Spanish Philology, Spring Sunlight, and World Politics Shadows

It will be the 80th anniversary of 'Victory in Europe' Day tomorrow, so university classes will not take place.

I have a lot of sleep to catch up on, because I stayed up past 3 a.m. to finish homework for my Spanish language learning class. We are reading texts about migration across the Algeria-Spain, Mexico-US, Morocco-Spain, and international waters-Canary Islands borders, discussing them in small groups and as a class, and besides expanding our working vocabulary of adverbs and connectors (asimismo, de ahí que, etc.). When I'm tired, I still struggle to speak in Spanish. But my months of rest during the holidays since the winter semester have really helped: I'm finding myself speaking fluently enough for the classroom context. Besides the atmosphere in the class is very warm and supportive, the instructor — who is from Spain this time — engaged with us as people and not just as students. Two of the classmates are going out, and it's difficult not to be in a good mood when they exchange loving glances and subtly hold each others' hands.

The second class today was a literary theory course that's part of my Modern Greek studies. It's a little nerve-wracking for me because the head of the department is teaching it, and I have trouble following him when he speaks in Greek. But the only classmate is very well read and travelled, and between the two of them a high standard is set. It's not uncommon for them to bring up examples from ancient Greek tragedies, Shakespeare, Molière, or Brecht. But I have a lot of reading gaps in Greek tragedies and comedies and Brecht, haven't read Shakespeare's plays that recently, and have been so used to thinking that no one cares about these topics that I haven't been prepared to discuss them with great accuracy or depth. So I think I am the least intellectually impressive member of the trio. But I've found that despite the trope that since I'm old I should be wiser, it's surprisingly pleasant to be challenged and impressed by the younger generation.

After class I cycled home through the warm weather, lilac flowers drying up on their stalks in the droughty spring weather, but chestnut trees fluffy and blossoming and thriving. We had rain recently, at least, and it's only the wiry acacia trees that don't appear to be properly leafy yet. The stall that sells asparagus, rhubarb, and (I think) potatoes at the thatched Domäne Dahlem U-Bahn station building was open.

For grocery shopping, however, I went to the zero-waste store. Dinner: asparagus, ciabatta bread, rhubarb cake with whipping cream.

Last night I was a very little bit worried that nuclear war would break out between India and Pakistan, and I'd never wake up again. But today was quiet, perhaps ominously so as it's still not clear how Pakistan plans to respond militarily to India's missiles.

Aside from that, I just read that the chimney in the Vatican City has sent up black smoke, so no new Pope has been elected today...