Adventures in Spanglish(Gerald R Gioglio) “Our heart knows the way. Run in that direction.” --Rumi--

They call it ‘Spanglish.’ You know, any combination of Spanish and English words used to communicate outside one’s first language. Think something like, ‘Donde esta la…la…. post office?’ While I do know quite a few Spanish words and phrases, I plead guilty to being more than a little conversationally challenged. So, I fall back on Spanglish when visiting Mexico or Latin America. Happily, the process is often reciprocated by Spanish speakers who know varying levels of English.

Of course, Spanglish speakers often see a look of confusion, if not panic, sweep over the faces of those who are trying to understand this quite individualistic expression of first and second languages. Depending upon what one thinks they heard you might get a ‘No se’ (I don’t know) or a ‘No comprendo’ from either party who did not quite understand.

Then of course one runs the risk of having people completely misunderstand what you are trying to say. Consider, if you will, two vignettes from a vacation my wife and I took in Herradura, Costa Rica. One adventure worked out pretty well, even if it did end with a bit of hullabaloo. In the second situation the combination of broken English and Spanish led to a communication breakdown and a humorous, rather embarrassing situation.
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It was an early morning, forty-five-minute cruise from mainland Costa Rica to a beach on Isla Tortuga (Turtle Island, en ingles). The day held promise of being “Pura Vita,” the possibility of having a relaxed, casual day, of living a pure or simple life.

The industrious crew on our catamaran dressed alike, sporting black pants with a company issued blue shirt; all were safely masked during this time of plague. They aimed to please their passengers, keeping busy doling out a fruity breakfast, soft drinks and spirits for that soon to be totally inebriated collection of ‘turistas’ who started early.

Sadly, upon arrival there was not a turtle in sight on the agreeable white sands of our little piece of paradise. I guess that should be expected given on any particular day a couple of hundred visitors storm that beach. I imagine our beleaguered tortoise friends abandoned it for more peaceful surroundings. I mean, really, you know how some two-legged animals can get.

Beyond the beach we were treated to another view of the tree-lined sedges and mountainous islands we passed on the way in. Meanwhile, the crew kept busy bringing drinks to sunbathers, stopping by to chat and preparing lunch for their passengers. I got friendly with a couple of the guys assigned to our area, Sergio and Manuel. Sergio was a rather tall fellow, mid-twenties, in great shape and despite the mask one could easily picture a handsome, youthful face. For the most part their English was pretty good, even if, like me, they were not quite bi-lingual.

The more Sergio stopped by to check on my wife and I the more we interacted, sharing small talk and laughing at the absurdity of he and his mates having to wear masks on this isolated and beautiful stretch of beach. Soon, I felt comfortable asking if he could get me the phone number of a cab driver for trips on the mainland. He said he would check it out and let me know before we cruised back to Herradura.

Then Sergio got distracted by a lovely young lady who sat in a row in front of us. She was a pretty little thing, mid-twenties, in a tasteful yet flattering bathing suit; stately, vibrant and very jovial. It was clear her beauty had captivated our now suddenly awkward friend Sergio. The object of his attention showcased long black hair cascading over her shoulders topped with a wide-brimmed hat shading her eyes from the sun. Tipped back, it was easy to imagine the hat as something like a halo circling her face. Looking at Sergio’s anxious eyes you could see this vision of loveliness was quickly becoming his ‘Earth Angel.’

It was great fun watching those two flirts. Both eagerly speaking in animated Spanish. She smiling, laughing, frequently brushing her hair back, the body language suggesting comfort and trust. He, nervous and a bit more subdued yet clearly smitten. Soon when visiting her, his mask came off giving her a good look at his features, his hand nervously rolling back his slightly curly black hair.

Soon they were enjoying ever more frequent, if brief encounters as Sergio brought drinks and smiles and her eyes and face lit up with his presence. As the day went on, I noticed the smart phones didn't come out. Remarkably, no phone numbers were exchanged. I guessed Sergio had been warned not to flirt with the clientele, but that dictum was being ignored by this anxious young man and a clearly fascinated young lady. I’m thinking, ‘this cannot stand. I got to have a man-to-man conversation with this young fellow.’

Manuel, the other member of staff patrolling our area came by to check on us when Sergio was flirting, back at the field kitchen or otherwise engaged with other tourists. Quite a bit shorter than our love-struck friend, Manuel was all business, yet anxious to talk. Understand, chatting up passengers was part of the job. The crew seemed to enjoy trying to make people feel comfortable. With genuine interest, they would ask about one’s country of origin or simply shoot the breeze —albeit sometimes in Spanglish-- before returning to the tasks at hand.

Somehow our conversation turned to ‘los ninos’ (the children.) Of course, being pre-ancient, mine were approaching middle age; but this young man had a family with two little ones and an older son he did not get to see much.

Manuel said he loved the fact his youngsters always ran to greet him when he got home. Flashing back, I told him to treasure that experience. For one day the little ones will be a bit too big to joyously grab him around his legs. It just stops. Suddenly, you come to the realization this part of receiving a child’s love was over; a bittersweet pill to swallow, indeed. I hastened, however, to tell him as an ‘abuelo”’ (grandparent) he would once again experience this pure and heartfelt demonstration of childhood affection.

That did it, we were ‘amigos.’ The next thing you know, we began sharing stories about the simple joys of fatherhood; goofing around with children, doing kid’s stuff as if you were still a child and trying to keep a straight face while listening to their inventive, endearing portrayals.

We quickly got into a real deep conversation, especially when talking about his separated older son. I could see he greatly appreciated finding someone older who listened and empathized. Suddenly one of his supervisors showed up. He looks at my new friend and asks sarcastically, “What can I do for you sir? You certainly are looking very comfortable. But it looks like there are others on the beach who would like you to get them a couple of drinks! ‘Vamos!’”

Busted, the young fellow jumped up. Right, he had a family and needed this job. I could see the concern in the young man's face and I knew I had to help. So, looking directly at the boss with as much seriousness I could muster and a phony, indignant look on my face I pleaded, “Come on boss, ‘estamos trabajando aquí!’ We’re working here, bro!” That did it. A good laugh was had by all. It seemed like the young guy was off the hook; perhaps I hadn't gotten him into too much trouble.

Looking at my wife I saw a familiar look of incredulity, mixed with a patient tolerance that seemed to suggest, “What is he going to get himself into next?” She was soon to find out…

About 3:30 PM we were told to prepare for departure. I hustled back to talk to Sergio about the cab driver contact. Of course, I also had something else to discuss.

I found him cleaning up the makeshift field kitchen. Motioning him over, the interaction went something like this: “Sergio, I need to talk to you about phone numbers. I just wanted to remind you about hooking me up with a cab driver.” He assured me he had not forgotten and would get a number to me when we were cruising back to the mainland.

Then, looking serious, I locked eyes with him and said, “‘Escucha.’ Listen up. One more thing. Dude, you really need to get the ’número de teléfono’ of that lovely young lady you have been hanging around.” His eyes widened as his jaw dropped. He looked at me in complete shock and total disbelief. I quickly realized my Spanglish matchmaking had betrayed me. Frantically, I said to him, “No. No. Not for me! Pour tu! For you! Pour tu!” Pointing to my wife I cried, “I got my girl! Yes? Si? “ His face lit up with understanding as we both broke into a relieved, frenzied laughter.

Even my wife cracked-up when I reported back on my latest adventure.

Bottom line: I never did find out if that flirtatious couple exchanged telephone numbers. I was too embarrassed to ask…nor did Sergio get me that cab driver contact.

The ride back past the treed mountains and into the open waters completed our adventures. Heck, it's always good to be on the water. Especially after spending leisure time on a beach and interacting with a staff working so hard to make you happy. Yep, despite the occasional Spanglish faux pas, I’d have to say it was a great day. Hey, we’re talkin’ “Pura Vida here” baby.

THE END

© 2022, Gerald R Gioglio

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