The neurosurgeon I’m working with today is exceptionally clever, and stands out even amongst his quite cerebral colleagues. Apart from the whole business of operating on people’s brains, his hobby is learning languages. He speaks to me in French sometimes, knowing that I’m learning it (little does he know how many decades I’ve been at it), and it’s quite embarrassing because I usually can’t understand him. He said something to me in French just now and I had to deflect it by saying I thought he was learning Spanish (which he was last time we spoke). It turns out he has a Chilean registrar, so he’s able to practice his Spanish any time he likes “con mi amigo” (I’m not going to mention I tried to learn Spanish a number of years ago, none of which remains. Which suddenly reminds me, I’m having a flash back to New Years Eve, when I seem to remember having my Spanish pronunciation quizzed by a Colombian girl in the spa pool about 2am, shortly before I saw her on my husband’s lap. She was a very friendly person it seems.)(The Chilean registrar moved to NZ with his family 15 years ago, and has been living in West Auckland ever since. He has very wisely retained his Chilean accent, though.)
So, with French and Spanish sorted, he’s decided he wants to learn Catalan next (much to his registrar’s disgust.) The appeal is that it’s quite a complicated language but is also like a mix of a lot of other languages, including Italian (did I mention he was fluent in that as well?) it’s tough keeping up with a conversation that includes such comments as “how easy life would be if we could just use the present perfect for the past tense!” and “at least they have the subjunctive in common”. It’s quite a relief when he gets sidetracked by the surgery, to be honest.
