Lost in Translation II

Its been slow around here this week so I’m going to post a throwback story from my time in Tenerife. Because I know all of you are loyal readers you know that it is customary for a restaurant to provide a free “chupito” on the house after a meal. On one of these occasions I was really in the mood for an irish coffee. I am quite particular about my irish coffee and I don’t prefer it in the traditional sense and I don’t want any of that gay whip cream on it either. Coffee, whiskey, baileys…that’s it. I began to work through my mind on how to order this en espanol: coffee, café; easy enough; whiskey is just whiskey; pretty hard to fuck that up; but bailey’s is not so easy. My experience in Spain is that they normally do not have the common brands of liquor. So I decided that irish cream was a safer bet.

Me: Puedo tener un café con whiskey y con creama de irelandia (which I thought directly translated to cream of Ireland)

Waiter: Como? (the expression on this man’s face was indescribably awkward)

Luckily there was another patron near by that spoke English and far better Spanish than me.

Patron: You just asked for irish cum in your coffee.

Me:…What!!! Um bailey’s?

Waiter: Ah si bailey’s, no problema

So if anyone is looking for some irish man-juice in Spain. Now you know how to order it.

Number one! No Problem

For some reason no matter what nationality a person is or what primary language they possess if they don’t know very much English the first 2 phrases everyone picks up are “no problem” and “number one”. Coming from the perspective of someone who has struggled with foreign languages I understand that it is much easier to understand a foreign language than it is to speak it. So when you are in this transition period of language retard to borderline fluency you try to steer the conversation so you can respond with the words you do know. When you drink it gets easier and when you get drunk its impossible. So I want you to imagine a conversation where the person who are talking to understands half of what you’re saying but can only respond with either “no problem” or “number one”.

Me: Can I get a hamburger?

Waiter: Ugh …yes no problem.

Me: Thanks buddy

Waiter: USA Number one!

And so on and so forth. The reason why I bring this up is because I am amazed by how many conversations can continue like this.

Me: How can I get some girls around here?

Waiter: For you? No problem my friend, no problem.

Me: Sweet, are they good looking?

Wiater: Number one!

Me: Actually I’m looking for a girl who will do number 2 also.

Waiter: No problem

Me: Fantastic, you’re the man.

Waiter: You number one!

Me: I’m looking for top shelf though my friend

Wiater: For you? No problem my friend no money. Very very good sewha.

Me: Well where is this sewha?

Wiater: Number one?

Me: Hey I’ll take as many as I can get.

Waiter: No problem.

Oh man…Maybe this isn’t funny for you but I am pissing my pants laughing just writing this. Its just a culture thing that I find hilarious. It’s similar to the Filipinos and the “And then?”. But that’s another story for another time. I’m going to start pulling out some of my old stories from college and high school to fill in some of the lulls, check in next week.

Lost in Translation

One of the nights out we decide to go to a sushi restaurant for some grub and Jose brings his girlfriend along who doesn’t speak very much English. Before I go on, this story requires a little background from when I was in Tenerife. While in the Spanish-speaking Canary Islands I came upon a custom where after every meal the waiter would offer you a free “chupito” on the house. A “chupito” out there means shot. So I was under the impression that the Spanish word for shot was chupito. So after we gobbled up our sushi I asked Jose’s girlfriend “Te gustaria un chuptio” which I thought meant “would you like a shot”. From the sour look on her face I can see I have said something terribly wrong. I try to save myself by making a shot-taking motion with my hand “You know…chupito, chupito”

Jose: What are you trying to say?

Me: Chupito…you know; shot.

Jose: Oh…no my friend, here chupito means blowjob.

Me: Jesus Christo…Well, what’s the word for shot?(Apparently chupar means to suck)

Jose: We just say shot

For those of you playing at home, look in the mirror and make a shot taking motion with your hand and realize how embarrassing that is. I guess I should pretend I don’t speak any Spanish…well I guess I don’t have to pretend.

The Dominican

I will not tell you everything that goes on during my R&R’s; one because I’m shady and two to protect the innocent. But on my first 2 weeks off from Algeria I was looking for a place close to the US where I could blow off some steam and still save days for the tax break. I ran into a guy in Algeria who was from Puerto Rico and said that the Dominican is where it’s at. And he happened to know a friend that rents out his place in Santo Domingo for cheap…Sounds perfect, I’m not really a resort type guy anyway so I figure this will give me a bit more chance to taste some Latin flavor; so to speak. Anywho; I decide to go down there in October which incidentally enough is hurricane season. As I step off the plane the guy I’m renting from calls me and tells me is going to pick me up from the airport, his English is not great and his sense of urgency is even worse. As soon as I get outside the sky opens up to torrential downpour; like curtains of rain. As I sit outside the airport waiting for Jose for 2 hours while it rains bananas I can’t help but wonder if this was all a terrible mistake. But as I come to find this is nothing but true Dominican fashion and it clears up to leave not a single cloud in the sky, Jose shows up, and we are on our way.

I wanted to know what the locals do for fun in DR. So I pressed this question upon Jose and he told me that what they like to do on a normal Friday night is gang up to the liquor store, buy a few bottles on wine, and park their cars in the parking lot and blare their ridiculous systems. Seemed a bit high school to me but I was game. So we get a few bottles of wine and sure enough there are several cars with insane systems in them cranked up to near deafening level and the vibe was pretty cool. But things got interesting when a redbull truck pulled up, folded out to a DJ stand, and everyone synced their car together through the radio. At which point a stage was pulled out and they had a dance off by some deliciously scantily clad females shaking their ass in favor of applause. The girl with the most crowd support got to dance on a lucky guy in the crowd. It came down to two girls and the crowd couldn’t decide so they both danced on a lucky patron. I looked over to Jose and I see that he had a crazy look in his eye and ran up to the MC and spit some Spanish to him, and all of sudden…

MC: GRIIINNGOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

So they pulled me up to the stage while these girls danced on me like they were trying to make molds of their private parts in my thighs. As I previously mentioned I am a gringo and can’t dance a step so I just stood there and let this happen like I was in my own private strip club.

This place is awesome