Silence is golden... But I can't seem to shut up.

As a kid, I was taught that if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. But what if I don’t know what I’m saying? My Spanish is bad and I’ve never taken a lesson here (this could be the root of my problems) but I’m learning. In my own special way, I’m learning by picking things up on the streets. I am a stealthy Language Ninja – I sneak words from conversations when people don’t think I’m listening.

Unfortunately, ninjas are to be neither seen nor heard. Bummer.

Sooo, let’s just say that when I’m out and about and attempting to speak in Spanish, I tend to screw up. In words and in actions. And sometimes it’s a monumental mistake… Read and learn, my friends. Read and learn.

"I need a man..."

Some things are just too easy to screw up. For instance, I was talking to someone about being hungry and I honestly thought I was saying the right thing when I told her, "Tengo hombre." 

Needless to say, she laughed and said, "Oh, really?" 

That's when I knew I had screwed up. 

What I meant to say was "Tengo hambre." 

See how close they are? Rather than saying I was hungry, I said "I have a man." 

Hambre = Hunger    Hombre = Man

Sheesh, with words this similar, I am screwed. 

“Please, have a seat…”

When I was volunteering at the Puppy Palace thrift store, people donated all kinds of stuff to us. Some was lovely and definitely sellable, other stuff was absolute crap. Part of my job was to sift through the junk and find the diamonds in the rough. Shoes were a BIG hit at the store, especially if they came from the United States. I don’t know why, but telling a lady the shoes she was looking at were from an exotic faraway land called “The United States” made them more desirable. Yes ma'am, real live Americans wore those on U.S. soil and now you have the opportunity to literally walk in their shoes.

When people try on shoes, it is necessary to sit, right? Right. So we had a couple of chairs available for those who chose not to stand. Unfortunately, I was the one telling them to have a seat.

“Setenta! Por favor!” I would say and gesture to the chair.

And they would laugh.

And I would nod enthusiastically and smile my big friendly gringa smile while pointing at the chair like a model on “The Price is Right” and they would finally sit.

What I didn’t know was that I was telling them, “Seventy! Please!”

Setenta = Seventy    Sientate = Have a seat

So, perhaps they thought I was being friendly and telling them to take a load off by putting their seventy-pound bootie in the chair. *sigh*

Someone who heard this story told me to never learn Spanish because it was way more entertaining for her to hear stories of my screw-ups. So far, so good. It is my job to entertain the world.

“I’d like a breast…”

Yes, they even have good ol' Ronald McDonald in
the courtyard of the McDonald's here. 

Is it just me, or does it look like Ronald is checking out
that guy's butt? 

The McDonald’s here is unlike any other in the world. It’s built inside an oooold stone and brick house and there’s a fountain and a big outdoor courtyard with a view of the ruins of a colonial church and Agua Volcano. It has seating for 200 (maybe more?) and I like that there's no obnoxious sign with big yellow arches. 


They serve fried chicken as one of their daily specials. My friends Wendell & Eddie got me hooked on it and we will occasionally meet there for that healthy fried chicken. On our first trip there for McLunch, they told me to ask for a ‘pechuga’ which means I’d get a chicken breast, rather than a wimpy little leg or thigh. So I bellied on up to the counter and asked the nice young man for the Pollo McFrito and told him I wanted a pechuga. He looked at me confused and I wondered, “Did I say it right?” So I said it again and, without thinking, I put my hand on my boob. “Pechuuuugaaaa,” I said with all the sincerity in the world. And he nodded and walked away. There may have been tears in his eyes. I might have been his favorite customer of the day.

It took me about 3.1 seconds to realize I had just grabbed my McBoob in public and formed a McBond with the little McDude behind the counter that would last McForever.

Yikes! I guess it’s better than grabbing someone else’s boob to demonstrate ‘pechuga,’ but wow, what the hell is wrong with me? I usually only act like this in public if Mardi Gras beads are involved. (Kidding, Mom. Just kidding.)

“You're looking for...what???”

My sheets ended up being less ugly than I wanted. It was cold,
so toward the end of my search, I was going for something
that would be soft and warm. I came across these "kissy-kissy"
sheets made of t-shirt fabric. Ahhh. I'm kicking myself
for not getting a group photo so I could share the glory of all
of the fabulously ugly togas present that night. 

We had an “Ugly Toga Party” in January to go along with the theme of living in the Guatemalan version of Caesar’s Palace. Invitees were asked to make their togas from the ugliest sheets they could find at the pacas. (The pacas are like one giant garage sale with piles of clothes, shoes, household items, etc. underneath a roof patched together with corrugated metal and criss-crossed with electrical wires. A successful paca hunt will require digging into heaps of clothes and you never know what you’ll find. Items could include expensive vintage clothing, way cool concert t-shirts (rock on, Def Leppard), and sadly, many, many, many t-shirts from family reunions. Oh, and saddest of all is when you dig in and grab A PAIR OF DIRTY UNDERWEAR. Eeeeew! This is why it's always a good idea to carry hand sanitizer with you to the pacas.)

Ahhh, but I digress...

So, out I ventured to the pacas. I was determined to find the ugliest damn sheets in the world. I found many places that wanted waaay too much for nasty old sheets (my skin color doesn’t always help when it comes to prices and I can only haggle for so long before I say screeeew it). On one occasion, my friend Linda went with me and we found some Dora the Explorer sheets. Linda thought it would be very funny for me to call myself “Whore-ah the Explorer” and walk around the party telling the guys, “Hi, I’m Whore-Ah… Why don’t you explore me?” Tee-hee-hee. This would have been especially funny due to the fact that most of the men at the party were gay. But the Dora sheets were for a tiny bed and I wanted something huge and truly UGLY. Like, holy-cow-my-eyes-are-bleeding ugly.

Ok, so there I was at a booth in the paca with LOTS of blankets and sheets. It was run by a lovely Guatemalan woman and her husband. Her daughter (probably about 14) was there to help out. I smiled at them, they smiled at me and I said, “Yo quiero una feo sobrina para mi cama.” In my mind I had asked them for an ugly blanket for my bed.

But I was wrong. Sooo very, very, very WRONG.

Their smiles faded. Their eyes got large. Things got uncomfortable.

I said it again, this time using hand gestures to show a blanket lying on a bed. “Una sobriiiina…”

Unfortunately, what I really said was, “I want an ugly niece for my bed.”

Uh-oh. I kept smiling, unaware of my boo-boo. They looked horrified.

Finally, the daughter -- realizing I was an idiot -- said, “Una…sabana?” which means BLANKET. I slapped my forehead and said, “DUH! Si! SI! Una sabana!”

Sabana = Blanket   Sobrina = Niece

Oh, we all had a good laugh and thank goodness they didn’t tackle me to the ground and call the cops for being pervy.

“Oh, that poor injured horse…”

On more than one occasion, I have seen someone who just got their hair cut. And being the Spanishly-disabled person that I am, I screwed that up, too.

A girl brushing the cabello on
her caballo.

Our landlady got four inches cut off her hair and it looked really cute. When I saw her afterwards I said, “Oh, Anabela! Tu corte tu caballo! Que bonita!”

I thought I was commenting on the cuteness of her new haircut. WRONG.

She smiled and laughed and said, “Cabello. Gracias!”

I gave her that look that dogs give when they hear a strange noise. And then once again I slapped my hand against my forehead. Duhhhh.

I had told her she cut her HORSE and it was pretty.

Cabello = Hair    Caballo = Horse

Now, you have to give me credit here for trying, but come on! Who decided those two words should sound so similar? Anyone could make that mistake, and unfortunately for me, I keep making it. According to my Spanish, there are a lot of cut horses in Guatemala.

“It’s Ladies Night!”

This image has nothing to do with
Ladies Night, and yet, it popped up
when I did a search for "ladies night
& margaritas." I was intrigued,
so I felt compelled to include him
in this section. I think he's
blessing my margarita. Or maybe his
arm is up to notify the waiter that he'd
like to place an order. 

So there’s this new restaurant in town and to lure people in, they have Ladies Night on Thursdays. All the margaritas you can suck down from 6pm-10pm. Count me in! I’m a lady! (Despite what the 'pechuga' incident may indicate.)

My friends Linda and Daniel joined me. Daniel grumbled about paying $7 for his drinks when mine and Linda’s would be free. I told him Ladies Night was our revenge for not being able to pee standing up. He agreed. (He had to – he was outnumbered.) We suggested that  Daniel dress in drag the following and see if he got free booze. So far, he has decided not to do so, but if he ever does, you can bet I’ll tell you all about it. And I’ll include pictures.

Anyway, when we arrived at the restaurant, I asked the host, “Hoy es de noche de la mujer, si?” He looked at me like most Spanish-speaking people do when I talk out loud and eventually figured out what I was trying to say. He smiled, grabbed a couple of menus and we followed him. Tra-la-la-la-laaaa! Bring on the drinkies!

As he was showing us to our table, Linda laughed and said, “You just asked if it was The Night of the Woman!” Well, that was at least close, right? Sure, it could be the name of a horror movie (or a really bad porno) but I got the idea across. We came to drink. And drink we did.

Ah well, I tried. And if nothing else, I am entertaining.

And freakishly adorable.

Until we meet again, stay thirsty my friends!

-Jennifer

OH! One other thing I’ve learned since being here is that “mala” is the feminine version of “bad.” So even the name of this blog is no longer what I thought!

GuateJenniMalaFer  =  GuateJenniBADfer! Ooooh noooo!  {:-O