İBuenos Huevos!
Translation: Good Eggs!
Unfortunately, that was Dawn’s attempt at wishing Christina
a good night. We will forgive her, even if the natives will not. Saturday was
yet another day of painting and roof repair intermittent with frequent breaks
in the shade with a Fresca in hand. The heat was unbearable at times, the heat
a tangible force resting overhead. Imagine drops of sweat trickling down your
back and feel the scorching sun almost bubble your white gringo skin. Now
imagine with me your hand dropping into a cooler filled to the brim with ice
bags and bottled soda. Beads of condensation roll from the glass surface as it emerges
from its icy lair. I may be in love with anything cold, especially after
confronting the suns glare, white skin and all. I am extraordinarily thirsty
right now. Why did I do this to myself? Anyway, Saturday was not consumed
entirely with work jobs around the church. At 12:00, we walked a short distance
through the cobblestone streets to one of the family’s home. We served us what
they call a Dirty Face. The name becomes self-explanatory, when you try to bite
into the deep fried tortilla with bean paste, cabbage, crema, and shredded
cheese on top. We ate the meal in a round of chairs amongst the roaming
chickens and stirring dust. A canopy from a mango tree thrusted from the ground
shading our exhausted yet content convoy. The following evening the boys played
soccer in the nearby park with some of the local children, whilst the girls
decorated bags with fabric markers. According to Selena (a local girl), I am a Picasso.
I felt special only before she informed some of us girls that they were also
Picassos. From stories, I heard that in the moments before supper, the boys
experienced the full force of the sweltering heat; their jean pants captured
and retained the heat creating their own personal stoves. Saturday’s supper was
a taste of home; the meal consisted of pizza, soda, and chips. A greasy
favorite of many America folks. After the meal, we all enjoyed a competitive
game of corn hole. (Even if Gary, born and raised in Georgia, insisted that it
is called bean hole.) Jenna and I took the loss on that one when we faced the
old hotdogs (One of Gary’s favorite terms for people), Dwayne and Ken. At any rate,
the evening was filled with laughing and fun. A quick update on the small
creepy crawlers, we did find a scorpion in one of girl’s shoes. He got smashed
within a heartbeat. RIP, little guy. Dawn also found a big black spider about
the size of a car…’s door…’s handle. I smashed that thing with Dawn’s shoe,
unbeknownst to her, however she did later inform me that she did not appreciate
that in the least. Well, better that than a spider crawling over our toes at
night. Before I conclude my portion of the blog, I most describe our living conditions,
which I found incredibly agreeable. When I first walked through the blue hall
leading to the main area I was greeted with sun beams floating from an open
courtyard and palm trees blowing in the warn breeze. Tropical plants lined the
tiled walkways and wild parrots and birds’ incessantly squeaked from above. The
family that hosted us had a beautiful green parrot named Chipper, who quickly
became Jenna’s boyfriend. Hammocks hang from pole to pole and even now, I sit
in a hammock chair while typing madly away at the keys. There is certainly vicissitudes
about Nicaragua, huts and litter are present in certain sectors of the Leon while
grand houses erupt from the ground in others. However, I have enjoyed myself
immensely so far even if I am constantly sweating.
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