Nicole met with Matija twice a week to be tutored in
Croatian. True he was an English teacher, but he explained that he'd learned
proper Croatian grammar by studying foreign languages, so he was qualified to
teach her. Nicole couldn't necessarily vouch for his qualifications; she knew,
though, that the lessons had quickly become the highlight of her week.
They usually met in the hotel cafe during downtime,
sitting across from each other at a faux-wooden table. She had a beginner's
book that she worked from, but Matija heavily supplemented the lessons with
topics that would allow Nicole to converse in Croatian about subjects that were
truly relevant to her.
They sat in the hotel cafe, a worksheet of small-talk
phrases that Matija had designed in front of her. While she tried to remember
the Croatian word for music -- the Serbo-Croatian
word was muzica, but many words were
changing officially now that Croatia was its own country -- she looked across
the table. Matija's long-fingered hands with their man's knuckles were spread
out over the homework she'd done. Thick locks of shaggy blonde hair fell onto his
forehead and curled around his ears. His large, brown eyes -- unusual for a
natural blonde -- were set evenly in his wide face, giving him a look of openness.
" 'Ajde,
Nicole," he said, "Koja
glazba ti se sviđa?"
"Oh, 'glazba'!" she exclaimed, filling it in to her worksheet. She moved on to the next
exercise, this one asking for 'glazba'
types.
"Pa, koja?" Matija asked.
"Molim is
more polite."
"Sorry. Molim?"
Please?
"I asked which music you liked. Koja
glazba ti se sviđa?"
"Oh, right." In
Croatian she said, "I please popular music."
Matija patiently
corrected, "I am pleased by popular music," the Croatian way for
expressing likes. After Nicole had dutifully repeated, Matija said, "Sada pitaj me. Ask me."
"Ah...
koja glazba sviđa mi se?"
" Sviđa se ti ili mi?"
"Ah, ti."
"Dobro." In careful Croatian, he
said, "I like alternative groups like Flock of Seagulls, the Cure,
REM..."
Nicole grinned and tried to tease, "Kao...How do you say 'strange'?"
"First start with the correct question. 'Kako se kaže strange'?"
Nicole dutifully repeated the question.
"Čudno."
"Ok, then 'kako
čudno glazba."
Matija smiled good-naturedly. In Croatian -- with
correction for her benefit, "You think? Such strange music? I like strange
music?"
"Da."
Still in Croatian. "Why do you think so? At least I
don't like boring music."
"Boringly music?!"
"Yes, boring music. Popular music is boring."
Nicole switched to English. "That's just your funny
taste."
Matija shrugged. "Maybe you haven't been properly
trained." In a neutral voice he remarked, "There's a Croatian
alternative band playing in Pula next weekend. Maybe I should take you -- to
educate you."
Nicole sniffed until she realized it was an offer of
entertainment on the weekend in the off-season. "Well... I suppose in the
name of higher education... Who else is going?"
She didn't know Matija well, but she thought his face
slackened into a blank mask. "Oh, probably Martina. Maybe Oliver.
Lamentably few Rovinjians have refined taste in music."
She giggled and repeated her new phrase for "What
strange music." After a moment,
Matija seemed to relax, and their lesson continued.
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