Loosed in Translation

I was on a conference call this morning when I did what I so often do during my days. My life slowed down to that Matrix speed (you know...bending way back like Neo as that hot bacon grease flys by, mere inches from my face, spatula in hand pointing at the sky for balance) and I took note that something mildly interesting and downright peculiar was happening, and that I should make a mental note lest I be without anything to reflect upon or write about at day's end. As it turns out, I was cooking breakfast for my kids and listening to my boss and 5 other colleagues from different places around the globe. Even though I was on the phone, and I've told him hundreds of times to relax and try to wait until somebody is off the phone to start bombarding someone with questions, my son started in. I pointed to the phone, which made him pause for a millisecond and then he continued after managing to lower his voice to a very loud whisper. I pointed to the phone again, and then shook my head, and was about to laugh, thankful that this phone had a mute button that I could deploy for just such situations. However, since he's a pretty good reader now, I decided to grab a pen and write him a note. He seemed game for this little exercise. After reading, he nodded, but then started to write something back to me. All but mentally checked out of the call at this point, I smile and decide to indulge him by replying on paper once again. We went back and forth like this until I figured a way to work this in my favor. I started to give him instructions like, "fold those blankets, and straighten up those pillows" which, to my surprise he gladly did. We did this for a few more minutes, he eagerly carrying out a task while I scrambled to think of another one for him to do to keep him engaged while I was multi-tasking. The funniest part was when I was trying to demontrate how I wanted him to roll up a rug and put it in the closet, and resorted to not only drawing something that looked like a party favor (you know the one that you blow into and it rolls out and makes the high pitched sound and is usually an absolute must at surprise parties?) but also to playing mime and doing a rolling/fishing rod motion with my hands. Finally, we got on the same page and he did it.

The kids and I later went to our church to help prepare some food bags for the less fortunate that came by not only today, but also will surely come again on Thanksgiving this Thursday. As it turns out, there were several that didn't speak English very well, and my Spanish speaking skills were called into action. I surprised myself at how well I communicated. Perhaps there was some adrenaline working in my favor, forcing my brain to go into its deepest recesses to recall something that I would usually cause me to draw a blank in a less pressure packed situation. As you can see I was quite pleased with myself.

Later this afternoon, I was grabbing a sandwich at the Togo's across the street from my job when I was amused (yes, easily...i know) by the conversations taking place behind the counter. There were 2 latina ladies and a latino man, and 1 older Japanese gentleman and his son. The son appeared to be the owner of the place and was barking out orders to everyone as the lunch rush ended. Naturally, I timed it perfectly to show up just as the last of the lunch crowd was leaving.

As that last customer left with their sandwich and I was studying the menu, as if I've not been here dozens of times, I noticed that the Japanese father and son were talking to each other in Japanese. This was no big deal. In fact, it was one of those so ordinary things, that I probably DIDN'T really notice until the ensuing events drew more attention to that fact in retrospect. The owner took my order and began to prepare my Sierra Steak Sandwich on a french roll. Very casually, he starts in on Pedro who is re-stocking the deli meats in their respective trays on the counter. He's going on and on about Pedro's single earring and calling his machismo into question. Pedro answers back in spanish and then it occurs to me that Sam, the owner is also speaking spanish, and quite flawlessly. I'm reminded of Matseui Sushi in the Financial District of Panama City, Panama with it's all Japanese staff, and very authentic Japanese decor and excellent sushi rolls. Nothing seemed out of place there until they came to take orders from our table that included myself and several clients that I was visiting in Panama. I remember my sheer amazement as the Japanese waiter came to our table and spoke PERFECT spanish to everyone at my table, hitting the right inflections and everything, sounding like he was straight from an Almodovar flick. I shared this story with Sam and he laughed too, and we exchanged some more small talk as he finished making my sandwich. I returned across the street to eat and finish the workday before dashing off to enter the traffic. Manana, por la manana, lo hare' todo tambien. Hasta manana!