Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Buenos Dias


It’s a rainy winter day in Washington, D.C. I'm grateful to hop on the slice-of-life 42 Metro bus, with people from all over, to my freelance gig this morning. The 42 wends its way from Mt. Pleasant, a neighborhood one-third white, one third-black and one-third Hispanic (predominately from Central America), to Metro Center.

Two tall successful looking Spaniards, their Castilian accents reveal, are catching up in the aisle. An elderly white woman prepares to get off the bus. She rises and says with agitation, "I'm getting off the bus. Excuse me." 

The couple doesn't seem to hear her. The woman is so tiny only I can hear from my eye-level-to-her-face seat. The international visitors do not move.
 

Exasperated, the woman exclaims, "Nobody speaks English anymore! Ugh, such a shame."

"It's a beautiful thing, amiga," I tell her as I work on one of my goals for 2013 — to master conversational Spanish.

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