Is there a fly in my soup?

When I arrived in Madrid I lived with three guys in a sparse but comfortable apartment. One of the conditions was to eat together as friends so that everyone didn't have to cook every day. Breakfasts and the evening snack were on your own but we followed the Spanish custom of eating a large meal during the afternoon siesta. The first two weeks in that apartment my roommates spoiled me and took extra turns cooking when it would have been my turn. This wasn't entirely a selfless act. Because I didn't even understand the word "hola" when spoken by a Spaniard, I am sure they were worried about what I might purchase at the market. Until they were confident that I could shop for the food that I needed to make something non-toxic, they were willing to lend a hand and prepare an enjoyable meal. Those first days I watched and learned, responding to their kindness by washing dishes most days.

They didn't let me get too comfortable and regularly reminded me that I would soon have to go to the market and select the food I would need, and start cooking. If I were home and in America, this wouldn't have been a problem, but the neighborhood market was under a common roof and many items required that you ask a shop owner to retrieve an item from behind the counter. So I picked a favorite and easy recipe and studied all of the ingredients to make sure I knew the words in Spanish. As one friend said, "Nothing helps you learn to speak the language like necessity and there is no necessity that speaks quite as loud as hunger."

So after hours of practicing and memorizing the words I went to the market. My friends made sure I did the shopping on my own in the best spirit of tough love. Many of the items I was able to select for myself and I recognized the food by sight and confirmed the words with the tags and labels. But there was one dry ingredient that I needed to get. This recipe called for a dry pea soup mix. For this particular ingredient I had to ask for it from a shop owner. I confidently approached him and asked "Necesito una bolsa de sopa de gusano." If you speak Spanish you already know my error.

After repeating the request a few times and getting the same quizzical response, but not understanding what he was saying, I started to describe a pea. I knew the words for vegetable, small and green. With some simple gestures and that simple description we achieved an understanding.

"Guisante!" the owner replied. Confused, I looked at him because that is what I thought I had said. Turning around I saw my roommates laughing. They had let me struggle so that I would learn. I asked why they thought everything was so funny. They informed me that I had asked for gusanos which means worms.