La Epifania

One day during the break between classes at La Epifania I was talking with one of the teachers, a very sweet woman in her 40s. She told me about how much she enjoyed meeting the volunteers from all over the world, and especially those most interesting people of all, the Israelis. Her eyes wide open, she sounded like she was talking about unicorns. "These people," she said in Spanish, "who believe that the Messiah never came!" She spoke without judgement, just pure awe and wonder. She absolutely could not wait for her next opportunity to talk with a Jew. A week later I met a drunk Nicaraguan fellow in a bar who simply did not believe me when I said I wasn´t Jewish. I stopped arguing and started replying to him with "Shalom" and "Baruch atah adonoi." He told me that he was a friend of Jews, and that he came from a very powerful family and would give me protection.



La Parrillada
One morning, exhausted from a late night and coming off several days of a head cold, I tagged along to the house of a friend of a friend for a barbeque. I really just wanted to stay in bed but had already said I would come. We headed over, met the couple who owns the house (Felipe and Margarita), and then up to the market to buy the chicken and frescos (sugary juices in a bag). The parrillada started off slowly, some chairs in the backyard under the fruit trees and a boom box blasting Nicaraguan dance music. Friends and relatives - or possibly all relatives - came by and took seats, and the grilling started a few feet away. The preferred way to start ignite the coals was with a twisted up plastic bag. I watched from my chair as the smoke blew my way.

The food was served fast and everyone started eating. I turned down shots of rum several times, explaining that I was hung-over and had to work on a lesson in the afternoon...this excuse sufficed, but never for more than thirty seconds. At one point Juan leaned over and told me that Felipe said I was now considered family, which made me wildly uncomfortable, and a few minutes later the entire gathering starting egging me on to dance - first with Ivania, then with Maria. Maria was sitting next to her boyfriend, nobody else was dancing, and it didn´t make a difference that I claimed not to know how to dance. "That´s ok," said Juan, "we´ll all be clapping!" I blew my nose and asked if maybe anyone else cared to dance in my place. Eventually they let me be, and Felipe took me on spin around the town and the lakefront on his motorcycle. We stopped at a couple different docks and stared at the lake. I would say things like "wow" and "yup, it sure is beautiful!" and Felipe would say, at the very most, "tranquilo." This either meant that the lake was tranquilo or that I needed to relax.



On the Street
When you pass someone on the street in Nicaragua, you can hello if you like, but you can also say "adios." It makes sense - a chance encounter on the street is equal parts walking toward and walking away, and there really isn´t any logical reason we should choose one or the other. But nobody ever says a Spanish equivalent of "and there you are," which I think would be just great.