Tales of White Bear and Brown Rabbit
So the night of St. Patty`s day I decided to have a late meal at one of my favorite places to eat in Ocotal. El Bar Deportivo. Thats right… The Sports Bar. The only one. I`m not sure what really makes it a sports bar other than the fact that the owner happens to be an avid fan and player of several sports. I had wanted to have a shot of Johnny Walker, just one, something to make me feel Irish that day. Alas, they were wiped out after the weekend. All there was was the mid-grade Flor de Caña rum. Ick.
This was the second time I ate there, actually looking for the owner, a guy named German (hairmann). One of his cousins stumbled in while I was eating and said that German was having a party at a friends house and I should come by. I finished up and went over there. His friend was an older Argentinan man, pale skin like myself, who was probably renting the house for a period. The house was easily the most palacial I`ve ever seen in this city… and honestly it gave me goosebumps. It was SO nice and comfortable that the nuisances of the third world fade away into its spacial open-air construction.
German was thrilled to see me, and we all sat around and had a nice lively conversation. They were roasting a shank of pork over a grill… seasoned only with salt, and cooking slowly alongside two beautiful orange sweet peppers. My French will NOT be pardoned: it was fucking incredible. We stood around the grill gradually cutting off slices, dividing them up and passing the plate around. Nevermind that I had already just ate, I had infinite room for this delicacy.
After a typically long and satisfying conversation I bid them farewell, only after promising German that I would go with him to some new place called El Krique. I had no idea what this would entail. El Krique, it turns out, is a paradise in Ocotal: nothing like it exists anywhere else. It is right down by the Rio Coco (certainly doomed to perish in a 100 year flood, but so is New Orleans and Florida and half the homes along the Mississippi so get it while its hot).
They have a kiddy pool nicer than any I know in the US and a larger pool for adults. There is a little sand court for soccer, a trampoline and an inflatable castle for kids to romp around in. They cook devastatingly delicious food there too… my lunch was a skewer of grilled chicken with two fresh tortillas, refried beans, a block of cheese and a cup of freshly made pico de gallo which they call Chismol for some reason I can`t figure out.
German and I got flat-out wasted. I was just having a blast because it was a great atmosphere and its Semana Santa too… this type of behaviour is acceptable during this week. Saints Week is just a week-long celebration of Easter. I don`t know why they need a week for it but I`m certainly not complaining. He introduced me to tons of people… the man knows everyone in town I swear. I spent a long time talking with an Orthopedic doctor who was there with his family…. we spoke of the future of the world, and specifically about forward-thinking development. He was a worldly man indeed, fantastic fellow.
After a long, long and hot afternoon we proceeded to walk out of there along the dusty road to the Panamerican, meeting up with the Argentinian from the night before and hopped in the back of his truck for a wonderfully needed lift up the windy curves that lead up to the outskirts of the city.
Returning to German`s house I sat down in the living room to show his younger sister how to beat Super Mario Brothers for the Super NES. It took me maybe 10 minutes from where she was in the game, much to her amazement. All of a sudden I realize that German had gone off to another corner of the house… and it was pretty much just his sister, his mother and I.
I sat for a while sipping coffee and eating Rosquillo (little crappy flavorless wanabee biscotti). His mom and I started talking and she tells me that German is an alchoholic… boy… good times! You wanna practice Spanish?? Try talking to a mother, while drunk, about her concerns for her son with whom you`ve just been on a bender for the last 6 hours and had no idea prior that there was anything wrong with that. Sheesh. We actually had a very nice talk. I told her that German is indeed a good person, truth, and that one day when he wants to, deep inside he will find the resolve to make the change for himself. German has a stunning wife with whom he is temporarily separated because of his drinking (found that our during the talk too). Eventually he will have to decide between her smile and the bottle…. lawdy I know what I would choose…
What a powerfull scene that was… I wish there was a film of it. I wish every Spanish teacher I`ve ever had could see that conversation. I`m not a master of Spanish, but sometimes… it all slides to the background, and there is only the pressing importance of what needs to be said and not how to say it. Sometimes I am as fluent as anyone.
That was it for me. I made it back to the house absolutely shattered. I probably walked 6 miles that day in sandals and I was feeling it, and the sun that had worked my arms to a rosy tint. I got back to the couch and not much further- lasted another 3 hours or so before I went to bed for a long, long sleep. White bear was KO`d, and somewhere Brown Rabbit was probably still kicking back cold ones.
