Yuri is in his 40's, from Russia and still has family back home. It's hard to get information from him. He speaks Russian, obvs, and fluent Spanish. He speaks broken - nay, fractured - English, so it's been difficult communicating with him. He also likes to switch between Russian, Spanish, English, sometimes in the same sentence. And he is impatient! He'll ask a question and while trying to answer, he'll cut you off if he doesn't think you're responding quick enough. Russian efficiency engrained, I suppose.
He's a sailor by trade. I've learned that he's been sailing since he was 14 years old. With a horrible economy in his homeland, he left home to earn money, taking jobs that brought him all over the world. Somehow he ended up here, with no money to get back home. So he took a job at Hacienda Merida, to fill the gap and earn some cash. As fortune would have it, HM also has a sail boat, a small one, that he was put in charge of. He took care of it and sailed guests around the lake.
HM doesn't have the money to keep the boat up to his standards, so he gets frustrated. There are pictures of the Victoria on the HM website, from it's heyday. Fresh paint and sails. Now, the paint is faded as are the sails. She still sails, of course, but Yuri would love to keep her in better shape. "Is no culture here! No one want to learn boat!"
Note: In this post I am going to share some conversations I've had with Yuri. I am going to write his dialogue just as he says it. It's not meant to make fun of him or show disrespect. Just want to paint a better picture of Yuri and our interactions with him.
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Within our first couple of days here, we introduced ourselves to him. He's hard to read, so I couldn't tell if he gave a shit or not. He would nod or grunt at us when we'd see him. Mostly he just kept to himself. Our first lengthy interaction with him was on our first weekend, after teaching for a week.
We had decided to take a kayak out to Monkey Island. So we grabbed life jackets and paddles, walked over to the beach and selected our vessel. As we were prepping for our trip, Yuri rushed over and, in his unique language mix, said something about giving him a minute to get chairs for us. A couple of minutes later he returned with kayak seats. He started clipping Bex!'s seat into the front of our two-person craft. I saw what he was doing and started in on my end. My seat in the back seemed too close to Bex!'s in front of me. Yuri didn't say anything, so I assumed I was good. He tied our backpack in so it would stay in the boat, should we tip.
As quick as he showed up, he was gone so we hit the water. I was so close to the wife that we kept smacking paddles. As far as we knew, this was normal. Our only other kayaking experience together was during an XDog event, the Ride-Row-Run in Maupin, OR. We smacked paddles there, too, so figured we were experiencing a synchronized paddling issue, not a 'my seat was clipped in the wrong spot on the kayak putting me about 3 feet too far forward' thing.
Not knowing any better, we had a good time. Later, I was chilling out when Yuri plopped down in front of me.
"You no have experience in boat."
"Excuse me?"
"I see you in kayak. You don't know what you do."
"Yeah, but we had fun, anyway."
"I not check your seat. No is correct. No experience."
"Meh, we'll get better."
"I show you how to better be in boat."
"Okay, thanks."
"You. Me. Bring food. Lights. Go all night, not stop, cross lake. Rivas. Stay one night. Next day, come back. I teach you."
Now, at this point I can't imagine crossing all the way to Rivas in a kayak. The waves get pretty damn big outside the protected bay Merida sits in.
"I don't know, Yuri. I'll let you know."
"I teach you."
And he stood up and walked away.
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Yuri is a craftsman. He knows how to repair machinery, bicycles, motors. He takes lead on most all projects around here, from what we've seen. He prefers to be punctual, in a militaristic sort of way. Eating meals is a rote procedure for him. Sit down with plate of food, shovel food into mouth, go back to work.
He comes across as a guy who likes to do things the right way. That doesn't work so well in Nicaragua. He can't stand the pace, the work ethic or the lack of resources here. It drives him crazy.
"Fucking Nicaragua technology." He was pointing at power lines that were running from building to building , just draped in the tree branches. "Here, no idea how to do it right." We were walking over to the shed to get some air in some bike tires. He had stopped by his room to grab his keys for the tool house, where all the cool tools were kept. This was where the bike pump would be. He was pissed that the keys weren't in his room. We walked into the shed (by 'shed' I mean a huge pole barn where all the maintenance work is done) and he plugged in the compressor so it could build up some pressure to air up the tires.
He looked over at the door to the tool house and saw the keys hanging in the unlocked padlock in the hasp. Obviously frustrated, he pulled the keys out of the padlock, kicked the door open and checked inside to make sure everything was still in there.
"No respect here. People take keys, take tools, no return them. Leave fucking keys in lock. Anyone come by, take what they want." He locked the door up securely and pocketed the keys. "Look. They lock up ice chests so no one take. But they leave this out in open." He points to a 20hp boat motor clamped to a sawhorse. "I no understand this place."
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Yuri is working hard to edit a 3-4 minute short film he shot back home in Russia. In it, a very KGB-looking Yuri stands stoically, all dressed in black. His right hand is raised to shoulder height. In between his thumb and forefinger, he's holding a coin by the edges. Is he going to do a magic trick? No.
"Watch little girl. How disciplined she is. Not like kids here. Compare to other little girls around here. You watch."
All in slow motion, all in black and white, with a brooding orchestral soundtrack, the camera pans across the room to a five year girl who is behind a rifle. One eye closed, the other staring through the scope. As the music builds, the camera cuts back and forth from Yuri to the cute little girl with the rifle. Finally, a close up shows her squeezing the trigger. Cut to Yuri, where the coin is shot out of his hand.
He strides across the room, pats the cute little girl on the head and helps her reload the rifle. Then the trick shot is repeated. Fade to black. The next thing on the screen was some words (in Russia) and what looked like a phone number. I asked him about this.
"Is phone number to call for business."
"What business?"
"I have business with my brother. Rebuild air rifles and calibrate scopes."
"Oh, so this is to show how good you are at this."
"No, is advertisement for television back home."
"It's a TV commercial?!"
"Yes, for business."
If you could see this film, you'd think it was pure cold-war Russian propaganda - a dark foreboding noir tale of children being trained to be snipers. Instead it's a TV ad for "Crazy Yuri's Air Rifle Repair Emporium'.
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Yuri is trying to get work on a boat - any boat - so he can get back on the water and out of here. He registered on a site that matches deckhands with captains in need of crew. He has had positive responses to his inquiries but they all sail out of Florida or California or Mexico. He needs something that sails from Nicaragua. He says he doesn't have the money to fly anywhere to meet up for work. I've helped him a couple of times in responding to emails or updating his profile to make it look more attractive to prospective employers. He's persistent so I'm sure he'll find something soon. He really wants out, back to where his skills can be used.
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Yuri is our hero.
I've mentioned before that our bed has a white mosquito netting that hangs from the ceiling and drapes over the entire bed, to the floor. Last night, I was tossing and turning in bed, trying to fall asleep in the heat and humidity that is the Nicaraguan rainforest jungle. I opened my eyes and saw a dark splotch on the netting over the foot of the bed. If I've learned anything thus far in this country, it's that I need to investigate anything that doesn't seem right. So I leaned out of bed, under the netting to grab my flashlight, turned it on and shined it up.
I about had a heart attack. Above us, INSIDE the netting, was the largest spider I have ever seen. Ever. Huge, black and brown, furry. Tarantula. The only other time I've seen these are in exhibits at zoos and such. Even now, I can't remember seeing one this big.
I nudged Bex! "Getoutofthebed! Getoutofthebed!! GETOUTOFTHEBED!!!!" She sleepily complied, although by the time she hit the floor I think she was wide awake.
"You don't want to look at this."
"What is it?"
"You don't want to know."
"What IS IT?"
"Okay." We crouched down so I could shine the light up to the top of the netting.
"Oh my god!!!"
Knowing my limits as a macho spider killer had just been exceeded tenfold, I told my now extremely awake wife that we'd need to get some help with this one. We got dressed, all the while keeping an eye on the bed to make sure IT was staying put. I grabbed the key and we went out in search of the night security guard to help us out.
Better - we found Yuri.
"Yuri, grande araña en la cama!" Me, making a big circle with both hands.
Yuri's face lit up - we had finally found something to bond over. He smiled ear to ear, made a throat slashing gesture describing either a] what he was going to do to the spider or b] what the spider was going to do to us. We walked to the room and went inside. Bex! and I immediately scanned the room to see if anything looked out of place - or like it was moving. I turned on my light and showed Yuri where IT was. Thank goodness IT was still where we'd left it.
"I go get equipment!" Really?! 'Equipment'!!? Excellent! He had equipment for just this situation! We were so lucky to find him to help us out. Yuri was beside himself with glee as he raced out of the room. We opted to wait right by the door. He returned a moment later with his 'giant spider removal gear' - a backpack, fully unzipped so it was wide open and a hand towel. I was thinking more along the lines of a small amount of C4 or an assault rifle, but okay, he must know what he's doing.
He pulled the netting aside, got on his knees on the mattress, then started flicking the towel at the IT, all the while mumbling excitedly in Russian. He sounded like a lion tamer. After two or three towel whips, he knocked it down onto the backpack, then smacked it one more time to kill it. All without making a mess of the bed!
He took it outside and pushed it off the edge of the concrete into the grass. We thanked him profusely. He smiled, collected his equipment and walked away.
Our hero!
Mosquito netting - fail!
Okay, maybe not. To be fair, there were no mosquitos inside the netting.
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We wish Yuri the best of luck and hope he finds his way back to the sea, where he so strongly wishes to be!
Oh, and knowing there would be those of you who want to see this creature, we poked around in the brush the next morning and found it.
If you DON"T want to see it, just stop right here. If you do, scroll down...
(Just posting this picture triggered Bex!'s PTSD - post traumatic spider disorder.)
Keep in mind this was IN OUR BED.
Wait for it...
... wait for it...
... wait for it...
... wait for it...
Boo!
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| Gives me the heebie-jeebies just looking at it |
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| Next to my hand, for reference |
ok, so, yeah, that's the grande size for sure! You guys are having lots and lots of bug adventures...
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