Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Remember the Dutch girl?
About a week ago, I wrote about a Dutch girl who was particularly critical of the U.S. and who challenged me on the back of a pick-up truck. Well, we bumped into her in Leon, and she got my same haircut! FYI, in Nicaragua, ¨solo un pocito mas corte¨ means, ¨Give me what Hillary Clinton got.¨Ella, think the poof. But anyway, bad haircuts create bonding moments, and the Dutch girl and I are now friends.
In other news, Levi and I have started language school again, only this time, we´re the only students in the school. My teacher is super feministy, which is interesting. Today, we talked about incest and abortion. Joyous! Apparently certain parts of Nicaragua carry the tradition of fathers having sex with their daughters before their wedding day. This tradition has, as you can imagine, led to some birth defects. I can´t find anything about this online, but if anyone knows about it, do inform! Levi questioned whether my teacher meant tradition as we mean it, which was a good point. Either way, sex with your kid is, I think we can all agree, pretty nasty.
We spent our first night in Leon at Hostelito Vieje. It wasn´t until the next morning that we realized we were staying in a dank hole. No windows, concrete floors and spiderwebs everywhere. Our room could lock shut only with the help of one of those locks you find on a little girl´s diary, so it wasn´t exactly muy seguro. To boot, halfway through the night, halfway through the night, the tagboard wall separating us from the communal bathroom split apart. It was funny, though, because we were mortified by the quality of our room on our first night in Antigua. There, the walls were brightly painted, the mattresses had springs and there were windows looking out onto a lush courtyard. At the time, I suggested pulling out our sleeping bags. Now, I´m amazed by sheets without holes and blood stains that fit the bed.
We moved to this hostel called Big Foot, one of these super Wal-Mart hostels you find on the backpacker trail down here. Big Foot isn´t much prettier than the other joint -- the floors are concrete and our bed is set up on cinder blocks (and may be broken, as I was jumping on it today and it made a bad sound). But we prefer it because we´re allowed to use the restaurant´s kitchen, which has been an exercise in not pissing off the orderly Germans. Plus, it´s $8 for the night. Hard to beat that price.
(We know so many travelers now that we have bumped into four different groups of people we know from other places. At Big Foot, we are sleeping in the room next door to Manuel and Marie, a German-Canadian couple who we slept next door to in San Juan del Sur. The week before, we were in the same hostel as Manuel in Granada.)
(Note: Yes, yes, I know. Poquito, not pocito. Pocito would sound like po-see-toe. Not too bad a try though, considering that I just learned how to say, "My name is Isolde." I had been saying, "Me llama es Isolde." I thought that "llama" was the word for name. It´s not. My version translates to, roughly, "My she is named is Isolde." The correct way is "Me llamo Isolde." Translated: I am named Isolde.)
In other news, Levi and I have started language school again, only this time, we´re the only students in the school. My teacher is super feministy, which is interesting. Today, we talked about incest and abortion. Joyous! Apparently certain parts of Nicaragua carry the tradition of fathers having sex with their daughters before their wedding day. This tradition has, as you can imagine, led to some birth defects. I can´t find anything about this online, but if anyone knows about it, do inform! Levi questioned whether my teacher meant tradition as we mean it, which was a good point. Either way, sex with your kid is, I think we can all agree, pretty nasty.
We spent our first night in Leon at Hostelito Vieje. It wasn´t until the next morning that we realized we were staying in a dank hole. No windows, concrete floors and spiderwebs everywhere. Our room could lock shut only with the help of one of those locks you find on a little girl´s diary, so it wasn´t exactly muy seguro. To boot, halfway through the night, halfway through the night, the tagboard wall separating us from the communal bathroom split apart. It was funny, though, because we were mortified by the quality of our room on our first night in Antigua. There, the walls were brightly painted, the mattresses had springs and there were windows looking out onto a lush courtyard. At the time, I suggested pulling out our sleeping bags. Now, I´m amazed by sheets without holes and blood stains that fit the bed.
We moved to this hostel called Big Foot, one of these super Wal-Mart hostels you find on the backpacker trail down here. Big Foot isn´t much prettier than the other joint -- the floors are concrete and our bed is set up on cinder blocks (and may be broken, as I was jumping on it today and it made a bad sound). But we prefer it because we´re allowed to use the restaurant´s kitchen, which has been an exercise in not pissing off the orderly Germans. Plus, it´s $8 for the night. Hard to beat that price.
(We know so many travelers now that we have bumped into four different groups of people we know from other places. At Big Foot, we are sleeping in the room next door to Manuel and Marie, a German-Canadian couple who we slept next door to in San Juan del Sur. The week before, we were in the same hostel as Manuel in Granada.)
(Note: Yes, yes, I know. Poquito, not pocito. Pocito would sound like po-see-toe. Not too bad a try though, considering that I just learned how to say, "My name is Isolde." I had been saying, "Me llama es Isolde." I thought that "llama" was the word for name. It´s not. My version translates to, roughly, "My she is named is Isolde." The correct way is "Me llamo Isolde." Translated: I am named Isolde.)
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I agree that we can all agree that sex with your kid is nasty. love, sarah (todavia un poco borracha)
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