Beisbol

7-10-08

Week two has skated by without much trouble—four hours of class is long, but I’m trucking right along!

I have been struck lately by the excellent sense of humor that the Nicas have; I have seen even the poorest beggars on the street smiling and making jokes together at times. Earlier this week two men selling ceramics came up to me, trying to get me to buy something. When it became clear that I wasn’t in the market, and that I spoke enough Spanish to understand them, they asked me where I was from, and sat down to chat for a few minutes. They told me that business was bad, that no one wanted to buy anything that day, and then one man asked me if I had a backpack. I said yes, and laughing, he asked if I would like to trade mine for his, or for one of his pots, and showed me his torn knapsack. His friend found this hilarious, and in turn showed me his own tattered backpack. They also jokingly asked me if I would help them sell their pots to passing tourists. We talked for a little longer, and then I had to go to meet up with some other students from my school, but the interaction put me in a great mood; these men were just barely scraping by making and selling their pottery, but they still had a lot to laugh about. Seems like a great way to approach life!

Yesterday was a busy afternoon—I went back to the Isletas, this time in a boat, and we ventured farther into the lush islands to one that’s called Isla de Monos (Monkey Island). The rumor is that the monkeys were brought there for the tourists, but Roger Jr. (son of the owner of the school) said that they belong to a scientist who bought the tiny island in question so that he could bring his monkeys there. Regardless, the monkeys themselves are very accustomed to people, and they know the drill: when those boats pull up, it’s snack time! Most seem to still be fairly skittish—Roger had brought cookies, and when he would put one on the deck of the boat, a monkey would hop down from the trees to take the cookie. We saw one White-Faced Capuchin, but the rest of the monkeys seemed to be spider monkeys. The boat tour guides have named one of the monkeys Lola—she comes right down into the boat with you, and has been known to rifle through peoples bags! It was neat to be in such close proximity with her. Her hands and especially her tail were fascinating to watch—such grace, and such a familiarity of movement, but at the same time so very different from our own. On the whole, apart from the experience with Lola, I liked kayaking in the Isletas much better than boating.

Yesterday evening I went with Steve and Todd and two of the teachers to a baseball game. Although my teacher Erick tells me that baseball is not in the least popular on the eastern coast of Nicaragua, it is quite a big deal here in Granada. The Granada Tiburones (Sharks) won the national championship last year, and they seem to be in a good position to do it again this year! The game we attended was the final game of the semi-finals, and Granada beat the Boér team, 8-3. It turns out that my grammar teacher, Olga, who is the most strict of my teachers (and my favorite), is a huge baseball fan! She roots for the Red Soxs, but also likes the Phillies. She told me that she had a bet with a student—a Yankees fan—the first year that Boston won the World Series, and that she couldn’t believe that she had won! The game was very entertaining, but it was equally fun to watch the people and see the Nicaraguan version of the baseball stadium, complete with fried plantains with meat and salsa instead of hotdogs, and “mango salad” instead of cotton candy. Several things, however, have been adopted from the US version, including beer, but most amusingly, all of the terminology for the game (though pronounced with a Spanish accent). So, a ball is a “bola”, a strike is an “estrike”, foul is “foul”, home run is “jon ron” and an out is an “out”—though when someone gets out, the crowd yells “afuera!”, not “out”. They even have a verb for “to hit a home run”—“jonronear”. Todd asked Olga if they sing “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” here, and her response was to challenge us to translate the song into Spanish. So we did—with beers in hand, sing a shambled together Spanish version of the ball park classic. What an evening!

Tomorrow I’m hoping to go see some traditional live music at one of the venues in town, and then this weekend I’m off on an adventure to Masaya and the Pueblos Blancos—homes to the hammock and ceramic craftspeople and (I’m told) to some of the best vistas in Nicaragua.