Day of the Dead

November 2 is the day of the dead (Dia de los Muertos/Dia de los Difuntos), here in Nicaragua – and I have to say that it's really a beautiful tradition.

*Before going into the details of the day itself, I should first explain that here in Nicaragua, the cemeteries are a little different than in the US. Here, the majority of the coffins are placed in cement “bobedas” or tombs above ground. Therefore, instead of walking over the grass that's grown over the bodies that are 6 feet under like in the US; here, one weaves through the giant rectangular cement enclosures to get to his or her family's spot. Once the tombs are closed up, their presentation depends – just like in the US – on the family's financial situation. Many are covered in tile, and some even adorned with cement crosses and flower pots. Most however are just painted, and adorned by a simple plaque or stenciled letters with the persons name and dates. This makes the cemetery a colorful corner of town, with a variety of beautiful ornamental trees and plants that have been planted around many of the graves. **The more extreme ends of the spectrum differ a little – leaving the humblest graves marked by a wooden cross placed over the mound of dirt where the body was buried, and the wealthiest placed among family in private crypts much resembling those found in US cemeteries.

So, before the big day, I headed up to the cemetery with my friend to help clean off and repaint his father's grave. We went early in the morning, a few days before, and he and his friend got right down to machete-ing the few weeds that had grown in around the edges of the tomb. (His father died just less than three years ago, so they still take really good care of the grave site.) After scrubbing the tomb with detergent and water that we carried in a 5 gallon bucket, we ate some bananas and hung out in the shade of a jocote tree to wait for it to dry. Then we painted the entire tomb a bright mint green and painted around the stenciled lettering of his father's name so they wouldn't have to re-do the letters. It was fun getting to help, and I felt so good getting to take part in the tradition.

The morning of the 2^nd, echoes of ladies and children selling flowers in the streets could be heard as early as 5am (maybe earlier, but I was definitely not conscious earlier than that haha). Most of the women headed up to the cemetery bright and early so their loved ones' graves would pass the whole day “afloreados,” or covered with flowers.

**I, on the other hand, had a pretty regular morning and took advantage of a day without classes to wash my mountains of clothes that had piled up during the rains...ugh I fear I will never see my laundry bag empty again.**

Around 9:30am I decided to buy flowers to put on the graves of the tombs of family members of my three closest friends. I didn't head up the hill to the cemetery until the afternoon and I couldn't believe the crowds of people when I got there! Outside, all of the vendors had their tables set up so that the people who chose to pass the entire day there (that is part of the tradition) would have plenty of frescos and enchiladas to last them all day. Inside, families were dressed to impress and sitting on the tombs of their loved ones. The flowers, which ranged from fresh cut, to paper, to plastic, were absolutely gorgeous and the ambiance was a perfect mix of nostalgia and camaraderie. As I made my way through the cemetery with my friends, I stopped to talk with at least 40 of my students and their families. Everyone was there. My friends shared memories of their loved ones with me, and after paying our respects, we just sat on the tombs and hung out. Some families were praying together, others drinking together, others arranging flowers, others picnicking right there on the tombs. It was so cool to just see everyone there taking part in such an important tradition. As my friends told me stories about the people who were buried in the surrounding tombs, it occurred to me that, at least in my experience, I would never be able to do that in the US. Cemeteries in the city are enormous and people that pass each other in the winding roads there are all strangers. The fact that the cemetery here only holds the bodies of people who were born and raised in this little town makes it so much more historical. It was so interesting to hear Cristina telling me about how so-and-so had died, and how so-and-so helped to pay for so-and-so's tomb. So much history in one little piece of land. It was such a cool thing to be a part of.

*Sidenote: for those of you who are keeping close tabs on my life here, you should know by now that I have found some of the best friends anyone could ever ask for here. Here's some pictures so you can place names with faces! (I don't have any pictures of the Day of the Dead because my camera battery doesn't work anymore!!!! AHH!)

This was an awesome day in the river...after classes one Friday, we decided to head out there together and we had sooo much fun...from front to back we're Alvaro, Carlos, la nica gringa de Belen, and Cristina. LOVE THEM! (Oh and Juan took the picture...he's also amazing)

Chillin with the bests in my house...from left to right: Juan, Cristina, Alvaro, Carlos, and yours truly <3

Rainnn

So today marks 12 days straight of rain here in my little corner of Nicaragua...and I actually have to say I kinda love it! Sure it leaves us with having to choose between mud splattered, thrice worn clothes, or “clean” clothes that have been hanging inside our houses to dry for three days but are still damp and have acquired a mildewy stench...but other than that, it's actually really refreshing! I didn't realize how hellishly hot it always was here until it started cooling down. I'm currently sitting here with jeans and a hoodie on and it feels amazing! I have my front door closed to try and keep my house a little warmer (even though that's a joke because my windows don't close and my walls don't touch my ceiling), and I'm drinking my second cup of hot tea and absolutely loving it! Sleeping has turned back into experiencing a little piece of heaven each night as I get under my covers and drift off into dreams to the sound of rain on my zinc roof. These twelve days (and nights) straight without sweating have been such a blessing. Today's actually the second of these 12 days that's a “rain day” from school!! That's right...since the roads have turned into rivers, there was no class today! That might seem a little extreme, but since getting to school here means walking or riding bikes...doing so in monsoon-like rain just isn't going to happen. (There are also tons of students that have to cross rivers to get to their schools, so even on the days when we have had class, we've only had about half of our kids.) My nights have been less social these past few days because the rain literally kills anyone's “ganas,” or desire, to leave the house. Sure my friends and I have braved the rain a few nights to hang out, but my students and random visitors have seemingly disappeared! This means I've had blissfully peaceful noches with my door closed...laid up in my hammock with a blanket, tea (thanks mom), and some awesome movies (thanks Steven and Uncle Richie!). I didn't realize how long it had been since I'd actually watched a movie, and now I'm finding it's my new guilty pleasure.

I guess I should stop being selfish though, and should join the bandwagon of people who are wishing the rain would stop already. I live alone and therefore don't have piles and piles of clothes waiting to be washed from my kids who were playing in the rain or from my husband who was trudging through the mud in his plantain farm. I don't have any crops that are being ruined because of the saturated soil (unless you count my school gardens which have been completely neglected these past two weeks due to the “pereza,” or laziness, that the rain has caused me and are therefore probably destroyed.) I teach indoors, and although I have to bike a few kilometers in the rain to get to some of my schools, I usually dry off during the hours I'm giving class and don't return home soaked to the bone (unlike my best friend who is a landscaper/caretaker at the local convent and had to clean up a tree that had fallen there yesterday). Although my latrine roof leaks enough to make it feel like I'm peeing under the open sky, the roof of my house is close to flawless, especially when compared to the rest of the houses I've been in these past few days, with their buckets scattered around the house catching gallons of water each day. I also happen to live in one of the departments of Nicaragua that isn't experiencing severe flooding. Up in the north, they haven't been so lucky. There are tons of towns that have been completely washed out due to proximity to rivers, lakes, and just general inundation. In the capital city, people's houses have been ruined, and bridges have been overtaken by the rivers they were built across.

So while these past few days have meant relaxation, refreshment, and awesome rain forest-like surroundings for me, they have meant destruction and devastation for some, and just general frustration and boredom for others.

***Gahhhh!*** I just got back...While writing this blog, I decided to run out to the store because the rain stopped and had turned into just a misty sprinkle which has been happening for half-hour stretches a few times a day lately. I needed to refill my oatmeal supply and decided I'd also buy some milk to make “cafe con leche.” Since I'm only a block from the corner store, and I'm an idiot, I decided I'd go quick on my bike and make it back before the rain started again. Apparently I have not learned that leaving without my umbrella and jacket during days like this just makes God (and my neighbors) shake their heads amusedly when the rain picks back up just as Krista's 30 meters from home and gets her once semi-dry “clean” clothes soaked. I should've known better and I can literally hear the umbrella I ignored, mocking me with “I told you so” from it's new home right next to the door.   

"X"

So after talking to my best friend in site, I find myself extremely disheartened although not in the least bit surprised by the situation facing my town and all of Nicaragua. Sure I've known since I got here that “X” is an assembly line style “production factory” that has work sites in every single department of the country. I knew that the jobs they supply are painfully tedious - mind-numbing to quote my friend - and that their buses leave my town at 5:30am for the factory and return at 7:00pm. But I never took the time to talk to anyone about the reality of the conditions that are faced by so many of my neighbors and acquaintances there.

My best friend, Carlos, who upon graduating high school went to a university to study, had to drop out so he could work to help his family get by. He got a job at “X” and was assigned the duty of putting the elastic on boxers. For twelve hours a day, he sat in front of his sewing machine and watched it's 4 needles bob up and down as he fed each pair of boxers into the machine and pumped the pedals with his feet. He worked with his team of 15 coworkers trying to achieve 100% productivity while 4 supervisors stood over them to make sure they were not talking or wasting even a second. 100% productivity would mean a few cents more of pay, so it was something to work towards. He began work at 6:00am and was allowed one 5 minute bathroom break before lunch, and another after lunch. Lunch was 40 minutes of freedom where they were allowed to eat what they brought in with them, and aside from two other optional 15 minute breaks that they did not get paid for, he was not allowed to leave his seat until 6:30 that night. He worked all day with a mask on to prevent inhaling all of the fibers from the material, but he told me that he knows of many people who have had serious respiratory problems due to fibers in their lungs.

I asked him about the room itself and he told me there were two big industrial fans but that because there were no windows, the heat was “sufocante,” or so hot that he felt like he was suffocating. The entire room was drowned in the deafening hum of machines, so they were therefore required to wear earplugs. People worked basically on top of each other, so stressed about making their production objectives that when they walked to the lunch area, they were all dizzy and unable to see straight for the first few seconds away from their machines. He made sure I understood that although they “only” worked for 12 hours straight, it felt like 24. He said the people there work more than “bueys,” which is the Spanish word for the work cattle that are used for farm labor here.

So what is one paid for such labor? Allow yourselves to lower your standards a little since the cost of living here is lower than it is in the US. Even with lowered standards however, this might as well be called slave labor. In New York, one hour of work at the minimum wage of $7.15 will buy you at least a fast food meal at any chain on the side of the street, or even a healthy lunch at Panera. Here though, one hour of work doesn't pay $7.15...it doesn't even pay $2 which is enough for a full plate of the most basic gallo pinto and cheese, nor $1.00 which would allow someone here to buy the Nica version of fast street food...a tortilla with cheese and onions. No. Here, for one week of work (4 consecutive days of 12 hours each), my best friend earned 380 cordobas, which is equal to about $17. A WEEK! That means that for each of those 48 hours of labor, he earned 7.92 cordobas (27 American cents.) That, my friends, is not even enough to buy a pound of raw rice, the cheapest food there is here. Add in the fact that these people have families to feed/clothe, houses to maintain, electricity and water bills to pay, and all the other necessary expenses (diapers, school supplies, uniforms) that we have back in the states, and you'll really see the disparity for what it is. If that's not enough of a comparison, I as a Peace Corps volunteer receive almost three times that amount; I live alone, without a TV or fridge, and my house was basically furnished with things that have been lent to me, and I still find myself waiting for “payday” to come around every month.

What does this say about how we are exploiting the “Third World?” Those boxers my friend was making were for a North American clothing company that I will refrain from naming here, but I know for a fact that everyone reading this has at least one of their T-shirts in their drawers right now. It's sickening to realize that these companies are allowed to completely take advantage of the employment crises in these developing countries. This blatant exploitation allows these disgustingly rich companies to avoid paying taxes (which leaves even more of the tax burden on the middle and lower classes – but that's another conversation all together) and to avoid paying their employees anything remotely close to a living, let alone a fair wage.

Of course the people here rely on their jobs in these factories. That's the worst part. They return to their houses miserable each night, cursing the fact that they're not making anything remotely close to a living wage, spend an hour or two with their families, eat, sleep, and wake up at 4:30am to start again. During their days off they don't even have the options of studying or holding another steady job because they work on an 8 day rotation which means their free days are constantly changing. It leaves many of them to do other work (sell tortillas/frescos/bread/clothes, wash/iron clothes, etc.) on the side to make ends meet. From what I've been told, the current government improved the situation a little by demanding that the workers in the “X” factories receive insurance, but nothing more than that could be accomplished because “X” threatened to leave the country all together, which would leave a sickeningly large percent of the population unemployed. This abuse of power is literally trapping the people of these countries in the poverty that they are struggling to bring themselves up out of.

I should explain that “X” is basically a catch-all work zone that allows for foreign companies to come in and use the space and human labor in their warehouse factories. The workers get paid by the individual companies, rather than by “X,” and therefore some of them actually do receive a living wage. UnderArmor for example, is one of the companies that pays their workers fairly; but unfortunately for the people of the department of Rivas, the only company working in the “X” here, is not the least bit concerned with the incredibly low standard of living it is forcing upon its workers.

In discussing this with some of my fellow PC volunteers, the idea of “free will” was tossed around. Sure no one is literally “forcing” these people to work there. “X” is not entering people's towns and dragging them out to the factories to work as slaves...but I'm not comfortable using the word “choice” to describe the process by which one ends up working for “X.” I have yet to meet anyone who had turned down a different option because they preferred to work for “X.” In fact, what I have encountered is an unsettling amount of people who have applied at twenty other stores, restaurants, carwashes, schools, etc. and who have found themselves with no other option but to join the masses piling onto the “X” buses in the mornings. Saying “they choose to work there” is the easiest way for us to pretend that this is not a problem. It's a quick way to clean our consciences of such messy thoughts about labor laws and hierarchies of power and class. Let's do better than that for the sake of humanity.

Of course this is not a problem that can be solved in one or two steps; it goes deep into the roots of improving education and providing viable work options, etc. But that doesn't mean there is nothing we can do from up in our privileged section of the American continents. I urge you all to consider where you're buying your clothes/shoes/toys from, as a little bit of internet research will let you know which companies state their employment policies in plain English for all to see. Those of you who are willing to do a little more than just shop consciously, start up petitions, email the heads of these enterprises and plead with them to be fair to their employees. We've all got to look out for one another, and those of us with a little bit of power should use it.

Rich? Me??

I have never in my life referred to my family as rich. Sure we always lived comfortably in our happy little suburban world just outside of the metropolitan area of New York City, but I have never considered us to be economically rich. I remember always hearing “so-and-so can go on that trip because his/her parents can afford it...” And I remember being constantly reminded that “money doesn't grow on trees” and that it's important to save up because “you never know what will happen in the future.” Rich to me, were the people who bought brand new clothes or name brand sneakers whenever they wanted, the people with big in-ground pools, the kids who went to Disney World every year, the kids who had their own TVs in their rooms and the newest video games. Rich meant the kids who were gifted cars for their 16^th birthdays and the kids who's parents paid for college and then sent them spending money every month.

I remember learning in one of my Sociology classes that in the “middle classes” in the States, those in the lower middle class tend to thankfully and humbly consider themselves well-off because they compare themselves to the lower class that they have just moved up out of. On the other hand, those in the middle to upper middle classes tended to consider themselves worse off than they are because they're constantly comparing themselves to those that have more than them. I remember thinking about that for a few days after my class, and I convinced myself that I had always considered myself blessed and that I didn't live comparing myself to those who had more than me, but I don't think I was being honest with myself there.

Upon coming here, to the second poorest country in the Western Hemisphere, one of the first things our Peace Corps trainers told us was to prepare ourselves for the widespread belief that all North Americans are rich. I remember being surprised by this and joking that if anyone every tried to rob me, they'd be sorely disappointed. I wasn't one of the “gringos” that was here to spend thousands of dollars passing through the touristy cities and staying in expensive hotels. I was a Peace Corps volunteer coming from what I considered to be a humble family back in New York. I had college loans to go home to, and a laughable savings account that was decades away from ever being ready to put a down payment on a house or anything remotely close to that.

Of course I knew I was walking into a developing country and that I'd be living with a “poor” family with way less than what I was used to, but I never considered this to be a sign of my “high class” in this world. I hadn't given this topic much direct thought until my best friend here said to me last week, “who would've ever thought that a poor Nica guy and a high class New York girl would be best friends?” I literally laughed. “High class?! I'm not high class!” But later on that night I got to thinking about it. It is obvious that my socio-economic status is way higher than almost everyone here in my little Nicaraguan town, but surely I'm not high class. Then I spent last night showing some of my students pictures from home – pictures from Thanksgiving and Christmas – and I started noticing the backdrops of all of them. There we were in my dining room with a china cabinet filled with crystal and china behind us, a giant dining room table filled with plates over-flowing with food, and a row of cars parked in the driveway out front. How can I show them these pictures and then claim to not be rich? Just the idea of personally owned vehicles signifies wealth. Let alone a two floor house, my own bedroom, and family of educated, employed individuals.

Complete extended families live together all their lives here. Guys my age share beds with their brothers and babies sleep with their parents. Many times, one bicycle is shared by an entire household. Living room chairs – always a combination of wooden rocking chairs and plastic chairs – are moved to the table when there are guests to act as dining room chairs, and moved out to the yard as patio furniture when the heat inside becomes unbearable. “Bathrooms” are outdoor latrines and outdoor showers, and sometimes only outdoor areas to bathe with a bucket of well water. My department capital has paved streets and stores and cybers and bakeries etc., but outside of the 5x10 block center, it's all dirt roads out to the “barrios.” People out there have wells instead of running water and some don't even have electricity – in the department capital! People that have land and can afford to maintain it plant rice, beans, and corn so they can eat without having to worry about where the food will come from every month. Others make weekly trips into the market to buy their necessities from their favorite vendors. My friends buy their clothes in cheap stores that sell leftovers from Aeropastale and Hollister. Students in my poorer schools wear hand-me-downs or buy from used clothing stores when their parents can afford the trip into Rivas.

I can't even try to say I'm not rich after considering all of the above. There was never a time in my life when I lived without hot water, let alone without potable water. I've always had electricity, my own room, a sturdy, insulated house with more than enough space for my family and plenty of guests. Carpets and tiles, couches, a yard, a pool, my own clothes, a car, a college education. There was never a day in my life when I thought I might not have dinner, and I'm sure that no matter how hard times got, my parents were never so strapped for cash that feeding us became a worry.

I've tried to rationalize this in my head by reminding myself that things are completely different in the States. That we have taxes and insurance and other bills to pay. Food costs more, clothes cost more, travel costs more. A higher standard of living costs more...period. But there's no way around it. No matter how many bills we have to pay, we are rich beyond what most people here could imagine.

It really is devastating the effect that capitalism and greed can have on a society. There I was growing up in a big house in a clean, safe neighborhood, with a washer and dryer, and a stove and fridge, and way more clothes and food than I needed; going on family vacations in the summers, watching cable or using the internet right in my living room, learning from educated teachers in a well-equipped school...and yet I complained about not having clothes from the “cool” stores, or about not having movie channels or about my parents not giving me spending money on the weekends. And it's not just back in the States where the media and commercialism pollute the minds of any and everyone they touch...here my friends and students fantasize about fancy basketball sneakers and they walk around comparing cell phones and looking for the nicest clothes they can afford. They live in poverty and are still inundated with commercials about the newest electronics and household appliances, and they live watching movies and soap operas from rich countries, talking about how “tuani/salvaje” (cool/awesome) it would be to live like that. It's sickening.

I think I need to take a moment to thank my parents and my family for raising me the way they did. I was always reminded that we had to work for our money and I was never allowed to think that I'm a “high class girl.” I was raised to be humble and to think about how I could use what I have to help others who might not be as lucky as me. Apparently this “humility” that I was raised with is something that my friends here can see in me. More than once people have commented that I'm humble like they are even though I come from a completely different, much richer life in another world. I guess that's because I've honestly never seen myself as rich. The fact of the matter is though, I am rich and there's not a single person in my life back home that shouldn't consider themselves to be so. We have so much in the States – just in terms of material things, let alone in terms of worldwide educational, professional and travel opportunities. When I told one of my students that there is poverty in the States too, he responded, “maybe, but not like here.” And it's true.

So thank you mom and dad for always reminding me that material things were not important, even though you managed to raise us with all the comforts we could've ever wanted. Omi and Grandma, I can still hear echoes of your reminders “you don't know how good you have it,” and “that trip to the Game Farm costs about 5 hours of work at minimum wage.” I always knew that I had it good, but I guess I didn't realize how good until I really started analyzing the situation. I'm so thankful for everything I've been blessed with, but especially for being raised to value family, friendship, and laughter more than anything else. It's obvious that those are the most important aspects of life no matter where you are in the world.

Also, I think this video is awesome...you should definitely watch it and then share it.  Fight the Materials Economy!! We don't need all that STUFF! Let's do what we can to protect rather than exploit our resources, and let's think about what we really value in our own lives.  Don't let the media control your mind!

Watch this vid - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gLBE5QAYXp8

ONE YEAR IN NICARAGUA!!

So here I am, exactly one year from when I left New York to embark on this unbelievable journey of Peace Corps service, and I hate how cliché this is, but I honestly can't believe it's been a year. At times it feels like it's been ages, yet other days I feel like it was yesterday that I was frantically packing and obsessing over “the unknown” that I was about to face. (I guess I just continued with the theme of clichés there, huh?)

It's crazy because there are some days when I ache for home – for lazy days at home with my mom, five minute drives to Tante's and Omi's, summer days at Grandma's in Catskill, Zona's with my dad, holidays with the cousins, camping with the best extended family around, Olive Garden with my girls, Dunkin with the best, movie nights with the crew, college reunions, memories of crisp fall mornings, the perfect warmth that sweat pants provide on wintery evenings – and yet there are some things from home that now seem so foreign to me. Blow driers for example hahaha. Old norms have been replaced by new ones and little pieces of my daily life here have come to make this “home.”

Waking up to the sounds of Nicaragua has become so comforting. From my bed at 5:30, long after the roosters have started cock-a-doodle-dooing, I can hear my front neighbor sweeping her part of the street, while my next door neighbor fills her water buckets and washes some clothes before getting ready for work. Since my walls don't touch my roof, it's as if there were no walls at all; I can hear every rhythmic stroke of her clothes against the cement washboard and I can even recognize the songs she hums to herself as she works. I lay in bed listening to the men go by on their ox-drawn carts, headed out to the campo for a long day's work, and I wait until I hear the first round of tortillas pass by my house. As I hear her coming down the block yelling rhythmically and evenly, “tortillas!!,” I untuck my mosquito net, slide on my flip flops, shuffle to the bag where I keep my toilet paper, and head out to the latrine. On the way back in, I fill my pot at the spigot out back with water to boil for oatmeal (or if it's a morning when I don't have to work early, I wait for Dona Lidia to pass by with fresh milk from her cows so I can make cafe con leche or creamy oatmeal instead.) Then it turns into a morning like everyone else's – shower, dress, prep for work. Of course my showers start with 5 seconds of agony because even though I'm used to cold showers my now, those first 5 seconds (or that first bowl full on bucket-shower days) are always killer.

Walking to work, I chatter quickly with my neighbors about the heat or the rain or the shame that it's only Tuesday – some things just don't change no matter where you are in the world. I don't even notice now how many horses, cows, pigs, and chickens I walk past before I get to work. I show up to school already glistening with sweat, but so does everyone else, so it's nothing to worry about. I teach my science lesson and we play games to reinforce what was learned. I almost forget that things like projectors and worksheets and school nurses exist in this world – let alone classroom TVs, classroom telephones, and Smartboards. After classes, we head out to the garden and my students go attack the weeds with their machetes. Was there a time when I had never seen a machete used to mow the lawn? I know there was because I remember the first time I saw it here and how amazed I was by it...now it's just normal.

So many things that once surprised me or captured my attention have all just become part of the day-to-day.

Not counting any time spent in the capital city of Managua, I can't remember the last time I saw a two story building here. Houses are rectangles made of wood, or bricks, or cinder blocks, or in less fortunate cases black plastic or zinc scraps. They have roofs made of zinc or rounded shingles, and more times than not, they have dirt floors.

I almost forgot that there are such things as basements and garages.

Air conditioning and heat are both non-existent in my daily life, which explains the nasty cough I got after all the air conditioned hotels we stayed in when my family was here. (AMAZINGGG times with my Lendles by the way. Everyone here – especially me – is hoping you'll decide to come back!)

Travel equals public transportation, which means what would be a 40 minute car ride turns into a 2 hour trip with at least two transfers, climbing into the back of packed school buses, awesome bus food from the vendors that get on and off at the big stops, and at least one sermon from a bus preacher.

When it rains, it pours. Streets turn to rivers in seconds, and life stands still for just a little while. <3

Just thinking about the things I've done without all year makes me realize how extravagantly we live in the States. Here, my “kitchen” consists of a two-burner gas camping stove (lent to me) that sits on a table. On that same table I have my sugar, rice, beans, oil, salt, eggs, and fruit and veggie bowls. Hanging on nails on my wall, I have my pots and pans (gifted to me), cat food, and a hand towel. On an old chair, in a big plastic tub I have my plates, cups, and silverware. That's literally it; and it's actually enough! Old memories of refrigerators, cabinets, ovens, indoor sinks, and dishwashers never even cross my mind. Well then again...it would be amazing to have a refrigerator.

My living room consists of a plastic table (lent to me), two plastic chairs, two little rocking chairs (lent to me), and a hammock. Couches? Carpets? What are those? Most people here do live with TVs, so I can go watch one whenever I want, but I honestly don't miss having one at all.

It's gonna be rough for me to go back home and reacquaint myself with all the "stuff."  I've come to love the simplicity I live with here, and I know that no matter where my life takes me after this, I'll never forget the lessons I've learned from the people that have become my dear friends and family here.  Aside from the differences in material possessions and the language, people here are exactly the same as people back home.  There are class clowns, jocks, nerds, town gossips, town crazies, neighbors willing to lend a hand at the drop of a dime, awesome teachers, crappy teachers...I could go on and on.  I've honestly found so many people here that remind me of someone back home.  The similarities in personalities of my friends here and my friends from home are uncanny.  Living worlds apart doesn't change a thing.  People are people and the relationships we build are what make our lives worth living.  All I can say is that I couldn't be more thankful for the amazing people that have welcomed me into their lives here.  I've found true friendship in a country that I had never set foot in a year ago, and that alone has made my service here worthwhile.  

Just about half-way through my service and I couldn't be happier to be where I am.  Thanks again for all the love and support from home.  I could never have gotten this far without you!! <3

Stifling

Indian summer, or “la canicula” is 15 days without rain smack dab in the middle of rainy season, and we're a week in. It is now 1:40pm and I have never in my life experienced heat like this. I just walked home from school and passed a neighbor of mine who looked dead sleeping in the shade on the floor of his front porch, and now I know why. The inside of my house is literally an oven thanks to the low zinc roof, so here I am sitting out on my porch noticing that not a single leaf on any tree is even quivering. My cat has retreated to the shower floor that's still a little damp from my shower this morning, and if it weren't for this last bit of sanity that I'm holding onto, I'd be laying in there with him. The corner of my porch is being hit with the high sun, and I swear I can feel the heat from that little portion even here in my shady section.

The power's out, which not only means no fan, but also no cold drinks in any of the corner stores in my town, and no ice to buy from my neighbor who has a freezer. The water's out too so showering is out of the question and all I have to drink is an emergency three liter bottle of water that's been heating up for the past two weeks or so. I just dumped some of it onto a bandana, which I'm currently waving around in the air hoping to cool it off enough to lay around my neck, but I realize I'm just accelerating it's evaporation.

The people passing by my house are walking slower than usual, literally weighed down by the heat. Women with umbrellas carry their shade with them, while the kids walking home from school turn their uniform shirts into fans or hats or sweat rags. The street dogs that usually ferociously guard their territory have all given up on even lifting their heads when someone passes by. My neighbors kids who go straight from class to playing baseball in the street everyday, are nowhere to be found – surely collapsed in hammocks outback.

It's 1:55 and my bandana is completely dry again; I'm not sure it's a good idea to waste the little water I have just to wet it again. Five minutes until I have to co-plan. I hope we can do it outside in the shade. Then it's off to teach my afternoon classes and English at 6. It's only one block to the school, but there's not an inch of shade the whole way. Here we go.  

Tortillas de Elote

So as I was leaving Professora Francis's house on Friday night, she asked me jokingly at what time she should be expecting me the following morning to help her make Tortilla de Elote (cornbread from scratch). I excitedly responded that I'd love to help and asked what time she wanted me. So on Saturday morning, I woke up at the same time I do for school everyday, and I was at her house showered and ready to work at 6:30.

First things first...luckily for me she offered me a huge plate of gallo pinto, cuajada, and tortilla as soon as I walked in (Nica rice and beans, awesome homemade Nica cheese, and hot homemade tortilla that she bought from her neighbor who sells them every morning.) Oh, and coffee, of course.

After breakfast, the work began. I tried to control my reaction when she showed me the two giant sacos (think potato sack races) full of corn on the cob that we were going to “desgranar” - remove each grain of corn from each and every cob. We each took chairs into her second room and she shucked the first ear and threw it in a bucket. As I went to shuck some ears of my own, she said it would be a better idea if I just started to desgranar. She handed me a knife with a blade the size of my forearm and then realized she'd have to show me exactly how to go about manipulating the weapon against my poor little piece of corn. I watched closely as she wedged the blade between two rows of kernels and popped out the first section of one row using the knife as a lever. (Hello "small machines" science lessons!) She continued down the row and then moved fluidly between the second and third rows, then between the third and fourth, etc. All I could think was that it seemed like a painfully slow process – especially considering each ear of corn has about 16 rows of kernels. Luckily, just as a grabbed my knife to get started, two neighbors came over to help us as well, so we threw on some music and really got down to it. I was given a huge bowl/pot thingy to put on my lap to collect my kernels, and just under two hours later, the four of us had turned two sacos of corn on the cob into a 5 gallon bucket full of corn kernels. (I dis-grained about 40 or 50 ears of corn all by myself - therefore filling my cauldron with corn kernels with only one cut on my middle finger and a few calluses on the hand that was constantly manipulating the blade.)

So what do you do with over 40 pounds of corn kernels? Well you separate them into two portions...one to make “simple,” or sugarless batches, and the other to make the good stuff. To the simple batch, we added a little salt and crumbled up cheese, and to the other, salt, cheese, broken up cinnamon sticks, and cut up ginger. Then we walked the two buckets of mixed ingredients – one held on my hip like a toddler, and the other on the head of Dona Coco, Francis's mom – down to the “molino,” aka house where a guy has a machine that grinds up the corn into masa, which I guess is cornmeal?

Aside: While we were at the molino, Francis stayed home to heat up the wood burning brick oven, which was therefore nice and hot by the time we got everything set up to go in.

We walked the buckets back to the house and to the flavorful batch we added tons of sugar, vanilla, the watery part of separated milk (I don't know how you say that in English), sour cream (which is in liquid form here), and butter. Then, to both batches we added baking soda.

We then lined the deep baking trays with banana leaves and filled them with the masa. These, after baking for a few minutes in the infernal oven, came out like what we call cornbread back in the States. Dona Coco also used a small bucket's worth of masa to make Bollos Asados, which uses the same exact masa, but gets baked into little loaves. To do this, she filled a cut up banana leaf with a cup full of masa and magically folded the leaf around it into a little envelope before the liquidy dough had time to escape. These little pockets of heaven were then put onto trays and baked, and came out as much drier bready loaves that turn a simple cup of coffee into pure pleasure.

So it was a long day, but thanks to the company, the music, and the constant supply of good food and frescos, it was awesome!! (Although, I am assured every single day here that I'm not cut out to be a housewife. There will never be a day when I wake up with the “ganas,” or desire, to spend the entire day baking/cooking/cleaning/washing clothes/babysitting etc. Regardless of what I'm willing to do here as a learner and an appreciative visitor, I'm still as lazy as always in my own house and I look for shortcuts whenever possible.  Whoever I end up with better be ready for 50/50 housework distribution!)

You said keep you posted!

So it's been a while since I've updated anyone on what my daily life is like down here in Nicaragua.   It's just that I've become so completely engulfed in and accustomed to my life here that I forget when things might be interesting to share with everyone back home. Everything here just seems so normal now. I guess I could try to do one of those “day in the life” blogs? Well not really...because I have a different schedule every day of the week here. I'll go ahead and start with Monday and we'll see where we go from there...

Monday:

5am Wake up and shower

5:20 Rush out of the house to meet up with Gisselle the multi-grade teacher I work with.

5:30 Walk 5km together to my small mountain school – a walk which consists of climbing two mini-mountains, crossing a river, and almost always listening to howler monkeys as we approach the school.

7:15 Eat breakfast with Gisselle's awesome family who lives close to the school in the mountain (gallo pinto, cheese, tortilla, oatmeal fresco).

7:30 Work in the school garden/give science class to 1^st through 5^th graders all in the same classroom.

10am Hitch a ride back to town on either horseback, ox-cart, two-wheeled form of transport I'm not allowed to mention, or plantain truck.

11:30 Sweat through my second shower of the day wishing the water temperature didn't always match that of the air (cold in the morning, warm in the afternoon).

12:15 Cook some form of fast easy lunch (aka heat up rice and beans from the day before and maybe throw in some plantains or an avocado)

1pm Give science class to my 6^th graders in the big school on my block.

3pm Work in the school garden with 4^th -6^th graders weeding, making organic pesticides, fixing the barbed wire that the horses keep damaging, HARVESTING VEGGIES!

5:30 Walk a block home and finally shower for the last time, this time actually trying to get the dirt out from under my nails.

6:00 Hang out with the door open while I attempt to plan, but almost always get happily interrupted by friends or students who come in every time they see that I'm home.

7:30 Realize that I'm starving and too lazy to wash the dishes that would allow me to cook for myself; therefore opt for walking around the block to buy tajadas (crispy fried plantain strips with grilled pork and ensalada all served in a plastic baggie) for 20 cords, basically a dollar.

7:45 Share my tajadas on someone's front porch – accompanied by whatever awesome fresco they want to give me, or if I'm lucky with gallo pinto that they have left over from dinner!

8:30 Head home and maybe straighten up (maybe not), then plan for the following day's science lessons.

10pm Tuck into my mosquito net for the night!

Ok, so I've decided giving a daily schedule for everyday would definitely deter all of you from ever reading my blog again, so I'll hold back. Basically all my days are just as full as Mondays, but they include other things like English classes, projects with my Environmental Brigade Youth Group, leading/participating in teacher trainings, hand washing my clothes, playing cards/dominoes with my friends, and visiting all my neighbors that get very insulted if I go too many days without some quality porch sitting time.

Anyways...I guess I'll just throw in a few quick updates and let you all on your way =)

* Two of my four gardens are finally producing tons of veggies - one of which is amazing. In my biggest school, we have 10 tomato plants, 9 cucumber plants, 10 pepper plants, 6 squash plants, 6 spinach plants, 6 squash/pumpkin type plants, and two rows of yucca. It's my pride and joy. We even fenced it all in with barbed wire to protect it from the horses and cows that like to get in and eat our cucumbers. Now if I could only control all those gusanos (ugly caterpillars) that keep eating my cucumber leaves!

* I just had my second official Peace Corps site visit (aka supervision) and it went pretty well. First of all, my program director used the word PERFECT to describe my Spanish! I'm not sure I'd go that far, but I can finally say that I feel like 95% of the time I can say exactly what I want to say without searching for elementary ways to say it! This is all thanks to my friends in site who constantly correct and help me – one in particular. Without them, I would still be stuttering through every conversation I have. My supervisor was also really impressed by my level of comfort with my students and fellow teachers. She told me it was a relief to finally observe a class where the volunteer wasn't super nervous to teach in front of her. Haha, what can I say, I'm a natural. (Luckily she didn't observe me when I was still completely unable to think in Spanish and was therefore stumbling through every class I gave.) She wrote on my report that I seem to be extremely well-integrated into my community, which made me really happy because I can remember my first few weeks here when I was sure I would never feel at home. Aside from all of Peace Corps' official goals, mine has always been to really become a part of my community and to form meaningful relationships with the people I live near/work with/teach. I feel like without such connections, my work here is meaningless. Now that I'm feeling more settled, I'm going to begin looking for community projects outside of my schools. I'll keep you posted on that as things unfold.

* I guess my last update shall be that the heat and humidity here has reached an all new level of suffocating this month - I'd call it unbelievable if it weren't for the beads of sweat literally running down my face, chest, arms and legs right now. Now that it rains at least once a day, we basically live in a stifling world of steam during the hours following the downpour. When the sun comes out, it's stronger than ever and heats the thick wet air to a point that makes it uncomfortable to sit, let alone walk, bike, teach, or work outside in gardens all day. There is no breeze and sitting directly in front of a fan brings no relief because the weight of the air sticks to everything and seems to slow even the rotation of blades. Thank God it's finally cooling down at night now. The nighttime rain echoing on all the zinc roofs drowns out the barking dogs and crowing chickens and makes for a beautiful night's sleep.

PC Packing Suggestions

So now that I've come to the point in my service/school year when I feel like there's nothing new and exciting to blog about, I guess it's time I give back to the PeaceCorpsJournals blogging community and supply a packing list to those of you who are soon to begin your own Peace Corps adventures! 

(To my confused family and friends, I stalked peacecorpsjournals.com hardcore before leaving country...it's a website where you can read any blog being written by any PC volunteer in the world – assuming they subscribe. Using the blogs I stalked there, I was able to tailor my packing list and mentally prepare myself for what I was really getting into.)

Here are my humble alterations to the official Peace Corps packing list.

Clothes: First of all...if you are generally a non-skirt wearing girl and you're headed to Central America, don't expect to turn into some skirt-wearing nun here. PC suggests skirts because of the heat, but people dress in normal clothes here, and my best advice to you would be to pack what you're most comfortable in back home. It's true that shorts aren't very common here, but jeans and capris are. I wear long jeans almost daily even though it's hotter than you can imagine most days, because that's what the Nicas do. It really is true that you just get used to the heat. (I gifted 2 of my 3 skirts to someone that needed clothes the other day...hadn't touched them since training...I'm just not a skirt girl.) I basically live in the same stuff I did at home: jeans, and comfy cute shirts that don't advertise my sweat.

Additional clothing must-haves:

Rain jacket/windbreaker because rainy season is no joke

Hoodie (if you're a hoodie person when it's chilly)

Bball/soccer shorts (for running, swimming, chilling in the house)

Shoes: If you're not a Teva/Chaco/Insertexpensivehikingsandalbrandnamehere wearer back in the states, don't expect to turn into one here. I read a zillion blogs about how people couldn't survive their service without their expensive/supportive/waterproof hiking sandals...but to be completely honest...I've worn the Tevas I bought about 3 times. I live in cheap cute sandals almost always, including when I'm teaching...and when I run or go walking/hiking I wear my Merril hiking sneakers – which are amazingggggg and extremely multi-purpose. I also have a pair of cheap black ballet-style flats which are a little more “formal” for important work days. (When the sole started to detatch itself from the shoe material the other day, the shoe guy in my town fixed them for less than 25 cents.) I've also had a million Nica girls ask me why I never wear heels...to which I honestly reply that I just don't like them – but if you happen to like heels, bring them! Girls get all dressed up to go to parties here...you're not moving to some cut off corner of the world where people dress in homemade skirts and walk around barefoot.

Also, I remember being told by a few people that I haddd to pack rain boots, but the thought of fitting them into the 80lb Peace Corps packing limit deterred me. Instead, I bought a pair of the black rain boots that everyone in Nicaragua owns for less than $7 in the marketplace in my training town.

Miscellaneous Dos:

Laptop

Mp3 loaded with music you love and with space for some new additions!

Digital camera (Chargeable would obviously be easiest)

Good flashlight or headlamp

Tampons (very hard to find here)

3 month supply of prescribed meds, including birth control (PC will provide the remainder)

Quick-Dry Towel (nothing ever dries during rainy season...and things get mildewy quickly)

Glasses that you look good in (the dust in the dry season makes contacts a pain)

Contact solution if you plan to wear them (PC will not provide)

Flip Flops to shower in (although you can find them in any market here, you might want them as early as day one)

Comfort snack food (but just enough to get you through the food culture shock)

Pictures of friends and family (to hang in your room/house and to share with people here...everyone lovesss to see pictures of the US, snow, and gringos!!)

Tea bags if you're a tea person (aside from a fancy store in the city, all I can find here is Chamomile and tea made from a plant called Jamaica)

Miscellaneous Don'ts (Or shall we say unnecessaries):

Giant Shampoo/Conditioner/Body Wash etc. (Believe it or not, people here bathe daily too lol. Just pack travel-sized to get you through your first week or so. Any decent sized town has a pharmacy where you can find anything you might need.)

Spanish-English Dictionary (PC will supply)

Any basic over the counter drug (PC will supply.)

Bug Spray/Sunscreen/Vitamins (all supplied by PC)

Expensive Short Wave Radio (completely unnecessary)

2 years worth of books (There are tonsss of great books in the PC library that we all exchange, so bring one or two you want to read and then see what you can find here)

Umbrella (You can buy a good one in any market for about $4 and the little easy-pack ones won't last a month during hurricane season winds.)

Feel free to comment with any packing questions...I remember how impossible it was to feel like I was packing correctly!

Are those gringos family of yours?

So yesterday, I heard that in the town over from mine (one of the comarcas of Belen) there was a brigade of medical missionaries from the states!! Well to be exact, I was asked by multiple people whether the gringos in the town over were family and friends of mine, so I decided to head over there to check out what they were up to!!

Turns out there was a huge group of Baptist Medical Missionaries from Alabama and Kentucky that came down to set up a clinic for the week!  I walked into the town's elementary school to find almost seventy Americans strewn all over the campus (school was closed for the week to house them and their clinic)!  Their group consisted of doctors, nurses, medical technicians, pastors, youth group leaders, and youth group members.  The school that I had helped build a compost in two weeks ago, now had lines of Nicaraguans waiting outside of all the classrooms that they turned into vision, dental, and gynecological clinics. They even had a pharmacy and kitchen set up! They were giving out raw rice and beans to each person they examined as well as clothes and shoes as needed. It was definitely a cool experience getting to walk around for an hour meeting some of the doctors and their families. Apparently this group travels to different parts of Nicaragua every year to give free check ups, eye exams, glasses, dental work, blood work, antibiotics, vitamins etc. I spoke to a really awesome guy named Ernest who has been traveling with this group for 15 years! He's an amputee and he even traveled down here the year that he lost his leg!!

On a hunch, I asked them if I could return that night with some of my intermediate English students just so they could practice conversing with some native English speakers, and of course they said yes! So after discussing it with my students, they decided we would spend our precious class time meeting and practicing with the brigade. We all piled into the taxi of one of my students (awesome benefit of teaching the taxistas English!) and headed over to meet the “monton of gringos!”

For me it was so amazing getting to watch my seven intermediates conversing in English with these strangers! I was literally beaming with pride at their efforts and at their success! The missionaries were so impressed by them and when one of my students thanked them not only for their health efforts but also for helping them practice English, I absolutely died. The girl he was talking to was so so touched that along with nerves and struggling to think in English, he still had it in him to be grateful and appreciative. I absolutely love my students.

After meeting and talking to a few of the youth group kids that were a part of the brigade, we were invited to join the church service they had set up. We decided to stay since the whole service was going to be given in English and Spanish. The translations were really good practice for both my students and for me!!

Spending some time with the brigade made me realize how amazing it is to be a part of Peace Corps. Of course the work this group is doing here is awesome; they work all year to raise money for this trip and they come down with open hearts ready to reach out and bless all the people they come in contact with. The cool part for me though, was that to all the Nicas here, these do-gooders were "outsiders." They are only here for the week, and will be gone in the blink of an eye. Most of them couldn't speak Spanish, which meant that although their smiles and good intentions were well-received, they weren't able to communicate with the majority of their patients. I felt really special while I was walking around the school/clinic because all of my students and their families came to talk to me and ask me about the “gringos.” They wanted to know my opinions of these outsiders and wanted to know why they didn't speak Spanish like I did. My closest friends told me that I'm the only “Nica Gringa” and that even though I wasn't giving out awesome free baseball caps and chocolate bars, they appreciate me for being a part of their community – although they said it while asking me why I didn't get them some of the free baseball caps and chocolate haha. It really made me value the two year commitment I've made to Peace Corps. It took this experience to show me how at home I really do feel here, and how many connections I've made during my time here.

I remember last year when I went on the mission trip to Honduras, I was on the other side of the spectrum. We spent a week building bunk beds for some amazing kids and made some really great connections with them. We lived with them, ate with them, played with them, took them on trips, and built them beds – but at the same time, we hardly spoke Spanish at all! After our week, we all disappeared from their lives as quickly as we had entered, and even though there were lots of tears both from us and from them, I know that their lives moved on as soon as we left because they're used to strangers coming and going in the blink of an eye. Of course they were grateful and of course they will remember us (especially because they have some awesome three-tiered bunk beds now), but it's just different.  

I guess that's why Peace Corps has the two year commitment requirement.  It was the hardest part of applying for me, knowing that I'd be leaving for two whole years, but now I understand why the commitment is necessary.  To really enact sustainable changes, one has to be a part of the community - not just an outsider deciding what's best for a town they've spent no time in.  Living here and actually forming lasting relationships is pretty amazing.  Unfortunately, as I was discussing with some of my friends here the other day, leaving after two years is going to be beyond heartbreaking.  I can't imagine leaving here and knowing that I'll only be back as a visitor from time to time.  These are my students, my co-workers, my new found friends and family.  I can't imagine having to say goodbye to them all!! I've been here in my town for 7 months now (in Nicaragua for 10!) and time is absolutely flying! Of course I'm excited to return home, but I can also say that I'm in no rush to leave here.  

     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**In other news...I  got peed on by the notorious "Maya" bug that thrives here during the rainy season.  It's a nasty beetle-ish bug that pees on you and leaves behind a gross group of blisters.  I didn't feel it when it happened...I just noticed the blisters on my elbow when I woke up in the morning (which suggests that it was inside my mosquito net =O ahhh!).  As instructed by all my Nica friends, I quickly popped the blisters and the burn immediately began to burn like they said it would.  Eww!! Worst bug ever!

***More importantly...I'm headed to Costa Rica tomorrow to see the Boscherts!!! Can't wait!!!!!!!

To be truly selfless...

Tonight while talking to Doña Lidia about life as always, she asked me how everything was with my family at home. I told her everything was great and mentioned that I had just spoken to my mom about putting the house on the market. It should have occurred to me that to mention selling a house would lead to shock and awe, but because we have so much “confianza,” I didn't think before I mentioned it.

*Aside* Confianza is a beautiful idea. It's more than confidence and trust; it really means a level of mutual comfort between two people that allows both parties to feel at home in each other's presence, and to be themselves. Building confianza is a process and is something that's taken very seriously here.

The thought that someone would want to sell a house is beyond comprehension for most people in my town. Here, family life revolves around “la casa.” People here can spend their entire lives living in the same house. It's very common to see three or more generations living together. My students live with grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, and of course parents and siblings. It's rare to see a house occupied by less than two “nuclear families.” Here, often times people get married and continue living in the house that one of them grew up in. Grandparents or aunts and uncles help raise the children and take care of things in the house while parents work 12 hour days for 4 days straight in Zona Franca (a sweat shop that employs half my town and ships it's clothing products to the US where they are sold at prices that people here could never imagine spending on clothes...) People all over the world work their entire lives to have a home to call their own, but once that is accomplished here, that house will remain in the family for generations.

This, of course, is partially due to necessity – families just don't have enough money to live spread out in ten different houses. Deeper than that though is the fact that life here is based completely around the idea of family and community. In “los estados unidos” (the good ol' USA) on the other hand, life is based on individuality. Disagree if you want, but after living a few months in a country where everyone takes care of each other, it's impossible not to notice the difference. Doña Lidia's immediate reaction for example, when I said that my mom was selling the house because it's too big now that we've all moved out and on with our lives, was to assume that she (my mom) would be moving back in with her mom! This of course is not the case. The idea that a middle-aged couple (sorry guys teehee) would move in with a parent is absolutely unheard of in the States. Trying to explain the absurdity of that suggestion was difficult though, because here, it's absurd to think that one wouldn't want to live with their extended family. Clearly living together is cheaper in every sense – from groceries, to laundry, utilities, transportation, appliances, furniture...the list goes on and on. Not to mention that living together means splitting the household chores and living in constant “alegria” (happiness) due to the fact that your support system, entertainment, psychologist, babysitter, nurse, gardener, comedian etc. all live right there with you.

Our conversation really made me reflect on the countless differences between life here and life at home. Here, people live "regalando" (gifting) fruits, vegetables, plates of leftovers, chotchkies, animals, and daily necessities to their neighbors. It's not something that requires thanks or payback, it's just what's done. When people have more of anything than they absolutely need in that moment, they give to someone else who needs. It's beautiful. The notion of “saving for a rainy day,” or hording because tomorrow might be a little harder does not exist here. You'd think that in a country where poverty is so rampant, that people would think twice before giving away anything of value – nutritional, monetary, or otherwise – but that's just not the case. Like Don Dolores says, “when God rains his blessings on us, we have to bless others because there's always someone who needs it more than we do. We might not be rich, but we have more than enough to share.” That idea, so pure and seemingly simple, is just not common in the States where everyone is so focused on competition, personal gain, and personal improvement that true selflessness just doesn't exist.

I visited the house of my best friend here the other day and was immediately invited to lunch by his mother. I was given the biggest portion of food, the best chair in the house, a fresh homemade fresco, and was gifted a bag full of veggies before I left. This family is living in a house that's being “lent” to them by a friend because they can't afford a house of their own – and yet they didn't even consider thinking twice before giving me half of their veggies, which are expensive here. Since then, Doña Ana (my closest friend, Carlos's, mom) has sent me two cooked dinners and invited me back for lunch. Be careful how you read that though; I was given these things out of pure kindness – not a single part of this was done to impress me or to make it seem as though they have more than they do. Doña Ana just sees a young girl living alone, which to her, naturally means that she has to take care of me as she would her own family. The generosity and hospitality I've experienced here is like nothing I've ever witnessed before, and I have some pretty hospitable friends and family back in the States.

I hope that one day I'll be half as selfless as the people I've come to know here. I want to give without worrying that people will begin to expect freebies as a result of it, without judging who is or is not worthy of receiving, and without expecting gratitude in return. I want to think first about the comfort and wellbeing of others, and then about myself.

I still have a lot to learn about the person I want to be, and I can't think of anyone better to learn from that the friends and “family” I'm surrounded by here. I'm taught in different ways each day to be humble, to lend a hand, to give wholeheartedly, and to really care about the people I encounter each day – regardless of whether they're friends or strangers. The sense of community, mutual responsibility, and genuine kindness towards others reigns here, and it's definitely something I hope to take home and teach by example after my two years are up.   

Life in Belen

Like I said in my last post, a LOT has been going on here lately...hence the lack of recent blog posts.  I've been trying not to leave my site lately because I've done so much running around in the past few months with my language workshop, in-service training, security meetings, department meetings etc.  I can finally say that I've spent two complete consecutive weeks in site, and they've been great!  I  attended an annual Bingo event that was PACKED with all of my students, fellow teachers, neighbors,  and friends; I ate lunch or dinner with more families than I can keep track of; and I've been playing volleyball with one of the girls teams from my town and we're undefeated!  (Yeah, it's a really big ego boost when all my friends/students show up at the court to watch us play.)  School wise, I've been teaching daily and working crazy overtime with gardens, tree nurseries, and compost piles.  I can finally say that my gardens are doing really well in 3 of my schools and I've already transplanted some trees in one of my schools - and we used organic compost that we made to do it!! 

                                     Trabajando duro!! (Working hard!)

                           Daniel, Harry, Heyner, Bauther, Bruno and me! =)
         


Some of the bigger events here these past two weeks were Mother's Day and Children's Day - both of which were pretty awesome days for me.  On Mother's Day (the 30th of May), I decided to go visit all of my Nica Moms and thank them for all they've done for me during my time here.  I decided to make them little cards - and was able to couple them with doilies from Omi, which turned out to be a huge hit!  I spent literally the entire day just going house to house and visiting some of my favorite people in town.  They were so touched by the cards and gifts, but I tried to make them see that no card or gift could ever amount to the kindness and generosity they've shown me.  I can't even keep track of the amount of lunches and dinners I've been gifted, let alone the advice/good conversation/hugs/waves/introductions/
visits etc.  Making those cards made me realize how truly blessed I've been during my time here.

                                            10 cards for my 10 Nica mamas =) 


Children's Day was another huge day here.  Last Friday, classes ended two hours early to allow for the Dia de los Ninos celebraciones.  As you know I work in four schools, but I chose to spend Children's day in my biggest central school.  All of the teachers there decided to perform for the students because "actos," are a huge tradition here, and every big event calls for a stage and a show.  Since I'm always running school to school, no one told me about the performances until the night before when my closest teacher friend casually asked me what I was doing for the show.  When I nonchalantly told her I'd be dancing a hop hop routine, she assumed I was serious and asked me what song I was using.  I quickly realized she wasn't joking.  I thought about it for a second and realized it would be pretty cool to perform something for my kiddies, so I asked her if she wanted to teach me one of the traditional Nicaraguan Folklor dances.  She said she knew I could learn it quickly enough because she'd seen me dance in one of the fiestas (oops) and therefore knew that I was a "bailerina," or dancer.  So that night, after teaching English until 7 and playing volleyball until 8, I biked up to her house and she taught me the dance.  She then told me that one of the other teachers had the traditional skirt/shirt/etc. ready for me at the school and that I'd just need to show up!  Well let me tell you...when the performance started, the MC explained to the kids that I was sorry I couldn't spend Children's day with them.  She reminded them that I'm very busy and that I work in a lot of schools.  Then she proceeded to tell them the first act would be a traditional folk dance (which is always the first act of an event like this).  As the music started, I came out from behind the bulletin board dressed head-to-toe in traditional dance attire, with braids and flowers in my hair... *and the crowd went wilddddddd!!!!*  Haha, it was such an awesome surprise for them!! Half of the teachers had no idea either and were so surprised that I could dance decently.  They said I was "pura Masaya" or pure Nica!  It was so so cool!!

Last but not least, this past weekend, Carlos Erik, my 10 year old neighbor/student/landscaper/errand runner/tour guide/Spanish teacher, invited me out to his family's farm in one of the comarcas, or small towns, on the outskirts of Belen.  (I had been promising him for weeks that I'd go with him, and I finally had time to go!)  So, bright and early Sunday morning, we hopped on our bikes and headed out of town.  We went straight  to misa (mass) when we got there so that we could sit with his aunt and grandma to listen to his uncle sing.  After church, we headed out even farther to their houses.  His grandparents, who were not expecting me, immediately invited me to lunch, which on Sunday is always SOPA (soup jam packed with veggies and meat) mmmm!!!  After lunch, Carlos Erik took me out back to explore their acres of banana and plantain trees.  He then climbed a mango tree to cut me some mangoes, and we headed out across to his uncle's house to see the cows and gardens.  It was gorgeous!! When we got back to the grandparents' house, his grandpa sat me down on the front porch to ask me if I liked Mexican music.  I replied that I like all music, and he told me to sit and wait while he brought out a Mexican singer friend of his.  One minute later, he returned with a straw hat and a guitar and proceeded to sing to me/us for the next half hour.  It was sooo awesome!! He sang me a song about my green eyes, sang about friendship, sang about love, sang about fun and games, and the whole family sat out on the porch surrounded by palm trees and tropical flowers listening to his invented songs.  It was another perfect day - and we finished it off by racing the rain home!  The clouds behind us were unbelievably dark and we could see that it was raining just north of us, so we rode like the wind and made it back to Belen just as it started to drizzle!


Ahh gotta love it here.


PS My Spanish has been improving exponentially.  They said that would happen eventually...and it finally has!! 

Mom & Mary in Nica!!

It has been an unbelievably long time since I've blogged - well I guess it really hasn't - but soooo much has happened since the last time I posted anything on here! My mom and Mary have come and gone, I've become significantly more comfortable here in my town, I've been working wayyy overtime on gardens/tree nurseries/composting in all of my schools (on top of giving daily science classes), Nicaragua's Mother's Day passed, I danced a traditional Nicaraguan folk dance ON STAGE in one of my schools.......andddd back home in good ol' NY, my baby brother graduated from grad school, and my family and friends had yet another amazing camping trip without me.

I'm not sure yet if I'm going to try to cover all of the above in this blog because that might be exhausting...but we'll see what happens.

I'll start by saying that my visit with Mom and Mary was obviously amazing!! We cooked lunch for my training family, hung out in my new house with my students/friends, watched a parade of 66 ox-drawn carts in my town, talked/moved furniture/slept through the first night of rainy season in my house, and hung out on the beach in San Juan del Sur.

The procession was probably my favorite part because it was so "Nica!"  All of the farmers from the surrounding "campos" decorated their carretas beautifully with palms, flowers, balloons, streamers, you name it, hooked up their oxen and paraded into town with bands playing, heading straight for the church.  This is something they do every year on the 15th of May to welcome the rainy season.  They honor St. Isidro, a former farmer, by bringing all the oxen to the church to have them blessed and to pray for a good rainy season.  It was really a beautiful thing to see, and just like they said it would...it rained!!  First day of rain in almost 6 months!

I got to wave at tons of my students who were passing in their families' carretas, while at the same time translating between Mom and Mary who were talking to my students that were hanging out with us.

                                          Edwin, Josue, and Carlos Erik - some of my favs!

Halfway through, the already constant rain turned into a monsoon! We were standing under an awning, but that didn't stop us from getting soaked by the giant raindrops that were bouncing up from the curb.  After the procession passed, we  tried to wait out the monsoon before walking to the church to watch the outdoor mass in the park where all the carretas were parked, but the rain didn't let up one bit.  So??? We decided to throw caution to the wind and left the safety of our awning.  We walked out into the street and made our way down the 2 long blocks to the church in the pouringgggg rain!  We had to kick off our sandals to cross the street that literally turned into a river, and in the second "river crossing" Mary lost her flip flop!! Luckily, one of my valiant students jumped off the curb and chased it down before the current carried it too far.

                                          Please note the river they're standing in...

It was such an awesome morning - especially after spending the night sleeping under my zinc roof during the torrential first rainstorm of the season!  After that, we changed out of our soaking wet clothes (yep...down to the underwear), used my rainboots to make one last latrine run since my yard was a lake, and headed out to relax at the beach in San Juan del Sur.  Amazing times. <3

              Amazing bunk beds Dona Lidia lent me for them <3 Complete with my mosquito net!

                                     Mary getting ready to brave the trip to the latrine!

                                  Cousin lovin <3

                                     Me and FM!! <3

                  Mary and I walking back from the beach while my mom stalked us from our balcony.