If you follow my merry, madcap travel adventures, you may remember that I recently went to Barcelona, which the locals pronounce Barthelona. It’s like everyone in Spain has a permanent lisp.
My biggest worry before I went was that no one would understand my Mexican-accented Spanish, because the dialect is quite a bit different than the Castilian Spanish they speak there. Fortunately, people seemed to understand me just fine, and were grateful that I was speaking my bad, ungrammatical Mexican Spanish instead of just launching into English as if we Americans were the master race.
I always apologized for my bad Spanish, and they insisted that no, no, it was good.
And then they would just speak to me in English. I can’t give you facts and figures on how many people in Spain speak English, I can only tell you that in Barcelona and Madrid, the scientific answer would be “lots.”
This made things easier to get around, of course, though it didn’t do much for my vocabulary. But that’s all right because nowadays any new foreign word I learn gets poured into one ear and immediately falls out the other ear. I seem incapable of retaining any language other than my own — and not that one all too well.
In Cambodia, I would walk into a shop and ask them how to say “Hello” in Khmer, which is the language there. They would tell me, I would repeat it, and then retain in for nine seconds. Afterward, I’d walk into a coffee shop and repeat the process, never actually able to grasp the information.
That’s why I generally prefer to go to Spanish speaking countries, since I’ve been studying Spanish on and off since I was eight years old, so I can now successfully ask for a hotel room and a taxi. My friends say, “Let’s go to Brazil!” and I say, “Hell no. I’m not going to the only country in South America where I can’t speak the language.” For those of you geographically challenged, they speak Portuguese in Brazil.
Speaking of Portuguese, let me tell you about a memorable experience I had in Barcelona. My traveling companion didn’t want to go to dinner, so I wandered out of the hotel and found a Portuguese restaurant only a few blocks away. I love Portuguese food and especially I love port.
I sat down, ordered dinner, and had two glasses of wine because it’s only 3 Euros a glass there. You know how cheap I am. Then I asked the owner to bring me a glass of port — whatever he recommended.
The tawny port he brought me was so delicious that I asked for a second. Then, the owner brought me a third glass of a different label to try. It tasted great, too.
Now, here’s the problem. I had forgotten that port is much more potent than wine, because it’s fortified with spirits, usually brandy. And I seldom drink now, so I have the tolerance of a newborn baby.
Still, I felt absolutely fine, until I stood up to go and the world started spinning. And I realized I’d imbibed the equivalent of seven glasses of wine. In technical terms, I was smashed. I was smashed, alone in a strange neighborhood in a foreign country in the dark.
I thought to myself, “You can do this. Just get yourself back to the hotel, it’s close.” And I went reeling out of the restaurant, trying not to stumble. At least I had my cane. And then I fell down. People rushed over to help me up, and then I waved them off. I wasn’t too drunk to be mortified.
I started walking in the direction I thought the hotel might be in, trying to stay upright and look like the respectable old lady I actually am. I walked and walked and walked. And then I walked some more. My legs were already throbbing from sightseeing that morning. I started worrying that I was going to have to sleep in an alley, because I could not find the hotel and I wasn’t able to focus too well on my GPS.
Finally, after probably an hour, I hailed a cab. I got in and told the driver the address. “But that’s right around the corner,” he protested irritably.
“I don’t care,” I told him, “Take me there.” So he drove half a block, and thankfully, there was the hotel. I almost cried with relief. Then I paid him 7 Euros for 30 seconds of driving and went upstairs and passed out.
Doesn’t that sound like an exciting travel adventure? Yep, I have them.
Come back later, and I’ll tell you another thrilling tale.