LOVELY CUP OF CHA

It's summer. August, and everyone is away on holiday. The whole country, possibly the continent has left for the beach or the mountains except me. I am the only one still working at the academy and there is just one student, Antonio, who needs or wants to learn English. We do two hours then he takes a break and we do another two hours. There's no one else in the whole building including the other workers who've been given the month off. Outside the street is dead as the heat is keeping people away. Those not able to escape the town are at home in the dark with the shutters down, only emerging at night when it is cooler and the deserted streets take on a life you thought had been extinguished a few hours earlier. The academy feels strange without the usual rowdy children running up and down the stairs or the nervous adults studying for their exams. I feel like an intruder or a ghost walking through the corridors, expecting to see someone at a desk or a colleague passing by.

How can I put this? Antonio is different. The locals describe him as 'special' which doesn't have the same meaning in Spanish as it does in English. It is a polite way of saying someone is impossible, difficult or trying. I tell myself it doesn't matter as being different is not something that bothers me and I like to think I have patience with others. 

One day in the class I realised I might have the capacity to snap. We were reviewing the present simple and the present continuous when Antonio interrupted and asked me what I thought of the president. I told him I didn't think anything and that I didn't like to discuss politics with the students. He looked a bit miffed and looked back down at his book. A few seconds later he asked if it was true that most British people are hooligans. I was tempted to tell him only the English but worried he might take it literally so told him to concentrate on his grammar and that there would be time for a chat later. He ignored me and asked if it was true the English stop for tea at five o'clock. I decided to tell him they do as I felt mean spirited to say otherwise and didn't want to explain that the image he had of England was a fantasy, something he had learnt from films. It was just after five and nearing the break and I asked him if he would like a cup of tea like the English do and this lifted him somewhat. Leaving the classroom would give us both some space and a breather and it felt good just to get away from him for a few minutes. I returned with the tea and a box of PG Tips as I thought he might like to see what it was he was drinking.

He was fascinated with the box but kept repeating the slogan on the side. 'Lovely cups of tea'. He must have said it twenty times and then asked 'what is lovely? Que significa, 'lovely', what means lovely?'

'Lovely is something nice, beautiful, 'hermosa', something pleasant'. I replied. I thought how strange that might sound. That a cup of tea was something beautiful and pleasant.

'Lovely' he said for the twenty first time.

He started to look at his mobile while he drank his tea and said 'PG Tips is still made in Manchester'. He then added. 'Manchester. Made in Manchester'.

He kept staring at the box of tea and told me he thought the tea was delicious and he would start drinking it from now on and where could he buy it. 

'Lovely cups of tea'.

A sly grin crossed his face and I had the dreadful feeling he was going to ask me something improper. I was on my own with him don't forget and despite my patience I had to admit he could be weird. It took him a while to say what he wanted to say but in the meantime I clocked his armpits which were extremely hairy. In fact I don't think I had ever seen such hair and it didn't help that he was evidently stroking or playing with said hair. I felt embarrassed and concerned as I waited for what was coming next.

'Is it true that you race snails in England?' he asked with the same sneaky look as if he had stumbled on some unearthly, satanic secret the English have been hiding from the rest of the world. 

'I am not sure'. I said, thinking he probably knew more about my fellow country men and women than I did.'What makes you ask?'

'I was watching it at seven o'clock in the morning the other day on Euro News. It's a great channel. You learn so much, politics, culture, snails. It is done in a place called Norfolk, the capital is Norwich. Norwich. Yes Norwich'. 

'Well that figures'.I thought. 

'You don't believe me do you?' and he started to look it up on his mobile.

'Look, here. Snails. racing'.

It was a video on Youtube of a group of people cheering on some hapless snails that appeared to not have a clue what was going on but after an eternity declared one of the snails was a winner as it had crossed the line. A woman was being interviewed and said they had cancelled their holiday to Spain as they didn't want to miss this for anything. The knowing grin on Antonio's face remained and he looked at me as if to say 'told you but you didn't believe me did you'. I have four more weeks of this.