“Harry
Potter, Mick? Really?”
Will,
I believe, held two bachelor’s degrees and both were in something like Creative
Writing or Journalism or World Lit or whatever. Still…I sort of appreciated his
slight. It meant he expected more of me.
“It’s
in Spanish,” I defended myself by feigning offense.
“Oh,
really?” and he seemed to perk up at this, “Do you speak it?”
“Well…put
it this way. I can read it just fine. I mean…I can speak it and understand it
fine too. I just don’t get a lot of practice in conversationally.
“Ahh,”
and he nodded understandingly. “Hey, is that why you were dating that Spanish
chick?!”
“Mexican
chick,” I smiled. “And no. I mean, that’s not really why I was dating her but…I guess it gave her a fair amount of
intrigue. Her accent was sexy. And we would speak Spanish a fair amount of the
time and text in Spanish and stuff.”
“Dude.
That’s awesome. I want a Spanish chick. Why Spanish, though, if you don’t mind
my asking? You just really like the Latinas or something?”
“You
mean the race or the…nevermind. I guess Spanish was just the most natural. I
mean…I grew up pretty close to Mexico and I took a couple years of it in high
school and stuff. But I really got back on the horse after I got back from Peru
last summer…”
“Oh,
yeah. How’d that go?”
“Well…not great, man, to be honest with you. I had my passport stolen and then I had to go all around Lima jumping through hoops and stuff in order to get another one. And all the while, I’m asking everybody questions on like what to do and stuff… And, of course, they’d ramble off a bunch of crap in Spanish at a million miles a minute. I swear, I probably looked pretty weird to them leaning my head in and closing my eyes just to be able to absorb as many of the words as I could. So yeah. The good news is; I made it. But, after getting back, I sort of figured that if my skills were good enough to get through all that then I might as well go for fluent. Ya know?”
“Well…not great, man, to be honest with you. I had my passport stolen and then I had to go all around Lima jumping through hoops and stuff in order to get another one. And all the while, I’m asking everybody questions on like what to do and stuff… And, of course, they’d ramble off a bunch of crap in Spanish at a million miles a minute. I swear, I probably looked pretty weird to them leaning my head in and closing my eyes just to be able to absorb as many of the words as I could. So yeah. The good news is; I made it. But, after getting back, I sort of figured that if my skills were good enough to get through all that then I might as well go for fluent. Ya know?”
“Gotcha.
That’s pretty cool, man. I’ve always wanted to learn another language.”
“You
should. I mean…there’s so many ways to now with like audio and software and
stuff. I also listen to a half-hour of Chinese lessons a day. Really. I have
for almost two years!”
“Mandarin?”
“Yep.”
“Holy
shit. Why?”
“I
don’t know. I guess just ’cause it’s gotta be one of the most fucked up
sounding languages there is. You know…with all the tones and stuff? But I also
heard that learning other languages keeps the Alzheimer’s at bay. And, you
know, nobody wants that shit. So does learning ballroom dancing, supposedly,
and Sudoku. But, if you have to take your pick then let’s face it; those last
two things suck.”
“Yeah,
that’s for sure. Dude, you totally remind me of this friend of mine…”
“Oh
yeah. What’s his deal?”
“He
like travels a lot and stuff. I mean, don’t get me wrong. That’s probably where
most of the similarities end. That, and you kind of look alike. Other than
that, though, the kid is sort of a weirdo. I mean, he’s my friend and
everything but he’s just one of those guys who’s like…never really settled down
or stayed anywhere for very long. I don’t think he’s ever paid rent anywhere. And then, like right out of high school,
he was living in his car for like years,” and Will couldn’t help but crack up
to himself here as he reconsidered his friend’s eccentricities, “But anyway. So
he just got back from South America which is probably another reason you
reminded me of him just then. But he…he
was down there for like eight or nine years.
Seriously. Eight or nine years and doing just God knows what, man. Doing
pretty much the same thing he was doing up here actually. Just sort of
drifting. Every once in a while, he would write me. But not an email. I would
get an actual fucking letter in the mail…which was actually sort of cool, I
guess, since it was mailed all the way from South America. And he’d write to me
about just doing odd jobs and stuff and moving all around the whole continent. And
every once in a while, he’d mention a new girlfriend and how her family didn’t
like him or something. And sometimes he’d own a car and sometimes he’d just
hitchhike from place to place…or even walk! Sometimes, he’d walk like hundreds
of miles from country to country! And you know what the craziest part is?!”
“What?”
“He
never did learn how to speak Spanish!”