How to Be a Monoglot

It makes you cringe.
We stopped for lunch on the way back form Teide, the volcano on the Spanish island of Tenerife. It was a popular little restaurant and they did the type of snack meal we wanted. We had lovely views of the mountain. But it was all spoilt by the conversations we had to listen to on the table next to us.
“There are diabetics all over the world, aren’t there? So why do they only have coca cola lite? It’s always the same, abroad.”
Well, I suspect it’s not always the same abroad. If you actually bother to ask in the language they speak there, you might be pleasantly surprised. My husband is a soft fizzy drink fan and has often been asked in mainland Spain when ordering some brand name drink, whether he wanted normal or lite. He doesn’t speak fluent Spanish, but knows most of the phrases needed in restaurants. At least he aims to communicate. That may be the key.
We also have to remember, that if you’re sitting in a restaurant staring at the rocks on the top of Teide, you’re up a volcanic mountain, on an island, which is part of a country which is experiencing food strikes.
“I don’t like cola. I have to have enough of it in emergencies.”
I am sorry, about your disability. I really am. But I have one too and it stopped me going to the very top of Teide. You are limited to drinking cola or water. (Surely there’s nothing wrong with water? I’m drinking it.) I get to miss out on the ultimate view.
You spot someone drinking a glass of wine. Now there’s an idea. You go to the counter.
You speak louder and louder. “Is it possible to buy a glass of wine?” They offer you water. They get more and more flummoxed but they still try to please.
Angry, you come back to the table.
“They just can’t speak English,” you say, offended.
Actually most of them do – the amount they need to serve customers. They do take their tourist industry seriously. But you’ve got to meet them half way. Tourist or not, you’re still a guest in their country. They’re sharing their lovely views and sunny climate with you.
“That one over there speaks English better,” your companion says.
Still no luck, because you get impatient and shout.
My husband was there, and resisted helping because frankly, you didn’t deserve it. He knows how to say “Un vaso de vino blanco, por favour.” I resisted, too. I could have gone further and asked even whether it was possible to buy wine by the glass, explained about the lady being diabetic and wondering whether they had anything else ‘lite’.
There is one advantage of you not making any effort to speak Spanish, or any effort to make your English understandable, of you being completely blinkered: you wouldn’t have understood when I apologised for the lady’s rudeness.