That one time I was in a Mallorcan magic show
Fun fact: the Balearic islands have two official languages, Castellano, Spanish, and Mallorquín, a derivative of Catalán.
Fun fact: I only speak one of those languages, the former
Fun fact: I was in a magic show where everything was in the latter
Fun fact: It was hilariously awkward
My Padre is friends with a local television personality on the Mallorcan language channel, he also happens to enjoy doing magic. So, when I had the opportunity to attend one of his local magic shows I could hardly say no.
It was during my second semester and I didn’t think about the language barrier. Then we got there and I realized that the whole show was in Mallorquín. I should not have been that surprised, but I was and my brain immediately went into overdrive. I had picked up enough of the language to have a basic working understanding, but the effort to listen made my brain hurt after just a few minuets. If you don’t know what I’m talking about think about when you are carrying something that is too heavy. You have to carry it. After a little while your arms start to hurt, then your legs then your back, it isn’t a sharp pain, but a draining one. Now imagine that in your brain. (If I’m really honest it sucks sometimes, but I miss it, but I digress)
The small theater we were in was packed and I was clearly the only non native speaker in the house. Lola, my host sister is called to the stage for round one. She did a great job.
In fact, though I didn’t know what was going on 70% of the time, I knew he was a great amateur magician and I was having a ball.
With each act he called a new group of people to the stage to help. I dreaded being called, but was sad each time my face was not the one he picked from the crowd.
As the show began to wind down I am not sure I could have told you my name. I had language fatigue and was left to watching what was happening without the commentary. I knew that if I were called it would be disaster. As fate so often has it Lola and I were up for the next act.
I tried to rev up my mind, but sometimes there is only so much someone can do. We handed out pencils, we collected paper and we headed to the stage.
It was there that the magician realized that I was clueless. I imagine that it had something to do with my deer in the headlights look, so he cut me a break. Asking me a few questions he got the audience cheering me on a bit and switched his instructions to English. We blundered are way through the rest. My brain was so shot that even the bit that was in Spanish was hard to understand, but there are moments when all you can do is laugh at your own ridiculous adventures.
The evening however was caped off by him thanking me and asking me to head back to my seat, but I miss understood. What I heard doesn’t even live in the same neighborhood as the actual instructions. Instead of heading back to my chair I got down on my knees and started picking up the pieces of paper we had dropped there earlier. Seeing my confusion he helped me up and pointed as he repeated himself. Blushing from my toes to my hair-line I slipped back to my seat.
I was mortified, but we laughed about it the whole way home.
Until next time,
Keep laughing at life,