Hello all. I have many stories to tell and no time for absurd explanations about why I couldn't post earlier and/or more. This will likely go on for pages and pages, though, so maybe the best explanation I can offer is that I have chosen quantity (of words in a single blog) over quantity (of actual blog postings).
First, as a few of you may know, I am making a trip up to Calgary for a little over a week. In fact, I am typing this very posting in the airport in Managua. It's a wonderful airport (it reminds me a lot of the Saskatoon airport) but it does get a little bit ominous when a third of the people around you are wearing masks. That's right, the swine flu panic has struck! Every day the TV news has a scary montage with excessive fire and red tint along with the heading "deadly flu". I know that it is a serious situation, but the panic is a little excessive (although the president here more or less declared that there was absolutely nothing Nicaragua could do to treat the flu if it takes hold here. Only 3,500 treatments are currently available in the whole country). My favourite news headline, however, was the one about the governments of Brazil and Peru (I think) asking that the name be changed from swine flu to Mexican flu so as to not adversely affect their pig industry. There's nothing like finger-pointing during a pandemic.
There's also nothing like irrational questions during a pandemic. I was standing in the check-in line at the airport when out of nowhere, a lady came up to me and said "are you leaving because of swine flu?". It was actually weirder than happening out of nowhere, because I saw her approaching from about 100 meters away. It was as though she spotted me from afar and then walked some distance with the express purpose of asking me that question. I did a quick assessment of the situation and came up with the following two responses:
-1) Look at her very confusedly and ask why, if I was trying to escape swine flu, I would leave a country with no confirmed cases and only a few suspected cases, travel through three airports in 24 hours, and end up in a country with several confirmed cases (while passing through another country with even more cases). I would continue and point out that although my understanding of pandemic influenza is limited to browsing the WHO website, I kind of think that if "escaping the flu" was my objective, I would be much, much better off staying in my isolated home in Esteli where I don't really get out much (more on this later, by the way) and have a bottle of Purel.
or
-2) Pretend I don't speak English and not dignify her question with any sort of response.
I chose the latter.
In an unrelated airport story, the song mix at the Managua airport is incredible. I've been given the chance to listen to my hero Avril, catchy pop, some song that keeps repeating the very relevant "I'm going home" (I have reason to believe, given the frequency of its repetition, that the song is in fact called "Going Home" or "I'm Going Home"). I also get to listen to the catchiest, corniest, poppiest Spanish song ever. I don't know what it's called but it repeats "Esperar" over and over so I'm going to go ahead and guess that the title is just that.
Enough airport and swine flu stories, though, because Esteli is as much of a crazy occurrence hub as ever (also, that lady just walked by me and I feel as though I should write about things that are not about her in case she is the "read over your shoulder" type.
The first observation that I would like to share is about the bluntness of Nicaraguans. There is absolutely no need to try to guess what people are thinking because they will go ahead and tell you. For example, the three housemates were having dinner with an Esteliano friend some time ago when the topic of conversation turned to the Spanish language. Instead of talking about how Spanish is easier to learn than English or about the differences between the two languages, she goes ahead and says "I think that Vince's Spanish is better than Amy's". How does one respond to such a statement which in this case was doubly strange because not only was it blunt, it was incorrect. Amy's Spanish has saved me on numerous occasions. The comparison between Amy's Spanish and my Spanish is like street smarts and book smarts. Amy has the former, and knows what to yell at men that hiss at her (e.g., "you should be ashamed you dirty old man, I could be your daughter, fuck off and go to hell" (the latter point being much more of an insult here in a very religious culture)). My Spanish, however, sits in the latter. If a man hissed at me, which has yet to happen mind you, my response would be more like "the Spanish word for cucumber is pepino. Pepino."
Back to bluntness. I was out at a bar (again, I know!) with the organization that I am working with and out of the blue, one of them says "you don't get out a lot, do you?" This was really, really weird because: 1) she was right, 2) this came out of nowhere. It's not as if I said something socially awkward, danced strangely, committed a taboo, etc. that might have tipped her off, and 3) these are things that people normally think or whisper behind my back and not things that people share. It hurt. Also at that bar, I had a horrible cheese experience (which was the first in a long, long time because I have been very, very vigilant). The group ordered a platter of appetizers and I picked up what in the darkness of the bar looked like a fry. I took a big bite and almost gagged because this fry was actually a death sentence: cheese cut into fry shape. I very subtly spat it into my napkin and even more subtly threw the remaining cheese fry portion across the room. You might be thinking, Vince, didn't the texture, subtle mushiness, and droopiness of the cheese fry tip you off. You have obviously never eaten a fry here. The words greasy, droopy, soggy, cold, and mushy don't really even do them justice.
As if to prove to you and everyone in the Internet world that I do get out, let me share you a story from a restaurant. Actually many restaurants. This is about waiter's tendencies here. They hover. All of them. It is incredibly strange. They bring you menus and then stand literally three feet away from the table staring at you. It is very hard to select a meal under pressure. Then, a few minutes into your meal, the waiter will return to his or her (waitress in that case, I suppose) spot three feet from you and stare at you until you finish your plate. This is not just one waiter or one restaurant, either. This happens nearly every place you go to eat. I don't really know the rationale behind it. I suppose it results in prompt service, but it's downright weird.
Switching topics, my Yahtzee high score is now at 506 (woo!) and my videos are not postable for whatever reason. I think that Ted Turner may have caught wind of my undercover video plan and, given his control of the universe, has shut down my ability to post videos on the Internet. I don't know what his problem is with coconuts, though, because I can't post those videos either. Maybe one fell on his head one day (there are, I am told, quite a few people that die this way in tropical countries every year).
While swine flu may be spreading, there is already a different epidemic in Esteli that I have not yet shared with you. That is the epidemic known as PDA (public displays of affection). The on-street, in-public groping, licking, kissing, saliva-swapping, dry-humping, other humping, lip locking that goes on in Esteli is, in my humble opinion, insane. I walked by a car parked along the sidewalk the other day and am reasonably certain that there was a baby being made in there. Granted it was dark, but it was also only 8:00PM. Have some decency. What make me the most uncomfortable about the PDA (these are not little pecks, by the way, there is a clear exchange of saliva. The WHO would not be impressed) is where to look. If a turn a corner and am greeted by a couple pressed up against a wall, do I cross the street? Do I turn around? Do I maintain the awkward eye contact or look at something else? Normally I awkwardly look at my wrist (where a watch used to be but hasn't been for 3 months) and maintain eye contact with a freckle until I am well past the situation in question. The other question becomes, though, where do the PDAers' friends look? Quite often, the long lip lock appears to be some sort of goodbye outside of someone's house. There is almost always a third party, though, just sitting on his motorcycle waiting for his buddy to be done so that they can ride off. There is nothing quite as funny as seeing a big macho man break off what I can only assume was an, ahem, intimate kiss with his girlfriend and then jumping on the back of his friend's motorcycle, grabbing hold of his friend's waist, and riding off into the sunset with his friend. It's even funnier when it's a bicycle and not a motorcycle (and "back of bike" refers to the pegs and/or the handlebars).
My flight is boarding soon. I have more to share but no more free internet connections until I get home tonight so I will share what I've typed. Publish post!
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