As I think back on it now, I have no recollection of why we were in the car, where we had gone or where we where headed. Whatever the plans, we ended up on a tiny dirt road, polk-a-dotted with potholes big enough to swallow the car, behind a half constructed building. The car parked next to a tiny Puerto Rican restaurant near the coast. It had been a nice day so far, the sky was almost blue that day, and there was a view from where we parked. Through some unkept bushes a quaint coastal scene peeped out at me.

My boyfriend, Gabriel, climbed out of his Mercury Topaz, his mother and sister followed suit. I noticed that Gabriel was wearing blue jeans and a bluish polo shirt that I favored. Compared to a short me, he is a tall man, almost reaching six feet. Strongly built with strong features, he can seem intimidating until he shows his boyish smile. His nose is a little crooked from school yard fist fights and humor mingles in his dark eyes.

I lagged behind, as usual, taking my time to absorb their foreign culture. It was my first trip to Puerto Rico, and I was extremely intimidated, still, by everything around me. I had a feeling that everyone and everything was watching me. A thousand eyes inspecting me. The whole trip turned out to be one suprise after another and even though I had been there over a week already, it still felt like my first day there.

The restaurant was a seafood one, I could tell by the smell of fish and the picture of a big fish on the side of the building. The inside was dark and quiet. Large cafeteria style tables lined the outer perimeter of the restaurant, covered with red plastic tablecloths and plexiglas tops to cover permanent menus under them. We took a table near the slit-windows looking at the coast. They don’t really have windows like we do, they’re more like oversized venetian blinds that are glass rather than metal. As soon as we settled in and looked at the menus the sky began to cry. Every day a rainstorm like I’ve never seen before sweeps the entire island causing the freeways to flood and people to run for cover before they drown in the downpour. Because of where we were sitting and the inability to shut the windows of the restaurant we were chased from our table to one across the room unless we intended to take a shower while eating dinner.

At the new table we sat down and the waitress came to order drinks. Gabriel’s mother and sister both ordered Heinekens and he and I had water. After that we studied our menus for a few minutes and everyone decided what they wanted, except for me of course.

“What do you want to eat hun” Gabriel asked me.

“I have no idea,” I replied confused. “What should I have?”

“Did you like the fish I had at the restaurant in Ponce” he suggested to me.

I recalled the nice piece of redsnapper in a sauce that he had one night so I agreed with that. I really would have ordered something on my own, only I didn’t know a lick of Spanish and the entire menu was, of course, in Spanish. I guess I should have been used to depending on Gabriel by then. The entire trip down there I had to rely on him to translate everything for me, his brain must have been fried by the time I left. You would think there would be more English around the island since it is an American commonwealth and it is a huge tourist trap. I guess everywhere I was, the tourists weren’t and Puerto Ricans are very stubborn about their language. Many people refused to speak English to me, even though they knew how, including the majority of Gabriel’s family.

The waitress came around again with the drinks and took the orders from the table. I felt extremely inferior to everyone in the building and my mood was quickly matching that of the sky outside. I really wished I had taken Spanish in highschool like everyone else. Instead I became nearly fluent in a dying language, German, just to understand my family members, and in case I ever wanted to visit the “homeland.” But now I find myself in a relationship with a guy from a completely different culture than mine. English is his second language and though he still isn’t perfect in it I’m very impressed with his ability to converse and argue with me just as well as everyone else.

The table remained fairly quiet since I didn’t speak Spanish and they refused to speak English, it felt rude to converse in either language. It was alright with me though, since I was busy looking at everything in the restaurant and trying to find words on the menu that I understood. I figured that it would be a quiet and uneventful meal.

The waitress returned, once again, with our platters. Gabriel, his mother, and sister all received shrimp and salads and I was the last to be served. All eyes at the table turned to me, the patrons across the room glanced over inquiringly and my dinner stared at me. It stared at me with a bulging lifeless eye. I was shocked and repulsed by what I saw. I imagined in horror that it would come back to life and dance around the table like the gingerbread man singing “catch me if you can.” But worse, it just laid there, staring, condemning me to the hottest rings of hell.

When I had ordered fish, I expected it would be a fillet, instead it was au natural. All they did to it was gut it and fry it, leaving head, tail, skin, and horny fins for me. Embarrassment reddened my sunburnt cheeks, bile rose to my throat as the smell of the shriveled, coddled skin rose to my nose.

I didn’t know what to do, all eyes were on me, including my dinner’s. My appetite had fled the scene already and I wanted to follow it. But I couldn’t, instead I had two choices. I could swallow my stomach and eat the fish, or I could insult the restaurant and my companions by refusing the meal.

Since Gabriel’s mother was paying for the meal, I decided to close my eyes, plug my nose and eat the creature. With, I’m sure, a disgusted look on my face I started scraping the skin off the fish. As much as I picked at the fish I couldn’t take a bite. The fish mocked me, pleaded with me, and condemned me with that eye. I couldn’t eat something that was looking at me. There was only one thing to do. I put my crumpled napkin over its face, hiding that cruel and pitiful eye.

The moment I did that the table erupted with laughter. The American girl, once again, had embarrassed herself to the enjoyment of others. With a heavy and sickened stomach I ate the meat of the fish and picked at its carcass until they took the plate away.

I made an oath that day that I will never eat fish in Puerto Rico again. And I don’t plan on visiting there again until I know enough Spanish to order my own food so I will never have to go eye to eye with my dinner.