The Lost and Found

So, I just got done washing clothes. Two and a half hours. And I'm not talking a washer and dryer, kids. Every speck of dirt (which obviously there is none of in Nicaragua) painstakingly destroyed by my pobrecita little fingertips on a concrete washboard. This is not to make you feel sorry for me...well, maybe a little bit. Sometimes I actually enjoy it, when there is a good rap song on my I-Pod and I can scrub my passive agressiveness right down the drain. And sometimes, when I am feeling especially peppy, I even try to rap, which is worth the $550 ticket down here to see, I promise! Today, however, my I-Pod died and it was 110 degrees (probably) and I had about 30 pieces of clothing to wash (cue the tiny violin here). I made it through, though, and was very proud of myself and actually began singing the Glory, Glory Hallelujah song on my second-to-last tee shirt.

I should not be complaining too much however, because this is Holy Week (Semana Santa) here in Nicaragua, which basically means Mardi Gras for the entire country. I'm not kidding. The govt gives the entire country a week off to get wasted...for Easter, of course. I think it's like when people use "Dios Mio!" here, because at some point the phrase held meaning, but now it's just a free for all for anyone who is upset/angry/terrified/or wildly excited.

Moving on, it is the middle of summer here (referenced above by the 110 degree temperature, which I am not complaining about because I would rather bathe in my own sweat than wear a winter jacket), and so everyone and their mother (seriously, the entire extended family) celebrates Semana Santa by going to the beach. Hotels are jam packed, so people sleep in buses, pass out on the beach, and celebrate the Sanctity/Santidad of it all with the national gem known as Flor de Cana rum (you might remember this from my drinking with a priest post, which funnily enough also references religion and whetting your whistle).

Adam was talking to a guy on the bus last week who said that Nicaragua is known for having the highest amount of drownings in Central America during this week, at somewhere around 600. Many of the drownings, he also happened to mention, take place near the shore, in water that is less than two feet deep, simply because people are just that drunk. Adam called this natural selection/survival of the fittest, until I pointed out that many children are also probably being created on a whim during this week. Anyway, Elena assures me that the number of drownings is less than people say, at somewhere around 25 or 50 people. Nonetheless, I am not allowed to travel on my own this week. I hear that Managua knows how to party, too, though, so I am not too worried.

As for all of this taking place on Holy Week? As Memo so eloquently put it, "The Messiah came to save the lost, the very lost. And you have to be lost before you can be found." I can only imagine how many glasses will be clinking together to celebrate this thought this week before Mass on Sunday.