One of the challenges we encounter in planning the whole trip is the language barrier.
Only one cousin speaks fluent-esque English. Pretty much everyone else in the family speaks the textbook/American television brand of English. My husband meanwhile is muy gringo, although he may know how to ask where the library is.
Still, my husband needs to communicate via email with some of my family and can‘t always wait for me. So he runs many of the things he write through a translating program.
Sometimes, things seem to get a bit muddled in the translation. You be the judge:
Gina necesita saber si puede usar el asiento del carro de Marifer. El que ella uso cuando tenia 2 anos. Le pregunte a Mary y dice que se lo regalo a Los Chiwines, asi que que Please necesitamos que nos lo presten por unos dias para que ellos no tengan que traer el que tienen aqui.
translated to this:
Gina needs to know if it can use the seat of the car of Marifer. The one that she use when tapeworm 2 anuses. It asks Mary and it says that the gift to him to the Chiwines, so that Please we needed that they lend it to us by days so that they do not have to bring the one whom they have here.
Actual translation:
Gina needs to know if she can use Marifer's carseat. The one she used when she was 2 years. I asked Mary, she said she gave it to Los Chiwines, so please we need them to loan us one for a few days so they won't have to bring the one they have here.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Hitting the purchase button
Let the games begin.
That’s what ran though my mind as I tried explaining to my father where plans for a trip to Costa Rica stood.
No more than a minute before I dialed him, the travel Web site we used to book the trip had stopped flashing all the pretty banner advertising and put up a more stark page with a final, and large, price. Below that was a small “purchase” button that allowed us to reserve for four coach tickets to San Jose Costa Rica.
“Dad!”
“YEA!?!”
“We’re about to buy the tickets. This is what we have …”
“PIA!?” (My nickname)
“Dad.”
“YEAH!?”
“Dad?”
“PIA!?!”
“Dad. Listen.”
“Pia! Como van los planes? (How are the plans coming?)”
“Dad. Can you hear me?”
“YEAH! Que paso? (What’s up?)”
By this point, a small aneurysm starts to throb in the back of my brain.
Me: “Dad. If you can hear me listen, OK. We are about to buy the tickets. We’re going to hit purchase. To get the best deal, we may have to do a few extra things. Our flight leaves at 9 a.m. so we have to be at the airport no later than 7:30.”
Dad: “OK!”
Me: “OK, Good. We have a layover in Dallas. There we hook up with Vicki (my cousin) who is taking the same flight out of Dallas to Costa Rica…”
Dad: “What time do we get there?”
Me: “About 7 at night.”
Dad: “How long is the layover.”
Me: “Only a couple of hours. We won’t have to wai…”
Dad: “What will we do?”
Me: “Maybe we can grab some food.”
Dad: “Oh. So can I change my plans if I need to?”
Me: “What did you have in mind?”
Dad: “Depending on how I feel, I may want to stay longer.”
Me: “Dad, we’re traveling with you because the doctor said you shouldn’t travel alone.”
Silence.
Me: “Do you think you’ll stay longer?”
Dad: “Depends on how I feel.”
Me: “Well, we can’t stay longer.”
Silence.
Dad: “Bill said he might want to go to Panama.”
This last statement is not true. My father has been trying to convince my husband to go to Columbia. Bill has tried to make clear that traveling for any extended length of time to another country with our 2-year-old is difficult enough, let’s not add any more countries. Plus we want to see as much as we can of Costa Rica and the family, and we’re already going to be short on time. My guess is that Dad figured, if he said no to Columbia, I’d say yes to Panama which is only one country over from Costa Rica.
Me: “No dad. We can’t go to Panama. But if everything sounds OK, should we go ahead and buy the tickets?”
Dad: “Who’s going to drive us?”
Me: “Don’t worry dad. We have time to take care of that. Does everyth…”
Dad: “Are we going through Miami?”
Me: “No dad, Dallas.”
Dad: “We’re not going through Miami?”
Me: “Dad if we go through Miami, we don’t see Vicki.”
Dad: “That’s true. Have you called Fernando? (my uncle).”
Me: “No dad. Not yet. I wanted to buy the tickets first. I think we’ll go ahead and hit ‘purch..’”
Dad: “So how long are we going to be there?
At that moment, Bill announced, “I’M HITTING PURCHASE!” so that my father could hear. I’m not sure that he did. My father went on about buying things for the family and so on. You could argue that my father is 72 and people his age think a bit differently. But he’s behaved this way since he was 35. If anything he’s mellowed with age.
Now he knows that he can ask for a lot and when his requests bring people close to the boiling point, he will slip into the ‘Oh I’m sorry. I’m a harmless old man mode.” How do I know this? He’s told me.
So far. This appears to be the launching pad for the trip. I’m not whining about it. It is hilarious. And it is also just the beginning.
That’s what ran though my mind as I tried explaining to my father where plans for a trip to Costa Rica stood.
No more than a minute before I dialed him, the travel Web site we used to book the trip had stopped flashing all the pretty banner advertising and put up a more stark page with a final, and large, price. Below that was a small “purchase” button that allowed us to reserve for four coach tickets to San Jose Costa Rica.
“Dad!”
“YEA!?!”
“We’re about to buy the tickets. This is what we have …”
“PIA!?” (My nickname)
“Dad.”
“YEAH!?”
“Dad?”
“PIA!?!”
“Dad. Listen.”
“Pia! Como van los planes? (How are the plans coming?)”
“Dad. Can you hear me?”
“YEAH! Que paso? (What’s up?)”
By this point, a small aneurysm starts to throb in the back of my brain.
Me: “Dad. If you can hear me listen, OK. We are about to buy the tickets. We’re going to hit purchase. To get the best deal, we may have to do a few extra things. Our flight leaves at 9 a.m. so we have to be at the airport no later than 7:30.”
Dad: “OK!”
Me: “OK, Good. We have a layover in Dallas. There we hook up with Vicki (my cousin) who is taking the same flight out of Dallas to Costa Rica…”
Dad: “What time do we get there?”
Me: “About 7 at night.”
Dad: “How long is the layover.”
Me: “Only a couple of hours. We won’t have to wai…”
Dad: “What will we do?”
Me: “Maybe we can grab some food.”
Dad: “Oh. So can I change my plans if I need to?”
Me: “What did you have in mind?”
Dad: “Depending on how I feel, I may want to stay longer.”
Me: “Dad, we’re traveling with you because the doctor said you shouldn’t travel alone.”
Silence.
Me: “Do you think you’ll stay longer?”
Dad: “Depends on how I feel.”
Me: “Well, we can’t stay longer.”
Silence.
Dad: “Bill said he might want to go to Panama.”
This last statement is not true. My father has been trying to convince my husband to go to Columbia. Bill has tried to make clear that traveling for any extended length of time to another country with our 2-year-old is difficult enough, let’s not add any more countries. Plus we want to see as much as we can of Costa Rica and the family, and we’re already going to be short on time. My guess is that Dad figured, if he said no to Columbia, I’d say yes to Panama which is only one country over from Costa Rica.
Me: “No dad. We can’t go to Panama. But if everything sounds OK, should we go ahead and buy the tickets?”
Dad: “Who’s going to drive us?”
Me: “Don’t worry dad. We have time to take care of that. Does everyth…”
Dad: “Are we going through Miami?”
Me: “No dad, Dallas.”
Dad: “We’re not going through Miami?”
Me: “Dad if we go through Miami, we don’t see Vicki.”
Dad: “That’s true. Have you called Fernando? (my uncle).”
Me: “No dad. Not yet. I wanted to buy the tickets first. I think we’ll go ahead and hit ‘purch..’”
Dad: “So how long are we going to be there?
At that moment, Bill announced, “I’M HITTING PURCHASE!” so that my father could hear. I’m not sure that he did. My father went on about buying things for the family and so on. You could argue that my father is 72 and people his age think a bit differently. But he’s behaved this way since he was 35. If anything he’s mellowed with age.
Now he knows that he can ask for a lot and when his requests bring people close to the boiling point, he will slip into the ‘Oh I’m sorry. I’m a harmless old man mode.” How do I know this? He’s told me.
So far. This appears to be the launching pad for the trip. I’m not whining about it. It is hilarious. And it is also just the beginning.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Into the Wild Blue Yonder
Welcome to my first real venture into the blogosphere.
I start this journey on a significant day. Today a check for a large sum of money has been deposited into an account. The result will be the purchase of three round-trip tickets to Costa Rica, Central America, a country I have not set foot on for nearly 25 years.
You see where this is going. I am packing up my husband and my 2-year-old child - and likely my 72-year-old father - into an aircraft for some eight hours and head to a country that traumatized me so severely in childhood, I tossed out my passport and have refused to leave the country.
And here I am getting ready to pack up and head there again. Stupid is as stupid does.
My goal is to document that and a bit of my life here as much as I can. I do have a small child, so posting daily may be impossible. But my hope is that I’ll be able to get to a computer in Costa Rica and keep track of my experiences there.
This blog is really as much a way for me to keep track of the insanity that is my life as it is a way to give others insight. Often, I can’t believe some of the stuff I’m experiencing.
I don’t always remember my experiences. Some things I try to put behind me. Of course, the biggest reason is I simply forget. Other things I can never forget.
This trip I want to remember. Not only will I see family I have not seen since I was an awkward teen, my grandmother celebrates her 100th birthday.
Yay.
Obviously it’s an event that should not be missed. So the husband made arrangements so that we would not miss it. When he told me we had the money I thought, “Good. I think. I guess. That’s fine. Whatever.”
I am not a whiny person. I’m just a whiny relative. Picture this for a moment. My cousin Mari was the first female to be head of a major Costa Rican bank. My cousin Vanessa is a doctor of some kind and her brother is a lawyer. My cousin Marcel is a banker. How do I know this? My father tells me everyday. And his family tells him every other day.
Lets count them up: doctor, teacher, lawyer, accountant, banker, banker, ahhh piss poor journalist.
I suck at math, but I don’t like the total I come up with. The comparisons have gone on for a long time. Now I will have to go face them. I’m not sure what they’ll be mesmerized with more, my layoff or the furloughs.
I do have a plan though. I call him son. A little blond wonder I think will shock and awe. Or is that shock and Awwwwwwwww!
Of course what actually happens remains to be seen. I’m just at the beginning of this journey. Stay tuned.
I start this journey on a significant day. Today a check for a large sum of money has been deposited into an account. The result will be the purchase of three round-trip tickets to Costa Rica, Central America, a country I have not set foot on for nearly 25 years.
You see where this is going. I am packing up my husband and my 2-year-old child - and likely my 72-year-old father - into an aircraft for some eight hours and head to a country that traumatized me so severely in childhood, I tossed out my passport and have refused to leave the country.
And here I am getting ready to pack up and head there again. Stupid is as stupid does.
My goal is to document that and a bit of my life here as much as I can. I do have a small child, so posting daily may be impossible. But my hope is that I’ll be able to get to a computer in Costa Rica and keep track of my experiences there.
This blog is really as much a way for me to keep track of the insanity that is my life as it is a way to give others insight. Often, I can’t believe some of the stuff I’m experiencing.
I don’t always remember my experiences. Some things I try to put behind me. Of course, the biggest reason is I simply forget. Other things I can never forget.
This trip I want to remember. Not only will I see family I have not seen since I was an awkward teen, my grandmother celebrates her 100th birthday.
Yay.
Obviously it’s an event that should not be missed. So the husband made arrangements so that we would not miss it. When he told me we had the money I thought, “Good. I think. I guess. That’s fine. Whatever.”
“Just get me to the airport put me on a planeYou said it Joey!
Hurry hurry hurry before I go insane
I can't control my fingers I can't control my brain
Oh no no no no no”
I am not a whiny person. I’m just a whiny relative. Picture this for a moment. My cousin Mari was the first female to be head of a major Costa Rican bank. My cousin Vanessa is a doctor of some kind and her brother is a lawyer. My cousin Marcel is a banker. How do I know this? My father tells me everyday. And his family tells him every other day.
Lets count them up: doctor, teacher, lawyer, accountant, banker, banker, ahhh piss poor journalist.
I suck at math, but I don’t like the total I come up with. The comparisons have gone on for a long time. Now I will have to go face them. I’m not sure what they’ll be mesmerized with more, my layoff or the furloughs.
I do have a plan though. I call him son. A little blond wonder I think will shock and awe. Or is that shock and Awwwwwwwww!
Of course what actually happens remains to be seen. I’m just at the beginning of this journey. Stay tuned.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)