Hola, First name / friend
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The year is is 2017, and I'm touching down in Cozumel, Mexico for my first EVER solo trip to freedive with whale sharks. Aka, my dream.Â
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Excited? Check. Nervous? You bet. My anxiety weighing heavier than my checked baggage as scenes from 'Taken' played in my head? Check, check, check.Â
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*Googles âHow to contact Liam Neeson" ya know, just in case*Â
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I hop into an electric blue Honda Civic turned taxi, and tell the driver my hostel address. He nods enthusiastically, âSi, si, senorita! I know where that is.â Perfecto.Â
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Butâlie detector test determined that was a lie. Because he knew the address as well as I knew quantum physics. (I don't). Fast forward to being dropped off at not one, but two completely wrong hostels. Perfecto 2.0
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Now, First name / friend, I have a very *particular* set of skills. Skills I have acquired over a very long career. But none of which included conversing fluently in Spanish.
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I mean, I watched two seasons of Narcos and had a few Duolingo badges under my belt, so that had to count for something, right? Right?
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So there I was in this fast-n-not-so-furious Civic, totally butchering Spanish like it's a $2 steak, trying desperately to explain where my hostel's location via an impromptu game of charades.Â
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Taxi guyâs laughing (genuinely), Iâm laughing (nervously) and Google Maps is crying (figuratively).
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So I decided to do what any normal 26 year old would do lost in a foreign country⌠find a bar and order a beer (or a tequila shot sans wormâ'cause when in Mexico)
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Lucky for me, the bartender knew English and more importantly, doubled as my human GPS 'cause THANK THE LORD he knew the location of 2Tank Hostel (legit 2 mins down the road. Classic đ¤Śđźââď¸)Â
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The Lesson?
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Allll of this could have been avoided had I not been so damn lazy and spent a little more time learning the basics of the countryâs official language I was visiting. âCause lemme tell ya, a few Duolingo badges wonât cut it.
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Itâs on meâthe touristâto adapt and respect cultural norms of the country Iâm visiting, not the other way around.
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Maybe if I knew my (super sweet, btw) taxi driver's language, we could have had a convo about local places to eat, tourist traps to avoid, all that jazz. But this Dora had no game.Â
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