After a brief hiatus...
The night we returned from Estelí, sitting out on the patio to share photos of all things Estelí with María and Nina, the ground began to move; and after looking up at each other for a while saying “temblor…temblor” (tremor…tremor) we realized it was continuing, and got out to the outer patio next to the fountain, which was swishing sloppily back and forth spilling water on the red tile ground. Immediately after the quake stopped (it lasted a solid 30 seconds or more), María was on the phone calling such and such a girlfriend whose husband was off on business this weekend, etc., and assuring many that it was going to be okay and it was just a little temblorcito. The next morning we found out the quake measured about 6.2 Richter-wise, and did no damage; but it was clear that people were a bit spooked.
The next morning we got up early to visit my uncle Julio (the engineer who’d hosted the big family party) at his private beach house, near Pochomil. Firstly, the beach was practically deserted; we at first attributed this it being a private beach, but Julio informed us that people don’t go to the beach after earthquakes, for fear of tsunamis. Um, wow. But anywayyyy…their house. It was like a Better Homes and Gardening magazine; a house easily the size of mine (“it’s just the extra beach house” he told us), all decorated in beach theme and an abundance of seashells, with two stories, overlooking the sparkling bluegreen ocean and a few waxy, sturdy-looking green trees in the back patio. We had cold cokes and listened to some opera (Julio had put it on just for me!), and then once Julio stated that the tide-timing was perfect, we zipped over on his little beach-rover (like a riding lawnmower, but with huge wheels) to a place called Las Cortinas (the curtains). We positioned ourselves under high shelves of rock, and as high tide began to come in, got drenched by, yes, curtains of water, the waves crashing over our heads at about 70 degrees. It was lovely. ☺ We decided to enjoy the view and walked back to the house, showered off quickly in the blue and white tiled outdoor shower (of course), and had an amazing lunch. The fam started discussing, well, family stuff, and history and stories and all, so I drifted off in one of the three giant white hammocks on the patio (best nap ever). Walking down the beach for one last swim in a remarkable puddle the high tide had made, which was basically a big tidepool that took overnight to drain, we dove down to see little fishies and pick out some pretty shells, and then walked back as the sun set. Another magical day.
Journal entry excerpt from the following evening:
Tonight we went to the Ballet Folklórico at the Teatro Rubén Darío, after a huge lunch at RostiPollo (it’s like KFC minus the F part- it’s actually really good, and good for you!) and visiting with the Nicaraguan Gómez side of the family (I love how Gómez in México is Gómez, in Spain it’s Gómeth, and here it’s Gómeh- haha). [Note: My dad is Gómez from México, but these Gómez are from the Nicaraguan line, i.e., my great great grandfather was a Gómez.] The dancing was so amazing and expressive; during the second number, when the women came out barefooted in shining layercake costumes and the men donned these crazy colorful pants, jackets, and clackity black shoes, I was so overwhelmed. It is a feeling of relief and aching at the same time, being so happy to be in some way connected to such a tremendously passionate culture, country, and history, and being so conflicted about my very privileged middle class childhood in the US, separate from that culture I’d so love to embrace. I feel much more outgoing here; I think I feel like I actually belong somewhere, have so much more family and culture to be proud of than I’ve ever known about.
Watching the dance tonight made me wildly search my mind for some sort of US cultural activity like that; something really passionate, honorable, at times funny and crude, but truly a way for people to express pride for their country in a safe, extremely meaningful way. I couldn’t think of anything; that which is quintessentially North American is so confusing to me, hard to define. It concerns me that in the US, the first way that comes to mind for a citizen to express pride in his or her country is enlisting; the most obvious, dictated outlet is the sacrifice of a life; there is no unity through something like dancing, portraying your mutual history with fellow citizens, or even just sitting in an audience knowing everyone is there to celebrate common heritage and dedication to the país (country), together, united. I feel our sense of belonging is through common fear of attack; and yes, though nicaragüenses have fears of terremotos (earthquakes) and an irresponsible, corrupt government, those fears are neither fabricated by their political leaders, nor are they the main feature of Nicaraguan communitas. It reminds me of María’s favorite phrase about politicians: “¡Ladrones sin vergüenza!” (Robbers with no shame!). Haha. Enough! ☺ To bed.
I’ll end this one with a few little random anecdotes, all composed in no particular chronological order:
•I love the Spanish here so much- the accent is so beautiful and different. The cab driver telling us about the city of León and saying “Lindo e’h” for “it’s beautiful”; María saying, “tal beh…” (=tal vez=maybe); Esmeraldita making me laugh yelling “Ya voy!” constantly (“I’m coming already!”); N’s are Ng’s, S’s are silent, [some] V’s are pretty strong B’s, D’s are very light Th’s: Convertidos (converted, changed) is like “Cohng-ber-ti-tho’h”. I’ve for sure started saying “Buenah tardeh” already ☺
•It makes me laugh when Tía María tries to stop people from washing her car windows on the street-Ch’ahhhhh! ¡Malcriados! (miscreants!) They definitely do it anyway.
•When I walk by a person who knows my name, one of our guides or acquaintances, they’ll call it out, and laugh delightedly to see my quick turn around, as if to say, hey! It really is her name! Haha. Well, I’d probably do the same thing, if someone were visiting the US and happened to be named Aptos, or New Haven…yeah, I guess that would be a pretty quick fix, entertainment-wise.
•I’m really lucky my dad is so outgoing and crazy- many a taxi driver, who at first glance seemed shy or reserved, would open up and turn out to be hilarious, or insanely smart, or a hardcore activist/politician. Examples:
-My dad asked one of the drivers if he knew where we could find a recording of the Estelí song…he said, well I don’t know that one, but did you know León has its own song? And before we can reply that yes, we’ve heard it, he’s singing all the verses, good and loud, ending with flair, “Viva León…Jodido!” (long live León…screwed!). Afterwards he settled himself down, and recommended “Radio Mujer”, where we might find the Estelí song, and went on to ask, did we know exactly how many square kilometros Nicaragua occupies? Let me tell you! …Whoa.
-On many occasions we found ourselves caught in lectures, matter-of-factly recounting the vices of Ticos (Costa Ricans- they hate ‘em).
-Another popular topic included the countless political, historical, and even geographical factoids to which all those we met, regardless of education or social class, seemed privy. Taxi drivers especially: experts. I wish I knew that much about US history, the current situations we’re facing, or for that matter, knew that much about any one country’s politics. Amazing.
-On the ride back from the bus station [Note: the city of Estelí is known as the jewel/diamond of the Segovias mountains]:
Dad (after having talked about mom): Y sabes que, ella (points to me) es la joya de las Segovias…se llama Estelí ( =and did you know, she’s the jewel of the Segovias…her name’s Estelí)
Taxi driver: ¿De veras? (For real?) (looks back to see if I’m pretty) Ah sí, bien guapa su hija e’. (Ah yes, you do have a pretty daughter).
He then went on to drop off the woman about my age who’d shared our cab, saying “¡Adioh m’ija!” (bye m’dear/daughter!) Taxi drivers rock.
Haha, what a silly note to end on ☺. I’m keepin’ on keepin’ on…this one took a while since I’ve been up to other things, but there’re a couple more in the making- one about Ometepe, the beautiful island of twin volcanoes in the middle of Lake Cocibolca, and the last one about going to a concert, the city of León, Uncle Julio’s fincas (properties), and the Managua market. Til soon, loves (I hope)!
<3
Estelí