José recently received a shipment from his mother in Oaxaca. She sent him traditional Mexican food that he can't find in Oregon, not even in Woodburn. Tuesday he brought a giant tortillas to work. Yesterday he brought grasshoppers.
Chapulines are fried grasshoppers served with chile and lime. They're supposed to be delicious, though I couldn't bring myself to try one. I am a relatively adventurous eater*, but there are certain things I've yet to try: insects and raw fish are among these. I'm not sure Nick tried them, either. José may have had the entire plate to himself.
José's brother, Jesus, also works for us. They're both eager to share their culture. I sometimes feel like a kid as I listen to them describe life like in Mexico. It's all so new to me, so exotic. Recently, Jesus made a strong pitch that I should learn Spanish. He showed me a book the guys keep in the shop, a Spanish-English handbook. "It can be used to learn Spanish, too," he said. "I could teach you."
"Maybe I should," I told him. Maybe I should.
At dinner last night, I was telling Kris and Tiffany about the chapulines, only I was calling them "javelinas" because my ear for Spanish is so poor. Tiffany was confused. "I thought you liked pork," she said.
"I do," I said, confused myself now. "These were grasshoppers."
"But you said javelinas," she said. "That's Spanish for pig."
It's not the first time I've inflicted a Spanish malapropism on someone. When I bussed tables at the Holiday Inn, Tranquilino, the pantry chef (yes, I do mean pantry chef and not pastry chef), used to frown at my Spanish. (I was taking classes at the time.) "You need to study more," he'd tell me.
This morning I asked José for clarification. I gave him a pencil. "What's grasshopper in Spanish?" I asked, and he wrote chapulines.
"And what's pig?" He wrote puerco. "That looks like pork to me," I said. "What's javelinas?"
"Javelinas are pig, too," he said. "A certain kind of pig, a pig with..." And here his English failed him, so he used his hands to indicated tusks.
"Tusks?" I asked. José shrugged. We'd reached our language barrier.
I need to take a Spanish class.
* I make a distinction between adventurous eaters and picky eaters. I am a picky eater. There are foods that I refuse to eat because I do not like them. However, I am generally willing to try any food once. I am adventurous. Kris is the opposite. She's not that keen on trying new foods, but she'll eat almost anything. Does this make sense? I'm an adventurous eater, but have a voluntary allergy to mushrooms, broccoli, raw fish, and chapulines.
On this day at foldedspace.org
2004 — Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow Last night, Dave and I saw Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow.
2003 — A Sense of Community In which I obtain solace from book group and from old friends.
2002 — Reed College 7, FC Saints 1 Another Sunday, another soccer match, another injury.
It's always fun (in a sort of morbid way) to follow the 2002 "on this day at foldedspace.org" entries at this time of year. It's like watching me destroy me knee all over again, but in slow motion. I want to yell at my younger self, "No! Don't do it! You're too old! You're too fat! You're on a path to expensive knee surgery!"