No, I am not saying that the Pope is, indeed, infallible. The confusion is understandable, though--this weekend, I´ve been knee-deep in Spanish words that sound like other Spanish words.
Starting with pañuelo, hankerchief. In order to make it clearer that I was actually PARTICIPATING with understanding in the march for non-violence, and not just standing around with my camera like your garden-variety tourist, my teacher recommended I wear white. A color which makes me look absolutely terrible and increases dramatically my capacity to spill stuff, so a nice hankercheif was recommended. Causing me a great deal of distress, as I know enough Spanish to know that hankerchief sounds like diaper, but not enough Spanish to always hit the mark.
Eventually, I just bought a damn tee shirt.
Ah, but then, the Pulpo. I wonder if the psychic octopus is as big a deal in other countries; here, he has been absolutely all the rage. Daily photographs in all the papers of Paul, hovering over two clear boxes of food adorned with the flags of whichever teams were about to compete in the final few games of the World Cup. Amazingly, or perhaps not, El Pulpo is in this case more correct than El Papa´s been in others, as we discovered for the final time today.
Normally, I have so little interest in sports that I honestly don´t know who plays what at what season, but this time, the octopus hooked me in. I saw the final game at an English bar with a group of Norwegians and Ecuadorians, surrounded by Dutch folks and a swathe of Americans. Yet another chance for miscommunication occured when people started chanting for penales, which are neither diapers, nor hankerchiefs, nor sea life.
Appararently, it was a game for the ages--craploads of overtime and a sea of yellow cards. And me at the back with my Spanish verb drills in my lap, nibbling on homemade potato chips and cheering for Paul.
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