No Espanol

We had managed to sail through Mexico, El Salvador and Costa Rica knowing only the bare necessities of the Spanish language.

Cerveza.......beer

la cantidad de..... how much

vino.....wine

bano.....bathroom

uno – veinte....1 – 20

ron....rum

hielo.....ice

Like I said the basics. Maybe we were lazy not to learn more, yeah we were, but we managed.

There's not even the slightest chance if we were at a party and they were playing charades that Mike would participate but he did charades every time we had to go searching for something that wasn't in our limited vocabulary.

How would you mime, plastic hose for toilet? Your thinking about it aren't you?

Bahia de Caraquez is a lovely little seaside town in Ecuador and was the first time we didn't have the convenience of an big shiny sanitized grocery store. You went to the market for produce or fish or flowers. Than there are the street vendors, the bakeries and of course the butcher shops.

My first experience to the butcher, was by myself. Mike “the mime” was off doing charades elsewhere. It was something to write home about ,which I never did so I'll tell you.

Picture a store front without the front glass window, instead there is a counter. Inside the small concrete block shop are buckets and tubs of raw meat sitting on half a dozen tables. I'd heard that this particular butcher had refrigeration but he must have wanted to keep it a secret since there wasn't a fridge in sight. The glass jar of murky pinkish water holding an assortment of knives and cutting boards covered in previous butchered meats complete the scene.

It was a busy shop. I feel a little out of place among the late morning shoppers who are rapidly discussing the price of meat, world peace or for all I know, who got lucky last night. I didn't hear any of my “words” so I really couldn't join in the conversation. I wait and watch. It's my turn. I know what I want but of course don't know how to say it. Nearby was a tub piled high with chickens, so I point. The 20 something, young man behind the counter smiles and starts to shove a huge chicken into a very small bag. I shake my head. He looks a little confused, dumps the chicken back into the bucket and picks up another one, than starts the process again of trying to fit one super sized chicken into one very small plastic bag. It was almost indecent as he had his entire hand inside the chicken trying to force it into a bag that was meant more for a couple of wings not the whole dam bird. Again I shake my head. The 3 elderly ladies waiting patiently on the sidewalk in the 80 plus degree heat appeared to be enjoying the whole exchange. Glad I could provide a little entertainment. I pointed once again to the bucket of chickens, than not knowing what else to do, I stepped back from the chest high counter, straightened my shoulders and pointed to my breasts.

Ahhh...Pechuga, the 3 women said in harmony. Continuously nodding and repeating the word pechuga, they turned their attention to the young man behind the counter, who is now a deep shade of red. Don't know what he's embarrassed about, I was the one on the sidewalk thrusting out my “assets” and pointing at them.

I became a regular and continued to highlight body parts depending on what I wanted for dinner.