colin’s teaching ability.

‘Thanks, Miss Slapper, you won’t regret this.’ (‘You’ll be sorry.’)
‘We’ll see.’ (‘I know.’)

dayrealing, Chapter 5, “Heart Of Gold”

## Saturday, November 12, 2016

### Miles From Nowhere

I did a very naughty thing yesterday: I slipped out of the office and went for a walk in the woods. Traditionally, teachers are only supposed to leave the office to give a class or go for a coffee. Sometimes, however, I think it’s good to break with tradition, don’t you? And this is where I ended up:

Four o’clock on Friday afternoon, and I had the whole park to myself!  For a fleeting moment, I felt rather guilty: Was I the only person in the town who had decided to knock off early for the weekend? Supposing an irate client called and I wasn’t there to listen to their complaints? What if a poor student needed to consult me urgently about which preposition to use in their report? Well, it was too late now and I would have to live with my reckless decision for the rest of my life. Besides, I was enjoying myself; all the more so because not a soul was to be seen:

My one and only companion in the park was a rather tame dragon who, according to local legend, used to terrify the locals – taking a keen interest in newly weds in particular –, and whence the town, Mondragón, takes its name.

Makes you think, doesn’t it? If the offending beast had been a zombie instead of a dragon, the town where I work would have been called Monzombie, and my school would most likely have been called Monzombie Lingua.

Well, I’ve known quite a few dragons in my time, all of them far scarier than this one. At a guess, the actual dragon was somewhat bigger than the council’s budget could stretch to. I paid Mr. Dragon my respects, then drifted over to the far end of the park to enjoy a breath-taking view through the trees of Udalaitz, the mountain overlooking Mondragón.

Five minutes later, I was back in town, taking in our litter-strewn streets and lop-sided towers. That’s one of the many reasons why I love the Basque Country so much: no matter how big an eyesore you might find yourself in, simply head for the hills and, in a matter of minutes, you’ll be thinking to yourself, “Eat your heart out, Julie Andrews!”

------------------------------------

Colin hadn’t waited to be introduced again. Instead, he ran, and he ran, and he ran. He was headed for the woods, wherever they were. In the films, the fugitive always ended up in the woods sooner or later. There was usually a river in there somewhere, too. So was this how Harrison felt with Tommy’s men on his trail?

Having run 25 miles up and down corridors every day for the past 25 years, Colin was delighted to discover that he was in far better shape than he had ever imagined; or looked. Eat your heart out, Dustin! Indeed, it was one of life’s best-kept secrets that most teachers – lazy sods excepted – are Olympian athletes just waiting to be discovered. That said, most of them would rather be left alone to finish their pint in peace.

dayrealing, Chapter 41, “Don't Fear The Reaper”

## Monday, October 31, 2016

“Awful. One star.”

Thus begins yet another satisfied customer after listening to my audiobook, Spanglish for Impatient People. And that’s just her parting shot. Egged on by the ever helpful review staff at Audible.com, my assailant opens fire:

What would have made Spanglish for Impatient People even better?
“Any instruction, clear structure or organization to these random sentences would have been helpful. This is just Mr. Church saying something random in Spanish and then repeating in English. Most of the phrases aren't even things the average person would ever have the need to say. Plus they are not very understandable at all.”
Ouch! Just as well I don’t let the bad reviews get to me, isn’t it? Yeah, sure. Who are we kidding? Bad reviews sting like hell, and any author who claims otherwise is a liar. That said, I think it’s time we introduced a little objectivity into our analysis, don’t you? But to do so, we’re going to need some raw material to work on, so how about this unit?

Lección 7: en el banco / Lesson 7: at the bank

61
–Quisiera cambiar estas libras por euros, por favor.
–Ya lo siento, señor. Nos hemos quedado sin euros.

–I’d like to change these pounds for euros, please.
–I’m sorry, Sir. We’ve run out of euros.

62
¿Me está tomando el pelo?

Are you pulling my leg?

63
¿Un banco sin dinero?¡Eso sí que es bueno!

A bank with no money? Now there’s a fine thing!

64
Si abres una cuenta con nosotros hoy, te regalamos una sartén inoxidable.

If you open an account with us today, we’ll throw in a stainless steel frying pan.

[
65
–“Frying pan”? Es una palabra, dos palabras o con guión?
–¿Qué mas da?

–“Frying pan”? Is that one word, two words or with a hyphen?
–Who cares?

66
Pues resulta que no quiero abrir una cuenta. Y tampoco necesito una sartén.

Well, as it happens, I don’t want to open an account. Nor do I need a frying pan.

67
–¿Puedo ver su pasaporte?
–Lo dudo. Lo dejé en el hotel.

–I doubt it. I left it in the hotel.

68
–¿Qué solución me propone?
–¿De cuánto dinero dispone?

–What solution can you offer me?
–How much money have you got?

69
Coge un calendario si quiere. Son gratis.

70
Gracias, señor. Que tenga un buen día.

Thank you, Sir. Have a nice day.

Well, dear reader, what do YOU think? Do you agree with our reviewer when she complains that organising my sentences by topic (at the airport, at the supermarket, at the bank, etc.) is no way to present a phrasebook? And how do you feel about my decision to repeat what I have just said in Spanish, only this time translating into English? Or what about her claim that “the average person” would never need such invaluable phrases as, “I’m sorry, Sir. We’ve run out of euros”, “Are you pulling my leg?” and “If you open an account with us today, we’ll throw in a stainless steel frying pan”?

Personally, I would argue that if we take the first dialogue and tweak it a little, we have before us one of the most essential phrases for human survival in the third millennium:

–Necesito dinero.
–Ya lo siento, cariño. Me he quedado sin euros.

–I need money.
–I’m sorry, darling. I’ve run out of euros.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Rucyru – for that is her name – continues to let rip:

What was most disappointing about Mike Church’s rubbish story?
"The complete disorganized random rambling of spanish sentences, no rhyme or reason to their order at all. I have been studying Spanish for two years, have gone through all the Pimsleur phases and feel I have a pretty good grasp on the language, but could only make out an occasional word of Mr. Church's phrases (I do not have this problem with other Spanish audiobooks at all)."
Aha! Now I get it: She doesn’t like my book because she found it too difficult. And she is fuming!

Welcome to the real world of language acquisition, Rucyru! I’m sorry to tell you that there’s a limit to how far you can travel on, "Perdón, señorita, ¿entiende inglés?" – “No, señor, no entiendo.” (“Excuse me, Miss, do you understand English?” – “Piss off! No, Sir, I don’t.”)

But never mind all that! The best is yet to come:

Who would you have cast as narrator instead of The Other Mike Church?
"Someone who sounds either more American or Spanish, his accent almost makes it sound German or British at times which is not convenient when you are trying to pronounce Spanish words correctly."
Help! I’ve been rumbled! In fairness, Rucyru has a valid point: I really should have found a native speaker to record the Spanish phrases. (And possibly a German to record the English ones?) Then again, how was I to know that some poor sod would actually end up buying my silly audiobook? It’s so easy to be wise after the event, isn’t it?

Clicking on Rucyru’s profile, I discover that, to date, she has bought or borrowed 125 audiobooks, only one of which actually drove her into such a state of despair that she felt compelled to let off steam.

Furthermore, I see that, since registering on Audible three years ago, she has accumulated “0 helpful votes”. Not that I wish to rub it in, you understand.

In a moment of weakness, I find myself warming to the enemy and wondering whether this might be my first and last opportunity to use the phrase “Stockholm Syndrome” in an appropriate context? Only time will tell.

Thanks, as ever, for reading. And thank you, too, if one of you readers happens to be the kind soul who posted the following review back in June, 2014:

"The British economy is lousy, but Brits still escape British weather (which has ALWAYS been lousy) to vacation in the sun. Most end up in Spain - close, cheap, hot, with miles of beaches. Spanish culture ("Manana! Manana!") and British culture ("Where the hell's my bacon butty?") have little in common. Culture clash starts at the airport arrival desk and ends at the departure desk. The one thing the two sides agree on is that both hate German tourists more than they hate each other.

The author has lived in northern Spain for thirty years, is married to a Basque woman, teaches English, and writes a very funny blog ("readable rubbish at reasonable prices!") With years of watching British and Spaniards butt heads (and participating in more than a few inter-cultural exchanges himself) he has written this series of books to introduce the English speaker to the basic Spanish needed to survive a vacation. Of course, there's only so much he can do for you. If you go to a night club and hit on the cleaning lady, no handy phrase in any language will save you from looking like a fool. And if a local hooker rips you off, the policia will NOT be on your side.

This guy is hilarious. I'm now on to the second volume in this series. I just hope he keeps them coming."

-----------------------------------------------------

1
–¿Qué asientos tenemos?
–Diez B y veinticinco E
–Y encima nos han dado los peores asientos.
–Más no volamos con esta línea. ¿Quiénes son?

–What seats do we have?
–Ten B and twenty-five E.
–We’ve been separated!
–And on top of that they’ve given us the worst seats.
–We’re not flying with this airline again. Who are they?

2
–Apague su móvil, por favor.
–Ahora mismo estaba apagándolo.
–Y póngase el cinturón, por favor.
–Sí, señor. ¿Algo más?
–Sólo cumplo con mi trabajo, señora.
–Y lo hace magníficamente.

–I was just turning it off.
–Yes, Sir. Anything else?
–I’m just doing my job, Madam.
–And you do it brilliantly.

3
–¿Tiene miedo?
–¿Es su primera vez?
–No. He tenido miedo muchas veces.

–Are you frightened?
–As a matter of fact, yes I am.
–No. I’ve been frightened many times.

4
–¿Viste Aterriza como puedas?
–No. ¿Y tú?
–Once veces. La tienes que ver.

–Did you see Airplane?
–Eleven times. You have to see it.

5
–¿Qué estás haciendo?
–Estoy rezando.
–Relájate, hombre. No nos vamos a morir. Hoy no, por lo menos.
–Sí, ya lo sé. Rezaba para que quiten esa maldita música de fondo… ¡Ha funcionado!

–What are you doing?
–I’m praying.
–Chill out, man. We’re not going to die. Not today at least.
–Yes, I know. I was praying for them to turn that bloody Muzak off... It worked!

6
–¿Prensa?
–¿Qué tiene?
El País y El Mundo.
–¡Si no hablo el español!
–Ya es hora de empezar, ¿no?

–Newspaper, anyone?
–What have you got?
El País and El Mundo.
–But I don’t speak Spanish!
–It’s about time you started, isn’t it?

7
–¿Quiere tomar algo, señor?
–¿Se nota tanto?

–Would you like a drink, Sir?
–Is it so obvious?

8
–¿Cuatro libras por una copa de vino peleón? ¡Qué timo!
–¿Quiere o no quiere, señor?
–Más que querer, lo necesito.

–Four pounds for a glass of plonk? What a rip-off!
–Do you want it or don’t you, Sir?
–More than want it, I need it.

9
–Disculpe, ¿vamos a aterrizar pronto?
–Eso espero, señora.

–Excuse me, will we be landing soon?