Gringa Gringa

[editor's comment: "gringa" (or gringo, for a male) is the slang term here for a white, North America. It's not offensive, just a word of identification.]

Last night I ordered pizza from Papa John's.

For those of you who've never had the pleasure of a phone conversation in a language not your own, let me fill you in a bit. Of all the means of communication, the phone is by far the hardest in a second language. There are several reasons for this. For example, you can't read someone's facial expression or other body language over the phone. You can't point at things to help with context. You're often talking to someone you don't know personally, and who doesn't know to speak slowly and clearly to you, as people you know usually will. Often the words are harder to understand because of a garbled connection. And it's all immediate, so there's no looking stuff up in your handy-dandy bilingual dictionary. In short, it's hard. I have never yet been comfortable talking on the phone in any language other than English.

So, all that said, I dialed Papa Johns because my desire to eat pizza outweighed my fear of the phone conversation. This was the second time I've ordered pizza from this particular establishment. The first experience was a resounding disaster. I did get the pizzas that I had ordered, but it was a painful journey to that end.

I dial. I take a deep breath. The lady answers...

Lady: (huge jumble of words that I can't understand completely due to the lightning-fast speed of delivery. similar to the "welcometomcdonaldswouldyouliketotryournewtriplebigmacvaluemealforjustfiveninetyfive?" spiel that we're used to in the States. I did make out "Papa John's", "special", medium" and "Monica".)
Leslie: Um, hi Monica. First I have a question for you.
(silence...I press on)
Leslie: how much would it cost for a medium Pepperoni Pizzazz pizza?"
Monica: $14.9? (I missed the final digit b/c I was processing the more important, first two digits)
L: $14.9....?
(silence again. I give up on that last digit and press on again)
L: Ok, and what was your special again?
M: Two mediums of your choice for $17.9? (same number processing problem)
(silence while I process)
L: So the second pizza is only $3.00 more?
M: Yes.
L: Ok, I'll take your special.
M: So, one medium pepperoni pizzazz and what kind for your other pizza?
L: Italiano, but without black olives.
M: Vegetariano, minus black olives?
L: Yes. (yes, you're noticing the problem here, because you're READING this, and probably in your first language. I didn't notice.)
M: Anything else?
L:No.
M: Ok, two medium pizzas, one pepperoni pizzazz and one vegetariano minus black olives. Your phone number?
L: 4 - no, sorry- 246-1307
M: On Brazil, next to the Domino's?
L: Yes (delighted that this much at least had been communicated during my last, disastrous interaction with the fine people at Papa John's)
M: How will you be paying?
L: Cash (delighted again that I remembered the word here for cash)
M: Ok, it'll be $17.9? cents in about 35 minutes.
L: Thank you
M: You're welcome. Good night.

I hung up feeling a strong sense of accomplishment. This conversation was considerably less painful than the last one. And soon I would have yummy pizza as a reward for my bravery. Yay!

A few minutes later, as I'm carrying my pizzas back up to my apartment I happen to notice the little sticker on the side of the box with the details of the order. As I'm looking at it, I notice that I have somehow ordered a vegetarian pizza (what the?).

Then I remember that Monica never asked for my name. She confirmed my identification by asking if I was next door to Dominos. I notice "next to Domino's" on the label next to my address. Then I notice what is written in the "Name" slot: Gringa Gringa.

I roll my eyes, smile to myself, and settle in to enjoy my pizza. I love Ecuador.