I neglected to mention in my last post that, as part of my ongoing project to convince people that I speak Spanish (which I do not, but wish I did, and desire is nearly as good as practice, right?), I accosted the woman sitting beside me on the bus to the park. She sat down and opened her book, and I, in my newfound role as nosy American traveler, noticed out of the corner of my eye that she was reading a cookbook. Be still, my heart, right? Now, she loses points because the recipe she was reading was for pancakes with something that sounded suspiciously like fruit cocktail poured over the top of them, but she gained them back because the book was in Spanish. No, not only is there no need for me to show off, but I really have nothing *to* show off. Still, I haven't changed, and I do enjoy taking credit where it's not due occassionally, so I screwed my moxie to the sticking place, tapped her book with the tip of my index finger, and said "Sabe bien?" (Haven't figured out how to do the other upside-down question mark in this text box thing. Imagine it's there. And while you're at it, imagine I really speak Spanish.) And she said, oh, yes, yes, and something that was way too fast that I couldn't really follow as a consequence but that seemed to be about how her kid likes pancakes and fruit. Or maybe her kid is a fruit. I wasn't really sure, but I nodded and smiled and said "Si" a lot. And when she got off the bus she said "Adios" and waved, and I did the same, and I'm sure she totally knew I was a faker but I still hugged myself a little smugly. See, this is what being in a strange city with no one to hold one accountable does.
It gets worse, though. I'm now harassing the roofers working on top of the house across the street. Whatever - they've been wolf-whistling every time I walked out of the house for two weeks now, so I figure I can return the malarkey with impunity. So I sort of know this Spanish pun, which is hilarious more for the fact that it's about the longest exchange I can manage in Spanish with any degree of accuracy than for the humor of the joke itself. It's about a whale. I won't write it down because whatever kernels of amusement might be dredged out of it would be totally lost in print, but if you're genuinely interested, call me and I'll tell it to you. But anyway, amidst the catcalls and general merriment brought on my my emergence onto the street the other day, I decided enough was enough and that I ought to go and make friends. So I crossed the street and yelled up onto the roof. "Oye!" They yelled back down at me, and I told them the joke. At first they were confused, and I'm still not certain if they were laughing at the joke or at the crazy gringa. But at least now they yell full sentences at me, instead of just whistling.
I told all of you I'd save the world one day. Maybe I'll be, like, the multi-lingual Ellen. Who's with me?
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