Musica

Musica

So, I am hesitant to write this story and keep my newest endeavor secret. But, alas! I am currently trying to learn to play the guitar. I have no musical talents, history or knowledge. I do not know the names of the notes and chords that I am trying to learn in English, nevertheless their Spanish equivalents. Yesterday I attended my second guitar lesson. Two other Volunteers in Loja also attend this class, which is how I learned of its existence. I walked in (after waiting outside for 20 minutes after the time the class was supposed to start, which I realize could have been a lot worse) and my teacher, well, we’ll call him Wade, so Wade immediately confuses me with one of the other volunteers. Note: she has bright blue eyes and long blonde hair, but yes, she too is still is a gringa. Either way, the important part about this confusion is that this other Volunteer reads music and plays the piano. So Wade begins by trying to confirm that I know all these things. Musical term, musical term, musical term and musical term. I am shaking my head at him indicating that really I know nothing about what he is saying. He almost looks kind of sad, but I brush it off. I sit down and take my guitar, placing the majority of it on my left leg so it rests comfortably there. Three times Wade adjusts my positioning; how I’m sitting, how I’m holding the guitar, the angle I’m facing, etc. He doesn’t seem satisfied, but when I ask if what I’m doing is okay, he says “mas o menos” and then he sits down. Well, at this point I can deal with “mas o menos” so I’m happy for the good news. We begin with practicing our scales? I’m still not sure of the terminology but either way, we start with what I now know to be the sixth string and put each of our four fingers (the thumb rests on the back of the neck of the guitar and does not have a finger number, sorry  thumb) on each of the four….well, come to think of it I’m not sure the name in English and only remember that in Spanish it starts with a “t” but the lines that go horizontally across the guitar neck. We play the string first in the air then place our fingers on the strings and play, then go back up or down and we do this a few times with each of the strings. Then we start practicing notes and chords or something, and Wade adjusts my fingers accordingly and praises me when I don’t screw up too badly. Which I think is nice. =) Actually, Wade is a really great guy, an excellent guitar player and a good teacher as well. He is very nice and encouraging, and I think my new motto here would have to be “poco a poco” (little by little), because everyone seems to say this to me quite frequently. =) So, we’re practicing and one of the moves is to strum the guitar strings. Before explaining this movement in detail (which really just means demonstrating it) Wade asks to see my hands. He looks at my nails and says okay. Here’s the thing. Your left hand holds the neck of the guitar, and so you have to keep those nails short. But your right hand, you need to grow your nails out long so you can pluck? strum? play? the strings.  Internally I’m horrified. This does not sound appealing.  Will my guitar playing dreams die with my unwillingness have my hands imbalanced? Maybe. I just keep thinking that I can’t have my left’s nails short and my right's long. Super shallow, but also this extends beyond aesthetics. How will I type? How will I text? How will I pick things up? Imbalanced.  =) So, I just nod in agreement to be nice (it’s a cultural thing to be indirect so I think I’m adapting well), and observe Wade’s nails. Not okay. Anyway, our lesson continues and (I should also mention that the boy who came in for the next hour’s lesson was using a pick to play.) I begin to learn how to strum the guitar. And I’m terrible at it. I’d either swing and miss the guitar completely or hit one string like I was trying to launch an arrow at Wade. But he just sat there and simply said “poco a poco”. So I’m practicing and he’s working with the other Volunteer who was there too, and then soon enough I’m improving and we’re both practicing with Wade alternating commands at each of us. But then, quite suddenly the commands get less and less. I’m thinking this is a good sign and Wade must be happy and proud at my improvement. But then, I look up and no, there is no sense of happiness or pride in us, Wade is sleeping. Sleeping!!! In the middle of our lesson! I nudge the other volunteer and after looking at him she laughs a little and admits, that we really must be terrible if he has become so bored and has fallen asleep. Asleep! Dear goodness. You know things are bad when you’re playing and your teacher can’t hold on any longer and slips away into dream land. So, we take this as a sign that we should practice more. The lesson ends soon after and then, when the next set of students shows up, ones that are incredible and talented, Wade wakes up and excitedly introduces us to them. We listen to them play for a minute and it’s beautiful. We smile, thank Wade for the lesson and head out. “Poco a poco”. =)