Hemingway’s “Hills Like White Elephants” Where the Hills Really Are White Elephants

The hills across the valley of the Ebro were long and white.

“They look like white elephants,” said the girl.

“Whatever,” shouted the man, not bothering to look up. “Waitress,” he shouted to the señorita behind the bar, “nueve cervezas.” He thought that “nueve” meant “two” in Spanish.

“Do you think things will be the same when… Sorry. The hills just moved.”

“Don’t be silly. Hills don’t move,” he shouted.

“I know hills don’t move. That’s why I was so surprised. Look for yourself.”

The man turned to face the hills. “Jesus Christ!” he shouted. “Those are elephants!”

“White elephants,” said the girl, vindicated. “That’s what I said.”

“And not just elephants! Elephants the size of hills! God help us all! Also, they’re white.”

“I just said that.”

“Nueve cervezas,” said the waitress. She was carrying a tray full of beers.

“Señorita,” said the girl. She pointed toward the horizon. “Look! Giant elephants!”

The waitress turned her head. “Jesus fucking Christ!” she exclaimed. She dropped the tray on the table and ran back into the bar.

“I’m going to shoot them,” shouted the man.

“What?” asked the girl. “Why?”

“Because that’s what you do with elephants. Shoot them. Did you notice my safari jacket?”

“You’re a psychopath. They’re probably endangered.” The girl turned to the young waitress cowering behind the bar. “Señorita?” she asked. “Are there elefantes in Spain?”

“No,” she said in her simple English. “Elephants are native to Africa—comprising bush elephants and forest elephants—as well as Asia, mostly on the subcontinent. The last time elephants were in Spain was 218 B.C. when Hannibal led them through on the way into Italy. He consistently frustrated the Roman armies and might have won the war had he received more support from home. When Scipio attacked Carthage itself, Hannibal was recalled from Italy. He eventually suffered a humiliating defeat at Zama.”

“She knows a lot about elephants,” shouted the man.

“And the Second Punic War,” said the girl.

He tried to change the subject. “Why do you think the waitress brought us nine beers? I clearly said ‘nueve cervezas.’”

“ ‘Nueve’ means ‘nine,’ you moron,” said the girl.

“Ah!” shouted the man. “That would explain my burgeoning alcoholism. Bee tee dubs, I made you a doctor’s appointment for Tuesday. You’ll love it, trust me.”

She did not trust him.

He picked up their bags and carried them around the station to the other tracks. He moved his eyebrows up and down suggestively at the waitress when the girl wasn’t looking.

“Señorita,” the girl asked the waitress once the man had left, “do you think I…”

“Leave him,” she interrupted.

“Did you know,” said the girl with sudden clarity, “that he refers to himself as ‘the man’ and me as ‘the girl’?”

The pop of the rifle resounded across the valley. The tiny bullet had no effect on the hill-sized behemoth. The white elephant bent down and ate the man.

The waitress scratched her head. “Elefantes,” she said, “are normally herbivores.”

“If I have a baby in Spain, will it have EU citizenship?” the woman asked the waitress.

“Sí, señora. Now come inside before you get trampled to death.”

The woman smiled brightly at the waitress to thank her.

“I feel fine,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with me. I feel fine.”