hammock time!

So about a month ago, Andrea and I were in the mercado and discovered a great assortment of hammocks made here in Nicaragua, and within our budget. We decided on a cute blue and white one (yes, the colors of the flag here), and then for the next four weeks it sat wrapped in protective plastic in the corner of our living room. There was one major reason for this—and that was that Andrea and I had zero experience hanging hammocks, and felt certain that if we tried on our own, we would either fall to the ground every time we tried to sit in it, or the ironwork we tied it to would be pulled off our windows.

Yesterday, though, a window of opportunity opened when our neighbor Francisco came home. We felt sure that he would help us, but he and his family have done so many amazing things for us already that sometimes I wonder if we are relying on them too much. So, I told Andrea that we should invite them to dinner as well sometime next week to thank them in a small way.

As you might expect, after some small talk and accepting our dinner invite for next Monday, Francisco agreed to come help us. We thought we had everything we needed: the hammock, a bunch of rope, and a chair (to stand on). Immediately Francisco asked us for some matches to burn the edges of the rope to strengthen it. Then he proceeded to gaze at the available ironwork and ceiling beams available to tie the hammock to. He has a very analytical mind, I think. I supposed that should be expected, since the man IS a doctor.

Anyway, the real drama began after one side of the hammock was hung, and the other end needed to be anchored to a ceiling beam far beyond any of our reach, even with a chair. This would have been made incredibly simple with the aid of a ladder, but since we didn't have one, it was on to Plan B.

Francisco stood on the chair and attempted to throw the rope over the beam and onto the other side. After a few tries, he asked us if we had a hanger (keep in mind that these conversations are happening in Spanish, and there was plenty of misunderstanding along the way). We didn't know at first what he wanted, so we brought him a broomstick and a bucket. Finally, with the help of a dictionary, we figured out he wanted something with a hook, but of course we had nothing like that.

Sensing the futility of his own efforts, I think, Francisco called over our wall to his son David who was playing the keyboard and asked him to come help too. When David came over, Francisco told him to climb up on the top of the back of chair, while he braced the seat and spotted David, who deftly pushed the rope through a narrow opening and over the beam to the other side, after which Francisco expertly knotted it. Meanwhile, Andrea and I watched in disbelief as our neighbors risked their lives to help us hang this hammock! “Cuidado (careful)” was all we could say.

Not to worry, though. David made it safely down off the chair, the hammock is securely anchored on our front patio, and we are loving it! And how can we ever say thank you, I asked, as they were leaving?

“Lunes,” Francisco replied. (Monday.)

[And if blogger didn´t hate me, you would see a picture of me in our new hammock too. Sorry.]