.jpg)
I remember the moment it hit me, I mean really hit me. Previously it had just been another Item on the list.
Learn Spanish!
Glibly scribbled amongst such other necessities as mosquito repellent and sun cream. I took it seriously, or so I thought. I'd bought a box set of cassette tapes, that’s what we had back in the day, and with the regulation pencil for sorting out the spaghetti that the player would churn out, I was happy that I the language problem covered. So I cruised the length of Spain dutifully digesting and repeating the wisdoms of this ingenious system. It wasn't to long before I had a chance to put this into practice, I had pulled into a small village to top up on petrol and quickly found a suitable victim lazing on a bench. I bid the elderly gent 'good day' and projected in my best telephone voice; “dónde está la gasolinera?” Well, his reply sounded like gargling along to La Cucaracha for what I understood of it, unperturbed I drove of in the general direction of his arm waving. Perhaps the folk in the north of the country, like my homeland, had a strange way of pronunciation, surely they would speak clearer down south I mused, as I went on my way.
But the real defining moment was the first time I had ventured into Lola's shop.
I had by this time been some months in Spain and had done something that I had not envisaged doing, simply because I had never imagined in my wildest dreams, that I would be able to afford to, I bought a house. A cottage to be more precise, in a small mountain village 14 kilometres inland and 750 meters above the Mediterranean Sea. The cottage was in need of complete renovation but was habitable in a very basic way. I therefore found myself as not only one of the few foreigners to have ever visited the village but the only one to have chosen to live there. I was somewhat of an oddity but that has always been par for the course.
The first time I crashed through the bead curtains of Lola's I was confronted by a gaggle of black widows who were all staring at me. 
A most uncomfortable feeling like an alien emerging from a spaceship under the gaze of a waiting crowd. The black widows parted in unison leaving a corridor to the counter where Lola was beaming a pleasant smile in my direction. I felt the eyes boring into my back as I approached the counter. Wanting some cold meats I spat a few words Into air. The room erupted into a loud animated conversation, presumably discussing my request. Eventually Lola nodded to me, disappeared out the back, on return she proudly placed a small tin ashtray on the counter. Completely derailed I cascaded some loose change onto the counter, half of which fell to the floor, sending the black widows deliriously scrabbling to collect the coins. My embarrassment was by now acute, I was burning bright red and I just wanted out of there. The ladies arranged payment for my purchase handed me the remaining coins and ashtray, I swept the room with a broad smile and a thank you and crashed out of the shop.
The enormity of it all settled on me like a great weight, I had to completely and utterly learn this language or I would not be able to live here. I threw myself into it, all or nothing. As I worked on the cottage I played the radio, not a music channel but a news type chat channel, the same applied to when I was driving. I went daily to Lola's with lists of what I wanted, that worked well, before long I could repeat the list without referring to it, I did the same when ordering building materials, another set of words. I got an old telly and watched news and cartoons, Elvis Presley spoke perfect Spanish, but could only sing in English! I would accost the locals in the street just to attempt some pronunciations. I frequented the bar......!
The bar became my classroom, as the patrons realised that I was keen to attempt to speak. Everyone wanted to be my teacher, sometimes all at the same time which became confusing, as did the local wine. I was approaching it as sounds that needed tagging to objects, actions or emotions, as a musician this worked for me, in fact it was very similar to the way I had learnt my native language.
Gradually, I relaxed into it, slow but steady, but you work with what you've got, and I had a radio, a telly, a dictionary and a village. You must bear in mind that this was pre-internet, and I was having to make it up as I went along. I found that it marinated into my Physic, my thinking and even my dreams.
The spin-offs to this approach were immeasurable; the locals were getting to know this odd-ball Guiri, and I them. I was forging friendships, and became part of a very small community.
I'm not sure that I could have learnt the language any other way!
