Japanese Nica Party

Well color me impressed. I've been to my first Japanese Nicaraguan 4-Year Old Twins' Birthday Party. You live long enough in this strange world, and you will see just about all you could care to see. Today was no exception. You know you've had a great day, when you reflect on it and lament the fact that you forgot the camera.

It started out harmless enough...I worked on my Blues presentation for the 28th, I surfed the internet, drank my morning cup of coffee, the usual. I didn't get to work out, or go running, which was a bummer. But, what the heck....one day isn't going to make a difference. So, I 'took it easy' in the morning. At noon, I was prepared to pick up Brodie, buy a birthday present for 'Nica Party', and go smash pinatas for a couple of hours. After picking up some gifts for the Japanese twins (Mai and Kaoru) with a friend, and fellow preschool parent, we all headed to the bash.

Luckily, this affair turned out to be a lot more reasonable, which was good and bad. Good, because there was no arrogance, unnecessary flair and display of wealth....Bad, because there was no single malt scotch, fully stocked bar, nor any pony rides, golf carts escorting guests, etc... Oh well, I guess this would turn out to be a normal party after all, despite it being a 'Japanese Nicaraguan Twins' 4-Year Old Birthday Party'. The food was sort of normal. There was Pizza Hut, sushi rolls, potato cakes and all the standard fare...Sodas of all colors and flavors. Depressingly, at least to my friend Luis and I, there didn't appear to be any cervezas. Luckily, Japanese dad recognized the universal 30-something dude look for 'I'm thirsty', and soon produced a semi-cold Corona for both of us. It was one of those, 'Oh my, I didn't realize men were going to show up!'

Normally, it would've just been 'man' (singular), but Luis's wife, Arantxa, (my usual Nica party companion) had been in 'Nica car accident' earlier in the morning, and was receiving 'Nica medical attention/pharmaceuticals'.....So, the party must go on. Luis and I sat back like wolves in a pasture, admiring the sheep and lambs, sipping our beers in the sweltering heat. John Wayne would've been proud... At any rate, we wore smiles, watched our kids, and made the normal Japanese Nica 4-Year Old Twins' Birthday Party small talk with the parents. Of minor note, the empleadas (nannies) all congregated over in the shade like they knew about the brutal sun, while the two caucasian wolves basked in the sun.....until it was pinata time!

Pinata time is the climax of Nica party...Any Nica party worth its weight has a professional pinata handler (similar to a snake handler, sans anti-venom on hand). This party was no different. But, this pinata was different....It wouldn't succomb to the kids' collective violence. Paper mache Winnie the Pooh withstood a barrage of body blows. Even after seeing the new Rocky movie, the barbarism made me cringe. That is, until Ichiro put on his batting gloves. After literally breaking pinata stick in half over the cast iron hind quarters of Paper mache Winnie, Ichiro brought out the broom handle....After an agonizing struggle, Winnie succombed to stick-wielding Japanese dad.

Then it happened......In what turned out to be the 'anti-climatic' moment of the party....just as all of the children were poised to claim their loot, una empleada elefante Nica (fat Nica nanny) blocked Brodie from sugarland delight like Charles Barkley, actually falling to all fours, stuffing candies with both fat hands, with alarming grace and dexterity. It's like when you watch the nature shows and they show alligators laying around for hours on end, and they warn, you should know, alligators can run faster than dogs and small horses....that sort of thing. And you say, 'c'mon! that can't be.... Well, it can. I saw it. Had the congregation of children seeking candy been a pie chart, her butt would've taken up at least a third of the surface area. In the end, she had successfully filled her backpack to the brim....while my dejected Brodie came away with one piece of candy....one piece. I saw the price he had to pay for that one as well...After the fracus, there was one of those little pathetic cinnamon candies that you get at the doctor's office, and Brodie stuck his little digits out there bravely, only to get stepped on, before finally cashing in....

In the end, another empleada saw the whole thing unfold, and eventually coerced her kid to share the wealth, which reinforced my theory about the world being a simple place really. There are two kinds of people (irregardless of religion, class, nationality, skin color, etc...) 'nice people', and, well, let's just call them, 'not-so-nice people'. So, that was Japanese 4-Year Old Twins' Birthday Party. It was a good party. Luis and I ended up scoring two more Tonas apiece. He reminded me that if he didn't have cold cervezas at his son's party, I need to punch him in the face....Of course, I told him I'd comply with that reasonable demand....On On to the next soiree....Ciao!

Managua Town Redux & Capote

Well, I may have been a little harsh in my last depiction of Managua Town, so I'll try to lighten up a bit. Tomorrow, we're off to another vaunted celebration of 4 year old Nica-dom. Brodie has yet another social engagement, this time with some fellow expats (I think they're Japanese...we'll see) Anyway, I'll let you know how it goes.

In other news, Kim and I finally watched Capote last night. Netflix served up a doozy with this one. For those of you not familiar with Truman Capote, I'll give a little background...

One of the great Southern writers of the latter 20th century, Truman Capote's life started with a bang, and ended with a fizzle. Capote is best known for three things: An eccentric high society gadfly and voyeur, the author of Breakfast At Tiffany's, and later, In Cold Blood, in essence creating the genre of fictional novel.

With the latter, Capote departs the glam, posh, glitz of black tie New York haute couture, and delves into a dark story of murder and mayhem on the remote Kansas plains. Late in 1959, two ex-cons, guided by inside info from the big house, travel to a remote Kansas farmhouse, to rob a wealthy farmer and his family. Instead, they end up murdering the family, and coming away with a measly $50 for their deed. Enter Capote, who, in passing, reads a 300 word snippet in the New York Times about the crime, has an epiphany....thus, he descends upon the devastated little hamlet, with childhood friend, fellow author, and sidekick, Harper Lee (author of the American canon classic, 'To Kill A Mockingbird').
This is where our film essentially begins. Capote is established on New York nightclub circuit, a big personality, well-read it's well known. He reads the othewise insignificant local story about brutal murder in faraway Kansas, decides in the moment, this is the story that he was meant to tell. So, upon arriving in quaint Holcomb, Capote and Lee map out their strategy of acquainting themselves with all of the characters, sifting through details of the personal lives, the crime scene, anchoring themselves to the human pulse of the story, storing away the details, real and imagined. Lee is particularly adept at opening doors, using a feminine comraderie that Capote is unable to perform....at least initially.

In time, Capote's character takes over, a born charmer. He once remarked, 'you are either a writer, or you aren't', alluding to his belief that college was a pointless endeavor for his profession. Telling a story was like an orange. An orange is an orange. There are no questions to be had about it. Stories are the same....if you still have questions after reading the story, or you think it could be told a different way, then, the story isn't very good. If, after reading the story, you are satisfied, and able to move on, then, that is a good story. College cannot teach that. Similarly, some people have charisma, others don't. You cannot teach it. Capote has charisma. In the end, his charm is his undoing, though not shown in the film, save a couple snippets in the closing moments.

He charms the stern sheriff, the sheriff's wife, his scorned lover back east, his editor, Harper Lee, and most importantly, Perry Smith, the trigger man for the grisly murders in Holcomb, Kansas. Perry and Truman end up having a lot in common, both are 'outsiders', a theme Capote uses to manipulate the violent, yet strangely vulnerable Smith. In fact, manipulation proves to be his most adept 'research' skill as a writer. He lies for lying's sake.

At any rate, the bulk of the movie concerns the bond which grows improbably between the two. As Capote's manipulation grows, so does an audience for his much awaited account of the events of that horrible Kansas day. Years drag on, Smith and the other killer, Dick Hickock (such a 'bad guy' name....I cannot imagine many upstanding 'Dick Hickocks' in the world) languish on death row, yet Capote still needs his knockout punch, to justify the Don King-esque zeal in which he has pre-sold his idea and book for his publisher and audience. The intensity and gravity of his deception culminates in the somber realization that Perry Smith will soon be executed. In the end, Capote gets his confession and meaty story of bloodlust, but he pays a price.

A completely changed man, Truman Capote would never write another novel. A truly good movie...dark, intelligent, and a stirring performance by Philip Seymour Hoffman. I give it 4 RRPs (Ramblin' Round Points) out of 5. Wish me luck on the Nica party... I may need the single malt scotch this go 'round.....

Monkeys and Volcanic Lakes...

Well, we just got back from our weekend adventure to one of Nicaragua's most pristine areas, Lake Apoyo, the largest volcanic lake in Central America. Nestled between dingy Managua and picturesque Granada, Lake Apoyo is set high in the foothills of the mountain range that divides the Nicaraguan capitals, new and old. With warm turquoise blue water, surrounding hardwood forests, and a healthy tourist infrastructure, I almost forgot completely about Managua for a day or so.

We stayed at the resort, Hotel Narome, ............. taking advantage of the close proximity to the lake and hiking trails, hoping to catch a glimpse of the two species of monkeys that make their home there. Feeling like monkeys ourselves, we spent the first couple hours at the pool, gorging ourselves on fruit and watching the odd mixture of gringos and Nicas, interacting at this scenic hideaway. Much to our dismay, there was a large wedding taking place (which the management failed to mention when booking the room) that absorbed much of the attention of the wait staff. Therefore, our endeavor to lounge like bloated monkeys was made somewhat more difficult.

Fortunately, Apoyo offers a respite from the heat of the lower lying areas of Nicaragua. So, I actually felt a sub 80 degree breeze for the first time in over 6 months! At any rate, the food and atmosphere were unremarkable, but pleasant. Of course, for Brodie, all of this was a grand adventure, and he was tuckered out early in the evening, which gave Kim and I a rare opportunity to play Scrabble (which I lost, due in part to being stuck with the Q late in the game) At any rate, it was fun, reminiscent of our honeymoon in Spain, when we were 'gaming junkies'.

Perhaps the most memorable aspect of the short trip to Apoyo was the morning hike. Following a hearty American breakfast, we ventured up into the foothills, searching for the two species of monkeys found in the area, the howler monkey and some other non-descript white monkey that resembles a little squirrel. Following a surprisingly well-marked trail, we heeded the warnings at the trailhead, in the form of encyclopedic details of the indigenous reptiles, amphibians, and mammals that call Apoyo home. After a brief study of jaguars, coral snakes, boa constrictors, monkeys, and whatnot, we set off on the trail. Although the hike itself proved to be uneventful, the journey itself was peaceful and interesting, a metaphor of life at times I guess. More importantly, Brodie completed his first hike with us, in what I hope to be many, many more. He absolutely loved it. The sense of adventure brought about by wilderness hiking was not lost on him, and he was truly impressed.

After our hike, we settled down, returning to the pool for a brief period, before returning back to the grind of Managua. Before our return, I was summoned to represent my country in a fun, yet competitive game of pool volleyball. All the gringos were to battle the Nicas, with the losers dancing poolside to the latest steamy Latin beats....how humiliating! Luckily, our team looked like we'd just returned from going mountain biking, while the Nica side looked like they'd come out of a Ryan's Steakhouse feed. So...in the end, I made my country proud, although I was forced to watch obese Nica men without shirts, dancing like Beyonce. Oh well, a small price to pay for serving U.S. diplomacy.

Goin' Fishin'....Nica Style

Nicaragua is a land of much water. Like Coleridge once said, 'water, water, everywhere....'. That is Nicaragua. Both the Atlantic and Pacific oceans are highly accessible. There are two enormous lakes (Lake Managua and Lake Nicaragua), the largest two in Central America, not to mention the San Juan del Sur river, bordering Costa Rica. Famous for freshwater lake sharks and world-class tarpon, this is an angler's paradise.

So, remembering to 'make lemonade out of lemons', I've decided to approach my 'time' here differently. A new perspective perhaps. And what better way to do this than to go fishing. Moreover, Leonel, our gardener explained a new method of fishing that he feels will reap huge rewards. We won't even have to leave the house! How can that be? What do you mean, you don't have to leave the house? Well, I'm talking about Iguana fishing. I say this with a capital 'I' because they're more like the Komodo dragons of the Western world. You've heard of the 'cat on the hot tin roof'...well, we have the 'miniature komodo dragon on the hot clay roof'

At night, I generally try to enjoy the television, read, or engage in other activities, deluding myself into thinking that I'm not in Central America. As you can imagine, hearing large reptiles slithering on my roof doesn't help matters. So, beginning tomorrow morning, Leonel and I are going fishin' for Komodo Dragons. He has devised the following plan (which I wholeheartedly endorse...simple brilliance!)

1. find rod and reel...preferably bass tackle, 8-12 lb. test line
2. prepare bare hook...again, imagining this is a largemouth bass with legs. for bait, we have determined that hot dogs would make a good iguana snack.
3. sit in lounge chair and start fishin'.
4**tell josefa to prepare, either in a stew or fried...perhaps both, depending on size.

**contingent on the success of 1-3

If all goes well, I can post Iguana recipes and photos of the feast. Well, I gotta go prepare my tackle and beer cooler.

Managua Town

Yesterday, I felt sick to my stomach. No, I wasn't coming down with the flu. I hadn't been poisoned by bad gallo pinto or toxic tamales. It was a shameful pain, a reminder of what's not right in this world.

It started out innocently enough. You must know, Latin America has different values than what we are accustomed to. Some better, some worse. For example, I have great respect for the amount of time and attention spent on pedadogy...child-rearing, healthy physical relationships, fashion and many other aspects of 'cultura latina'.

However, I have never seen such lavish, grotesque manifestations of wealth in my life as what I witnessed yesterday. As is the custom with preschool age kids, birthday parties are celebrated with great fanfare....cakes, cookies, singing, pin the tail on the donkey, etc...We've all been there right? Well, you haven't seen anything until you've been to a 'Nica 4 Year Old Party'!!

Where do I begin? The single-malt scotch....or the parachute jump ride that belongs at Six Flags. Or maybe, the legion of ponies, an ice cream franchise shutting down their store in order to cater to this 4 year old princess. I haven't even mentioned the pinata, or the Al Pacino lookalike crook father that undoubtedly robbed his countrymen for such a life. I've been to weddings, even New Year's parties, that had less booze than this affair! The only thing I can liken it to is a Kentucky Derby gala.

At any rate, the pauper Americans arrived with their pathetic little gift of Play Doh and second rate designer clothes. The nerve, not to have hand-tailored clothes and a specially made costume for my son! As we were greeted by an army of servants, doling out party favors, and whatnot, I got the sinking feeling that this would be a long day. Luckily, Arantxa (Mateo's Mom) was there. We sat around and watched the spectacle unfold.....Nicaragua's elite of the elite at play. News cameras were there documenting the affair, servants wore pensive smiles, and bronzed, beautiful people, seemingly from another planet, enjoyed the fine February Nica winter. We could've just as well been in Malibu, Nice, or the Hamptons. But...sadly, we are in Nicaragua

Nicaragua, you see, is the second poorest country on the western half of the planet. Only hellish Haiti is poorer. Over 70% of Nicaragua's 5 million people live in abject poverty, existing on less than a dollar a day. There are all kinds of statistical ways of describing the squalor, but until you actually see it for yourself, the vacant stare in the eyes of people that have no hope, you really can't comprehend the misery. Driving around Managua, you'll immediately notice bands of window washers, hawkers, and other 'entrepreneurs'. Not unlike many other parts of the world, for sure, Managua is a rough and tumble city. At any rate, the point is not how poor the country, or capital is. It's the absurdism of it all.

You know, just watching these Nicas, wealthy beyond belief, and knowing how little is being given back to society, it pains me. There is no other big point. I'm just sad....That's all...