January 19, 2010
Mexico City (DF), Mexico
For such a pale skinned gringo, his Spanish was impeccable. We were both sitting in the business class lounge at the airport, and the fluidity with which he was prattling away in Spanish on his mobile phone caught my attention.
Ordinarily, given his very light complexion and European fashion sense, I would have guessed that he was Argentine; his accent, however, was devoid of the traditional telltale Argentine indicators– the “sh” and “zh” sounds, use of the ‘vos’ for the second person, etc.
I was a bit puzzled and had plenty of time to kill thanks to an incomprehensible flight delay, so when he finished his conversation, I asked him (in Spanish) where he was from.
“I’m originally from Britain, ‘mate.” He must have noticed my surprise at hearing the Queen’s English, so he followed that up with “but I’ve been living in Caracas for over 20-years.”
Needless to say, this sparked a lengthy conversation between us about the politics of Hugo, the real situation on the ground in Venezuela, and what he’s doing to protect himself. I’ll call him Baldwin.
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