Life in Spain

Lost in Translation

In the apartment where I´m staying in Spain, the door is virtually
impossible to unlock on the first try with any sort of ease. So one day,
I finally entered the apartment after being frustrated by the lock for a
good 10 - 15 minutes and I saw my host brother in the kitchen. I felt
comfortable with him at this point and I wanted to express my disdain for
the lock so I decided to tell him that, ´That door is a bitch.´ because
this is the expression that I would use for a similar situation at home.
So I translated to Spanish and said to him, ´La puerta es una puta!´
Judging by the way his jaw dropped to the floor, I immediately understood
that ´puta´ was a little bit too strong of a word to use. I´m not sure
exactly how this expression translates to English, but i´m guessing that
what I said is not very close to ´That door is a bitch.´ Instead, it is
probably closer to something like, ´That door is a motherfucking whore.´



Eres un Asshole

I’ve also found that swearing really has no effect in any language that isn’t native to you. ‘Puta’ is probably the harshest Spanish word, but to me it really doesn’t sound any worse than ‘gato’ (cat). That’s why, even when talking in spanish, I’ll still swear in English. So, if I’m watching the Running of the Bulls on TV with my host family and some guy gets trampled or takes a horn through the chest, I don’t say, ‘Mierda!’ I say, ‘Oh Shit, Son!!’ For example, here’s an actual transcript of a conversation I had with a woman in Granada after she chased me down, gave me some stupid fern, read my fortune and wanted money….

Jesse (pulling out change): ‘Solo tengo $.75’ (I only have $0.75)

Woman: ‘No, cuesta $2.’ (No it costs $2)

Jesse: ‘No tengo nada mas.’ (I don’t have anything else.)

Woman (Grabbing my arm): ‘Lo siento, pero cuesta $2’ (I’m sorry, but it costs $2)

Jesse (Snatching arm away and storming off): ‘Pues, lo siento tambien, pero no tengo nada mas, bitch!!’ (Well, I’m sorry too, but I don’t have anything else, bitch!!)



And a Side of Calamari also....

Everyone loves having a good dream and I’m no exception. But through the years, I’ve noticed that with the majority of dreams, there is usually a seemingly plausible situation juxtaposed with something really strange and implausible. Something like, ‘I had a dream that I was playing a game of baseball with my childhood friends.’ Plausible. ‘….but for some reason, we were in Saudi Arabia, and Mike Piazza was the catcher.’ Implausible.

A perfect example of this happened to me one night in Spain. In the dream, I was at my hometown Wendy’s and I got into a shouting match with some guy who had jumped ahead of a bunch of people in line, which is something that could conceivably happen. But as I woke up and thought about the dream, I remembered that when the guy jumped the line, he ordered catfish. Catfish!! Even in my barely conscious state, I thought to myself, ‘Now I know I’ve been out of the states for a while, but I’m still pretty certain that I can’t walk into Wendy’s and order the ‘Catfish Combo.’

On an additonal note, during the dream I actually remember saying to the guy,
‘Whatever, you’re an asshole anyway…. *5 second pause* … And by the way, who orders catfish at Wendy’s???’
I guess that even in my unconscious state, I still knew something was up.



Metallica? AC/DC? Nahhhhh

The most popular music station in Spain is called Europa FM and generally plays an assortment of soft rock, which reminds of a little story from back home…
I have begun to notice a phenomenon that occurs with me when listening to
music. I tend to associate different music with different things, which
is normal, but I have made one particularly strange connection between a
type of music and an activity. I associate soft rock…. and heavy weight lifting.
See this occurred a long time ago when I used to lift everyday at the
YMCA during my senior year of high school. LiteRock 92.9 would always be blasting on
the radio, so my mind developed this inextricable link between soft rock
and working out. I’m still affected by this today because now I have an
iPod and I just feel like I’m not getting the most out of my workout
without the mellifluous sounds of soft rock being constantly streamed
into my head.
I’ll tell you one thing though. The clash of soft rock and the adrenaline-fueled
bad-ass attitude of the weight room definitely leads to some atypical
conversations….

Spotter: “You ready to max out on this bench press bro?”

Jesse(adjusting iPod): “Yeah man. Let me just throw on ‘Big Yellow Taxi’
and then I’ll pound this shit out.”



No Douchebags Allowed

Speaking of the gym, every now and then I’ll go through my closet, find a shirt that I don’t wear very often, cut the sleeves off, and just use it as a shirt to work out in. And more often than not, these were shirts that I had accumulated from my old alma mater, Freeport high school, during my years of playing sports. So, one of the first few days in Spain, our university gave us all shirts. I knew that I wouldn’t wear it too often, and it therefore became a ‘gym shirt’ candidate. But luckily for me, right before I snipped the sleeves off, I came to the realization that some shirts just weren’t destined to be made into a sleeveless gym shirt.
A Freeport Basketball team shirt? Fine.
A Freeport weightlifting club shirt? Even better.
But a sleeveless University of Alcala Spanish Studies shirt??? Somehow I don’t think that would garner too much respect in the weight room.



Is the ToothFairy real too????

I´ve seen some great things while traveling in Spain, but the one thing that left me more in awe than anything wasn´t a skyscraper, castle, or cathedral. The thing that mesmerized me the most was actually a bird, but not just any bird, a stork!
Let me share a conversation…

Jesse (Looking at the sky): ´Jesus! Look at the size of that bird!´

Alisa: ´Oh my god! Its huge´

Jesse (Fighting off the urge to say 'That's what she said.'): I´ve never seen anything like it. It must have like a 20 foot wing span.

Somebody: Oh, you guys haven’t seen the storks yet?

Jesse: ´Whoa. I thought that storks were made up? You mean to tell me that they actually exist??´

Alisa: Í guess so???´

I couldn´t take my eyes off of these giant birds and I quickly understood why the myth of the storks delivering babies makes perfect sense. You think a raven is carrying a baby halfway across the world?? Hell no! But a stork, shit they could carry grown men around without breaking a sweat.



This was a common scene in Medieval Spain.



’Are the Batteries included?’

Having already discovered that Spain is very sexually open, I was not surprised to notice a plethora of sex shops in downtown Madrid. In fact, most of them are simply called, ´SexShop´ and all the signs on the doors are in English. I find this a bit unnerving. I mean, if a store name and all the things on the store are in English, wouldn´t one assume that they´re trying to attract tourists? But my question is, do American tourists really go to sex shops while traveling in Madrid?? I wouldn´t think so. But in reality, I hope that tourists do go to the sex shops because I bet you would overhear some funny conversation in the streets…
´What first hunny? The Palacio Real, the Plaza Mayor?´
´Yeah that´d be cool, but before we do anything, I need to run to the SexShop and pick up a french tickler.´



’We have a Scuba team on the case right now???’

So, the first day I got here, I met a girl who flew from Philly, to London, and then to Madrid and she was pretty upset because the airline lost her luggage. This is nothing out of the ordinary, but I was talking to her for a while and she informed of some interesting protocol that the airline follows when they lose a suitcase. First, if they don´t find your suitcase within a week, they give you 100 Euros, but if they can´t find it after 2 weeks, they claim it as ´lost,´ you never get it back and they give you 200 more Euros for your trouble. What the hell is that??? My real question is, ´How are they not able to find a suitcase? It´s either at the airport in Madrid, London, Philly, or still on the plane. I mean, there´s nowhere else that it can be, right?? It´s not like there´s a secret hatch on the airplane that randomly opens up mid-flight and drops luggage over the North-Atlantic.



I’d Like to Buy a Vowel

So, I was watching Spanish Wheel of Fortune the other day and the contestant chose Q as his first consonant. I laughed to myself and thought, ‘What a dumbass. Who picks Q first?’ But then, after the Spanish Vanna Blanca uncovered about 4 Q’s, I quickly remembered that every other word in the Spanish language is ‘que.’ This made me realize how much the different language affects everything, and got me thinking about whether or not other cultures and languages have Wheel of Fortune. Like, would it even work in Chinese? Or what about one of those languages that only has like 12 letters, like Hawaiian?? I imagine that Hawaiian Wheel of Fortune would be pretty lame…
‘Um… I’ll take an L.’
‘Okay… and there are 13 L’s….’


They do classify as 'Things' I suppose.



The Most Handsome Woman I’ve Ever Seen

Have you ever seen somebody out on the streets that you look at and honestly cannot tell whether or not they are a guy or girl? I always thought it was funny whenever I come across people like this because I inevitably end up trying to reason out the sex of the person with my friends. This very thing happened in Madrid whenever I noticed two people making out in the Metro station and it led to this conversation….

Jesse: ´Whoa, Alisa. Check it out. Lesbians!´

Alisa: Ýeah just what I want to see…´

Jesse (looking closer): Wait, actually. I´m not sure about that. Is that one a guy or a girl?´

Alisa: Hmm Í was wondering the same thing. I think it´s a girl, but if it is, she´s pretty muscular.´

Jesse: Í don’t know though. I think it might be a dude. Look at that haircut.´

Alisa: ´This is true. And very broad shoulders.´

Jesse (watching them walk away) Well… maybe it is a girl. Those look like some big, child-bearing hips?´

Alisa: True….

This continued for a little while longer, and I really started to feel bad for this person and the bad hand that they were dealt in life. I mean, honestly, when you have people standing around debating your sex, you know that you´re pretty much scraping the bottom of the attractiveness barrel. And believe me, I know that I´m no Tom Brady myself, but at least when people look at me, they know I´m a dude.
(Oh yeah. Upon further thought, I really don´t feel bad for this person at all considering that I´m the single one and they´re the one making out at the train station in the middle of the day.)


Remember to put on your PJ’s

Something else that I thought was a myth before coming to Spain was the concept of the ‘siesta.’ I just never thought that in a developed country, people would actually leave work for 2 hours to go home and take a nap. But it’s true, if you go to a store between 2PM and 4PM, the door is locked and everybody is at home sleeping. This is such a strange phenomenon to me and I just don’t think that the siesta would go over very well in the USA. I mean, can you imagine walking into a Pittsburgh steel mill and overhearing a bricklayer say something like this…
‘Alright, we need to rebuild the blast furnace today guys. But, if we we work fast, we should be able to finish this shit up right before naptime.’



‘I’m sorry, but you’re just not McDonalds material’

One thing that immediately jumped out at me in Barcelona was the confluence of multiple languages that were heard in the streets. In fact, since tourism is such a big industry there, it’s not uncommon for the natives to speak many different languages. This became evident when I went to the Barcelona McDonalds and noticed that the guy working the register spoke 4 different languages. At first, I thought, ‘Isn’t this guy a little bit too highly qualified to be working at a McDonalds?’ But after thinking about it, I’d be willing to bet that it was probably written right into his job application..

‘EMPLOYEE MUST BE FLUENT IN CATALAN, FRENCH, SPANISH, AND ENGLISH.’

Let’s just say that’s it’s a far cry from McDonalds application of the US where there is only one requirement..

‘EMPLOYEE MUST BE A HUMAN BEING.’


McDonald's USA is even more desperate than I thought.



‘Somebody get that letter opener out of her hands!!’

I recently went to Hallmark with a friend of mine who was trying to find a Birthday card for her mother who was turning 50 that month. I expected to see cards with paintings of flowers and poems about growing wise on the road of life, or some bullshit like that. But instead, I was just appalled by how insulting and rude the cards were. I swear, they were all like,

‘You’re 50 now, your hair is turning gray, deep wrinkles cover your face, and your days of beauty are far behind you…’ and as you open the card to the middle… ‘‘but at least it will all be over soon! Happy Birthday!!!’

What’s the deal with that? Did Jack Kevorkian just get hired as a writer for Hallmark or what?? Last time I checked, a greeting card is supposed to make somebody feel good, not make them want to slit their wrists.

(And yes, I realize that this joke has absolutely nothing to do with Spain. I just happened to write it while I was here)




- Originally written July 2007

Intramural Hockey

Anytime there is a physical competition between two teams composed of young males, tempers are bound to flare. The University of Pittsburgh intramural roller hockey league is no exception. I’ve played for the past 3 years and it seems like not a game goes by where at least one or two fights break out among the players.(And by fights I mean medium-to-hard shoving and guys hurling out incomprehensible insults to each other that somehow seem to make sense as long as fuck or some variation of fuck is used gratuitously). The humorous thing is that when a fight escalates to the point where it is borderline out-of-control, this is usually the point where somebody steps up and says the only 3 words that will immediately stop the fight. “Dude, it’s intramural!” Those 3 words carry a lot of weight and are packed with meaning. Allow me to explain...

When you say, “Dude, it’s intramural” to two people who are about to rip each others heads off, you’re actually implying this… “Guys listen, it’s 12:20 on a Tuesday night. We’re playing in the shittiest, most uncompetitive hockey league that is composed of the worst assortment of hockey talent that the University of Pittsburgh has to offer. Our teams don’t even have jerseys and there are exactly 4 people sitting in the stands, 3 of whom are girlfriends of players. It’s really not worth it to fight with anybody else over something as insignificant as intramural hockey. Please, think about what you’re doing.”

And during my 3 years, I can honestly I have never encountered a situation where "Dude it’s intramural” didn’t immediately defuse the situation….

As an aside, the “Dude” seems sort of pointless and unnecessary but for some reason that I cannot entirely understand, I have never heard somebody omit the ‘dude’ nor has it ever been replaced by a similar word like ‘man’ or ‘bro.’ Nobody can really explain it, but the expression is simply rendered ineffective without the presence of ‘dude.’



*Written May 2007 by Jesse Wells

Facebook Friend Removal????

While perusing through the 'People You May Know Application' on Facebook the other day, I noticed a bunch of people popping up that I used to be friends with, which obviously means that they axed me from their friends list at some point. So I ask you, Facebook Community, is it common practice to 'tidy up' your friends list from time to time and remove people that you have lost touch with over the years? I only ask because I've had Facebook since 2004 and don't remember ever removing even one person. I mean, I've been removed by a few jilted ex-lovers, but it honestly stings a little bit more to get removed by an acquaintance, like "Hey man, I know that the lifespan of our friendship was that 3 month period during the fall of 2006 when we were partners in Psych Lab and that we have never spoken since, but still..."

Sincerely,
Confused (and a little hurt)








- Originally posted on Facebook April, 2011

Culture and Stereotypes

Americans in general have a tendency to be a little bit ignorant when it comes to other cultures. While it is true that nobody is going to sit there and say that the standard of living in Mexico/Colombia/Venezuela would resemble the standard of living in the United States, it’s also true that living in these countries isn’t like living in a grass hut in the middle of Africa either. I’m aware of this fact but some Americans are not, as evidenced by this story that my friend ‘Colombian Claudia’ told me:

“Yeah I was hanging out with this American guy and he really irritated me. I told him that I was from Colombia and he was like ‘Oh, you’re from Colombia? I know there’s a lot of drugs down there but do you guys have like … roads… and running water… and electricity …. and houses??”

I don’t think that my subsequent hysterical laughter made her feel any better…


Typical Middle-Class Home in Bogota, Colombia



Even though I’m culturally aware, I still like to make jokes because, come on, stereotypes are funny:

JR: “Yeah, She comes from an upper class family in Colombia.”

Jesse: “Upper –class in Colombia? So probably about the same quality of life as Eminem and his mom in 8 mile?”


Unfortunately, the Colombian middle-class have to walk their brown-asses back across 8 mile



This conversation is a good portrayal of American Ignorance as well….

Sarah: “Hi, I’m Sarah.”

Darling: “Hi I’m Darling, nice to meet you.”

Sarah: “Where are you from?”

Darling: “Nicaragua.”

Sarah: “Oh wow. You came here all the way from Africa?”

GEOGRAPHY FAIL



Here’s an example of how kids are not very politically correct. This is a conversation that took place between my Ecuadorian friend Belén and the young american boy that she was taking care of as an Au-Pair.

Kid (intensely studying Belén): “You know something? You’re not white like me.”

Belén: “Yes, I know.”

Kid: “But you’re not black either.”

Kid: “You’re…… brown.”

You can’t blame the kid, I’m from the same town and didn’t meet a non-white person until I was like 13…



Of course, the opposite situation also happens from time to time, as evidenced by this Mexican girl who stopped me on the street and asked me to take a picture with her. I’m pretty sure that I was the first white guy she had ever seen…


Apparently, a blonde dude walking down the boardwalk in Coatzacoalcos, Mexico is not an everyday occurence.



Speaking of stereotypes, as Americans, we generally don’t spend a lot of time studying other cultures. What we know about other countries is (usually) an unfair stereotype. For example, you can summarize what we know about other countries with a short phrase or sometimes, even a single word…

Mexico: People that eat tacos for every meal and sneak into the United States as illegal immigrants.

Colombia: Drugs.

Brazil: Violent country with hot girls and fun-loving people that are obsessed with soccer.

England: Friendly people with bad teeth who talk funny.

France: Nice Country, but the people are a bunch of rude asshole pricks.

And from what I’ve gathered from foreigners during my travels, this is what they think of us…

United States: People who think that the American way is the only way and that everything American is the best.

Hmmm… Actually I do think that. Maybe these stereotypes aren’t so far off.



Have you ever noticed that some words are inherently non-offensive but due to the connection that this word makes in your mind, it becomes offensive? One good example of this is the word ‘Jew’. Jew is a word that describes a member of the Jewish faith, but if you say “Look at that Jew over there!” it doesn’t sound quite right….

I realized that the word “Mexican” has gained the same sort of notoriety over the years after this situation at work:
I was leading a training course at my company one day and there were about 15 people in the class, comprised of guys from the United States, Canada, and Mexico. I was getting ready to start the course for the day and noticed that the 3 guys from Mexico had not yet arrived, so I said:

Jesse: “Well I guess we should wait for the Mexicans.”

At this point, everyone in the room started laughing…

Guy from illinois: “Dude, you can’t say that?”

Jesse: “Why not?”

Guy from Illinois: “It just sounds…. BAD.”

It’s not like I said lazy Mexicans…



Another word that is still in limbo is ‘black.’ Is it okay to say ‘that black guy’ or ‘that black girl’??
This ambiguity led to the following situation:

I was in an office building searching for a guy named Steve Johnson whom I had never met. As it turns out, he was the only black guy who worked in this particular office:

Jesse: “Hi, could you tell me how to find Steve Johnson?”

Receptionist: “Yes. His office is on the 2nd floor. He’s about your height, medium build, dark hair.”

Jesse: “Okay Thanks.”

After about 20 minutes of searching I eventually found him, but come on, a much more efficient conversation would have been:

Jesse: “Hi, could you tell me how to find Steve Johnson?”

Receptionist: “Yes. He’s the black guy.”

Jesse: “Got it. Thanks.”


Steve Johnson and the rest of the bad-asses of Fenwick and Smith Insurance and Notary Services.



Thoughts on Culture and Language with Troy Barker and Jesse Wells:

While discussing our upcoming trip to Europe with stops in Prague, Munich and London…

Troy: “Are we gonna make any effort whatsoever to learn some words in the native language or are we just gonna perpetuate American ignorance?”



After we both found out that former Pittsburgh Penguins great Jaromir Jagr has a bar in Prague:

Jesse: Dude, I’m pumped to go to Jagr’s bar.

Troy: I hope Prague has Jagr everything; Jagr Supermarket, Jagr Laundromat, Jagr Water Treatment Facility.



Troy: “On a funny note, my friend said that in Europe we need to watch out for ‘lady boys’. Lol”

Jesse: “Oh god. What is that?”

Troy: “You’ll see what appears to be a hot girl… but really it’s like a 14 year old boy. My buddys friend hooked up with one of them. Lol”

Jesse: “Haha, We’ll be on the lookout for lady boys then.”

Troy: “Yeah I’m gonna need to see ids and birth certificates… and a quick genitalia check.”



Troy: “What’s the best way to get around these cities? Probably the metro right?”

Jesse: “Yeah definitely. Metro system is fast and reliable in Europe.”

Troy: “Yeah if we can figure it out.”

Jesse: “Haha it’s like ‘Whoa man, we’re on the train to ‘Dusseldorfinhovensittarg’ I think we should be going to ‘Sarrbruckenheimensaucerzilk’”.

Jesse: “German words are unnecessarily long is what I was going for there…. lol”

- Originally written January 2011

Spanish Language

"I can't help but wonder what Pedro and Maria from my high school Spanish text books are up to these days. Still studying for tests and planning to get together with friends, probably."


- Ruminations.com




More than one Spanish speaker who learned English has told me that English is a very ‘rich’ language. What they mean is that English has very specific words that are used to describe very specific things. Therefore, it is easier to express yourself more accurately in English. My best example of this is that in Spanish, the word ‘aborto’ has two meanings. It means abortion, but it also means miscarriage, two words that are VERY different. I didn’t know this. I always thought that aborto only meant abortion. This confusion led to the following conversation.

Darling (translated to English): “Yeah my friend just called me to tell me that she had another ‘aborto.’

Jesse: “Wow really?"

Darling: “Yeah she has had 5 ‘abortos’ in the past 9 months.”

Jesse: “What?!?! Why doesn’t she use birth control or make her boyfriend use a condom.”

Darling (in English): “Jesse, aborto also means miscarriage.”

Jesse: “Oh….”



I always get a kick out of English-Spanish translations. For example, in Spain, marshmallows are referred to as Nubes de Azúcar (Sugar Clouds). Roller Coasters are called Montañas Rusas (Russian Mountains) and bumper cars are called carros locos (Crazy Cars).

However, my favorite translation is the expression for ‘soul-mate’. One of the popular words for soul mate is ‘Media Naranja.’ So if you did a very literal translation from Spanish to English, you would end up with something like this:
“I really love this girl. I think that I’ve finally found my half-orange.”


The Physical Representation of True Love in Spanish Speaking Countries



I really don’t get offended by anything, but the one thing that never ceases to offend me is when people insist on speaking to me in English when I’m in a foreign country. Sometimes I’ll start speaking with someone in Spanish and they’ll respond to me in English. (How do they know I’m not Russian or German??) I always interpret it as them telling me “Look, it’s really cute that you’re trying to speak Spanish, but I speak English better than you speak Spanish so that’s what we’re gonna speak.”

However, I realized that this anger was unfounded when I was in Paris one night, and not one person approached me speaking English. My reaction to this was much different than it is when someone speaks English to me in Spain. In France, my thought was more along the lines of “Whoa Whoa Whoa. Enough of this French Bullshit. Take a look at me. I’m the whitest guy ever. What would ever make you think that I speak French? Now please speak to me in American!”



There is a slip that I fill out every week in the hotel in Spain to have my laundry done. The slip has all of the articles of clothing on it and you mark how many of each you need to be cleaned. This list is written in Spanish and English and the thing that makes me laugh is that Calzoncillos (Underwear) is always translated as draws. I’ve only ever heard underwear referred to as ‘draws’ by one person. So if the Fresh Prince of Bel-air needs to have his underwear dry cleaned in Spain, he should have no problem with the translation.


The Fresh Prince always has clean draws in Spain.



In my travels, one thing I have learned is that mechanics/construction workers are the dirtiest bastards in the world, independent of country. This is never more evident than while using the on-site Port-o-Potty. At one site in Illinois, I remember specifically working with about 30 people, 29 guys, and 1 semi-attractive blonde female. I say semi-attractive, because that’s what she was. Of course, the hyenas at the construction site probably viewed her as the blonde Kim Kardashian due to the obvious lack of females at this plant. I realized this after going into the disgusting Port-O-Potty (Seriously, is there anything more disgusting in this world than a construction site Port-O-Potty?) and reading all of the various comments on the wall directed at this girl, which were all some vulgar way of saying “I would like to have sex with her.” Accompanied by this writing was the beautifully drawn picture of this girl, completely naked , legs spread open, wearing nothing but a hard hat.

I thought at first that maybe the defacing of Port-O-Potty’s was an American thing, but quickly came to realize that it is pretty universal. Here in Spain, the outside of the Port-O-Potty was spray painted in huge green letters to say “Makina del Tiempo” (Time Machine), which I thought was pretty funny. Then, when I walked inside of this thing, Dear Lord… I have been studying Spanish for 5 years but the vulgarity that was written on the wall was mostly beyond my comprehension. I guess that makes sense. In Spanish classes we covered the basics: family members, food, animals, asking for directions. Unfortunately we never made it through the whole book to Chapter 43: Disgusting Shit That You’ll Find Written in Construction Site Port-o-Potty’s. Either way, there is one thing written on there that I have been trying to decipher for the past 5 weeks. I’m not 100% sure of what it says, but my best translation would be: “If your fingers are paint brushes, and your hands are paint, go and paint the inside of your mother’s cunt without painting the walls.” Well then…

The other notable thing about the bathroom wall ‘literature’ is that no construction worker can spell for shit. I read one thing that said: Ay k tener webos pa caga aki (You need some balls to take a shit here). It irritated me that this was written in such poor Spanish… but later it irritated more when I realized that I was standing in a disgusting port-o-potty, long after done peeing, in order to read everything and critique the grammar and spelling.



As anyone who has been to Spain knows, they love eating ham. In fact, they have a million butcher shops on the street with gigantic legs of ham hanging in the windows. The best way to visualize them would be to think of a club that Fred Flintstone would use, but made of meat. Anyway, this meat is called Jamon Iberico and is very popular here in Spain. This happened to be the topic of one of the phone conversations between my coworker JR and I.

JR (knowing that I was spending Thanksgiving in Spain): “Oh I forgot to tell you how awesome Thanksgiving was. Great turkey, cranberries, mashed potatoes, stuffing, corn. It was unbelievable.”

Jesse: “Asshole.”

JR: “Oh by the way, Stefan wants to know if you will bring him back some Jamon Iberico.”

Jesse: “Yeah no problem. Tell him that I’ll bring it into the office on Monday, use it to beat the shit out of you, and then give it to him.”


If this were Clue, the correct answer would be “Mr. Wells, in the office, with the Jamón Iberico.”



Spanish people just have cooler names than us. I used to have a teacher in Spain whose name was Maria del Mar (Maria from the Sea). Of course, that sounds more like the name of a mythical princess from ancient times, not a middle-aged woman teaching business Spanish at Alcala de Henares.



I work with a guy here whose name is Jesus Maria. The official award winner for ‘Person with the most biblical name ever’. Well he was the winner for 2 days until I met a girl whose name was Maria Jesus.



In the real touristy parts of Spain, I would pop into the stores and look around for souvenirs. In just about all of the stores, they would have shirts with really dirty things written in English. One shirt said “My Way of Life” written at the top. And then, accompanied by crude stick figure drawings, it said “Eating, Fucking, Getting Fucked Up.” I guess there wasn’t enough room on the shirt to add “Enjoying a Beautiful Sunset” and “Curling up with a Good Book”
Another shirt that I saw in Barcelona actually made me laugh out loud because it was so ridiculous. It was a black shirt, and in huge white print, all it said was “SUCK MY DICK!” Nothing subtle about that…



Upon returning to my apartment on December 26th, I noticed that one of the gifts that my roommate, Tim, got for Christmas was the book “Spanish for Dummies”, a suitable gift seeing as to how he is married to a girl from Colombia. This is the conversation that followed:

Jesse: “Oh Look at that. You got ‘Spanish for Dummies’. You gonna start studying Spanish soon then?”

Tim: “Yeah, but I’m not quite ready to tackle this book. I wish they would have bought me ‘Spanish for Fucking Morons’”



One day in Spain, I was repairing a piece of a equipment at a workshop with my co-worker Juan Carlos and we realized that we didn’t have the correct tools for the job. This is the subsequent conversation and translation:

Jesse: “Oye, Juan Carlos, nos falta una llave allen para desarmar esto. Puedes preguntarles a esos tios si pueden prestarnosla?”
Jesse: “Hey Juan Carlos, we need an allen wrench to take this apart. Will you ask these guys if they will lend us one?”

The owner of the workshop lent us an allen wrench and we kept working until we realized that we needed an American size wrench….

Jesse: “Este tornillo no es métrico. Nos falta una llave americana de 9/16. Puedes pedirle a ese hombre si puede prestarnosla??”
Jesse: “This isn’t a metric screw. We need a 9/16” wrench. Can you ask that guy to lend us one?”

Juan Carlos: “Oye tio, me da verguenza pedirle estas herramientas. Primero, necesitamos una llave allen, despues una llave americana, después un destornillador, después una buena tia para follar.”
Juan Carlos: “Man, I don’t like asking these guys for all of their tools. First, they lend us an allen wrench, then they lend us an american wrench, then they lend us a screwdriver. Next we’re gonna be asking this guy if he can lend us a hot chick to fuck.”



This same co-worker, Juan Carlos, and I pretty much only speak Spanish, but he swears a lot in English because he sees how much it makes me laugh. What he doesn’t know is that I’m laughing because he tries to use these vulgar expressions, but he invariably screws it up a little bit and ends up completely changing the meaning and sounding like a pissed-off Borat. Here are two verbatim quotes:

Juan Carlos (after being irritated by an e-mail he received by my co-worker Mike): “You tell Michael that I said FUCK YOU! And tell him that when I see him, I’m going to stick my finger in his ass!!!”

Juan Carlos: “When you call Michael, tell him that I’m going to kick his ass! And then… I’m going to suck his dick!”

Let’s just say that he’s not quite ready to get into a heated verbal battle in English…

* Originally written January 2011