Money Talks, Especially When You Can't

Earlier today I was at a café. I was sitting at a small table, listening to a wonderful jazz band practice while sipping on a café americano. Admittedly, everything was pretty blissful. As I sat there, I journaled about how I felt everything was becoming more comfortable and the little details that make Cuernavaca so great. Time was running short and as an American, I was the only one who felt this way (here, a check never comes before you ask for it). SO, I flagged down the waitress, told her I was in a bit of a hurry and asked if I could just pay her without the whole painfully, time-consuming process of her registering what I had to drink, printing a check, and finding a small tray to place the check on to put it on the table. Okay, sure, no problem…or so I thought.

I decided to use the bathroom before I left the café and as I was waiting in line, the manager approached me and said I didn’t leave enough pesos. What? I was sure I left enough, plus a good tip. The manager showed me the receipt and it displayed that I had ordered the most expensive coffee drink on the menu, a “double espresso, illy style”. Nope.

Now, in any other situation, I would have kindly explained the situation, kept my pocket book shut and the world would have kept turning. However, that’s not what happened. For some reason, even though I knew this was wrong, the pressure of having to explain the situation in Spanish, combined with the fact I was in line for the bathroom in front of two other people, caused me to quickly say, “Oh, lo siento,” whip out my wallet and pay an extra $1.60.

The entire way home I played the scene over in my head. Why the heck did I cough that up? Yes, tangibly it was only $1.60, but to me, it was much more than that. It was the fact that here, I feel humbled to the point that often times I’m scared to stick up for myself. I’ve been flirting with the line between wanting to be an impressive representative and being a wimpy, white-girl who’d rather throw money at a situation than actually sort it out. If you can’t tell by my tone, this isn’t the first incident of its kind.

What is it exactly that makes me feel so vulnerable? Sure, I don’t speak the language perfectly, but I still have a sense of self and what I deserve. So, what is so damn intimidating? The first part of this trip, I was constantly reminding myself that I was out of my element and that to learn anything would require constant correcting, reminding and adjusting from the people around me. But there’s a point in which you also need to remind yourself that you’re not ALWAYS wrong. Despite having the speaking skills of somebody half my age, I still have the same brain content as I did before I arrived here (now, even more). Yes, to learn a language does indeed require a grand amount of humility, but to use a language requires confidence, instincts, and enough pride to keep your pocket book closed.