Staying with Tim's friends in Masaya was an amazing experience. They let us take over their small living room and supplied two mats to pad our dreams. The dwelling and furnishings were modest, but I rather enjoyed the quiet evening. We sat around the front porch in plastic patio furniture as night fell. Andrew and I carried on one conversation in English while our hosts spoke with one another in Spanish. Every ten minutes or so, one party would attempt a simple question in the native langauge of the other group. Most exchanges achieved low levels of comprehension but mercifully commenced with a long loud communal laugh.
There was one member of the family who spoke some English. Between his busy work schedule, he was patient with us and our liberal use of an English to Spanish dictionary. He helped us get to the local market and negotiated with the neighbors to park the car in their curb cut out.
The best part of the stay were the activities that transcended the language barrier. In particular, interactions with the family's 5 year old son, Cedric, proved immensely rewarding. Early play consisted of me attempting to read children's Spanish books that I found around the house while Cedric vehemently scolded my pronunciation. Andrew added physical elements to the fray by starting impromptu games of tag. Our play eventually progressed with Andrew and I acting as monsters guarding the house while Cedric tried to sneak in while we looked away. Each activity drew approval of the adults and made Andrew and I feel as if we had make a new friend without having to rely on commonalities of language.
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