(written last night)
It’s sunset at Brio, the best time of day. La puesta del sol. For the past week I’ve had to teach class at this hour, but now I’m free to enjoy it as it is meant to be enjoyed: sitting outside, enjoying a warm breeze, sipping cold beer out of a bottle.
Bug spray on dry skin, evaporates and cools. Wearing jeans. Jeans are amazing now, foreign. Juan chatters in unintelligible Spanish in the background—perfect distance. Close enough so that I can enjoy the cadence of a language I love but far away so that I don’t have to think about it, don’t have to respond to it, or teach anyone anything, can still exist in my easy English just for now.
Geckos gurgle and chirp—they sound like a clucking hen, or a clicking tongue. Loud little critters. Colors mush into darker, greyer versions of themselves. Silhouettes where once were three dimensions. Oddly, the ocean fades into a lighter blue. A car humms up the drive full of people, detached disinterest, I don’t want to deal with anything. In a moment, Jaimie comes up to chat and I sort of just…don’t. He wanders away. A bug runs into my head with a kamikaze-like buzz. Big fat guy-bug, flops off my hair onto the ground. Thankfully misses the beer opening (he shoots, he misses). Green black now, except for the ocean, which holds on to its blue, so does the sky though with less success. Jaime and Jackie are listening to bad 80’s music inside; it drifts out. The beer is warmer now, loses its cooling power (the breeze takes that one over). One of the guests who arrived today brought his own beer cozy with him; slipped it on his first afternoon beer with a silly (or stupid) American grin. Palm fronds wiggle. The bugs and animals and geckos attempt to drown out the bad music but end up in competition with it. I’m freshly showered and clean, for once. One star pops up. A door slams. A swig of warm beer. People are indistinguishable. I’ll fade into my chair or the trees. The first firefly is out! The Midwest arrives in Nicaragua. More arrive; they’re like creepy twinkle lights over the grass hill. Luciérnagas. (Light knats, direct translation). I just asked Jackie. A zancudo climbs up onto the computer screen, crawls across. It’s dark now and they’re out in mass. Another tip-toes into the crack between my screen and keyboard. It’s stuck and in my attempts to get it out it gets smashed—smashed mosquito on a white laptop. Darn. Sunset’s over. I go into hiding from the zancudos.