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Argentina 2019: Half

In case you've missed the last few blog posts, the Mild Wife and I headed to Argentina. Now, this was a work trip, so there were a few shenanigans related to speaking Spanish in the office. I was not the only one responsible for these language-related stories, however. In some cases, some of the others caused a lot of laughter when dealing with the fact that we didn't all quite speak the same language.

In this particular case, the laughs occurred when we all went to lunch. Since the American coworkers  obviously didn't know the area as well as the locals, our in-country coworkers picked the place and led the way. All I knew before I got there was that we were going to a sandwich place.

It actually took a decent walk for us to get there, though I didn't really notice this since I was busy making small talk with someone. I probably would've done the same thing if we'd been in the States, but I also figured I should make an extra effort to practice my Spanish. The more practice I got, the less likely I was to start another running joke by accident.

In hindsight, I should've figured that there was something special about this particular sandwich place. I mean, we walked past other places to eat, and I'm also pretty sure we could've gotten sandwiches from a different establishment. In the moment, though, I didn't think anything of it. I just walked with the rest of the crew, and talked to other people in the process.

Once we got there, one of my coworkers pulled me aside to relay some instructions to the other Americans. My Spanish may not be perfect, but it's functional enough to help in scenarios like the one we were in. I don't remember everything he said, but the one thing that did stick out in my mind was that we were only to order half a sandwich. He repeated it a couple of times to be doubly sure that I understood and conveyed it to my peers, and then he helped them order their food.

When it was finally my turn to order, I understood why my coworker had insisted. The guy making the sandwiches heard me ask for half, grabbed a full loaf of bread, chopped it in two, and then proceeded to make my sandwich. Yeah, "half" referred to half a loaf, not just half the regular sandwich size. Needless to say, the half portion was pretty darn big, and it was more than enough to keep me full.

I chuckled a bit when I realized this, but the real hilarity came several days later. One of my American coworkers was retelling the story for some reason or another, when he said, "I think he heard me wrong or something got lost in translation, because I think I got the full." No no, that was the half sandwich. I relayed my theory that this particular establishment used a loaf of bread as the measurement, and the light bulb clicked. You should have seen the look on his face. It was one of sudden clarity and amazement. Just imagine if he had accidentally ordered the full.

To me, the funniest part of all of this was that no one actually misspoke or translated anything poorly. The whole thing was completely innocent, and everyone conveyed the information that they wanted to convey correctly. It still led to some laughter around the sandwich size, though. I keep saying it, but other languages are fun as all hell.

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