Morning comes with gallo pinto (I will never, ever tire of rice and beans), egg, cheese, sweet orange juice, and, of course, big smiles and happy !Buenos dias! from the entire family. We hope that our gratitude is expressed in our wide-eyed, grinning faces and our scraped-clean plates. Keila will leave for Managua today for her job as a radio DJ with Radio Disney but mom assures us that she is "at our orders" for anything we might need or want, just ask her or dad. Lucky for us, we are completely content eating delicious home-cooking and then relaxing for the day; the heat really doesn't allow us to do much else, right?
Well, we did decide to use the internet for a few hours, and to do so we had to utilize a connection Keila has with the town elementary school's sub-director (her best friend's mom). Even after Keila leaves and around 30 second-graders come in for class, the computer teacher lets us use the computers until his shift ends.
Dad picks us up one by one on the motorcycle and while we ride through town he beeps, yells or waves at nearly everyone we pass. Everyone knows each other here and it's such a small, peaceful town that it's hard for me to imagine dad fighting in the war only 15 years ago, as he later told us.
As we're recovering from lunch (already?!) of bean and egg soup, rice and plaintains, dad comes into to tell us that when the sun lowers a little more, he'll teach us how to ride a motorcycle. So, a bit later dad takes us to the local soccer/beisbol field (in case we fall he says), where a couple dozen men and boys are kicking around soccer balls. I translate the directions for Abby the best I can. Here's the clutch, accelerate slowly while releasing the clutch, here are the brakes, etc. A lot of information for two gals with no motorcycle experience. Finally, a nervous but daring
Abigail jumps on, with dad on the back to watch.A couple stalls later and they're moving, but the moto quickly starts to weave, first to the right, then to the left, staggering wildly like a drunk. Uh oh. Suddenly (this must be the part where Abby blacked out), I hear a roar of acceleration and the machine and riders are propelled forward, now out of control, with poor dad on the back being tossed around like a sack of groceries. Dad tries to reach for the brake but the motorcycle lurches forward and falls over hard. Within seconds every player on the field is standing above a banged up Abby, dad and moto, but at Abby's fierce "Adios!!" they all scatter. A few scrapes and bruises, but nothing burned or broken, thanks to God.
Now that it was my turn, I decide to wait for my nerves to calm down and for the field of curious and amused spectators to empty. So, dad and I chatted a bit about his life until the players begin to leave. Dad carefully goes over the instructions again, telling me, "Don't think about the motorcycle. If you think you're going to fall just get out of the way and don't even think about what will happen to the bike, it's much more important that you don't get hurt." I stall a few times too but finally get going in order to ride around the field a few times, never daring to leave first gear. Next time.
It's so nice to be fussed over by a mother sometimes. Mom fills Abby up with medicine and puts cream on her wounds, she washes all of our clothes because she's worried about us leaving with dirty clothes and not being able to wash them later and, of course, she keeps us happily fed and asks us constantly how we are, what do we need, do we feel good, want to watch tv? Here's the only English channel. Dad usually just grins or laughs and gives us the thumbs up sign whenever he sees us. He's never upset, even for a moment, that Abby could have killed him. He just laughs and laughs and says "Too bad we didn't get a video of that!"
