Adventures in Portuguese: The Other Home Depot

Sometimes I get a little overconfident with my year and a half of "immersion portuguese" and I go to a home improvement store.

Enough said right?  You're cringing, wincing in pain thinking of it? Shouting to your screen, "No! Turn back now!"

But I didn't, because there comes a time in a woman's life when the need to complete a furniture refurbishing project, trumps the complete and utter linguistic humiliation that may (likely) ensue.

You see I've found that when you arrive to a country, in which you don't speak the language, you will hide out for a bit, you will come up with excuses to not speak the language, like excusing yourself to the bathroom just before the waiter returns to take your order, and leave your order with a friend. You'll use your husband as a crutch, or return a simple glance in your direction by shouting out, "Eu não falo português!" or you will just nod and smile or pass out from the sheer stress of it all.

Then at some point you just have to start living...and you do.

A little while later, I'd say about now, 18 months in, you forget that you weren't always a part of this place and you throw yourself without thinking, head-on into a situation in which your vocabulary has yet to take you. Like, say, The Brazilian Home Depot, aka Leroy Merlin (which you want to pronounce [lee-roy mur-lyn] but is really pronounced [la-hoy mal heeen] which should have been my first red flag upon entering...but wasn't).

I successfully bellied up to the paint counter and ordered my liter of high gloss paint, but I couldn't just stop there. When inquiring about a lacquer top coat and sand paper the exchange became so painful between Mr. Brazilian Home-Depot Guy and I, that a woman called for her husband to, "Come quickly to help this woman!"as if I was about to give birth in the aisle-way (which I've nearly also done, but not this time) and he didn't himself speak a word of English. It turns out they just needed more support to translate my wild charade-like arm movements or just to witness such a wildly crafty American woman so intent on purchasing paint. So I just stood there like I'd been plucked by a giant from Home Depot America, knowing exactly what I needed, and plunked down into Leroy Merlin with three people gathering about me like an alien, "Look at her Joao! Isn't she fabulous? I think she is trying to tell us something. Go ahead strange creature, sign to us...floor....yes....ground....yes....dirt? No? Shovel...uh huh...bucket....ya....sandcastle? No? Sand! Yes! Ok next word: writing...story....paper? Yes paper! Sandpaper? What is that?"  Completely different word: "Lixa," not sand + paper.

The refreshing part of all of this on the other side of embarrassment is that instead of running out of the building in tears, I stuck through it, figured it out and left with nearly everything I needed...including my pride...and my paint.