Fish out of Water

ILLUSTRATION BY MATT MIGNANELLI

Owain Thomas learns that a little doesn’t always go a long way when it comes to foreign languages

Eve and I had just moved to Madrid to live and were looking for a flat. She was going to work as a translator and I had some work to do for British paper until my Spanish was up to scratch. In other words, until I stopped telling waiters I was intelligent (“¡Soy listo!”) instead of ready (“¡Estoy listo!”) and generally offending people.

Although I would take complete charge of map reading, bus fares and looking serious when Eve talked deposits, or fianzas (an f-word that became my cue to butt into flat negotiations authoritatively and bellow, ¡¿Cuanto es?!), I got the feeling I wasn’t much use when it came to talking with landlords either.

Then, after one shameful incident on the metro, when I breathlessly explained to an elderly lady watching me take off my jacket: “Estoy caliente!”, only to learn it’s just another way of saying I’m horny not hot, I decided to urgently take control of my tongue…

The night we move in to our flat, I offer gallantly to get Eve some much needed chocolate from the local shop. With one privately rehearsed line, “¡Por favor, necesito chocolate!” and five sweet-seeking euros in my pocket, I head off into our new neighbourhood determined to complete at least one foreign transaction like a true hombre. Not even the fact that our local shop is closed deters me, and I continue to pace around the unfamiliar backstreets of Madrid looking desperately for a sugar fix.

By the time I find somewhere open⎯a bar⎯it’s getting dark and I am sweating with the exertion of walking a few lost kilometres. Only briefly put off by the fog of blinding smoke and stubble that greets my arrival, I make my way through the doorway and purposefully up to the bar.

Even a slightly dry mouth won’t stop me, as nearly an hour and a half of repeating the same phrase over and over again has literally branded it on my brain. Feeling wildly excited by the fact I can now say these choice Spanish words together without a stutter, I almost shout them at the barman when he sees me.

¡POR FAH-VORR, NE-SES-SITO CHOCO-LAH-TAY!

As I wait for the barman to absorb my statement from behind a dozen or so cured hams, I wipe the gathering sweat from my forehead and rub my now bloodshot eyes. His reply nearly cooked the hams.

¡¡NO! Vete, VETE!! And something else as loud but indecipherable. I back out of the beaded curtains and almost fall onto the street, which now looks strangely familiar.

When I arrive back at our flat (two doors away from the bar), ashamed and empty-handed, I think about crafting an elaborate excuse to save face, but instead I decide to tell Eve the truth.

Through hysterical laughter, Eve translates as best she can that I have just told the barman, “I need drugs!”

“Chocolate is slang for cannabis. You’ve just gone and asked for hashish in our local Spanish bar! Nice one loco.”

Fire in the hole

Piers Townley discovers that a bit of wax in your ear can do wonders for a good night’s sleep

Snoring for me is a bit of an art form. Trouble is, I’m usually asleep when it happens so I miss the intricate and varied audio range that I can muster. Not so for my partner.

Having decided to try to do something about it (having been ordered to do something about it), I turn to the Hopi Ear Candle (or Thermal Auricular) therapy. Apparently, among other things, it can help problem snoring. It’s also one of the most bizarre things you’ll ever try.

It originates from the Hopi pueblo Indians of southwestern America and involves gently inserting special candles into your ear while you lie on your side. Then they’re lit!

If this sounds odd on paper, it’s even stranger catching sight of the procedure in the mirror. When I see myself with six inches of lit candle sticking out of my ear, it’s tricky keeping a straight face. The warmth of the candle, despite a strange crackling sound, soothes my ear-drum while the herbs and honey it’s been soaked in have a strangely calming effect. It’s deeply relaxing. Trouble is, I won’t know if it’s worked until my partner tells me in the morning.