Exactly the Conversation I Love to Hear

Last weekend I went to the town of Rivas to attend a friend of mine's 15th birthday party. The party itself is deserving of its own post. However, this post is about mangoes. It is currently mango season in Nicaragua, my most loved of all Nicaraguan seasons (although closely rivaled by avacado season). To get to this birthday party I had to pass through the port town of San Jorge. San Jorge just happens to be the mango capital of Nicaragua.

Lauren: So how much are your mangoes?

Mango Seller: $0.75

Lauren: For one?

Mango Seller: For a dozen.

Lauren: What if I don't want a dozen?

Mango Seller: We don't sell less then a dozen.

Lauren's Brain: This is a serious mango seller, oh well, 12 mangoes is better than no mangoes, right?

Lauren's Stomach: Hells yeah.

Lauren: I'll take 12.

They were worth every last juicy drop.

Pink Spandex, Plastic Suits and a Whole lot of Butt

A couple of weeks ago I took my friend Andrea up on an offer to attend a dance class with her. It was probably one of the best decisions I have ever made. Later, I found myself at a loss for words when descibing it to my friend Julia.

Julia: So what kind of dance class is it?
Lauren: Well, in theory it's 'Latin Rhythms', but I've been told it can spontaneously turn into an aerobics class.
Julia: Nicaragua is a strange country, isn't it?
Lauren: Yes, yes it is.

Later, as I stood in a brightly lit room in the Academia Nicaraguense de Danza, staring at geckos on the wall, I was no closer to a description. To begin with, it is taught by a flamboyantly homosexual man named Michael (not Miguel). If I hadn't already been convinced by his preference for men by the expressive gestures, tight shirts and incredible hip movement, I would have know for sure the day he blew himself a kiss in the mirror. It was that day I decided that, I too, needed to start blowing myself kisses in the mirror. I digress.

I began this class because, despite living in Latin America for over 15 months, I still don't know how to dance salsa, cumpia, machata or merengue. I'm not sure if I'll be able to dance any of these when I finish, but, at the very least I'm sure I'll be able to better shake my butt. The music is blasted so loud that I can rarely hear what is being shouted by the teacher. I'll normally just invent something I think he should be saying, like, 'More hips!', 'Shoulders!' and 'Lorena, what the hell are you doing?!' Michael also won't accept that people who are not Latino are not born with the ability to move their hips and shoulders in opposite directions while moving across a room. I used to try and stand in front of the mirrors along the wall to improve, but I stopped when watching myself dancing became too depressing. I'm sure at some point, after a lot of practice, the movements I am learning will look attractive, but for now they just look spastic. Still, I persevere! Four days a week I can be found learning to shake my new found Latino booty with the help of Michael and a room full of encouraging women.


Can you pick me out of the group picture? I'm the one who's skin tone is reflecting light.

Andrea and I with the famous Michael.

Freestyling at our Valentine's Day party. Apparently I was supposed to dress up, but I though it was a regular dance class. These types of mis communications are commun when you rarely understand what is going on.

This Post is for Kristen

This post is dedicated to the only person I know who always reads my blog; Kristen McNeill. A faithful friend and library buddy from the times when she had hair so long it went past her bum.

An archive photo from the Festival des Nuits d'Afrique last summer in Mtl.



I have not eaten mangoes off a stick with a better friend. Also, Kristen is coming to visit me at the end of March!!! This also makes her my first friend to visit me while travelling. Hooorah. Despite our repeated fights over who will marry Julia in our old age we have decided to settle our differences and live in happiness together over corn and chocolate in Central America. Since I know that Kristen will be reading this to Cal, I say hi to Cal as well. That is all.

25 Random Things About Me

1. When I was 7 I asked my Dad if he though I was pretty and after a long pause he told me I had a nice neck.
2. If there was only one thing I could change about myself it would be to have been born an amazing dancer of every style.
3. Over the past 10 years, one of my biggest regrets was not buying Napoleon stickers at Les Invalides in June 2005 because they were too expensive. Frankie bought some. I will always have to live with that.
4. I prefer sculptures to paintings. My favorite sculptor is Rodin.
5. My favorite countries are Colombia and France.
6. I have always felt that I led a boring and tragedy free life. To compensate I like to make up elaborate stories of more interesting lives. These include being adopted from a war torn country, having black skin or being hired as a soloist for the Moscow City Ballet at the age of 14.
7. I have really expensive taste. This is a problem since I do not make very much money and do not expect to make any kind of significant salary in my lifetime, thus, I am left with no option but to marry a very rich man.
8. I am allergic to the cold. When I go outside in the winter my legs get really splotchy and ugly.
9. I am a persistent abuser of punctuation rules. Why put only one exclamation when you can put three???
10. I blush really easily.
11. I do not take compliments well. I’ve never sure what to say afterwards.
12. I constantly embarrass myself by bursting into rooms yelling things like ‘BOOYAH’ or ‘SHAZAM’ but I can’t seem to stop.
13. I personify everyday objects. If the refrigerator is not working anymore it’s because we’ve broken up, but we’re thinking of getting back together once the repairman comes.
14. My favorite singer is Jacques Brel. His songs have made me want to learn the acordion. As a side note there is a famous Colombian acordion player with the surname Lallemand.
15. I have always wondered when the saxophone was invented but never bothered to find out. This stemmed from a dream I had where I was trapped on a pirate ship but was able stay alive by amusing the crew with ska songs played on a sax.
16. I have always wanted to make short films to show people how I see the world.
17. After my family, I am most grateful for my friends who tolerate my insanity with amazing ease.
18. Answering these things always makes me nervous because everyone else’s answers are so much cooler than mine.
19. When I was in elementary school I went over to my friend Julia's house with a Laura Secord chocolate bunny that I had named Petey. When Julia and I came up from the basement, we found Petey hung from a noose from the upstairs banaster courtesy of Julia's sister Catriona. I went upstairs to find Catriona hiding in a closet. I then kicked her. I don't remember any of this happening. Julia told me years later. Sometimes I wish I still had that kind of anger in me.
20. My Dad is always telling me to calm down. It drives me nuts. What if I don’t want to be calm?
21. I never admit to crying, I just say that my eyes are leaking.
22. I am a picture fanatic.
23. I am secretly 80 years old. I enjoy pastimes like listening to the CBC, rocking on rocking chairs, sewing, general crafting and wearing cardigans. My next life goal is to make a quilt.
24. I can only remember being really angry 4 times in my life. Most of these instances involved technology, including my arch nemesis GoogleDocs.
25. I simultaneously have a really great and really terrible memory. For example, I can remember entire conversations years after they happened, but I cannot remember where things are in my kitchen.