What’s Up, My Nicas? (Part 1)
This past weekend we went to Nicaragua.
Nica. Frickin’. Ragua.
We jammed a lot into one little weekend. And we’ll tell you about it forthwith. (Can I say “forthwith,” or is that so last century?)
But first, it only makes sense to introduce our motley crew of fellow travelers.
This is Rebecca. I call her Becs.
Becs is quickly becoming one of my favorite people in the world. And not only because she bought us cookies and knows how to pick the bugs out of pasta. She is the extremely patient mother of two beautiful little boys, is as easy-going as John Mayor after he’s had a couple of blunts, and she had the cajones to pack up her world and move to another country – in a town without a Starbucks. But the best thing about Becs is that she’s always game for a laugh. You cannot not laugh when you’re around her. And laughing is good for the soul. So by my reasoning, so must be Becs.
As far as I can tell, her only questionable quality is the fact that she married this guy.
This is Aaron. Okay, so maybe he’s all right – even though he tried to lock me into an ATM booth in San Juan del Sur.
*Fingers have been blurred to protect the innocent.
Maybe he’s all right because he’s been giving us a place to live and money for food and might – occasionally – read this blog.
But in all honesty, he’s an extremely creative goofball and we love working for him. He makes a mean torti burguesa (we’ll cover that eventually), has a wicked sense of humor, and – though he’ll hate me for saying it – is incredibly generous. He wants everyone around him to have a good time, and that they do. Oh, and suppose I have to give him credit for being the mastermind behind what Erin and I believe to be a soon-to-be HUGE hot sauce hit. He’s the Mayor of Chile Town, and so far all the citizens seem pretty damn happy.
And I have to admit – he and Becs make a pretty fantastic couple.
Then there’s this guy. Donovan. Donovan started working here a few days before Erin and I arrived, but he’s been to Costa Rica a multitude of times. Donovan thinks he IS Costa Rican. (And judging by the way he already knows everyone in Bagaces, I wouldn’t be surprised.) Donovan does not like to be called Donny. And even though he looks like a hardass, we can always count on Donny – err, Donovan, to make sure we make it home okay. He wants to do good things for the people of this country, and I do believe he will.
Matt (aka. “Matteo”) is another one of the interns working in our office. A gifted guitar player and singer, Matteo makes you want to sit around a campfire cooking s’mores and singing songs. Matteo speaks his own language – a combination fraternity boy/California surfer dude mixed with intellectual college grad/insightful world traveler. One who got arrested for stealing manhole covers in Italy. He looks like a thin Jack Black. No, the guy from Into the Wild. No, Syndrome from The Incredibles. Whatever. Matteo’s a trip – the kind who will make you laugh when you think about something he said days after he said it. And that’s a pretty good way to be.
And finally, our group of 7 wouldn’t have been complete without JJ – or Jota, as everyone here calls him. An extremely talented artist, Jota designed all of the luchadores found on the Chile Town hot sauce bottles as well as the town map. When Jota plays the guitar, he inspires. The music flows, eyes close, and you always have to smile. He’s better than he’ll admit. I already know my memories of his music will be my soundtrack to Costa Rica. He’s lived here for a few years – is half-Guatemalan, in fact – and has big dreams of a beautiful future in Central America. I don’t doubt he’ll make it happen.
So that’s our crazy group of wild gringos. I have tons more to share (and so does Erin), but the obscene amount of photos is going to force us to break this down in parts.
But let me give you the quick Nicaragua weekend summary:
We ate fantastic food.
We drank fantastic drinks.
We met some fantastic people.
And we sampled plenty of fantastic hot sauce.
This weekend we traveled to Nicaragua and came out a little smarter, a little muddier, and a lot more appreciative of coming home to a place where we could throw our toilet paper in the toilet – not the trash.
It’s always the little things.
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