A Tico Welcome

Today we were invited by Nago, our contractor and neighbor, to his house so I could learn how to make tamales with his wife Esther and so Wilder could play with his 3-year-old son, Kevin. I helped to make maza and we spent a couple of hours there until Wilder threw one of his by now infamous tantrums (his adjustment has been a thrill!). We came home for a nap (he slept for 4 hours, if that helps illustrate how tired he really was), but before we left, I tried to tell Nago and Esther that I was sorry we had to leave. They kindly rambled at me in Spanish and I tried to explain that I was embarrassed that I didn’t understand more espanol. I said in my most confident Spanish, “Estoy embarazada que no comprendo mas espanol.” Turns out that embarazada means pregnant, not embarrassed. Doh! Who’s pregnant now?! With smiles, they still invite us all back for dinner that night – tamales, of course. When we return, I explain my verbal faux pas and we laugh (though I’m still not sure I got my point across – I’m trying and I’m learning!). We spend an incredible evening with their family – 3 boys 12, 11, 3, and a beautiful chiquita, 6months – and a couple of neighbors, looking at family photos and making and eating tamales. The tamales, by the way, were made with a nice fat chicken that Chris had met just a couple of days prior. When mealtime comes, they offer us two of the only three honorable seats at the kitchen table and stand around smiling anxiously, hoping that we’re enjoying our meal. It is apparently rare for Ticos to invite gringos into their homes, so we feel very privileged to be there. Nago tells Chris later that he’s only invited one other American into his home. Our good fortune is further validated and we feel even more welcome and at home in our new country.