Oh siesta... how I have come to hate you...

I apologize for my tardiness, but you were absolutely right to be worried. After three weeks in Estelí, I came down with my first debilitating stomach ailment. It took me out of commission for about two days (though, forever a nerd, I did go to class...). I suppose that by "out of commission" I really mean "put me on a diet of water and Pringles". Food-related illnesses, in my very modest experience, seem to be both a blessing and a curse. A curse in that they strike very quickly and make you feel like your insides are crawling their way towards your skin but a blessing in that as soon as the bacterium/infiltrator in question has exited your body, the recovery is almost instantaneous. I know that you are all wondering what could possibly have made me sick. I´m pleased to announce that I have created a game to answer that question. Here is my menu for the day in question. See if you can spot the meal and food item that made me sick:
Breakfast: (preceded by "I don´t want you to get bored of fruit". Obviously my subtle and not-so-subtle ("fruit is sooooooo good") remarks about the all-fruit breakfast have not been successful)
-3 fried eggs
-Two "cheese balls" (actually "cuajo" or some cow stomach) with chile peppers
-4 tortillas

Lunch:
-Rice
-Stir fry
-Veggies on the side

Snack:
-Cherry strudel at a bakery

Dinner:
-Skipped as I lay crippled in bed from 5:30PM until 6:30AM

Can you guess the guilty meal? What about the guilty item? Killer Bunnies players may be familiar with the "quite irrascible, defractable cheese balls". These were much, much deadlier. The funny part is, when I played this game (the food poisoning game, not Killer Bunnies... can you imagine explaining the rules to that in a different language? Wow.) with my homestay mom, she was convinced, absolutely convinced, that the guilty party was the strudel. THE STRUDEL?!? Why, you ask? Because while we interpret the game of "which one of these is not like the other" to identify the mystery cow stomach cheese balls, she interpreted it to identify the one item that I consumed outside of the house that day (I had the strudel at a bakery). She actually tried to convince me that when she eats something sweet after a big lunch, she has similar symptoms to those I described. I still do not believe her but do appreciate her valiant attempts to defend Nicaraguan food. If you are taking her side on this, I would be happy to send you a sample of both the strudel and the cheese ball and you can conduct your own investigation. I would not recommend it.

In other news, I would like to discuss with you how annoying the afternoon siesta has become. From the hours of 12:00 until 2:00, with the exception of the stores on main street, the majority of stores in Estelí are closed. This is incredibly annoying as these hours correspond exactly to the hours that we are free from school (between the class and the activity). Take today, for example. While you are all benefiting from the two hour siesta, I´m only in this internet café because the barber (that´s right, I´m getting a haircut. I´m terrified. I get tongue-tied asking hair stylists and/or barbers to cut my hair in English so I can only imagine the style I will be getting this afternoon) and two other stores (I´m running some errands) are closed. Outrageous! I appreciate the health benefits of a siesta, but two hours is a bit of overkill, isn´t it? Couldn´t we make it an hour lunch break- half an hour to eat and half an hour to snooze? Don´t long naps make everyone other than me more tired anyways?

And now, a few stories that I may have shared already:
-Hector and I had a major falling out this week. He was playing with some blister packs of multivitamins and I decided that (1) he shouldn´t be eating those as candy (had he managed to open the packs) and (2) he should be learning that blister packs are not toys (apparently neither Curious George, The Backyardigans, Mister Maker, Lazy Town, or Princesas Del Mar have covered either of these life lessons). Since the television wasn´t going to take the blister packs away (that was a bit of a low blow against my homestay family. I apologize but do not take it back), I took it upon myself to do so and, after succeeding, brought the packs to his mom. Hector was not happy. That is an understatement. Thinking that I could follow through on lesson number two by showing him what actual toys are, once back in the living room, I rolled his large toy helicopter towards him and said something along the lines of "wow, what a cool toy." Hector obviously heard "this is a weapon that can be used for revenge against the mean stranger in my house" because he picked up the helicopter and hurled it at me. His aim was remarkable, especially considering that it was through tears, because he hit me squarely in the arm. Had I not been gently rocking in a rocking chair, it likely would have hit me in the face. Luckily three year olds have goldfish-esque memories and later in the day all was forgiven (on his part... I´m still holding a grudge).
-I had a wonderful Spanish class earlier this week where my teacher taught me a number of common phrases and words that she "hopes I never hear or use but should know anyways in case they come up" (I believe that Oma´s translation book once referred to this as "straat taal"). It was incredibly awkward for her as she spoke very softly and would erase the words from the white board almost instantly. My questions were also very awkward ("in what context would you use this?" "Is this derogatory or just descriptive?" "So, if I understand, when I see Person X doing Y to Person Z, I could appropriately comment to my friend using this expression?") but she was wonderfully patient with me.
-Because of the wind this past week, the door to the front porch area was closed. If you recall correctly, this is the door that Hector uses as his perch to pee. Whereas most people would take this door closure to mean either use the washroom or go to the back door if you insist on peeing outside, Hector took this to mean "pee on the couch next to the door". When he declared "I have to urinate" and walked to the couch, I lost it and ran screaming into the kitchen. Hector, scared that I was going to tattle on him, followed me and when his mom asked what was wrong, I stammered something about Hector having to pee. She directed him to the washroom and thanked me for telling her. I didn´t mention the couch. I also no longer sit on the couch or either of the comfy chairs, choosing instead the wicker rocking chair. No absorption there.