Have
you ever experienced that phenomenon where you come across someone wearing the
exact same shirt that you were? It’s not that
common. I have occasionally seen someone
wearing a shirt that I own, but it’s exceptionally rare to see someone wearing
the same shirt at the same time (exceptions being super generic articles of
clothing like denim work shirts or blank white T-shirts.) I pride myself in being fairly
individualistic, and would never adorn myself in a garment of universal
commercialism nor slogan like JUST DO IT, or a red Michael Jordan jersey back in
the day.
And so, one recent afternoon while surveying the beach at Coulon Park, I was a little
surprised to see un paisano sporting my
exact same gray and blue sleeveless workout shirt.
It was a sunny August day and I was looking over the crowded beach
trying to spot Benji and his diminutive friend Chris amongst the many youngsters
playing in the sand and surf.
As I looked over la playa, I could hear Spanish being spoken behind me. Not
the refined Castilian of instructional CDs, but the rapid and often indecipherable
(for me) speak of the campesino. As I turned slightly, a fellow middle-aged hombre stepped into the sand in front of
me, apparently also looking for one of his niños
amongst the playful throng. And lo and
behold he was wearing my shirt.
So
there we were, two brown-skinned padres
side by side on the beach looking for our little ones and wearing the same
exact shirts. We didn’t look like each other.
I’m 6 foot 4, and he was about 5 foot 8.
I’m lean, and he was paunchy (yes, I suffer from that condition where my
body image is fixed on what I looked like 20 years ago and I occasionally am
shocked when I see my reflection—“who’s that viejo in the mirror?”—but I’m still pretty well preserved.) Bottom line: we would not have been confused
for brothers whose mom made us wear the same outfit.
At this point, an opportunity for chit chat presented itself. Had I been confident, I might have said
something like “que buen camiseta tiene usted.” If he were a standard Seattle white guy, I
probably would have said something corny like “Hey, I like your taste in
shirts” and we would have shared a chuckle.
But, sad to say, I’m still so darn shy when it comes to speaking Spanish
to strangers. I have the fear that they
will assume I’m fluent and start yakking away, only to have me lost in the
verbiage. Qué lastima.
Palabras Profundas
Los Gemelos:
The twins
Campesino:
This term refers to the country/rural people of Mexico and other parts of Latin America. The understanding is that they represent a different population than that of the educated urban class, and that the difference is evident in the disparate speech patterns. It's very similar to North Americans contrasting farmers of the south to educated people from New York. I don't mean for it to come across as pejorative. The first time I heard the term was back in the '80s while teaching in L.A. Some of my Honduran immigrant students looked down their noses at the Mexicans whom they called campesinos.
Linkos:
Speaking of Honduras, this camiseta was made in a factory in Honduras. This may alert some to fears of sweatshops and unsafe working conditions. It's hard to get a full picture of what is really happening down there, but if you want to investigate, you may start with this little article:
http://www.waronwant.org/news/265-latest-news/17488-sweatshop-workers-fight-against-garment-company-
,
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