Number of People with Nothing Better to Do

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Sunday Funday

After my shower I threw on some shorts and a t-shirt and sat on the roof in the sun to do a NY Times crossword puzzle. I read the local paper to practice my reading skills and took a quick siesta. At lunch time, most of the family sat down and had lunch of rice (per usual), pureed potatoes, chicken and onions in a tomato-based sauce and sliced cucumbers which were soaked in freshly squeezed lime juice. Delicious. I sat around and talked with the sister and one of her nursing school friends for a while (not as hot as it sounds). They laughed at my fumbling around in Spanish and at the notion of learning new words in a different language (a couple of hours later the friend had her purse snatched in Lima).

After lunch, I went next door to Caleb’s house. Some old lady who either couldn’t speak or couldn’t hear answered the door. I asked if Caleb was around. She moaned something and pointed a tiny curled hand at the street. I took that to mean “Sorry, Caleb is not here right now. I believe he went down the street to Brian’s house for lunch. You should be able to find him there”. She was right.

They had just finished lunch and I asked them if they wanted to go to the local soccer match. The town is divided into areas called manzanas (which means apples in English… haven’t figured that one out yet). On Sundays there is a league that pits one manzana against another. My host brother is on the team for our Manzana so we went to see him play. We paid our one Sol (about 33 cents) and walked in. I tried to get in for free as a “niƱo” but it didn’t work nor did the locals find it particularly amusing.

I’d say there were about 50 people there, most rooting for the other team. The teams had full uniforms, the referees called a good game, and the players played to win. Occasionally a stray dog trotted across the field but neither the dog nor the players seemed to mind too much. My Manzana lost 1 - nil but at least we were in the sun and didn’t pay one Sol to watch a hard fought battle to a nil - nil tie between a bunch of amateurs. Carlos, my host brother, rode the pine for the game.


  1. I think I gots the comment thingy werkin.

  2. Wait - aren't pureed potatoes referred to as "mashed potatoes"?