When I first moved to Mexico, I made my friends order for me at restaurants.
Why would I do this when I spoke Spanish?
Simple. I had an accent.
Every time I ordered, the waiter would say, “Excuse me?” and look at me as if I had horns coming out of my forehead or as if I had asked to eat boogers for dinner.
I hated having to repeat myself.
Who wants to say the same thing again and again if the way of pronouncing it isn’t going to get any better?!
It made me feel, well, stupid.Read More