Lost in Translation: The Casa Cantina Investigation
Review by Sarah Tonin
Summary
Small Mexican restaurant with approximately 2.5 things to look at (if you count your server.)
Friendly RP service in three languages: English, Spanish, and Duolingo
Staff make graceful victims for linguistic terrorism
Private-access restaurant area
Straightforward, friendly booking process, open to special requests
From the Almost-Paranormal Investigation Files of Sarah Tonin
Violet is fluent in five languages: English, innuendo, muffled distress, Mancunian, and that thing where you shoot a look at someone across the room to say, "Would you check out her dress?" What she's not fluent in, however, is Spanish.
As for me? I'm only bilingual: English and Duolingo. My fluency level in the latter is "23-day streak" and consists mainly of accusing owls of being Anki cards before bed. In terms of practical applications, this is about the level where you start loud-talking menu items at native speakers with a confidence bordering on phonetic.
"I need actual food," Violet insisted. "If I have to eat gas station sushi one more time, I will personally feed you to the next Bigfoot we encounter."
"Okay," I conceded, more than fine not to be wondering whether the fake crab was real-fake or just fake-fake. "Mexican?"
"Perfect. I'll wear my normal-person clothes instead of the ones with all the pockets."
Not long after, I'd secured a reservation at Casa Cantina, apparently run by Lifestyle Inc. - the same company behind the Aspen resort where Violet had a missed connection with Bigfoot. We were almost safely out the door when the inevitable happened: a text from Dirk.
"Was monitoring your communication channels, can see you've booked Casa Cantina. Heard reports of peppers having ghosts."
I showed my phone to Violet, who rolled her eyes so hard I felt dizzy. "No," she said definitively. "Not happening. We're having one normal dinner without hunting for Bigfoot or Nessie or Beelzebub or the Easter Bunny."
I put my phone away. Who was I to tell Dirk ghost peppers are just really spicy?
Investigation Note: Reservations at Casa Cantina require either contacting Lifestyle Inc. on Facebook or hunting down a Lifestyle Inc. representative in-world. Once located, staff were responsive and accommodated a request for a preferred server, Lil, who had taken care of us at the Aspen Winter Ski Resort.
¡Hola!
We arrived at the restaurant and found it occupies a beachfront corner surrounded by lush foliage and scenic pools. It's private and picturesque, offering pleasant views and absolutely nothing else to do. Perfect for focused dining and narco-terrorist hostage storage.
At the entrance we were greeted by our server, Lil. She delivered a fairly convincing "Bienvenidas" while wearing what I can only assume is the standard Lifestyle Inc. restaurant uniform. Unlike the Aspen resort's white-on-white-on-white, her fit involved darker tones, a tie, and no danger of snow blindness.
"Oh-LA yo soy Sarah. Way nose tar days," I announced with absolute certainty. The pause that followed gave me time to wonder if today would count toward my streak.
"Sarah says, 'Hi, my name's Sarah. Good afternoon,'" Violet helpfully translated. "She's got fluent Duolingo. Nice to see you again, Lil."
Lil's smile remained professionally fixed. "De nada," she replied, turning to lead us to our table. Her polite facade was without fault, and I wondered what the Lifestyle Inc. employee manual had to say about strangling guests with your bare hands.
"Wait," I whispered to Violet as we moved through the restaurant. I was beginning to doubt how normal this dinner would be in the end. "Don't you think it's suspicious that we got the same server we had in Aspen?"
Violet wasn't listening, but she did manage a slight smile. Her eyes followed Lil with lasered focus. "Why, you think she remembers me?"
Investigation Note: Casa Cantina occupies a small parcel with limited exploration options beyond the restaurant itself. The design is pleasant, if somewhat basic, with more focus on the dining experience rather than immersive exploration. There are a few places to sit and relax outside after dinner, but the options are limited; this would be an easy area for improvement.
A Three-Course Exercise in Linguistic Terrorism
Our table of choice, the Cantina Aqua View, turned out to mean the same in Duolingo as it does in Spanish: it's a table, and you can see water from it. Revolutionary stuff; the marketing team must have been doing something more important that day.
Still, the atmosphere was pleasant. An upscale casual vibe with sea breeze to barely conceal the smell of new construction - we'd located the anchor tenant of a beachfront getaway that didn't expect much business: repeat or local. Everything expensive and new; nothing says "hot holiday" like low input costs and thinly-veiled money laundering.
"This reminds me of that place in Aspen," Violet noticed, opening her menu. "Same energy."
"Same owners," I reminded her without looking up from my phone. Google translate had just helpfully reminded me what "mole de panza" was. Lil reappeared to take our orders.
Violet's menu had been closed for minutes. She handed it off to her amuse-bouche and ordered without looking. "I'll have two margaritas and one prix fixe. Sarah?"
"Para me, uno mar-guh-REE-tas," Here I stumbled as my brain was unwilling to transmit the letter 'y' to my lips all by its lonesome. "En-chee-LAY-dahs con POLLO, con KAY-so?"
When you're trying to be understood in another language, question marks are to comprehension as raising one's voice is to polite manners. Lil stared at me blankly.
"Sarah means she'll have--" I cut Violet off before she could do the Duolingo-to-English translation.
"Tambien," I said, pointing at Violet. "Gracias."
"De nada," Lil replied over her shoulder, turning away. Without consulting my phrasebook, I began to wonder if this wasn't Lifestyle Inc. slang for "please stop talking."
Investigation Note: While Casa Cantina doesn't offer much to do beyond the dining experience, the RP service was consistent and patient, even when faced with our less-than-conventional conversation topics. Lil maintained her composure admirably throughout our meal, though her steady repetition of "de nada" became something of an unintentional catchphrase.
¿Dónde Está La Biblioteca?
By the eighth "de nada" of the evening, it had become something like a running joke. I thanked Lil for every dish with the confidence of someone who had once watched half an episode of Narcos, and she'd just "de nada" me straight back to Duolingo.
"Do you think she says that in her sleep?" I wondered to nobody in particular - least of all my dining partner - after an especially enthusiastic "¡MOO-chas gracias por los tacos magnificos!"
"Probably," Violet replied, watching Lil walk away. "I bet she says a lot of things in bed."
Beyond her reflexive "de nada" habit, Lil's course descriptions took on that particular restaurant creole in which English sentences are punctuated not just with marks, but Spanish food words. Was this for our benefit, or was Casa Cantina simply falso?
When the main course arrived, I decided to try on a more complex sentence. I'd been saving this one. Even practiced it in the powder room. (Streak Society membership doesn't maintain itself.)
A deep breath. "¿Dónde está la biblioteca?" I inquired during her next visit to the table.
Lil blinked. "¿Perdón?"
"The library," I repeated in (flawless) English. Her stare was so blank it could've been made from canvas. I mimed opening a book and tried speaking louder. "LI-BRARY. Where is it?"
"We don't have a library," she explained and went on to add, "This is a restaurant."
"I know that," I hissed, feeling Violet's stare burning into the side of my head. So much for having a normal, quiet dinner. "I was just making conversation."
"About... libraries?"
"It's the only complete sentence Duolingo taught--"
I paused, struck by sudden inspiration.
"De nada."
How the phrasebooks had turned. Lil removed herself from our table, clearly at a loss. But not without leaving the cheque.
Investigation Note: The dining experience at Casa Cantina follows a three-course structure with appetizers, main courses, and desserts. Service includes RP elements with occasional Spanish phrases interspersed throughout. Think of it like going to a tourist trap: you weren't really expecting an immersive cultural experience in the first place.
Postre
Three courses, twelve "de nadas," and uncountable flirtation attempts with our server later, we had successfully accomplished a normal dinner without uncovering any paranormal activity at all. The only question that remained was how Lifestyle Inc. managed to transport its employees from Aspen to Mexico on such short notice.
"You know, this was really nice," Violet said as we waited for our Uber after settling the bill. Lil had been tipped generously, Violet insisted. The final "de nada" of the evening had the depleted satisfaction of someone completing Couch to 5K. "No investigations, no danger, no reports to file. We should do this more often."
"It was boring, you mean," I countered, reflexively. But I couldn't convince myself I meant it. Really, it actually was kind of nice. Just dinner. No notebooks, paranormal investigation gear, not a hijink to be found. Good food, better company, a waitress as confused as my cognates. "Do you think Dirk was serious about the ghost--"
Violet cut me off. "I'm sure he was just messing with you."
We are happy to file this non-investigation of Casa Cantina as conclusively non-paranormal. If you're in the mood to practice your Duolingo, it's worth a visit, but the limited nature of the experience makes it hard to recommend strongly.
Still, if you do end up going? Don't eat the ghost peppers. You wouldn't want the texts I get.
Booking Details
Reservations can be made by contacting a Lifestyle representative in-world or through their Facebook page. Pricing varies by table style:
Basic tables start at L$1,500
The Cantina Aqua View experience costs L$2,500
Banquet seating for up to 20 people is available for L$4,800
