gracias, adios

Halfway through my junior year of high school I left the suburbs to study abroad in Costa Rica for a year. After a student orientation with the euro kids that bordered on, Girls Gone Wild, I was sent to live with my "host" family in a small town where no one spoke English, or at least a version of English that would be gratifying to a native speaker.

Well, that is not entirely true, occasionally my classmates would try out their English language abilities on me. They would say something like "fuke" and then break into hysterical fits of laughter.

I digress. For months I lived in my head, not understanding the conversations going on around me and secretly mad at my Spanish teachers for failing me so miserably. I coped by nodding my head even when I didn't understand because it was too tiring to have someone repeat themselves until I understood. This was especially true with jokes. I once had a Costa Rican "uncle" insist on trying to re-tell me the same jokes over and over until he thought I understood them. This still sticks out as one of the most painful nights of my
life, as he and I quickly became the joke of the night.

Slowly I started to pick up the language by mimicking the phrases of those around me. For instance, after every meal I noticed that my Costa Rican "sister" would pick up her plate when she finished and dump her plate in the sink. As she got up, she would say: gracias, adios. At least that is what I heard. Every night, I would follow her lead, pick up my plate, say "gracias, adios" and head for the kitchen with a big, shit-eating grin on my face.

At about the four month mark during my year-long stay, I finally got a handle on the language, at least coversationally. It was at that same point that I realized "gracias, adios" was really, "Gracias a Dios" (Thanks be to God).

What we hear, and what is, are often two different things entirely.

Thought of the Day: Gracias a Dios