"Writing and travel broaden your ass if not your mind,
and I like to write standing up."
Ernest Hemingway
(Anybody else know where Ada, Oklahoma is?!?!?)
I traveled for three months in Europe in 2004. One of my most fun moments that I recount often--stop me if you've already heard this one--was in the coastal town of Roses, Spain. Roses is just outside of France on the coast of the Mediterranean. Pre-Franco it was Spain's version of Santa Barbara, CA... Tons of tourists, parties all the time, restaurants, chi-chi, high end, the best of the best vacationed there. Now, it's a quaint little village that's a stop-through for those crazies visiting Salvador Dali's house in Figueres.
There's also a Costco just outside of town.
Having been on the road for months, my friend and I searched out a Chinese restaurant because she was craving authentic Chinese food, which was apparently unavailable in France. We lucked out and found THE Chinese restaurant. We attempted to order in English, with no luck. My friend tried to talk with the owners and wait staff, but had no luck in her native Vietnamese. I tried again in Spanish... Success!
Oddly enough, the staff spoke Spanish... but with a Chinese accent.
I was speaking a completely different language, hearing the exact same accent as we do here at home.
Surreal like a Dali, yes. Got the lesson that day, no.
It took me a long time--and many, many retellings of this story--to realize that people are just people. No matter where you are in the world, no matter what language you are speaking, no matter how you look or what you wear, we're all just people.
Guess I'll have a California accent in Brazil!
