Portuguese lessons…

Well, I haven’t spoken much about this, and certainly not in Portuguese, since the whole thing has been a rather underwhelming experience. Yes, I’m talking about my Portuguese lessons. We’re over halfway through the course and I still can’t speak a word or understand what is being said, and I’m pretty sure that I’m not the only one.

Yes, I know a lot of words now, and I don’t find the grammar too painful, having done French and Latin at school, but the sound? Bloody hell, the sound… When Portuguese is spoken, I don’t understand a word. The sound that is made doesn’t compute with anything stored in my brain. They’re like two different entities – written and spoken. The two are worlds apart.

I tried to explain this to the teacher, in Portuguese obviously, since her English is virtually non-existent (to be honest, I can’t really complain about that; we’re in Portugal after all and the class comprises several nationalities) and it didn’t go well. She thought that I was telling her that I was deaf, so she told me to sit nearer to the front of the class. Mmmm… Yes, Nigel and I are quite happy sitting at the back, thank you very much.

Also towards the back are the Nepalese contingent – lovely people I must say. But some of them are struggling. Part of the problem is that most of them work in the hospitality industry, and so always seem to be leaving halfway through the lesson (which runs from 5:30pm until 8pm). Often, I sit there with Nigel and wish that we were leaving too.

But no! We will persevere! Anything to get that small bit of paper at the end of the course to say that I speak enough Portuguese to qualify for citizenship, should I so wish. Obviously, the fact that I don’t understand a word rather undermines the whole process, but c’est la vie.

Anyway, despite our struggles with the language, the classes are quite entertaining from a people-watching point of view:

You have those at the front, keen as mustard. One person in particular is like a nodding dog. He nods at everything the teacher says. That’s why I think that she believes that she’s doing a good job and that everyone understands. I want to shout: ‘Stop bloody nodding!’ but of course, I don’t.

In the middle of the room, you can see that they’re not quite so keen. In fact, there’s one French lady who occasionally turns around, looks at us and rolls her eyes. I think we’ve found a kindred spirit. Another lady occasionally catches up with us as we leave for the evening, has a brief rant, laughs doubtfully and goes on her way – until next time. Then there’s the singing Americans who live for the occasional foray into the Portuguese musical world. The teacher likes to play YouTube videos of questionable artistic value, which is when Nigel tends to hang his head and lose the will to live.

Lastly, at the back of the room, as I’ve said, we sit amongst the Nepalese, who spend their time giggling, wondering which page of the workbook we’re on, laughing at each other’s attempts to answer questions, and goading each other by suggesting to the teacher who should be questioned next – some light relief in the midst of darkness.

So, what’s the issue? Well, where do I start?

The teacher loves to ramble on at a fast rate of knots in Portuguese. I often ask Nigel if she’s talking to herself, because nobody seems to have any idea what she’s on about. Maybe if she spoke a bit more slowly it would help. Then there is the issue of what is being taught. We all have exercise books, but do we move through them methodically? No, that would be too easy. We seem to jump from here to there, with the majority of the class looking around at each other, hoping that at least one person has got to grips with where we’re at. The teacher seems oblivious to this. Maybe it’s a cultural thing, a Portuguese trait? Don’t do what’s obvious, do what seems right at the time, even if the class has no idea what’s going on.

I was talking recently to a couple who started the course (in a different class) but then dropped out – I forgot to mention, there have been quite a few people who have dropped out. They have no staying power some of these foreign chappies. Anyway, I was talking to this couple, and they suggested that all their teacher did was read from the exercise book and give answers. That resonated with me. Nigel and I often query why the teacher simply insists on reading the text herself and why we, the pupils, don’t spend more time reading out loud, perfecting (I use the term very loosely) our Portuguese pronunciation. It would seem like a good idea to me.

Another bugbear is that we seem to spend inordinate amounts of time on trivia, and then when it comes to important grammatical issues, we skip over them in seconds. This week we spent forty-five minutes listing Portuguese dishes (read any restaurant menu and we could have done this in a couple of minutes) and then five minutes at the end of the lesson on verb conjugations and adverbs of frequency – weird. There again, it did give the Nepalese a chance to come into their own. As waiters and waitresses, they knew a lot about the various dishes listed.

What else can I whinge about? Oh yes, the teacher often writes examples on the board, talking to the board with her back to the class, blocking us from seeing what she’s writing until she’s finished, at which point, she immediately moves on to something else. Bloody hell, there’s me trying to be diligent, scribbling away in my pad, then raising my head to find that she’s already wiping the board and onto the next topic.

To be honest, I think I would be better off going through the exercise book on my own, then turning up at class simply to check answers to questions and improve my spoken Portuguese.

I heard a rumour that one lady had given up on the government-run course and that she was now doing a privately-run course (at €750 a pop) which was night and day. She is well happy to have paid the money, apparently.

So, where does this leave myself and Nigel? Well, I think we will push on to the end. We only have three-and-a-half months to go, and it would be a shame (‘Que pena!’ See, I have learnt something…) to simply give up.

No, u two Brits are more stoic than that – we will persevere! We will overcome! We will win through! Hopefully…

Roll on June.