I Got Nothing for Christmas*

Have you ever had a Christmas when you got nothing*?

I mean nothing, nothing.

Not even a chocolate bar? Not even a bag of peanuts?

I just had one of those. I think it was my first one of those.

I was actually feeling a little sorry for myself for a while. Probably because Christmas was always such a big material event around our household. For good or for bad, that's the way it was.

But then I got to thinking that my Christmas was not a giftless one.

Last Saturday, one of the recent graduates of BECA showed up on my doorstep, like a stray puppy dog. His name is Jose Francisco and I don't really know him that well. In three years, we may have exchanged 50 words.

After some chitchat -- hey, 75 words now! -- he started pulling something out of his backpack.

Out came his diploma and I was gifted the face of a proud and effusive young man. "I just wanted to thank you Walter for helping me get this thing." (Very rough translation.)

It was one of the nicest Christmas gifts I've ever received. And it sure beats the latest Dolce And Gabbana cologne, wouldn't you say?

* For dramatic effect, I'm not including gifts that I received during my visit to Canada in November that were given in advance. My sister Kelly and her family and my mother m are ALWAYS very generous with me.

365 More Days Around the Sun

This year my December 8th was turning into a typical December 8th. 

3pm. Quietly settling into a good e-book, a poker video on the computer, relaxing in my leisureware (meaning underwear), hershey's kisses -- with almonds! -- at my side, reading in peace in my "mansion" as members of BECA "Team Nica" call it.

I ask you, dear reader, . . .  "what else could a guy need?

"Knock, knock." Who on earth could that be? Who would dare disrupt me on my day of peace and tranquililty.

I open the door and there appear +SoraniaDavila, +UraniaMontoya -- with cake in hand -- and, lurking behind, +MaryuryRuiz. My three lieutenants in BECA.

"Huh? What are you doing here?"

"Well, we couldn't forget your birthday, Walter."

Awwwww.

Before tears could well up I ushered them to the patio table and we sat down to enjoy the cake they brought along and some harmless, delightful chatter. After an hour or so they chose to pursue what I believe to be a much more interesting pursuit.

My BECA "Army": Sorania, Urania, Maryury (8-12-12)

So what else could a guy need? Well, how about the kindness and thoughtfulness of three lovely women.

That's what else. My day was now complete.

P.S. I want to mention that I also received email congratulations from both Antonio Rodriguez and Eliezer Alvarado. The three of us have parted company recently but despite our differences they chose to take the high road and extend birthday wishes. I applaud them for the classy gestures.

12-12-12

Today is a special day for those people superstitious about numbers.

I'm not really one of those, but, hey, count me in!

Two reasons.

1. 12 is my favorite number. It was my first jersey number in soccer, probably given to me arbritarily by some grown-up. But it stuck.
2. The allure of something that won't happen again. This one is a little more difficult to explain. But it's extremely attractive to know that you are experiencing something that won't happen again. In your lifetime. Think Halley's comet. Think total solar eclipse. Think Rolling Stones farewell concert tour. Oops. Okay maybe not the last one. 

And then it turns out that those very same Stones -- probably my favorite band -- are participating in a Hurricane Sandy benefit concert in New York tonigh. Streaming live on the Internet!

Three of my favorite things all in one day. The number 12. The Rolling Stones. The Internet. 

Taxis in Masaya, Nicaragua

How do I get around in Masaya?

Taxi. I did buy a car a few months ago, but it's a real lemon. (Blog on the lemon overdue.)

You just can't beat a Masaya taxi ride for the price. Usually 50 cents for a trip. Yes, I said CENTS.

Masaya Taxi (One of the nicer ones)

And they are everywhere. You rarely have to wait more than a couple of minutes to flag one down.

Did I say "flag one down"? Oops. Actually no flagging is necessary as these customer-hungry creatures will honk to attract your attention. Imagine that? 

I don't know how the poor souls make a living because the price of gas is more than what we pay in Canada; as of this write, about $1.25 a liter.

Of course there are idiosyncrasies, like:

• sharing your trip. Be prepared to share your ride with other people your taxista picks up en route.
• opening the door from the outside (to get out!).
• visiting the gas station on your trip (and watching him buy $2 worth of gas - "super," of course).
• paying a 50% premium if you're gringo (hey, it's still only 75 cents!).

Dad liked to say, "you get what you pay for."

Not in this case, Dad. Can't think of a better deal in all of Nicaragua.