Susi meets me in the park and then we go for lunch. The waitresses clearly prefer to deal with Susi’s perfect Spanish than my garbled, mispronounced nonsense. I am doing my best though, damn them, which makes it so depressing when Susi is asked to translate what I have said or questions about my lunch are referred to her.
It can become even worse when I am on my own. This afternoon, I ordered a Huari (a brand of beer). 4.30, I was told in reply (it was my first of the day, honest). Being able to order a beer must be the lowest rung of the language ladder, which means I am reduced to looking thirstily on.
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1 comment:
Air guitar playing and pedalos - sounds like a dream!
That really is sad news on the beer ordering...maybe you need to start fashioning a hip flask in case of emergencies.
This week I learnt the word for moustache - 'bigote' - strangely close to the english word 'bigot'...does this say something about the history of moue wearers?
Bx
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