The Boy on a Dolphin, Grown Older and Wiser
I met a traveler from an antique land.
He was riding a Dolphin. No, really. He was the type of philosopher who used to drop a flag when he met you. He spoke no English — he said. He did not lie. I don’t think his interior regions were arranged with room for the organ that permitted true prevarication. I wondered how humans, who are all brothers when you get right down to it, can be assembled so differently, because there’s always been plenty of room in me for one. But words are tricky things. I speak no English. Examine that fabulation closely, and get back to me.
You had to find the key to his lock. Entiendo un poco espanol, senor. Buen dia. Nos gusta mucho su ciudad. Then his accented English appeared like a ship on the horizon, sails full, coming into port. He was thoughtful in an offhand way, and wise. It became his city because I had awarded it to him in clumsy castellano.
He said most extranjeros made no effort, and effort that is not made cannot be rewarded. He did not see many Americans. He wondered where we were from, in particular, and why it made us the way we were. I had not thought of that. He was all of a sudden a simple, goodhearted Spengler, wondering if we were rootless, sargasso floating on any warm water that would support us, or arboles, pulling our life from the ground below us and the peculiar sky above us.
He laughed at the imaginary friction between our countries, and called it that. We said that la gente de la ciudad es muy amable, y feliz, and it suited us. He told us that he meant no harm, but Americans seemed to him to be caught up in a spiral, always climbing, looking for more, grasping at a higher rung on an endless ladder. He did not understand it, or did not like it, I’m not sure which. But he said that when a man and his family have enough to eat, and a roof over their heads, their minds should be tranquilo. He used that word.
Tranquilo is a Spanish adjective that means calm, peaceful, or relaxed. It can describe a person, place, or situation that is free from stress, noise, or disturbance.
I know enough about Spanish to know that it’s more malleable than it first appears. Subtle. Manana can mean tomorrow, or later, or never. And tranquilo can mean more than the dictionary can offer.
It dawned on me that I was riding a Dolphin with a Mexican Buddha, a Mayan Epictetus. And it made me tranquilo.

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