Speaking of tires (do you see why that extraneous sentence was necessary?), there were two very exciting tire incidents in the last couple of weeks. First, I was so excited to tell you all about my experience as bus assistant on the ride back from Miraflor that I completely forgot to tell you that one of the bus’ tires exploded about 30 minutes outside of town. Here we were, rumbling down a hill at speeds that should be illegal (and probably are), careening around turns, when all of a sudden, we hear an enormous bang and smoke and dust (as well as the horrendous smell of burnt rubber) rise from the left side of the bus. The sound was incredible. So incredible, in fact, that it made the five foreigners on the bus jump in fright (one of us screamed) and everyone else blink. I don’t think that the chicken lady even moved. This must happen often. Anyways, the bus didn’t stop, so we figured that it was just waiting to get to flat ground. When we got to the flat ground, though, we kept right on rumbling along, apparently content to drive on five tires instead of six (the bus has two tires on each side of the back). Safety is totally over-rated.
In the second tire related incident, I was cooking some supper (pasta and tomato/veggie sauce) when all of a sudden there was an enormous bang outside. Thinking that (1) the apocalypse had come just as our evangelical neighbours have been predicting in their songs or (2) our street, one of the only two-way streets in the central part of Estelí, had finally hosted its first accident, I ran to the door, spatula in hand (to protect me from the apocalypse and/or scrape accident-remnants from our wall). What I saw was even weirder than options 1 and 2. There were children playing, people sitting and chatting, and dogs sleeping. When I asked what had happened (and why there weren’t dead people around), someone said that a bus tire had blown up. No one had even flinched. The bus was gone so apparently it, too, was content cruising along missing a tire.
Bus incident aside, we did still have to eat that night and unfortunately my cookery skills (which I like to think are epic) took a bit of a hit. We had been sitting outside with our neighbour and invited her over for supper. I should have seen her reaction to my food coming because when we told her that we were having pasta and tomato/veggie sauce, her response was “is that all?” Once inside, and with our bowls in front of us, she asked where the vegetables were. Confused, I listed all of the veggies in the sauce: green peppers, red peppers, tomatoes, onions… She then made the bold claim that those aren’t vegetables. I thought that we were going to get into this weird “tomato is actually a fruit” discussion (it is), but was surprised that her definition of vegetable depends on nothing else but the size of a vegetable. Apparently my sauce didn’t have vegetables because it didn’t have “large” vegetables, like plantains, carrots, or cucumber. She didn’t explain to me what exactly my vegetables were defined as, but did assure me that they weren’t vegetables. Also, she didn’t like the pasta. Who doesn’t like pasta? It doesn’t really taste like anything. She will likely not come over for supper again.
This same neighbour, you may remember, is the same person who took my picture in the community centre while I was being artsy and admiring art stuff. She must be completely unable to sleep over this because every time I talk to her, she brings it up. I think that we may have achieved some closure over the meal, though. Trying to explain herself (and not realizing that (1) had she not said anything earlier I would have had no clue that she was the one to take my picture and (2) I don’t really care anymore), she provided me with her rationale on that fateful February day. Apparently, she took my picture because she thought she’d never see me again (a strange ethical standard, but to each his or her own, I suppose). Also, it wasn’t even her camera (it was her friend’s) and she doesn’t have the picture anymore. Also, had she known that I would end up as her neighbour, she totally wouldn’t have taken the picture (rule of thumb, folks. Before doing anything, you should ask yourself: what if this person moves in across the street from me in three weeks?). And with those deep confessions, apparently her conscience (sp?) was cleared. She can sleep soundly once again. Unless she has nightmares about my pasta dish.
That was my last story but I will share that I met someone yesterday named Lesbia. I had to get her to repeat it a few times and still don’t really want to use her name. It was awkward.
I unfortunately have no TED Talk factoid because things have been rather busy and my study breaks have been taken up mostly by Minesweeper. I also don’t have a Yahtzee update, despite playing dozens of games while I was recovering from my heat stroke yesterday (an ongoing process) and despite recently starting to sneak Yahtzee into the washroom. Maybe that’s what made me sick…
I do, however, have pictures for you. Enjoy them heartily. I have included Dutch captions because when I was recently asked to speak French, I found myself physically incapable of doing so (it was scary because it all came out as Spanish). I do not want the same thing to happen to my beloved mother tongue.
Dit is een foto van mij vakantie met Rebecca. Op ons laatste dag bij de Laguna de Apoyo (en meer de in de crater van en volkaan is), waaren wij heel vroeg op ge staan om wat aapen te zoeken. Wij hadden success in dit is de foto van de eerste aap dat wij hebben gezien. Daarna hadden wij nog en paar meer gezien (en gehoord- ze makken ontzetend veel geluid), maar deze eerste was heel spannend! Ons cameras hebben niet zo groot zoom, zo dit has de beste dat wij had kunnen doen.
Please take care of yourself! I don't like hearing that you're sick...
ReplyDeleteGlad to hear you're still out there, though. I tried to read the captions and only understood probably 20% of what you were saying. Maybe tomorrow I'll google translate.
Take care of yourself!