Follow up to the Pepsi in a bag/Actualización de la Pepsi en una bolsa

[AarontheGreat]

Many were interested in just how drinking Pepsi out of a plastic bag could be practical. Here is a video that explains it all.

Muchos tenían interés en saber cómo se podría tomar Pepsi de una bolsa plástica. He aquí un video para mostrarlo.

http://www.nicatourism.com/2010/05/follow-up-to-pepsi-in-bagactualizacion.html

[Jonh]

Ahh yes, there's nothing like a tiny strand of dirty polyethylene stuck to your tongue to make a gaseosa taste Nicaraguan.

[El Doc]

Ahh yes, there's nothing like a tiny strand of dirty polyethylene stuck to your tongue to make a gaseosa taste Nicaraguan.

Lest we forget the recycled straws washed out in a public restroom sink at the Masaya market. :hurl:

Bottles only for me from now on.

[StickMan]

Bottles only for me as well.

I remember my first trip to Nicaragua. Our team visited the "old" Masaya market for shopping and sightseeing - dark, close, hot, sticky - I began to long for an ice-cold bottle of Coke. As I wandered outside, I found a vendor with Coke in glass bottles, something I had grown up with in Ohio. Sure, mine were 16oz. bottles and these were marked medio litro, but they stirred memories. Although my spanish was poorer then (it still is not great), I managed to communicate what I wanted and agreed to her price.

As I was digging for my cords, she began reaching for a plastic bag. "No, no! En la botella," I told her. That's when the rapid string of spanish began. Tapping on the bottle, shaking her head and continuing to say something incomprehensible to me, I realized that she may be concerned that I was going to make off with her bottle, and she was going to lose out on the deposit. Having had this same discussion as a young person back home, I offered to pay her the deposit in order to keep the bottle. Apparently this wasn't going to work either. She needed the bottle for some reason unknown to me.

Next she suggested I stand there and drink the whole bottle and then give it back to her. As my plan was to continue to wander and sip on the Coke as I went, this was not going to work for me. Nothing like the feel of a long necked Coke bottle in the palm of the hand, with occasional sips to refresh. More running commentary in spanish that I didn't understand. Finally, ready to give up and go find a more willing vendor, I put the money back in my pocket, waved my hands at her and began to walk away as she looked at her already opened bottle.

"Espere!" I turned back to see her call for a little girl to come to her. This girl could have been no more than 6 or 7 and about 3' 2" tall. After a brief discussion, and pointing in my direction, the vendor nodded her head, handed me the bottle, said something again to me, pointed to the girl, collected my money, and waved me away. As I turned with the bottle in my hand, the little girl began to follow. I was about to have a shadow for a while. Picture this - a small, dark, Nicaraguan child following a 6' 5", 235 pound (then), pasty-white, light red haired gringo all over the old Masaya market. Where I went, she went. When I stopped, she stopped. When I bought, she watched.

Wondering to what extent this child would stay with me, I wandered out to the street to the bus our team had arrived on. As I climbed the steps onto the bus, with my Coke bottle still in hand, the girl dutifully followed. "Look what I bought," I said as I pointed to the girl. The shocked looks I got from some on the bus were comical. (Apparently some thought I really HAD purchased a child in Nicaragua. I'm not sure if they were wondering about me and my intentions, or those Nicaraguans who would sell a child! I guess you really do have to know your audience when you make a joke.)

As I handed the girl the bottle, she turned and bounded down the stairs, out of the bus and back into the crowded market. I didn't even get a picture. As I began my explanation to those on the bus - no I didn't really buy a child - who should come back up the stairs and onto the bus, but the same little girl. As she came to my seat, it was my turn to have the puzzled look. She pointed to me, the market, said something in spanish, and then held out her hand. Ahh! Of course. I hadn't tipped her for all her hard work of following me around and mama/grandma had sent her back for some money. A couple dollars later, and she was gone again, this time for good.

All in all, $2.50 may seem like a lot for bottle of Coke, but the memories were worth it.

p.s. - Sorry for the hijack.:o

[Jonh]

That's insane, and I believe every word of it.

Two things strike me.

One, what kind of mother would send her little girl off to follow a total stranger she obviously doesn't trust?

Two, it's no wonder Nicaragua cannot advance economically, with this kind of business model.

[El Doc]

She doesn't trust you with the bottle but she trusts you with her child? :(

[StickMan]

She doesn't trust you with the bottle but she trusts you with her child? :(
Cork and lead!

Reminds me of my days working as a Scout leader. If you ask the parents of some boys for their car keys, they pull back and look at you strangly, like you're crazy. But ask that same parent if you can take their son for the weekend, and they hurry to pack his bag.

[Dr. Demento]

Bottles only for me as well.

I remember my first trip to Nicaragua. Our team visited the "old" Masaya market for shopping and sightseeing - dark, close, hot, sticky - I began to long for an ice-cold bottle of Coke. As I wandered outside, I found a vendor with Coke in glass bottles, something I had grown up with in Ohio. Sure, mine were 16oz. bottles and these were marked medio litro, but they stirred memories. Although my spanish was poorer then (it still is not great), I managed to communicate what I wanted and agreed to her price.

As I was digging for my cords, she began reaching for a plastic bag. "No, no! En la botella," I told her. That's when the rapid string of spanish began. Tapping on the bottle, shaking her head and continuing to say something incomprehensible to me, I realized that she may be concerned that I was going to make off with her bottle, and she was going to lose out on the deposit. Having had this same discussion as a young person back home, I offered to pay her the deposit in order to keep the bottle. Apparently this wasn't going to work either. She needed the bottle for some reason unknown to me.

Next she suggested I stand there and drink the whole bottle and then give it back to her. As my plan was to continue to wander and sip on the Coke as I went, this was not going to work for me. Nothing like the feel of a long necked Coke bottle in the palm of the hand, with occasional sips to refresh. More running commentary in spanish that I didn't understand. Finally, ready to give up and go find a more willing vendor, I put the money back in my pocket, waved my hands at her and began to walk away as she looked at her already opened bottle.

"Espere!" I turned back to see her call for a little girl to come to her. This girl could have been no more than 6 or 7 and about 3' 2" tall. After a brief discussion, and pointing in my direction, the vendor nodded her head, handed me the bottle, said something again to me, pointed to the girl, collected my money, and waved me away. As I turned with the bottle in my hand, the little girl began to follow. I was about to have a shadow for a while. Picture this - a small, dark, Nicaraguan child following a 6' 5", 235 pound (then), pasty-white, light red haired gringo all over the old Masaya market. Where I went, she went. When I stopped, she stopped. When I bought, she watched.

Wondering to what extent this child would stay with me, I wandered out to the street to the bus our team had arrived on. As I climbed the steps onto the bus, with my Coke bottle still in hand, the girl dutifully followed. "Look what I bought," I said as I pointed to the girl. The shocked looks I got from some on the bus were comical. (Apparently some thought I really HAD purchased a child in Nicaragua. I'm not sure if they were wondering about me and my intentions, or those Nicaraguans who would sell a child! I guess you really do have to know your audience when you make a joke.)

As I handed the girl the bottle, she turned and bounded down the stairs, out of the bus and back into the crowded market. I didn't even get a picture. As I began my explanation to those on the bus - no I didn't really buy a child - who should come back up the stairs and onto the bus, but the same little girl. As she came to my seat, it was my turn to have the puzzled look. She pointed to me, the market, said something in spanish, and then held out her hand. Ahh! Of course. I hadn't tipped her for all her hard work of following me around and mama/grandma had sent her back for some money. A couple dollars later, and she was gone again, this time for good.

All in all, $2.50 may seem like a lot for bottle of Coke, but the memories were worth it.

p.s. - Sorry for the hijack.:ogreat story but sad....

[AarontheGreat]

Great story! I wish I had the patience to write out something like that. True and real! It was great!:D