Tuesday, June 19, 2018

Language Confusion

I do enjoy traveling south of the border, but it always seems to be impossibly hard looking the way I look with a second language that is Korean, not Spanish, not Portuguese. It always feels like I've done something very wrong to end up where I am, talking as I do, and not fitting in even though I look the part more than anyone else. 


This was the trouble with showing up in São Paulo. My coworker meets me at the airport after several various farces in communication. 

"I'm at the Starubucks."

"I'm standing in front of the Starbucks."

"But you are not here."

"It's across from the Red Lobster."

"What is a lobster of red?"

In other words, it took awhile but we finally met. He went to work and sent me on to my hotel where I hoped to check in and get food. 

Things I forgot about Brazil. Eating times. Brazil eats between 12:00 and 15:00. Then everything closes until 19:00. It was now, 11:30, I'd just gotten off a 20 hours flight where my last meal was easily 18 hours ago, I was hungry, tired, an little fatigued and still, in spite of trying, didn't speak Portuguese. This means, of course, additional waiting and additional frustration and me getting hangry which all boils down to, bad time. 

Finally, I sulked in my room until noon and then ate the only thing on the menu I recognized which was frozen ceviche (not exactly how that is supposed to be done). This makes me smile and think of a note from the Guitarist ("I don't like to eat seafood when I'm this far from the sea.") 

Later I do what I am good at doing before being left on my own to feel like I'm bad at what I'm doing. If my goal is to make English more accessible, than why oh why do I keep ending up in places where everyone invests in the language but no one can speak it. 

Do I need to do more? Probably. 

In the meantime, I have cold fish, cold booze, and a country to play in. 

Sunday, June 17, 2018

Up and Over

Sitting in an airport lounge on a Sunday afternoon, when I would really most rather be sitting on my couch under a pile of dogs.

Sitting in an airport lounge watching the temperature tick up to 100 in the windy city.

Sitting in an airport lounge, working my weekend away.

Sitting in an airport lounge looking down an almost 20 hours flight.

Sitting in an airport lounge typing away.

Sitting in an airport lounge thinking about all the things I miss in this city when I am not here. All the things, all the people, all the places, the little pieces of this place I want to be home that I am starting to think of as home.

Sitting and waiting to fly.

Such a familiar feeling.