Today I wished I had known Spanish even more than before. Thomas and I were walking back to our place in San Juan Del Sur, in southwest Nicaragua, when we stumbled on some sort of domestic fight.
Sunday around here is known as Sunday Funday, much like other places. Except, as far as a little bit of Thomas' reading, is also a day for heavy drinking, baseball games on t.v, and fights. When he first told me this, I obviously pictured guys outside of bars, or girls too for that matter, fist fighting after having a few too many rum and cokes, or Tonas (Nica beer). And although I'm not a fighter, and the thought of seeing blood or a fist make contact with someone's face makes me cringe, my knees go weak, and brings a funny feeling deep in my belly, I thought it would be kind of...how shall I put this, enlightening?
Well, as we were walking, we spotted, what looked like a grown man sitting in the front of a Toyota truck getting berated by an extremely angry woman. At first, I was slightly curious as to what was happening, when I saw her wind up, not with her fist, but with the truck door, and slam it closed...unluckily for him, his leg was hanging out of the truck just enough that she caught him square on the shin. I thought, for sure, my knees were going to buckle, and made a beeline for the middle of the street in case she decided to do it again. I wouldn't be sure if I could handle that again.
I'm not sure if I could have ever imagined Sunday Funday to be just the opposite of that. And I am also not sure if I could have ever imagined watching someone slam a truck door on somebody's shin.
It gives me the weebee geebees. *shudder
Now, I can only think about it and laugh (as queasy as I may feel), and write this one up as yet another experience I was completely and utterly UN-prepared for. I guess if it ever happens again, I will be sure to grab something sturdy to support my knees!
Really, what was it for?? If only my Spanish were better... I would know then!