er...first part of this entry is written in Spanish (sort of mundane musings on passing strangers in street and the ironic vandalism that I came across that said, in big ugly, spray-painted letters "don't litter."
Today, Conocoto was mediocre. We played this game where three teams competed to see who could make the longest line of stuff, using only what was on hand. For once, my extendedly-phlegmy colds came in handy, as my arsenal of nose-blowing toilet paper won us the championship (I felt like that might have been sort of a cheap, unfair win, but karma had its way with me moments later when I sunk my hand into a fresh cow patty).
The rest of the camp day was sort of disastrous in my opinion. Mary Angela decided it would be fun to have a bonfire, only it was located in a sun-blasted expanse of hot valley weather. To further contribute to the burning of small children, they were made to roast these puny hot-dogs ad cherry flavored marshmallows on ten-inch long skewers. After this, someone decided that only the kids who had brought food to share at our "picnic" would have sandwiches and soda. I came in on the middle of this and became perplexed as the same kids over and over kept getting sprite refills while others sat gloomily around the edges. I began asking them and they told me the rule and a ran a small revolution that got more food supplies that made sandwiches for all.
After that, I took the Vingala bus to meet G and S for G's birthday lunch. On the way, this herbal health specialist woman got very interested in me. She asked my first and last name, which I already thought was a little weird before she took out her daily planner and wrote down this information with no explanation. Later, I had to halt her when she asked for my telephone number. As I was departing the bus, she yelled "BYE!" in this sort of strained attempt at English from her seat across the bus. haha.
The birthday lunch was great. Gabriel's father came from Esmeraldes on the coast--a six hour trip which, I found out later, either he or Gabriel's mom make every weekend! We went to the historic center and ate on the second floor terrace of a pretty fancy restaurant. I had a roll of chicken filled with cheese and spinach smothered in a "special sauce." After that, the three of us meant to do some sightseeing but ended up talking for an hour on the patio roof of one of the many grand historic buildings.
Sara and I discovered the odd coincidence today of effeminate male animals named Ferdinand. First off, there's the children's story of Ferdinand the bull who only wanted to play in the flowers all day. Apparently the Graybeals named one of their baby bulls Ferdinand in honor, which turned out to be a self-fulfilling prophecy! This bull of theirs went on to be the most timid, infertile little guy (that Laurie was sure was gay). Our late rooster Ferdinand (ferdie) was once described by a mature adult family friend as "the faggiest rooster i've ever seen!" and true to the name's legacy, was unable to fertilize any eggs in his entire rooster career, the small white fluffy thing!
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