lost in translation

Since everything finally slowed down after training, I have been doing more serious apartment/house/room hunting. Seven years in the same Seattle apartment made me forget what a gigantic pain in the ass it is to find a new place, particularly when roommates are involved (worse yet when we don’t speak the same language). Fortunately, there will be no moving of furniture involved, wherever I go. Yesterday I had the pleasure of meeting Gaston and Macarena, two Chilenos who own a house with a beautiful garden and patio. I ended up hanging out for a few hours to get to know them and find out about the area and it seemed like a perfect match until I asked her about how safe the neighborhood was at night. . . She told me that it was pretty safe except for some Friday nights the “dark people” come out to their club and are really loud and scary. Assuming she was talking about black people, I expected to hear the N word blurted out next and I was thinking how disappointing it was that they were not, in fact a perfect match for me. I must have had a weird expression on my face because she attempted to clarify, convincing me that it wasn’t such a bad neighborhood. She then demonstrated a vampire sucking blood and I realized that “dark people” actually meant goth. So, if I can negotiate the price down a tad, a seemingly perfect match will have been made!