My host mom easily finds me in the busy city park (I’ve only seen a handful of obvious foreigners in the last week). I’m happy she has joined me to meet the friendly man I met riding the bus from the capital to Matagalpa. I get her okay, as she confirms he is indeed a retired gentleman who volunteers full-time running the local senior citizen rights organization. He is overflowing with history and advice for me that I gladly accept.
Sitting on the porch of my host mother’s parent’s house, I start to piece together how everyone is related. I didn’t catch all their names, but there are four generations sitting here talking and drinking coffee on a lovely Sunday afternoon. I feel a little underdressed, but very welcome.
My host mom and I return home, my host sister is on the couch watching tv with the lights out, I think I hear her say her son Bryan is sleeping. I head into my room –
“BWAAAA!!!!” screams Bryan jumping out from behind my door.
“AHHH!!!!” I retort in earnest. We laugh.
Bryan scared me once before, then I him, but now this is the 2nd or 3rd time he has gotten me without my reciprocation. At dinner, Bryan tells me that there was another student who went back and forth with him scaring each other. Ok, noted. I will up my game.
I gladly accepted my host sister’s invitation to see a play at a local women’s rights organization. After the live theatrical production of a suspenseful drama involving murder, the space transforms into an energetic restaurant/bar, with single folks and couples sitting around with confidence - lesbian, gay, and hetero all alike. The room is alive with conversation and laughter. I have only had half a beer when someone in our group posing the question of how many regular bottles of beer equal a liter bottle. I try to clarify that it is closer to three, not two and a half as was suggested. I explain, calculating out loud in Spanish, “Bueno, tres cientos cincuenta mili… mili-litros, va a dentro un mil mi-li-litros… pues tres veces de tres cientos cincuenta es… un mil… un mil cincuenta…” My unnecessarily long explanation in mediocre Spanish has lost them. Someone points out this sounds like a drunken argument. I concede. (For the record 2.86 350ml bottles equal 1L.)
Today I note that I already feel more comfortable walking down the street than on my first day. I know my route, how I can greet people appropriately, and know to look for the shady spots to protect me from the heat and my pale (yet ever-increasingly freckled) skin from burning. I may have to get myself an umbrella to use in the sun like my host mom uses.