On hearing

Since leaving the land of the scuba divers, Maggie and I have happily found ourselves reemerged in Latin American culture, and the Spanish language. For several days, it was impossible to find anyone to speak with us. English, Hebrew and French dominated our boat rides on the island of Utila. Fearing that we would lose our ability to conjugate correctly, we wandered to the most out of the way language school we could find in Nicaragua- at the biological station on the shores of the Lago de Apoyo. The woman working at the station seemed to be startled when we arrived. How did you find us? She ended up being my very interesting teacher, with many stories of the poor morals found in Nicaraguan men. Maggie´s teacher is indescribable. He had bug eyes, strong convictions and wildly flailing arms.

The lago was gorgeous, but very damp. There was mold covering the pages of my book, and the insides of my ears. Again, I feel that I have attained a certain level of competency, as I navigated my way through an interview with a doctor who spoke without s´s, (the lovely Nicaraguan accent that is incomprehensible) in spite of my inability to hear much at all. Over the week, I have become far more sympathetic towards my grandparents, as I was forced to read the lips of my teacher and attempt to decipher her words.

My hearing has steadily improved, and one day as I was walking down to the lake, one of my ears opened up. It was miraculous! I turned, as it sounded like an enormous waterfall was gushing directly behind me, but it was only my water bottle sloshing in my bag. I thought the lake was a very quiet place, but on the final day discovered it was not. The decibel level of the Howler Monkeys, frogs, and rain was insane, and Maggie had to convince me that they really had been present all week long. The station was a great spot, with impressive diversity. They even had a pet wild boar, who thought it was a dog. My teacher would pet the creature, and it would turn over and thump its foot. My room also contained a variety of creatures. The first night, I was accompanied by a lizard, who promised to stick to the wall. The next, it was a spider in my bed, who returned to his spot out of sight. However, on the third night, a scorpion sat on the wall just above my bed. I called in another guest who had just returned from Peace Corp in Kenya and promised to be a proficient scorpion killer. He was, and I moved into Maggie´s room.

From the lago, we traveled to the liberal University town of Leon. It´s wonderful! It has been the first city we have encountered that seems to truly care about art. Poets are the heroes of this town- even the streets are named after them. The city is also conveniently located next to several volcanoes. We hiked up one, Cerro Negro, which is famous for its volcano boarding. The two of us narrowly missed starring in a French TV documentary about this activity. One of our friends from the language school at Apoyo was assigned to film, but his camera ceased functioning, again due to the incredibly humid conditions at the lago. Without the pressure of the camera, we simply ran down the face of the fuming volcano, rather than riding a plank of wood. I think that we made the correct choice. Leon is also very close to the Pacific Ocean, so we have spent the last few days involved in the following activities: swimming, hammocking and drinking milkshakes. My life is so hard.