A cow?
Wednesday, February 6th, 2008The charades start early in Nicaragua. We can tell our surly waitress hates her job and we complicate it by not knowing the Spanish words for cooked egg styles. She makes a circle with her fingers. We say ¨Si¨. We get sunny side up, and a friendly bystander lets us know we could have ordered ¨revuelto¨ (scrambled eggs) instead of ¨entero¨.
Later, we pile into an inevitably crowded Blue Bird school bus, and a seat magically appears for Cara courtesy of some gentleman. We celebrate in successfully paying our fare with correct change and the bus driver understanding our destination. The driver always gruffly tells us when to get off the bus, either because he´s being helpful or he doesn´t want to give us a free ride. We don´t complain because it´s always at the right spot.
Deposited at our destination of the day, we frequently become lost. Fortunately, coffee farmers, giggling children, or cowboys are usually at hand. The farmers are patient to talk with us, enjoying the break, but the stoic cowboys just shake their heads and point.
We can´t stereotype the Nicaraguan personality, but we´re thankful for the majority who just keep on talking to us in spite of our blank stares and throw in helpful gestures to keep the conversation going. We try to get a little less frustrating to talk to every day, but everyone enjoys a good game of charades.
Adam