Aug. 28th, 2002 01:19 pm
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El tráfico era tan caótico en ese lado de Chicago que no había tanta diferencia con su añorado D.F., y verlo así le causaba menos nostalgia. (Ricardo Armijo, "Chichicastenango Supermarket")
[Translation: Traffic was so chaotic in that part of Chicago that there wasn't any difference from his longed-for Mexico City, and seeing it so lessened his nostalgia.]
I always thought as much!
The story is set in Logan Square, but that description could apply to large swaths of the city. I stumbled across it in a collection entitled Se habla español (Miami, 2000)--and I smiled a gentle smile of recognition when I saw these words on the wall of an auto body shop near
It's a neighbourhood I've passed through many times--usually on the Clark bus--but never stopped in. I'm not sure what the locals call it. Just a mangled version of "Rogers Park"? Or is there a cute nickname like la Villita or Hermosa? Do people identify their location by the local Catholic parish, as they once did on the South Side?
I can tell you one thing: The answer ain't to be found on the Web--at least not with the searches I was doing. It's experiences like these that remind me how great the digital divide still is. You can find plenty of sites on Jewish Rogers Park, whose existence is largely historical, whereas contemporary Hispanic Rogers Park is barely acknowledged. (Such sources as exist focus on showcase Mexican neighbourhoods, like Pilsen.) I found more lamentations of the lack of literature on Latino Chicago than I found literature.
I guess I've no choice but to talk to people. Were everyone as nice as the guy who waited on us last night, that would be no problem at all. It's the first time I've gone into a restaurant and been asked, "Who speaks Spanish?" (The answer is
El traje wants all to know, por cierto, that--despite the mocking he gets for not being adventurous enough (which I never really noticed, but, then, he's much more thenthitive than I am)--he volunteered to eat at every single restaurant we passed, no matter how unpromising. He was also the only one to clean his overloaded plate (I reheated my leftovers for lunch and still couldn't finish them all) and thereby earn an alfajor from el buen padre.
The least I can do in return is admit that I lied last night about the name of the Vietnamese place. I said nha trang simply meant "restaurant", when the Vietnamese word is actually nha hang; I'm not sure what trang means, but that's something I know where to look up.
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What're you saying? (Options ranked from least to most plausible.)
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I didn't recognize it, but specifically, I didn't recognize it because I made an early faulty assumption. Since most of the other words in italics in that entry were in Spanish, I just assumed this one was a fur-un word I didn't know. I was attempting to read it with a Spanish inflection, and when I didn't get it from context, as I did some of the others, I tossed it into babelfish, which tossed it right back out. And then I went "buh."
Now I just feel thilly.
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