I first met Fernanda getting on the first leg of our bipedal night train from Porto to Madrid. She was hauling a large suitcase and I helped her store it above her head in the luggage storage area by the entrance of the train, then continued on my way to my seat. I stored my bag over my seat and she happened to sit across the isle from me.
When I got up to ask the conductor a question, he kind of blew me off because he was busy (the most common responses Portuguese train employees give when you ask, "Fala Engliesh" are "Of course," and "No. Portuguese." To which I can't help but think, yeah, I know that, we're in Portugal). She overheard, then asked if I spoke English and what I needed to know. We didn't know when we should get off to catch our connection to Madrid, and after looking at my ticket, she told me it was one stop before hers, so she would let us know. We thanked her and all three of us went back to our books.
But then she asked me where I was from and I was intrigued when, after hearing that I am American, she said I speak English very well. Having never been complemented on my aptitude for using my native tongue in a foreign land, I asked her what she meant. Usually, she has a hard time understanding American accents, but I told her that I'm from California, so every American movie has actors using my accent (except for "The Godfather," of course, but she got what I meant).
When she asked if i was born in California I told her yes, but I knew what she was asking so I told her, in Spanish, that my grandmother was from Mexico (Fernanda speaks Spanish because, growing up in a villiage on the border of Spain, all the TV was in Spanish). She said I am "something like ice cream." Muy guapo. You can't really tell me something like that because I'll basically love it. This was all the more fun to hear because of the language barrier. Her Spanish was better than her English, but that was still better than my Spanish.
Fernanda, 46 with two children, 24 and 18, both in university, was on her way to a town just outside of Lisboa (Lisbon) to visit her boyfriend for the weekend. They met at a thermal bath a few months ago and while he is approximately the same age as, he is much better looking than, Harrison Ford, her favorite actor. I told her Indiana Jones is my hero and she swooned and said it was a pity he had to age. She sees all his movies the day they come out, but I can't help but think that she didn't make it to "Hollywood Homicide."
After chatting about her kids (both good boys - an architect and chemical engineer in training), my job, her job at EVA (the Portuguese equivalent of the IRS), my travels, and life in general for two hours, she gave me her address and phone number (I totally got the digits). "If you need something from Portugal call me or if you like to visit again," she wrote. I can stay at her place on my next visit, which, even if it's in a few years, is OK.
It's good to know that, should I suddenly and unexpectedly feel the need to run away from home at the age of 24, I have a place to go. Of course, it would be several hours and several hundred dollars away. But I bet the food would be great.
Of course, nothing can beat the food at my parents' house. And I'll eat that 12 nights from now. Unless I get stuck in Philly, that is.
When I got up to ask the conductor a question, he kind of blew me off because he was busy (the most common responses Portuguese train employees give when you ask, "Fala Engliesh" are "Of course," and "No. Portuguese." To which I can't help but think, yeah, I know that, we're in Portugal). She overheard, then asked if I spoke English and what I needed to know. We didn't know when we should get off to catch our connection to Madrid, and after looking at my ticket, she told me it was one stop before hers, so she would let us know. We thanked her and all three of us went back to our books.
But then she asked me where I was from and I was intrigued when, after hearing that I am American, she said I speak English very well. Having never been complemented on my aptitude for using my native tongue in a foreign land, I asked her what she meant. Usually, she has a hard time understanding American accents, but I told her that I'm from California, so every American movie has actors using my accent (except for "The Godfather," of course, but she got what I meant).
When she asked if i was born in California I told her yes, but I knew what she was asking so I told her, in Spanish, that my grandmother was from Mexico (Fernanda speaks Spanish because, growing up in a villiage on the border of Spain, all the TV was in Spanish). She said I am "something like ice cream." Muy guapo. You can't really tell me something like that because I'll basically love it. This was all the more fun to hear because of the language barrier. Her Spanish was better than her English, but that was still better than my Spanish.
Fernanda, 46 with two children, 24 and 18, both in university, was on her way to a town just outside of Lisboa (Lisbon) to visit her boyfriend for the weekend. They met at a thermal bath a few months ago and while he is approximately the same age as, he is much better looking than, Harrison Ford, her favorite actor. I told her Indiana Jones is my hero and she swooned and said it was a pity he had to age. She sees all his movies the day they come out, but I can't help but think that she didn't make it to "Hollywood Homicide."
After chatting about her kids (both good boys - an architect and chemical engineer in training), my job, her job at EVA (the Portuguese equivalent of the IRS), my travels, and life in general for two hours, she gave me her address and phone number (I totally got the digits). "If you need something from Portugal call me or if you like to visit again," she wrote. I can stay at her place on my next visit, which, even if it's in a few years, is OK.
It's good to know that, should I suddenly and unexpectedly feel the need to run away from home at the age of 24, I have a place to go. Of course, it would be several hours and several hundred dollars away. But I bet the food would be great.
Of course, nothing can beat the food at my parents' house. And I'll eat that 12 nights from now. Unless I get stuck in Philly, that is.
2 comments:
i love the priceless reference to "Hollywood Homicide"
Moms dig you.
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