Hamburgers for breakfast

My housemother, Mary, is very nice and motherly. She cooks me breakfast and dinner, cleans my room, washes my clothes, and worries if I come home too late. She kinda nags me in Spanish, loves to proclaim the virtues of the Sandinista party, and never stops asking me if I’m hungry or thirsty. Yesterday morning she panicked when I accidentally crashed the small mirror in my room. It was a pretty small mirror so I thought it’d be funny to head to the local market and buy a very large full-length mirror and hand it to her with my apologies. She laughed. All these niceties aside, something has been lost on her regarding meal selections. And by this I mean that she has little concept of what constitutes appropriate breakfast food and what food is more typically eaten for dinner. The other day I awoke and headed to the kitchen at 7am and was greeted by a very large cheeseburger, with mayo and mustard. Ok, fine. It was good. Then for dinner that night I got an omelet with gallo pinto. Ok. So, I asked some people in the lab if this is some cultural difference, some Nicaragua thing, but apparently not. They laughed and laughed at the thought of me eating a big burger for breakfast like some fat American. It happened again a few days later, and this morning I got a pair of ham and cheese sandwiches.