Overheard in Madrid

Eavesdropping is one of my favorite past-times. I use the excuse in Spain that it helps me improve my language to listen in on others' conversations. The truth is though that when I eavesdrop on the madrileños, I mainly just pick up phrases and the basic gist of what they are saying. And it is rarely very interesting.

What I do understand perfectly, on the other hand, are the English conversations I drop in on. And those are usually much more juicy because they think that no one around can understand. 

Hanging out in cafés, I've heard a girl rant about how her girlfriend cheated on her with their guy best friend and a group of English teachers complain about how annoying Americans are. On a run yesterday I heard a father call to his two-year-old son: "Come over here, slime ball." The Metro is also a gold mine for, "Ugh, I am having the worst cramps," or "Yeah, I hacked his fantasy basketball team last night."

It was very clear in all of these situations that the speakers did not think anyone around could comprehend their English, particularly as fast as they were speaking. I've gotten a lot of personal entertainment out of it all; it's interesting how people speak more uninhibitedly when they think others don't know what they are saying. 

Moral of the story: just because the menus or signs are in Spanish, doesn't mean that's the only language the people are you speak. I'm going to take this lesson back to the States by remembering not to publicly divulge any personal secrets in Spanish, because who knows when a native speaker may be lurking behind you.