Sunday, October 21, 2007

When in Rome, do as the Nica's do.

Let me tell you all about a magical place called Huembes (pronouced "Wem-bess"... ish). Its a market in the middle of Managua where one can purchase a whole gamut of goods that one never thought possible. There are shoes and clothes and toothbrushes and pirated cds and dvds like any normal street market might have, oh but there is more, so much more. Yesterday I went with my friend Amira to explore the gloriousness of this beautiful hectic place. At one point- somewhere between buying my $7 silk shirt and the hammock rope, I bent down to examine a shelf chock-a-block full of ladies lotions and soaps and what do you think I saw, but almost the entire Victoria's Secret line of perfumes and lotions. How? Why!? why are these items sitting on a shelf in a street market stall in Nicaragua? I don't even care.

Huembes is sort of a microcosm of Nica life for me. Its crazy, full of unexpected, unconventional, undeserved luxuries. It's representative of the earthy goodness that is to be had when I stop cloistering myself.

Sometimes I wonder why things that I would never even consider doing or places I would never go at home, are just natural here. For ejemplo: "Why yes, Amira, I would like a tortilla tostado from that man with the giant rubbermaid container of deep friend tortilla's and frijoles scooped out of an old plastic container that very possibly may have been originally used for car grease. Oh and get him to put that crema on it" (forget that I am lactose intolerant and I really don't understand what possible technology they could have developed to make milk and related products that do not have to be refrigerated for weeks).
Otro Ejemplo: Standing on the side of a highway at 2 am with two other giggling girls waiting for a taxi also sounds like a fine idea to me (No Mom, of course I didn't actually do that!).

I mean this is taking my life to a whole new level friends. Some of you mayhaps have encountered my habit of erring on the side of extra-sanitary precautions. I am as baffled as anyone why- in a country where there is evidently a giant lack of sanitation infrastructure- why my attitude has suddenly become one of "oh well!" Walks home in the mud, barefeet on street stall floors, todo esta bien. And then there is the fact that most people wipe off the top of their cervesa or gaseosa bottles before drinking from them. Nevertheless, I seem to be quite satisfied with the hastier approach. Do I care? Strangely, it would appear not.

Truth be told, folks, this has gone pretty far. I think have decided to even start drinking the water. I don't think this was so much of a decision as a recognition of the fact that I have been drinking the tap water at every restaurant I to which go. Don't worry, I am not doing anything hasty. I have started by just brushing my teeth with our home tap water. I am thinking of moving soon on to swallowing a gulp after rinsing out my mouth and then, only when I am ready, will I go to drinking actual half-glasses.

When in Rome...

4 Comments:

At 6:47 p.m. , Anonymous Anonymous said...

I love it.

 
At 1:32 a.m. , Blogger Mark Knowlson said...

nothing like getting to that point in third world carelessness...I started drinking the water my first week here in Zambia and I haven't looked back since...I have eaten everything and I don't care. Haven't even been sick (except for malaria).

 
At 10:09 a.m. , Anonymous Anonymous said...

This might not be the time or the place, but that has never stopped me before. Catherine, as I was listening to Death Cab’s “I was a Kaleidoscope”, or “I am a Kaleidoscope”, or “Your mom’s a Kaleidoscope” (who knows what it’s called), I thought to myself….Kiki. Kiki. Kiki. Kiki isn’t a racecar at all. No MORE! Kiki is a Kaleidoscope. That’s all. It’s done. No more racecar. Kiki is a Kaleidoscope.

All my love...

 
At 4:11 p.m. , Blogger Elise said...

Mmmmm, water. Good luck with that!!! I think there's something freeing in what you're doing! Or at least, your feet feel free when they are bare!! Excellent.

 

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