Friday, August 31, 2007

Michelle, denizen of the Mission, too embarrassed to speak Spanish

Ah, fruit lady and her friend, you make me so nervous. On a hot afternoon, I ride the bus home, preparing my request for fruit in Spanish, getting hungrier and more sure of myself. Then I arrive at your cart, and mumble, "Mango, please."

Yesterday was no exception. I decided on the way home that I wanted to try these elotes that everyone is carrying about, so I rehearsed my request in my head: "Quisiera un elote, por favor." I even played out the possible ways that the conversation would go, so that I would be prepared. But, as usual, when I got to the cart, I chickened out. Corn, please. If only she was alone, I would be less nervous.

Kara says that someday we will go to the fruit cart together, and she will order in Spanish first. Then I can just say, "lo mismo." Sounds like a cop-out.

On a more food-related note, the elote was not exactly what I was hoping for. It seems that there are different preparations for these goodies, but what I got was corn slathered in mucho mayo (as fruit lady's friend commented), sprinkled with cheese and powdered chile. It was delicious, but smelled rank. And really not a treat for a hot day. Maybe next time I will skip the mayo, or ask for a little bit. In Spanish.

1 comment:

nate said...

it smelled like feet wrapped in leather, wrapped in a used gym sock after walking around for miles in downtown miami during summer.