For a moment, I had to step back. I just wanted to take in what I was hearing. In the midst of the 1996 Summer Olympics, I was at a hotel in downtown Atlanta with a good friend. We were standing aside two other ladies, whom we did not know, listening to a speech on the highlights of Athens, Greece. My friend and I listened as the speaker, himself a native of Greece, spoke of Athens’ history, its culture, and its desire to host the Games. But, it was not the speech itself that caught me off guard. It was the fact that he was speaking in Spanish.
In the summer of 1996, I volunteered with the host committee for the Olympic Games in Atlanta. One of the benefits of volunteering with the Games was admittance into places and events otherwise off limits to the general public. One such area was the bid lounges for the cities competing to host the 2004 Summer Games. For the duration of the Games, the organizing committee of each city had occupied a room at a downtown Atlanta hotel, where they marketed their city to the world. In truth, the target audience for these lounges was likely the media and key Olympic Committee decision makers. But, though it was not widely publicized, anyone with Olympic-issued credentials could access the rooms. One afternoon, a friend who was working for the Atlanta Committee and I chose to take advantage of this opportunity and made our way to the hotel.
Our first stop was the Athens lounge. Atlanta had been awarded the 1996 Games over the presumed favorite, Athens. But, the Grecian capital was trying again. When my friend and I entered their reception room, the only other person there was a man who appeared to be barely older than my friend and I. We were soon joined by two other women, who we learned were visiting from Puerto Rico. After a bit of small talk, the man, speaking fractured English, started to change the subject.
“My English is not very good,” he said, looking towards me and my friend. “Do you speak any other languages?”
My friend and I had taken foreign language classes in school. Though neither of us was fluent, we both knew a bit of Spanish. When we told this to the others, the man looked quite relieved.
“Do you mind,” he asked, “if I talk in Spanish?”
Neither my friend nor I had expected this question. But, we were fine with it. If nothing else, it would give us an opportunity to see if we could actually understand Spanish. Or if we just thought we did. We told the man it was okay and he preceded to talk about his home country. There we were: a pair of Americans, two Puerto Rican ladies and a Greek man, talking about Athens . . . in Spanish.
In the summer of 1996, I volunteered with the host committee for the Olympic Games in Atlanta. One of the benefits of volunteering with the Games was admittance into places and events otherwise off limits to the general public. One such area was the bid lounges for the cities competing to host the 2004 Summer Games. For the duration of the Games, the organizing committee of each city had occupied a room at a downtown Atlanta hotel, where they marketed their city to the world. In truth, the target audience for these lounges was likely the media and key Olympic Committee decision makers. But, though it was not widely publicized, anyone with Olympic-issued credentials could access the rooms. One afternoon, a friend who was working for the Atlanta Committee and I chose to take advantage of this opportunity and made our way to the hotel.
Our first stop was the Athens lounge. Atlanta had been awarded the 1996 Games over the presumed favorite, Athens. But, the Grecian capital was trying again. When my friend and I entered their reception room, the only other person there was a man who appeared to be barely older than my friend and I. We were soon joined by two other women, who we learned were visiting from Puerto Rico. After a bit of small talk, the man, speaking fractured English, started to change the subject.
“My English is not very good,” he said, looking towards me and my friend. “Do you speak any other languages?”
My friend and I had taken foreign language classes in school. Though neither of us was fluent, we both knew a bit of Spanish. When we told this to the others, the man looked quite relieved.
“Do you mind,” he asked, “if I talk in Spanish?”
Neither my friend nor I had expected this question. But, we were fine with it. If nothing else, it would give us an opportunity to see if we could actually understand Spanish. Or if we just thought we did. We told the man it was okay and he preceded to talk about his home country. There we were: a pair of Americans, two Puerto Rican ladies and a Greek man, talking about Athens . . . in Spanish.
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