I got out today and had a few Spanish conversations. The first was at the supermarket. I’ve been meaning to try to use my credit card at the checkout but every time I got there I always had enough money so I kept putting it off until next time. But this time I thought I’d give it a go…how hard can it be, right? So when the cashier scanned the items and showed me the total, I held up my credit card and uttered one of the most useful Spanish phrases I’ve learned, “esta permitido?” (Is it allowed?) And she said, “si” but then there was some confusion because apparently I needed my passport. I never carry it with me because I don’t want it stolen. So she looked a little worried for a minute and then went to the supervisor for help. The two of them came back and I heard the supervisor say, “no es importante”. And then all was well. It’s funny, so far South America is as I would expect. They play a bit fast and lose with the rules. Japan was completely the opposite. You had to do everything EXACTLY the way they wanted you to. Banking was a nightmare there. Things like filling out a form. Your name had to be in all upper case “block letters” but your address had to be in upper and lower case. And if you did it wrong, you had to start all over again. And then when I was leaving the country and I wanted to close out my account it took forever because I signed my name as William Eberle but I had opened the account as William F Eberle. Beaurocratic insanity.
The other encounter was at a small store, a bodega I guess you’d call it. I went in to buy a Coke, which I never drink in the US. But there’s something about drinking a Coke in another country that’s somehow comforting. Plus the Coke here is made with sugar instead of corn syrup, so it doesn’t give me that headache I get from US Coke. So anyway, I brought a coke up to the counter (an 8 ounce bottle) and the woman opened it for me. Then she began explaining that I had to drink it there and leave her the bottle. I had an idea what she was talking about because the first day I moved in, the woman from the property management company was explaining about the bottles and how they charge you more the first time, then the next time when you bring the old bottle back they charge you less. So I kind of knew where the conversation was going but I managed to say things like, “Si, acqui bebo.” And when she said I had to give her the bottle back, I said, “Ahora?” and she said, “Si.” So while I stood there drinking the Coke we talked a very little bit. Using a combination of English, Spanish and hand signals, the conversation went something like this.
You don’t speak Spanish? I don’t speak much. Where are you from? New York. Ah, United States. I’ve been here one week. You’ve been in Chile one week? Yes. Ah. You will stay here for Christmas? Yes. You’re family is here? No. No? Are you married? No. Ah. Well, thank you.
Not a big deal but this is always the hardest part of speaking another language. Overcoming the fear of looking like an idiot — which of course you will anyway — and just brute forcing your way through a conversation. It was nice. The Coke cost 30 cents, by the way.