Parar what you’re doing, I need comprar that vestido de rojo!

It is a well known fact that after any instance of a life changing event, a lesson is learned.

Right now, I’m learning spanish.

My town borders a larger town with a heavy population of hispanics.  Most stores have signs in english as well as spanish. This is common throughout the east coast and most likely around the world.

On a shelf in my laundry room is a container of hand cleaner. “Limpiador Manos”.  I see it every time I do laundry and we learn by repetition. The cement plant in town has the “STOP” sign right outside the gates. “Parar” is stated underneath.

I took three years of spanish in High School and can’t speak a word of it if my life depended on it. If I was ever kidnapped by Mexican terrorists and faced an inquisition, I’d be so screwed. All I could probably say is “Yo gusto el gato.” ,  “No, no hablo espanol.” , “Que hora es?” or “El vestido de rojo es bonita.” That’s about the extent of my foreign language studies.

Hearing that I took three years of spanish, my friend’s mom needed to utilize my “expertise”. She owned an apartment building in an area where the population was mostly hispanics. One tenant was behind in rent. And they didn’t speak much english. So I was employed. “Dinero” is the only word I know for money. “El dinero por apartamente?” was about all I could muster up. Never did understand what they were saying back. Awkward……………….

What brings me to this is while waiting for the nurses to do what they needed to do with my son at the hospital, my husband and I were sitting next to a little sign that was on floor – “Piso Mojado” – “Wet Floor” or as it reads “Floor Wet”. Of course, my husband pronounced it all wrong, trying to be funny. I corrected him. But guess what? I learned a new phrase in spanish.

What I can’t stand about that language is that it’s not spoken as you write it. Like above with “El vestido de rojo es bonita” – translated it reads as “The dress of red is pretty.” No one talks like that! I think it would be easier to learn languages if they all translated the way you would speak them. “El rojo vestido es bonita.”

Speaking it is one thing. Understanding it while someone is speaking it is another. I can’t understand it at all when someone behind me in Walmart is rattling on to a friend. I can pick out some words, “ocho dolares” or “si”. But to me it sounds like they’re talking a mile a minute, like they snorted too much coke before they arrived at the store.

I’m figuring by the end of this ordeal with my son, I will have added to my spanish dictionary.  I’ll never be a global translator, but maybe one step closer to understanding what the hell they’re saying in the next isle over from me!

Cold Bacon

After a 1 1/2 hour drive to South Jersey to look at a potential car my 19 year old was interested in, we looked at the car, made a deal and were on our way again for another 1 1/2 hour drive BACK home.

Once we were in familiar territory, we decided to stop at a restaurant we had frequented before. It had an old railroad car attached to it and it reminded us of good times in Strasburg on the Strasburg Railroad when the kids were little.

The parking lot was quite full. We walked in and waited patiently as they prepared a table for us in the railroad car which over looked Rt. 78. Granted it’s not the most pleasant view, but to a bunch of gearheads like us, it’s fun to see the POS’s and not so POS’s driving by. Occasionally, you get blessed with the passing of a Ferrari or Porsche. And a State Trooper with it’s lights flashing pulling some poor soul over because 70mph was too slow for him (it’s too slow for me I’ll tell you that much!).

After ordering our drinks and waiting for our appetizer, we couldn’t help but over hear a table of hispanics talking in spanish and quite loud. I’ve always felt that if you’re from out of the country and come to live here, speak English. At least try! And these people did know how to speak English. But weren’t. There was even a table between us and them and we could still hear their bantering. I could see the waitress was back and forth many times, refilling drinks, bringing food, taking dishes….etc. She looked exasperated!

When their main courses showed up, one woman said “The bacon is cold”. The waitress explained that the bacon isn’t suppose to be hot, it’s suppose to on the cooler side. This woman had a BLT. And all the woman kept saying was “The bacon is cold.” So, the waitress took her sandwich back. A few moments later she returned. I guess the woman accepted it.

Meanwhile, the table behind us, there was a girl about my son’s age. She complained that her chocolate milk wasn’t dark enough. Again, the waitress really didn’t know what to say. All she could say was maybe they used a different syrup this time. And that other times the milk is too dark. Really, it’s CHOCOLATE MILK!!! WTF!

The chocolate milk was fine. My son had three glasses of it!

When the waitress came to our table, she asked if we were ready to order. We told her what we wanted and I told her “No cold bacon please.” She was put aside for a moment then when she saw the smiles on our faces she was relieved that we weren’t serious. She said they never had a complaint like that before. The bacon is suppose to be cooler because it’s a BLT. A club type sandwich. They’re cold sandwiches.

I noticed a few minutes later when she returned to the table to collect MORE dishes, that BLT was half eaten. Then they ordered nachos. And more spanish was spoken. I can understand alittle, but from my distance from the table, it was hard to pick up anything. Rude.

They finally left. As did the chocolate milk critiquer.

So we just kept busting this poor waitress’ chops. But she took it well and I think enjoyed the relief that we weren’t going to harass her that the traffic on Rt. 78 was horrid and if she could do something about it.

THEN……an older couple came in and sat in the chocolate milk critiquers table. AND THEY TALKED REALLY LOUD! WE KNEW WHERE THEY CAME FROM, WHY THEY CAME FROM THERE. IN WHAT THEY CAME IN AND WHAT THE LADY’S SLEEPING HABITS WERE!

After we paid our bill, got my son a container for his leftovers, wished the waitress good luck with the rest of her night because it seemed she was having one of those days, and went to the bathroom only to find out the toilet I used didn’t flush, we left!

I’m not sure we’re going to go there anymore. My husband wasn’t to impressed with this visit this time. He says the acoustics in that place aren’t good and he has the type of hearing where he can here conversations in the next county.  Maybe on a “not so busy” day we’ll give it one more try.

And Charlie forgot his container.