Never Been in England or Why My English is so Poor

This weekend I'm going to London!!!!!!!

This is the first time I'll actually be in England. I visited Scotland for a couple of weeks back in 1999. My friend J.M. was living for a year in Cambridge to learn English and since he said his place was obnoxiously boring, we went up there on February (!!??) for a crazy car trip circumnavigating Scotland. I drove 3,500 Km along glens and lochs, sheep and cattle, top gear in one-lane roads, under the snow, ice, rain, fog and a strong wind, often, everything at the same time. It was unforgettable.

While I was in Japan, people was always surprised I had never been in England. By speaking some amount of lousy English people assumed I certainly had stayed there, while in fact, I've never studied English abroad, never could. I learned English in a language school with native teachers; and what a bunch of weirdos!!!

The first one, Steve from Coventry, was totally nuts. He had studied Spanish literature and history at college and apparently spoke Spanish pretty well, though I never heard him uttering anything else but, incomprehensible at that time for me, English. He was like the chubby and pop-eyed brother of Rick Astley, and was obsessed with Franco and the impersonation of Basil Fawlty and his famous Nazi's goose-step ("Don't mention the war!").

Robert, an incredible shy and stuttering bald Irish man who had been living in my city for more that 10 years not speaking neither Spanish or Catalan. Roy, another Irish guy who smoked pot and from whom I could never understand a single word. And Mark, a Londoner who came to his first class right from the airport, without knowing anything about anything. We never studied grammar, but listen to songs. I still remember most of them, Rick Astley's included (Never gonna give you up, Never gonna let you down,....).

I only started being a bit fluent after staying for half a year in Sweden. I shared office at work with an Irish girl, Josephine, and an English-Norwegian guy, Erik, both former Oxford students. It was like being in Harry Potter, and that was the turning point. First, I had the worst two weeks ever, but then, one night, I had a dream in English, and from that day on, magically, I could understand them both. Bloody Jo, her 'O' was as rippled as her dark long hair!

My last English teacher, while preparing my TOEFL exam, was a funny American ex-pat from Chicago. His Catalan was almost perfect and was obsessed with only two things, Micheal Moore, a demi-god for him, and beer. Because of him, I read all Michael Moore's books and watched his movies, and later I decided not to go to the States for a post-doc: I didn't want to get as fat as him and Michael Moore. I went to Japan instead.

Now I have a very different point of view, less negative about the States. However, and despite some times I've deeply regretted to have gone to Japan, Japan has also changed my life in such a perplexing way that still I can't hardly foresee the ending. But this is another tale. On Saturday, I'm going to see queeny-weeny Lizzy! Britannia still rules!