September 29, 2006

El Pájaro En Mi Cocina (Part II)

Just in case you haven't read it yet, you can find part one here.

Where was I?

Oh, yes: Operation Involve The Portero (poor guy)

Prior to walking out to the gate and conveying my message to the portero - A.K.A The.Only.Man.Who.Can.Help.Us.I.Really.Hope.He.Can - I took some time to make a list of Spanish words I might possibly need, and in the process I happened to look up a few words in my Spanish dictionary that I did not know. Oh boy, do I KNOW THEM NOW. If nothing else, I can mark this one as an Educational Experience, yes indeed! For fun, or not, depending on your interest or lack thereof, here is that list as found this morning in my trusty handy-dandy notebook of all things Spanish/in Spain*.

  • bird (small) - el pájaro

  • stove - la cocina

  • fan - el ventilador

  • duct - el conducto

  • piece - la pieza

  • plastic - el plástico

  • opening - la abertura

As you can easily see, I am not all that sophisticated with the conversing in español. It was an emergency, people! I figured I could rely on my mad skills in charades!

*I have no idea why it could possibly be called 'trusty' as I am the one who writes in it and just in case we all forgot or something, I am not in any way Spanish. Not.One.Bit. I just live here, people; that's my claim to fame.

Off to el Portero's building(A.K.A. The Office of TOMWCHUIRHHC) I go, trusty handy-dandy notebook of all things Spanish/in Spain in hand. I arrive, and score-one-for-the-home-team; he is there! I mention el pájaro and mi cocina and he is totally understanding already (YAY!) and locks up his office to head to my place.

He then tells me that he had the same situation in another apartment just yesterday.


Oh, yes - it is a conspiracy of a very fowl nature. Apparently they are infesting the kitchens of our urbanización in an attempt to reclaim their migratory lands for their long trek made twice a year. We have so much to look forward to; I shall wait in anticipation of my next visitor. No stress here, no INDEED.

On our way to my apartment, which is about a five minute walk from the front gate, I feel the need to tell the man all about my situation. Yes I do (I did mention that I was a little lacking in the genius area, people! Keep UP!), even though he has already shown that he fully comprehends the nature of my problem. I describe it in full detail. When I say 'describe' and 'full detail' I of course mean that I use a combination of crazy-lady hand signals and sound-effects with the occasional Spanish word thrown in (whoop for the Spanish word!) to, you know, describe what he already knows.

Another facet of the Fowl Conspiracy (FC): to cause unsuspecting humans to act like blathering idiots in times of (supposed) dire need.

Just in case you are wondering, here is a list of some of the things that I "spoke" (and I use that term in its loosest definition) to el Portero:

  • cht......cht..cht.....cht.cht.cht.cht...

  • [hand signals for walking and falling and]

  • boom!

Oh, to be able to read the mind of el Portero. Or, better yet, to be able to hear and comprehend his words when he relays this mighty-fine story to the other porteros - what a LAUGH we could all have!!

We arrive at my apartment, thank goodness! I can stop acting like a loony bird - el Portero meets the chompy-chomp 'I'm Gonna Get that Bird' Cooperchew, and we shut everyone out of the kitchen but ourselves.

He is acting very confident and is telling me that this will be no problem, so I am feeling pretty relieved. Once again with the collective "HA!", as we all know how these kinds of stories go. It really IS just like the movies. If you start to feel safe and relieved and so on, then SOMETHING bad is bound to happen, and SOON!

El Portero takes a small plastic piece off of the vertical surround to the ductwork leading from the fan to the ceiling. He then slowly pushes up the so-called ductwork, which is very crinkly and sharp looking, and then he attempts to stick his hand down through the duct into the fan...

Where he immediately realizes that his hand/wrist/arm is way too big to do such a thing.

What to do? What to do?

Oh, I'll tell you what to do! He informs me that I should stick my hand/wrist/arm down in there because mine is much smaller than his!

Of course!!!

I commence FREAKING OUT in my head while attempting to give an outward appearance of 'I agree, that totally makes sense, let's get on that!'




I get up on the countertop, put my hand very close to the opening, and just in case I misunderstood (ha!) I ask the man (who I am now not believing is much more sane than I): "Que me quiere hacer?", which should mean "What do you want me to do?"

Now he gets a turn with the charades, and yes, dear readers, he most certainly does want me to stick my hand IN THE FAN and attempt to GRAB THE BIRD AND PULL IT OUT!

Just in case you are wondering, here is what my mind was doing:





I ssssssslllllloooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwllllllyyyyyyyyy put my hand down into the fan (all balled up in a tight little fist so that I CANNOT touch the bird) and get no I open up my fingers and wiggle them a bit and touch....


That smart bird had long ago done his flapping-and-climbing-like-life-is-about-to-end noises into the ceiling, and el Portero and I had simply not heard it!

I love this bird!

We decide to wait for the bird to make his way, cautiously, I might add, back down into the fan. He does, after about 10 minutes of el Portero and I staring at nothing in particular, but certainly not.each.other, and again, the man wants me to stick my hand in there! IN. THERE. to TOUCH. THE. WILD. BIRD.

Once again, with the freaking out of my mind (see above), I climb up there and begin to ssssssslllllloooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwllllllyyyyyyyyy put my hand down into the fan (in the same manner as before), and lo-and-behold, that bird has escaped again!

I need a t-shirt that says I ♥ bird.

So now the questions are:

  • Do I stick my hand in there once again only to be mangled for all time?

  • Do I finally grab that bird and throw him out the window?

  • Is there a bird still in our oven...withering away...smelly...ew?

I can think of more questions, but those will have to do for now!

Part III is coming, dear readers...just you wait!

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