Did I ever mention that I am going to Arabic language classes? Well, I am - I've only been to two so far, as I was in Barcelona for the second one and then they had a two week Easter break, starting again last night. It is kind of cool - full of the weird group of students that adult education classes always seem to attract:
- obligatory posh grey-haired lady of leisure who goes on multiple holidays and is a language hobbyist;
- charmingly enthusiastic German academic, who already speaks Russian, English, French and Spanish;
- hilarious Caribbean woman, who responded to the news that Arabic language has genders with utter horror and disbelief;
- fairly normal-seeming woman whose work is somehow affiliated with Algeria;
- mysterious man whose name is Mohammed, and who is of obvious Middle Eastern appearance and accent (one wonders what he is doing in a beginners Arabic class, but I guess you don't have to know Arabic to be Middle Eastern and Muslim), who slinks in late to every class; and
- MY NEMESIS - strange, twitchy young man who has obviously done Arabic before, spreads all his papers over a two-person desk (ENCROACHING ON MY DESK SPACE), painfully over-eager and desperate to be the BEST IN THE CLASS.
Ahahahaha. NO. He obviously doesn't understand that that place has already been reserved by ME, because I am the LANGUAGE QUEEN. Yes, I may seem all calm and laid-back, sitting in the corner with my notebook on my knee (because FreakBoy is taking up my desk space), but the cogs are whirring and I am taking it all in and despite your previous Arabic knowledge, I can TAKE YOU, TwitchyBoy. You are going down.