Lost in Translation

Sometimes, even when we speak the same language, we get lost in translation.  Funny conversations I have had, things I have said, or things I have heard during this trip, so far.

      First Scenario

We just had a flight of more than twelve hours and landed in Lima.  (See my post about Peru here).  We are beyond tired.  I am trying to find someone to ask where do we need to go to obtain our taxi and hotel vouchers.  I find a lady who works at the airport. 

Me:  Excuse me; where  is the AA’s desk?

Her:  uh?

Me:  (louder) do you know where AA’s desk is?

Her:  What do you need?

Me:  I am from that flight that just landed here, the one that was going to Buenos Aires.  I am looking where to get the vouchers.

Her:  So, you didn’t make it to Buenos Aires.

Me:  No, we had to land here. It was unexpected, like an emergency landing.

Her:  An emergency landing?!  Oh my!!!  How dangerous and frightening!!!!

Me:  No!!!  It wasn’t that bad.  We just didn’t get to Buenos Aires.  It’s all because of the ash…..

Her:  Are you picking up some ash?

Me (frustrated):   No!!… Thank you.

Second Scenario

I am eating lunch.  A grandmother (GM) and his 5 to 6 years old grandson are seating on the table next to me.  She has asked him to tell her about dinosaurs.  She is taking notes as he speaks. 

Boy:  mmm….velociraptor!

GM:  And this one, also lays eggs?  Is it oviparous?

Boy:  Yes, they all lay eggs.  They are all good parents.

Third Scenario

A café in Avenida de Mayo.  We are watching the Soccer Game Colombia-Costa Rica.  (See a post about this afternoon here)

Waiter:  Who is playing?

Us:  Colombia vs. Costa Rica

-   A man later comes in.-

     Man (to the waiter):  Who is playing?

    Waiter:  Hungary  vs. Costa Rica

Fourth Scenario

My husband (JL), brother (bro) and I are waiting for the subway.  When it arrives, we see the word “LUCER” written -graffiti style- on one of the wagons.

JL:  Quiso escribir “looser” en inglés y le falló la ortografía.

Bro:  Sí, le hizo falta la tilde en la u.



Do you have "lost in translation" stories?  Laugh with us and share them here!!

Pictures!

It is hard to describe Recoleta's Cemetery.  You have to see it, or at least, see some pictures.  Enjoy.

Life, Death and Evita’s Grave

Recoleta seemed, at least to me, the most upscale area I have seen here in Buenos Aires.  The wide Avenida Libertad is framed by old buildings with beautiful balconies and smooth, elegant marble entrances.  I saw small cafés, beautiful (and equally delicious) pastries, and people that were very easy on the eyes.  I heard that wealthy people live in this area, and I have no doubt about it, especially after visiting Recoleta’s Cemetery.  

Impressive sculpture.  Cementerio de Recoleta



Visiting a cemetery was not my first thought when we arrived to Buenos Aires. At first, I was just curios about Eva Peron’s last resting place.  It has been recommended for many, so we decided to visit.
After passing the wide entrance gates, we saw a small, pristine chapel featuring a Christ’s sculpture.  We passed this quickly, however, and went ahead to enter the actual cemetery. 

In front of my eyes appeared what seems to be a small city, with structures that are not easy to recognize at first.  We started walking through the narrow halls and were able to differentiate the marble tombs that lay next to each other.  I do not mean close. They are together, like irregular objects cramped on a small shelf.  By now, I had completely forgotten about Peron’s tomb.  I was looking closely, noticing every detail around us. 

Every corner, flower, and name here tells a story.  This place tells about hopes of reaching a place higher than this Earth.  A state were suffering, sadness and worry are left behind.  Isn’t that interesting that across the globe, many cultures hold the same idea about death?

Grave Detail

The cemetery, however, says more about life. It tells of about families, their traditions, faith and morals.  This place talks about wealth and poverty, revolutions, loss, honor and triumph.  While being there, I thought about life and death.  I thought about how time, in a way, repeats itself.  The same stories of love, children and family we live today are also buried here.  Remembrances of life made cold stone for now and years to come.

Then, I remembered. We have not seen Peron’s grave!  We were now walking as fast as we can because they were closing.  It is getting darker, and colder.  Cats are walking around meowing, giving the place an even more dramatic look and feeling.   We finally found it. The Duarte Family’s burial place looks humble compared to some of the elaborated mausoleums we saw.  I think that suits Evita’s life, but her story deserves another post.

 

Evita's Grave





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Recoleta Cemetery