Sámara, March 29

!Buen día! This is your cultural explorer reporting in after a full week in a place that’s a cross between rural third-world and modern civilization. I thought I would write while it’s still under 97 degrees (10:30 a.m.—haven’t hit the p.m. heat wave yet) and my laptop is not in eminent peril of dying of heatstroke. Then I’m going to go down a calle I haven’t gone down yet to see what the beach looks like on that side of town.

I’m feeling very immersed right now: there is a a vendor on the street is currently trying to sell us something (they come up to the casas and call out “!buenos dias!” until someone comes out and shoos them away), the canciones on the radio are slow enough for me to understand them, and this morning I had my first hand-made tortillas. My Tica mom is very quick at making them entirely from scratch. They were awesome with the eggs and tomatoes, obligatory rice and beans, and tropical fruits. The food here is really, really good. Now that I can understand more Spanish, I’ve started hanging out in the cocina to watch her and see how she makes things. Today she showed me the powdered corn mix she uses to make one of the best drinks I’ve ever had. I’m going to bring some of it back with me so I can make it in the States.

Also, a personal record: haven’t spoken English since 6 p.m. last night. Went to Las Olas for the world’s best daiquiris (I’ll get to that in a minute…) and wound up chatting with a guy whom I’d met a couple nights ago whilst walking to town. The Ticos are super-friendly and always say “Hola!” or “Buenos noches!” when they pass you, whether it’s on bike, motorcycle, or on foot. Even the guys in cars wave and stick their heads out the window to say “Hola!” I’ve never been someplace where the people were so friendly. Yesterday a big truck went by with three guys perched on the very top of it, over the cab. I waved at them right after I dodged the bull that was standing on the bridge. (Lotta traffic that day with cattle and horses roaming around.) Anyway, I spent three hours straight speaking Spanish last night and enjoying my fav local beer (Imperial) on the beach. I felt very native by the time we’d walked back to my house and I said buenos noches.

Swiss update: these people are taking over the world. I danced salsa with a guy on Thursday night, and his Spanish was so good that I assumed he was a Tico. Guess what? Yup. Another aus der Schweiz. They trip out that I can understand the gist of what they’re saying. “An American who speaks German AND can understand Swiss-German?” Really cool folks, though. I’m so glad I speak German, because that’s the second-most-spoken language here.

Ah, yes, the daiquiris. I asked for a bebida tropical, and the barman suggested a daiquiri. I said si, por favor, even though I was dreading that nasty teeth-on-edge, sweet red stuff you get in the States. Then he asked if I wanted piña or limon, and my interest was piqued. I said piña and watched in utter amazement as he proceeded to haul out an entire pineapple, hack it open, cut it into chunks, and stick the entire thing into a blender with a liberal portion of rum and some ice. Now THAT, my friends, is a daiquiri!

Mi hermana just shut the gate to the house. Guess she got sick of the Saturday vendors making their rounds…

The roosters have been mercifully quiet today. Makes me paranoid that they’re going to really let loose tonight, when I’m coming back from Tutti Frutti. (A bar on the beach that’s supposedly THE dance spot in town on Saturdays; I hope I can find somebody who can dance as well as the guys in Detroit. I have high hopes for the Colombian street vendor whom I met yesterday.)

I took a tango lesson on Thursday. The teacher is fabulous: from Belgium, speaks six (!) languages, has a degree in Anthropology (!!), and loves Latin dance. We have a ton in common, and I kind of hope I’m her only student again next week. Very elegant lady. And I’ve come across two guys who do martial arts, so we’re exchanging impromptu lessons. I was up first with kung fu, and the capoeira guy is next, and then the t’ai chi guy. First time I’ve ever taught anybody martial arts—I gotta say, it’s quite satisfying to be showing a muscular California surfer dude how to throw a punch. They’re both from Cally, actually—the t’ai chi guy’s comment was “that’s bitchin’!” Gotta love it.

It’s getting a lot easier to understand people, especially the profesoras. The first two days of school were kind of tough (up at 6:45 every morning and then a mile-long walk), but now I’m really digging it. It feels damned awesome to be able to understand a new language. I’d forgotten how cool that is… Though I have to pay a lot of attention when people are talking to be able to catch on.

Okay, time to head to the beach, the fruteria, and the little tienda to check out more local foods. I love browsing through to see what the locals eat—yesterday I hit pay dirt in the form of Swedish lingonberries. ???? What the hell are Swedish lingonberries doing here??? I laughed a lot over that one. And the ketchup comes in Capri Sun packaging. Very interesting. Might also bring back some salsa lizado with me. It’s the local variety of Worcester; they use it all the time.

I hope there is no snow anywhere in your vicinity while you’re reading this.

P.S. A gecko landed on my head during dinner last night.

Your Latin-American correspondent signing out… !Adios, muchachos!