¿Como se dice 'Golf'?

Midnight, and I'm wide awake with jet lag. Last night, I flew from Boston to Malaga, on Spain's Costa del Sol. I'm here to spend a week at the Malaca Instituto, renowned for helping businesspeople from companies such as Volkswagen and IBM to master Spanish.

I'll brush up on my espanol each morning and hit the links each afternoon. That's just one way the Instituto puts some fun into learning Spanish: It takes advantage of Spain's near-madness for el golf. After six hours of class work each day, many students see if they can make the grade on their conversational Spanish while attempting to make par on one of Malaga's world-class courses. (Many others take flamenco lessons, head for the beaches, or go horseback-riding.)

My Spanish, I think, is no problema. I just need a refresher. But my golf - !Ay caramba! Unlike most who come here (especially the executives), I'm a rank hacker. My handicap is incalculable.

I've been having this recurring nightmare: I'm out on the course, about to tee off. My entire Spanish class is watching me, calling out conflicting advice in bad Spanish, wrecking my concentration. I raise my club over my shoulder, bring it down fast - too fast - and whiff the ball. I do this again and again, amid jeers and Spanish catcalls. I never get off that first tee.

I remind myself that I'm here for a higher purpose: Before I die, I want to speak Spanish flawlessly. I'm not alone in taking my Spanish seriously. Businesspeople who are on the fast track need international work experience. And in many emerging economies, if you can't speak Spanish, you can bid hasta luego to closing that deal.

Trouble is, no one wants to learn a language the way many of us did in high school: in a stifling classroom, with boring drills read aloud in a soporific drone by Mr. Bad Accent. A better method is to study "in country" - to become immersed in the language while visiting an exotic place, surrounded by sun- burnished beaches and top-flight golf courses. Malaga, home of the Malaca Instituto, is just such a place.

The Malaca Instituto (Malaca being the old Phoenician name for Malaga) develops all of its own texts, and trains and certifies its own teachers. Every class must follow the Instituto's rule numero uno: Only Spanish spoken here.

Earlier this evening, at a reception for new students, I discovered that of the 75 or so newcomers here this week, just three of us are American. This pleased me: I didn't come here to practice my English. Almost 70% are German; the rest include other Europeans and a few Japanese. Most businesspeople stay for two weeks, though four weeks is ideal. According to Ida Willadsen, the Instituto's founder and director, "It takes a German or American university an entire year to cover what we cover in just one month."

As we adjourned for sangria, Willadsen advised us to rest well tonight. First thing tomorrow, we'll take a test that will place us in an appropriate class.

Trying to fall asleep while my body tells me it's six hours earlier, I find a new worry to replace my golf nightmare: I wrote on the Instituto's application that I'm an advanced-Spanish speaker. But now I'm so nervous, I can't even remember how to say, "Wake me when it's over!"

Bad golf, questionable Spanish. This looks like a week made in hell.

The Grammar Slammer

I'm mortified. I failed to make the cut for the advanced class. The test revealed that my use of the subjunctive is muy malo, and I've been assigned to the "high intermediate" group instead.

Our instructor, Mari Carmen Perez, bursts into the classroom with a flurry of greetings, all in rapid-fire Spanish. She hands each of us a work sheet. Just a little warm-up, she says. I quickly scan it and blanch: It's a drill on the subjunctive.

She begins with Helmut Hoehr, a 36-year-old German software engineer, who sits to her left. I start strategizing. He's three seats away from me, so she will probably call on me to fill in the fourth blank on the work sheet. It's a phrase from a classified ad: "Firm seeking production chief [who would be available] to travel." Hypothetical situation - definitely subjunctive. What's the correct verb ending?

Meanwhile, the software engineer is stuck. He can't think of the subjunctive form of "save money." Exasperated, he says the phrase in German.

Perez rebukes him: "I don't understand German. Describe with other Spanish words what you wish to say, or else act it out."

Of course, she's right. We won't get very far if we use our native languages as a crutch. It's just that none of us wants to look bad. Especially not me. Fortunately, I've come up with the verb for blank number four. I'm just two people away. . . .

"Lucia," says Perez. "Do the next sentence, please."

What the - ? She's skipped over two people and picked me. My eyes dart wildly over the page. Perez just smiles. She's onto my game. Humbled, I hear myself ask, in Spanish, "What number are we on?"