Mints On Our Pillows?

After our fourth day of Spanish school - and our fifth full day in Nicaragua -  we had gone for a long walk along the beach in San Juan del Sur.  The Thursday crowds were still light, although the streets were filled with little kids in costumes, going business to business with their parents, trick or treating.  It was Halloween!  We settled in at a bar and did our homework (or most of it anyway).  I have to say that if I could have done homework at a beachside bar when I was in high school, well,... I may never have graduated.  

After homework and beer, it was another sunset viewing while standing with our feet in the warm Pacific water.  We walked back to the 'parque central' and watched the kiddies playing on the very modern playground equipment.  And after dinner, we visited with our host family then retired to our room to finish up our work and settle in for the night.

We were sitting up in bed, trying to fit as much of us as possible in front of the old rusty fan that provides the only respite from the high temps and higher humidity.  Our room, while nice enough, is simple concrete and a metal roof, so it stays pretty warm, at least until the early hours of the morning.  It only starts to cool off just a couple of hours before we have to get up.  Oh well - such is life.

Just before lights out, I looked up and calmly said 'Lizard'.
'Where?' asked Bex!.  Also calm.
'Above the door.'
'Meh.'  

A gecko, about 3" or so in length was looking around - either a late night snack craving or was going to help us save 15% on our car insurance.  It walked along the ceiling, disappearing a short time later.  It didn't matter - it was time for bed.  Lights - off.  

Now, one may think 'how could you turn the lights out without knowing where the gecko had gone'.  We figure a gecko has sticky feet, (probably) won't fall on us during the night and (hopefully) wouldn't want to crawl in bed with us anyway.  

Besides, in Nicaragua once the lights are out, we don't have much say in what's in the room with us.  And maybe it's better that way.

Yes, after just a few days in this country, we felt like we had already adapted (somewhat) to this fact of life.  How did we become so cavalier so quickly, you might ask?


Here's how...

Full days in Nicaragua: 2
Date:  Monday 28 October
Time – about 10:30 pm
Place – our bed in San Juan del Sur
Lights out?  Check.
Bex! asleep?  Check.  
Dave sweating, trying to fall asleep… just dozing off?  Check.

“Plomp”.  

I woke up suddenly, thinking 'what’s that weird noise?'  Being in a new country, senses on high alert - listening.  Listening some more.  Finally, relaxing -  a little.    
'Hmm, it’s okay, maybe just Bex!’s water bottle moving on the bed.'  I listen a little longer, seeing if the darkness provides any more clues.  

Nothing.  

But still...

With suspicion overtaking me and knowing that I maybe shouldn't take anything for granted just yet, I decide to investigate after all.  

As I moved to sit up in bed, I sensed more than heard something move somewhere close by.

'Bex!, turn the lights on now!'  I hate to admit it but I am sure my voice went up a register or three as I made this rather urgent request.

Sleepily, the light turner on-ner turned the lights on.  I was standing alongside the bed, Bex! at the foot.  She was a little confused as to why I had made her wake up when it had been so damn hard to fall asleep, what with the heat and general constant state of clamminess.  Although my Spidey sense was tingling, I was really hoping this wasn't a case of an over-active imagination.  After a quick scan of the bed and sheets, I reached to the head of the bed and picked up my pillow.

'What IS that?!?!' said my now fully awake wife.  

Un cangrejo.  

For you gringos, that’s a crab.  Not a keeper, only 4 inches or so across the back.  

BUT IT WAS A CRAB… 
IN OUR BED...
UNDER OUR PILLOWS…
BY OUR HEADS…
IN THE DARK!
A CRAB!!!...

I immediately regretted not buying a machete upon landing in Nicaragua.  A quick search of our room revealed nothing of use and neither of us remembered this situation being covered on 'Naked and Afraid'.  After finding nothing of use, we decided to pull the bed out from the corner to at least give us a full viewing perimeter as well as to confirm that he hadn't brought any friends along.  Bad idea #1.  When I slid the bed out, the crab fell on the floor and scuttled back to the wall.  

Okay, at least he didn't come at us, toward our toes.  So far so good.

There he was, back to the wall, staring us down with wherever his eyes were.  After years of experience dealing with crabs (i.e. watching 'Deadliest Catch') I figured I could just grab it from behind and toss it outside, thus saving my wife and being her hero forevermore.  Bad idea #2.  When I reached down, he reared up and looked p-p-p-pissed.  

Okay, I still had ten fingers and we still had 20 toes.  So far so good.  

Aha!  New strategy!  I would use my bucket hat to cover it, then scoop it up and toss it outside, thus saving my wife and being her hero forevermore.  Bad idea #3.  I tried to throw the hat on top of this dude but he was having none of it.  As soon as the hat was on him and before I could get my hands around the hat, he was gone, scurrying along the wall.  

It's a creepy sound, crab legs scratching on a tile floor, let me tell you. 

Okay, at least he moved to the corner, then around it toward the door.  So far so good.

The crab clearly did not want to be in the room any more than we wanted it to be in the room.  Feisty little bugger.  The next idea was finally a good idea.  Bex! would hold the door ajar, making sure nothing else got in while I spooked our visiter toward his freedom and our safety.  I used my hat, waving it on his left to drive him to his right.  It worked!  As he scritch-scratched his way toward the door, I had a brief but dreadful thought, something about 'what if he decides to go for Bex!' or something like that.  Too late to change our battle plan now.  I laid across the bed, fanning him to keep him moving and when he got to the opening of the door we evicted him, my hand wrapped in the hat and Bex! slamming the door behind him. 

Victory!

After changing my shorts and staring at each other in utter disbelief for several minutes, we looked up 'crab' in our handy Spanish-English dictionary.  Un cangrejo.  

It was a while before we turned the lights out, every little sound causing me to sit up.  Bex! actually fell asleep again fairly quickly, although there were several utterances of 'A crab.  In our bed.'  I was very proud of her, needless to say.  A lesser woman would have insisted that we move to a hotel NOW!

Me?  For the next hour or so I jumped at every noise and movement in the room.  I also envisioned what type of machete I was going to buy.

Finally, I turned the light off, accepting that we were the visitors here, not the crab.
The next morning, our hostess Carmen’s eyes got big when we told her of our late night visitor.  She apologized profusely and told us this had never happened before.  And at school all the teachers got a big kick out of our tale.

Welcome to Nicaragua, gringos!

Dear readers:  Don't worry - we"ll fill in all the days of our adventure, from hectic packing to travel to today.  Hugs and kisses all around!

Hasta pronto!