I hate to admit it, but I have never read “Don Quijote.” Have you? It’s probably the most famous and revered piece of Spanish literature in history. It was written by Miguel de Cervantes back in 1605 and according to many it hasn’t been surpassed since. There is even a statue of the main characters in the Plaza de España in Madrid.
Don Quijote is a retired nut case who reads too many books about chivalrous knights. He recruits his donkey riding neighbour, who these days would be labeled, “Special Needs” and the two take off to do whatever it is that errant knights do. Their most famous adventure involves attacking windmills which they mistake for giants. Gripping stuff.
Until I cross that reading task off my to-do list I will continue to be an ignorant foreigner. But my issues of ignorance are many, so old Don Quijote just hasn’t made it to the top of the pile yet.
I’m reminded of just how much time I spend reading gossip blogs instead of classic literature every time I pass by the art school in Algeciras.
In the book, Don Quijote rides a skinny old nag named Rocinante. In the Algeciras version, he leads the charge on his
rusty trusty scooter.
And now, I have to waste my precious free time lurking about the internet. Classic literature in a second language just doesn’t work with my pregnancy hormone brain. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.
The book has been around for over 400 years, I guess it can wait until Yago reads it in school and gives me the abbreviated version. There are ugly shoes and chocolate chip cookies that require my immediate attention.