Yin and Yang of Managua Parties

Tale of two parties....Saturday night's party was great. What a treat, spending the evening with some of my closest friends in Managua. Sunday afternoon was not so great, sitting around like a hungover lizard, listening to drivel from a bunch of Nica freeloaders. More about that later....

But first, let me say that Saturday night's party was a fitting end to my party circuit in this hazy Central American capital. In all, about 40-50 folks from the Embassy community showed up, including a couple friends from the Manzanita mafia (a Spanish-Nica couple that we've come to know through our son's preschool). Let's see, I drank keg beer, ate chocolate cake, did shots of tequila, even played wiffle ball with some Americans and a Swedish couple (ahem, I even hit one over the house, which, in my book, is a homerun!). I let my hair down, so to speak....which to my good fortune, is all possible when you live 3 houses away from the gala locale....by the way, kudos and special thanks to the hostess that made all this possible.

Perhaps as a sign of how good a time I was having, I have no idea when I got home. All I know, is that I drained every last second out of the fun. As they say in sports, 'I left it all on the field'....

On the other hand, yesterday's 'despidida' was a different story. As some of you may know, I take tennis lessons here in Manangua. My teacher, the patriarch of Managua's most renowned tennis family, had been inviting me for some time to partake in a weekend 'lechon', or a Nica pig roast. One of his cousins owns a restaurant just outside of town, and knowing that my time is short here, I finally relented. It's not that I didn't want to go, it just seems that there is always something else going on.

So, around 10am, I show up with my tennis prof, at which point I'm really hungover from the previous evening's festivities. So, what do you think I do.....ahem, have a beer! Good grief!! So it went.... I spent the next 3-4 hours shooting the breeze with Jorge and a menage of Nica troubadours, ranging from close cousins, to just plain thirsty acquaintances. Around 2 pm, I decided that I'd had enough. I don't know if it was one guy 'offering' one of his female teenage cousins to me that did it, or was it the proclamation that 'Americans are narrow-minded'. Maybe it was the banter about American politics, revealing an ignorance that borders on a time in America when folks sat around the general store and waxed poetic about things they had no knowledge about whatsoever. I mean, where do you begin? But after all, I'd been invited for this farewell as a send-off, and I'd 'done my time' out of respect.

But, I'm afraid the Sunday Nica brunch left a bitter taste in my mouth. You see, when it was time to go, we asked for the check, which amounted to my prof's cousin bringing me the bill of over $60 and everyone sitting there, staring at me. Unfortunately, I didn't have that kind of cash on me. In fact, I'm lucky I brought much at all. So, I paid what I had, leaving me penniless, fuming, and ..... I still had to give my tennis prof a ride back into town. Not only that, I was letting half the restaurant use my cell phone, as they were all either too thirsty or poor to have any minutes on their phones.

I don't mind paying my share. In fact, in my time in Nicaragua, I've grown accustomed to the idea that, I'm a rich American in their eyes and am made of money. I'm the freaking money tree, nothing more, nothing less. That's the sad reality that prevents most anyone from making any real, genuine friendships in this country. I should've known better. Not only did I spend my Sunday afternoon away from my family, I wasted money on a bunch of freeloading drunks under the guise of 'oh, we're going to miss you....you're different from all the other Americans' nonsense. I can speak the local dialect, carry on conversations for hours on end.....Heck, I can even take my shirt off and play with my bellybutton like some deadbeat Nica drifter. But, at the end of the day, I just another foreigner to leech off of. Sadly, I see this as a metaphor for the greater struggle that goes on in this country.

I feel for the good, honest, hard-working people of this country. The ones like our nanny, a person I have the utmost respect for. Unfortunately, they are almost invisible, amidst the vast majority of those that I have come into contact with in Managua. Every day, I encounter those that cannot see me as an individual, only as someone to dupe and take advantage of. I'd rather be just ripped off in Huembes, than to know someone for a year or so, thinking that perhaps you are more to them than a pathetic handout, only to be disappointed yet again. It's like after getting punched in the gut so many times, you stupidly put your guard down once more, only to be wailed on one last time. Adios Managua!

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

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...