Learning I

Learning Portuguese: the perfect excuse to fly several thousand miles and come to Brazil. Sorry Portugal, you just can't compete with the home of o jogo bonito, girls from Ipanema, and the Amazon rainforest. And all the fun would be more than justified by the addition of another language to my increasingly eclectic CV.

Knowing Spanish certainly gave me a headstart. The two languages are so similar that speakers of one can sometimes understand speakers of the other. Many words are the same, or at least nearly the same, and lots of the grammar is also very similar. Reading is much less of a problem than speaking, where the big differences in pronunciation make you realise that you are dealing with two different languages. And different they are, despite the similarities. Although you can communicate in a basic way speaking Spanish with a lusophone, to have a real conversation you need to know Portuguese.

This was made abundantly clear to me when I arrived in Portugal, en route to Lisbon for my flight to Salvador. I asked for directions at the bus station and understood about 1 word in 10, in the end relying on their final hand gesture as a guide towards my destination. This was rather disheartening, especially as I'd done at least a quarter of my Teach Yourself Portuguese book (so I should have understood 2.5 words in 10). However, after a couple of weeks in lusophone countries, my ears became accustomed to the strange sounds and it got a lot easier.

I'd enrolled in Portuguese classes for four weeks in Salvador in northeastern Brazil. My first day I was placed in the intermediate class due to my ability in Spanish and the self-study I'd done. It was a bit of a challenge at first, especially joining in the class discussions, as I had a far lower level of vocabulary than my classmates. However, I much prefer being stretched when I'm learning, rather than slowly going over the basics, so it was ideal for me!

There were both positive and negative aspects of my Portuguese course. Perhaps the most important advantage of taking classes was that it forced me to study. For three hours every morning I had to learn the language and the knowledge that I was paying for lessons encouraged me to practise outside the classroom (mainly by making me feel guilty if I didn't!) I find it's always nicer to study in a group than alone. Most importantly, you can speak and have conversations, but sharing the learning experience also helps to motivate you and makes the process more enjoyable. The teachers at the school were knowledgeable and enthusiastic, and always willing to answer any questions. After four weeks, I certainly felt my Portuguese had improved significantly, and I think a lot of that was down to my classes.

Nevertheless, some parts of the course could have been improved. As a language teacher myself, perhaps it's not surprising that I'm particularly critical of the teaching. In my opinion, this was a little old-fashioned. There was quite a lot of copying from the whiteboard, content was heavy on grammar, and there was little pair- or group work. Frustratingly, our spoken Portuguese often wasn't corrected, making it more difficult to improve. However, these criticisms shouldn't take away from the fact that my experience at my Portuguese school was a largely positive and useful one.

The big advantage of studying a language in the country where it's spoken is that you have unlimited opportunities to practise. Outside the classroom in Salvador, I was exposed to Portuguese all the time and could absorb a lot of the language. Additionally, I actively tried to improve by speaking to people, reading books and magazines, going to the cinema. Most of my life was conducted in Portuguese while I was in Salvador, which greatly increased my confidence and ability in the language and allowed me to progress far more quickly than if I had taken classes in the UK.

It's been a few weeks now since I left Salvador and started travelling in Brazil. Perhaps I've forgotten some of the more complicated grammar I learned (future subjunctive, anyone?) but I still communicate every day and I feel my level is continuing to improve. I can even switch between Spanish and Portuguese without confusing them too much, something I found impossible a couple of weeks ago! And my knowledge of Portuguese has been invaluable while I've been travelling. Talking to locals and Brazilian travellers is really interesting, and organising my trip would have been a lot more difficult without an decent level of Portuguese. The only problem is, I've been having so much fun I haven't had time to update my CV!

Camino de Santiago

It's hard to describe exactly what makes the Camino so special. Most people fall back on the rather unhelpful 'You just had to be there' line when telling their friends and family about it. But, confidence in my own ability being pretty high after having walked 800km, I reckon I can have a pretty decent try at explaining why I loved the Camino so much.

The atmosphere of the Camino sets it apart from other long-distance hikes. So many people from so many countries - the diversity is incredible. Where else could you speak (well, try to speak) five languages before breakfast? Everyone is really open as well,so you can start a conversation with anybody, whether you just want to joke around or explore profound truths (though as I had to point out to one of my friends, questions about age and marital status should probably be avoided!) Above all there is a great sense of togetherness on the Camino. People are united by a common goal, and rather than the spirit of selfish competition which pervades much of modern life, cooperation abounds: food and medical supplies are always shared and other walkers will go out of their way to solve your problems. It really restores your faith in the fact that most people are basically nice.

They say the best way to get to know someone is to walk a mile in their shoes, but I reckon walking a few hundred miles beside someone is just as good. Friendship is certainly one of the most important parts of Camino life. Relationships are forged quickly on the Camino, the process sped up by shared experience and purpose. Everyone quickly develops a group of friends who they walk with and hang out with at the albergues (pilgrim hostels); in fact, you become so close to these people that they're like a second family. I won't write thousands of words describing all the amazing people I met, but I will just say that I feel very blessed to have enjoyed their company, and I know I wouldn't have made it to Santiago without them.

Perhaps the most obvious feature of Camino life is the walking. It's great to be outside for a month, even if you do end up getting ridiculous tan lines. You can feel yourself getting stronger (OK, I'm ignoring the injuries here!) and your body becomes comfortable walking distances that seemed exhausting a few days before. Your body clock adjusts to a more natural rhythm as you wake up and go to bed with the sun. While the scenery isn't as spectacular as other hikes, there is still plenty to appreciate in your surroundings. The majestic mountains of the Pyrenees, the ordered vineyards of La Rioja, the wheat-filled flatness of the meseta, the verdant greens of Galicia - each has its own beauty. However, the Camino isn't a path through a natural wilderness. It eschews rugged isolation and regularly passes through villages, towns and cities which have offered comfort and respite to pilgrims for centuries.

The simplicity of Camino life is attractive, especially in our increasingly complicated 21st century world. Every day is essentially the same: wake up early, walk for several hours with a few coffee/snack breaks, find an albergue, relax, eat and wash your clothes, and then go to bed early. Possessions are kept to a minimum; it's surprising how many things you can do without when you have to carry all your things in your pack. On the Camino, the myriad objectives from your real life about work, relationships and money are forgotten as you have just one goal: arrive at your destination. And there are no difficult choices to be made about how to achieve this goal - you just have to follow the yellow arrows. If only the rest of modern life were so helpfully signposted!

This simplicity leaves your brain, usually preoccupied with the stress of daily life, to think about more important things. And the beautiful landscapes, not to mention the new people you meet, with all kinds of different perspectives on life, certainly give you a lot to think about. I don't know if some people manage to find answers to all the questions in their lives - I definitely didn't! But I know that walking the Camino helped me to discover a few important things about myself and the life I want to lead.

Don't let all this positivity obscure the fact that sometimes the Camino can be a struggles though. Most people can't walk 800km carrying all their stuff without suffering at some point. I seriously considered giving up after stabbing pains in my right ankle made one morning thoroughly unenjoyable, even making me forget the interesting size to which my left ankle had swollen. (Luckily I was OK again after some coffee and ibuprofen, or Camino candy as it's otherwise known.) And this was nothing compared to others who had feet covered in blisters or one friend who developed symptoms rivalling medieval plague descriptions after being bitten by insects. However, the suffering, struggle, and exhaustion are just part of the challenge. They make you really appreciate your health and mean the eventual arrival in Santiago is all the sweeter. As they say, sin dolor, no hay gloria!

So there you have a few of my thoughts about the Camino de Santiago. Perhaps I described it so well that you don't feel you had to be there to understand what it was like. I hope not though. I hope I gave you a flavour of the magic of the Camino, just enough to inspire you to go and experience it yourself. I promise you won't regret it! 

You know you're on the Camino de Santiago when...

Getting up at 6.30 constitutes a lie-in.
You tell complete strangers things about yourself that not even your best friend knows.
Walking 15km in a day counts as a rest.
You can hardly imagine a day without seeing a beautiful sunrise.
You allow hair to grow on previously shaven areas of your body.
People provide you with food and medical supplies for free whenever you need them.
You start speaking English as though it were your second or possibly even third language.
You have a strong opinion on the best way to prevent and treat blisters.
The question 'How are you?' is replaced by 'How are your feet?'
You can't remember the last time a meal didn't include large quantities of bread.
Having a drink at 21.30 is a big night out.
Doors on showers are seen as an optional extra by albergues.
Whether someone snores is a major factor in deciding if you can be friends.
You start to wonder if ovens are purely ornamental in Spanish kitchens.
A bathroom with toilet paper and soap is a luxury.
There is always room for one more at the dinner table.
You get worried if you go for too long without seeing a yellow arrow.
The world is your urinal.
You wish you owned shares in compeed.
Few meals are complete without a large slab of chocolate or a packet of biscuits at the end.
You resort to ripping pages from your guidebook to lighten the weight of your rucksack.
You would do unspeakable things in order to use a swimming pool.
You get used to the bizarre health rituals of your companions, which usually involve stretching and a bewildering array of creams and pills.
You go for weeks without meeting a boring person.
You feel like you have found something that was missing from your normal life.
Choosing your outfit in the morning usually involves wearing the same clothes from the previous day.
You start to make impressed noises when you encounter relatively mundane things, such as shops or a special kind of biscuit.
You have amazingly defined tan lines on the backs of your legs.
You talk to strangers you meet instead of just passing them by.