Lost in Translation

I am being oppressed by my own body. Here I am, in Barcelona, and I am deathly ill. I arrived at about 2pm and went to my hotel. After settling in, I went to a nearby pharmacy to get meds. Seeing as I didn´t know what anything meant, I went to the pharmacist and explained my symptoms in Spanish. "No sé que necesito. ¿Que Ud. cree?" I asked her politely. She gave me something or the other that I was to dissolve in water and drink completely.

I felt quite accomplished, having found medical attention in a foreign land. I took a walk around, went to grab some tapas (my jam and my jump-off), then returned to my hotel to medicate and sleep. While I waited for the disgusting medication to set in, I watched a show called "Amar en Tiempos Revueltos," which I figured out after about 20 minutes was an hour-long period drama set in 1920s/1930s España. It was about 5:15 pm when I started to fade-- just when Julieta told Alejandro that their love affair had to end.

Cut to 5am the next day. I am awake in my hotel room, after a lengthy 12-hour siesta.

Unsure of what to do, I turned on the boob tube, in hopes of watching another Spanish jam. I turned to channel 10, which was showing music videos-- in English! Missing my native tongue, I eagerly watched Sean Paul, Christina Aguilera, and Timbaland as my mind came to.

Suddenly, the television cut to a commercial, and I discovered I was watching a Dutch station (these hotels are so multi-culti). The next video was something foreign, and I was too weakened from illness to change the channel, so I watched. What proceeded to assault my eyes is unlike anything I have ever seen. Still physically oppressed, I dragged myself from my bed to the hotel computer to share this with you, gentle reader.

The group is called FETTES BROT, and they are a German hip hop group. According to Wikipedia, " ´Fettes Brot´is German for FAT BREAD. Although "fat" is a German slang term for "excellent", the phrase has no meaning at all. The band took the name from a fan who called them "Fettes Brot" after an early gig, which was probably meant as a compliment, but the members considered it so bizarre that they took it as the name for their new group. Fettes Brot's longevity has meant that it is sometimes referred to as "Hamburg's hip-hop-dinosaurs" by its members."

Um, hip-hop dinosaurs? Did they forget who they were appropriating? The title of the song I had the pleasure of viewing was "Nordisch by Nature"!
I kid. you. not.
Do not confuse this jam with the early 90s group "Naughty by Nature" and their hit jam OPP. Looks like Fettes Brot got down with some other people´s property!

For once, I do not think my skills as a woman of color and writer can do this song justice. I will simply embed the video so you can see for yourselves, and experience what I thought was another fever-induced hallucination.
It wasn´t.

¿Como se dice en español, WINTER SPOON?

Have you ever been sitting at a dinner table at 10pm with a mother, father, and 16-year-old daughter, when all of a sudden everyone starts yelling really loudly in a language you can´t really understand? The bits you do get involve some sort of dinner with the girl´s coworkers and the repeated use of the word "youth."


That happens to me alot.

Or have you ever been watching "Family Guy"-- only it´s called Padre de la Familia-- and Lois doesn´t have the annoying voice, Peter sounds like a mildly retarded weatherman, and Stewie lacks any semblance of being an English dandy?


Is that just me?


I really love España, but sometimes feel like I´m in a bizarro world with really good food.


Being here sorta reminds me of my time with the deaf. Like having to use ASL constantly, being in España requires that I speak "the native language"-- which is really hard! And, in the native language I lack much of my personal flair and sass. Por ejemplo: everyone I met yesterday thought I was 16 years old-- the same age as the cousin I´m staying with.
Sojourner, how can you have a 16 year old Spanish cousin? you may be wondering. Let me explain:
My mother got married to her latin lover, and he has a brother. This man has a wife and daughter, so by marriage, we´re all one big, happy, familia.

Anyway, back to me being a Spanish teen: I think the reason everyone thinks I´m young is that I have the vocabulary of a toddler and use a lot of large, silly gestures to make myself understood. You know, like, rubbing my tummy when I´m hungry, or physically shaking when I want someone to know I´m cold. Everyone thinks I´m hilarious, but for all the wrong reasons. I tried to explain the concept of a "winter spoon"-- cuchara del invierno-- but it just wouldn´t work. you can´t even make "spoon" a verb over here, they think I´m cray!

But let me stop complaining. Me encanta España! Things I love:
- They get thirty vacation days a year, IN ADDITION to holidays.
- All their medication comes in larger sizes. While I normally have to take 3 advil in America to experience relief, one ibuprofen pill-- the size of a horse tranquilizer-- knocks out my pain here in Tarragona.
- Paella
- It´s almost December and it´s 60 degrees during the dia.
- SPANISH WIFEYS

Seriously, all I want for Christmas is a Spanish wifey. They work more than slaves who´ve forgotten their free, and they do it all with a smile. I use as my example Esther, la madre de la casa. Here´s Esther´s typical day:
5 am: wake up. Put in a load of laundry, cook food so that when her daughter comes home from school she can have her late lunch, shower, and dress.
7am: wake up her daughter, get her some breakfast, get ready to go.
8:00 - 6:30: go to work.
6:30-9:00pm: come home, dry and fold laundry, cook elaborate dinner.
9:30-10:30: eat dinner, relax for a minute.
11:00pm: go to bed.

Um, hello?! How does she do it?! When does she have time to wipe her own ass, let alone relax?! And she´s the absolute nicest person I´ve ever met, refusing to let me help her with anything, offering to do my laundry, and asking what I want for lunch and dinner every day. It´s like she watched too many episodes of "The Donna Reed Show," but that´s not it-- she´s just THAT AWESOME. And whenever I say thank you or tell her to sit down, she´s surprised, and asks what my mother does all day. I explained to her that en Los Estados Unidos, my mom is oppressed enough just existing, and wouldn´t wake up at 5 am unless you paid her.

Esther stares at me like I have two heads. In fact, it´s quite similar to the way I stare at her when she says she cleans the house every day. Seriously, you could eat off their bathroom floor (believe me, I´ve tried)-- and they even have a giant dog that doesn´t leave a hair to show for itself.

I wish I could be a Spanish wifey one day, but the legacy of slavery makes it so that I will never be able to cook or clean for another person without feeling resentful. I just hope my husband will be able to understand and won´t get testy when I make him wear a French maid uniform.