"There is nothing more tragic than sleeping through a revolution"

The Women's March on Washington was absolutely one of the most inspiring things I have ever been a part of. To be physically present with over 500,000 individuals from all walks of life, to march side by side with indigenous, black, white, Latinx, rich, poor, straight, lgbtq, individuals - a complete spectrum of ages, genders and religious affiliations - was an honor and a privilege.

I went in to the march wanting to be a part of something bigger than myself. I was inspired by the mission put forth by the march leaders. An intersectional feminism...one that fights for the rights of ALL women..A common goal of defending the rights of the most marginalized members of our society...The idea of coming together to fight for all of the people our new "president" has slandered, insulted and threatened...To resist his administration and it's racist, xenophobic, homophobic, non-scientific alternative reality...To fight for mother Earth.  I knew that without a doubt, I needed to be a part of the resistance - and I was. I was one of the MILLIONS of participants who marched worldwide "on the right side of history" because they recognize the travesty that is occurring in our country right now.

Once I got there and the speeches began, I was immediately inspired by every woman on that stage.
Every single presenter mentioned the need to come together and help to fight each other's battles. Our country has been stolen from indigenous peoples, built on the backs of slaves and populated by immigrants from all over the world and unfortunately our government has always been much better at apologizing for past atrocities than not allowing them to happen in the first place. Everyday people are still vilified, wrongfully detained and institutionally discriminated against and we must demand better than that. The speakers put into words all of the feelings I have never been able to express so eloquently.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SpdgPTUGFQw

Make no mistake, I am well aware that as a white woman, I am privileged to not have to overcome much friction on my daily walk towards progress. As a bisexual woman married to a straight male, I do not have to defend my sexuality on a daily basis because everyone assumes I'm straight. I do not have to worry about the future legality of my marriage because the love between a man and a woman has never been deemed unnatural or threatened by the federal government. I have never known what it feels like to be discriminated against because of the color of my skin or because of the language my family speaks. I have never been asked to put "my issues" on hold while the issues of the majority were dealt with first. Being at this march reinforced my belief that if any of us is being held back, we all are.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TTB-m2NxWzA

I was there to listen, to learn, to be inspired by women who have been fighting these battles since before I was born. Women who are fighting battles I will never have to fight myself. Even now, days later, I am still in awe of the strength of the women I encountered there. The mothers of Trayvon Martin and Eric Garner cried their son's names on stage while 500,000 of us screamed back "say their names." A six-year-old girl from an undocumented family pleaded with the crowd to make a "chain of love" to protect families from being torn apart.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qPa464CEbuE

Countless activists who have dedicated their lives to fighting for the people whose voices are so often silenced made me so proud to be a woman. I am inspired. I am ready to fight. I will not sit quietly and watch everything beautiful about our country be torn apart. I will not be silent when an administration threatens the reproductive rights of women around the world. I will not "give a chance" to an arrogant demagogue who dares to openly vilify Muslims and Mexicans, to brag about sexually assaulting women and to pit us against each other. I will not quietly allow people to "express their opinions" without challenge when those opinions only serve to further harm the oppressed and the struggling.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ffb_5X59_DA

We have such a long way to go, but I am so grateful for the experience I had this weekend. I was able to march with some of the most inspiring women in my family - from North Carolina to Canada - and stood shoulder to shoulder with hundreds of thousands of individuals who are not willing to sit idly by while a new regime of ignorance takes over our government. Leaving the march and seeing on the news that worldwide we were a force of over 5 million people on all seven continents marching in solidarity was unbelievable! We are a force to be reckoned with and we will not back down. This is not the time for complacence. "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere" and we must not allow it.

http://nytlive.nytimes.com/womenintheworld/2017/01/23/i-cant-keep-quiet-im-a-one-woman-riot-song-goes-insanely-viral/

Que Llueva!

As I said in my last blog, the “norm” here in Belen, is to have potable water everyday during rainy season (and every other day during dry season). This “rainy season” however has been, without question, much more dry than rainy. After the first few rains in May, it has hardly rained at all. In a part of the world that relies on a six month rainy season for crops and for general survival, this is a huge problem.

My school gardens have officially dried out because since it's not raining, we've been without potable water as well. Sometimes it comes every other day, sometimes every third. This is not too big of a problem for my personal life, because I have enough buckets and gallon containers to fill when there is water. But for bigger families, it sure makes life more complicated than it should be. The other day, since the wells are starting to dry up, the water in the pipes was coming out dirty....but they seemed to have fixed that somehow. As for gardens and farms, the situation is grave. A close look at the cement-like cracked ground and anyone would guess that we were in the middle of dry season. In those conditions, watering every third day just doesn't cut it.

Being here in a country where people depend directly on the land and their own sweat and labor, you immediately see the effects of a drought. It's a topic of conversation among any two people that happen to be talking. “Can you believe it still hasn't rained?” “I hope God wants it to rain soon.” “We're in the middle of the desert out here.” “We're all going to starve to death.” The heat is unbearable, the sun is just as strong as ever. We can't even seem to get any cloud cover.

What I've found to be interesting though, is that everyone here seems to be sure that we ourselves are to blame. “Well if we keep cutting down all the forests, it's never going to rain!” “All of those farmers sucking water out of the river with their irrigation machines are completely changing the ecosystems that once existed there.” All of these assumptions, while not being told to them by scientists and meteorologists are just obvious enough for them to point out. Never before in the history of our planet, has a species caused so many physical changes to it's own habitat, so it makes sense to the people here, that booming populations, which lead to vast deforestation and re-sculpting of the land itself will change the way things have always been. (The facts about greenhouse gases, while much more harmful to the environment than any of the small scale damage people do here, are lost on countrymen where less than a tenth of the town's population own vehicles, and smokestack factories don't exist.) Meanwhile back in the US, there are millions of people who although they have the facts at their fingertips, refuse to believe that this has indeed been the hottest year on record, and that WE are in fact to blame.

Perhaps it's because the lifestyle here is less pampered and cushy, and more raw and real, that there have been so many concrete plans of action put into place to combat the destruction we're causing. Here, no rain means no water, so it's necessary to take immediate action to fix the situation. The Nicaraguan government has implemented environmental conservation practices into each year of the school curriculum. With each of my classes here, we have planted trees (close to 300 in this year alone), continually make organic compost, have made tons of recycled materials projects, held community trash pick-ups, and made murals to suggest ways to protect the endangered species that live in the forests around our towns. These kids are growing up knowing that every decision they make can either harm or help their environment. And that's just with the schools. In the Mayor's offices around the country, reforestation projects are part of the annual budget. Here in Belen, the environmental sector of the Mayor's office has a project with 2,000 trees that they will be transplanting down by the river to make up for all the trees that are cut down for furniture making in the country.

While there is still much improvement to be made here in terms of trash management, at least they are trying. While I do remember recycling programs in schools back home, I don't ever remember planting a single tree. Sure on Earth Day each year, someone in the school, usually an administrator, planted a tree for good measure; but should we really expect that one little tree to balance out all the environmental harm done by the faculty and students there each year?

Sure there aren't signs and reminders everywhere to “Go Green” here like back home, but really everyone here lives much more “green-ly” than anyone back in the States. Here, everyone hangs their clothes out to dry, people naturally practice the famous Rs (Reduce, Reuse, Recycle, and REPAIR – something that rarely happens in the US where the trend is always to buy the newest version when your old *insert any gadget, appliance, vehicle etc* stops working how it's supposed to). Shoes are shined and re-sown here, clothes are mended, electronics are repaired, broke-down cars and buses are refurbished (and sometimes completely pimped out). People make bird cages out of fan cages, animal feeders from old tires and plastic bottles, baby seats for bikes from scrap wood. Coffee cans are then used as sugar containers and a bottle of cooking oil gets refilled endlessly at the corner store. While poor waste management leaves all the garbage that doesn't get re-used to be found either on the streets, or burning in someone's backyard, there is MUCH less waste here, and I think that's going to be one of the harder things to get used to again when I go back home.

Here's to being more conscious and making the sometimes less convenient choices to bring your own coffee to work, or to walk around the block to the store instead of driving. Let's take advantage of summer sun and winds to air dry our clothes, and for the love of God, let's stop buying bottled water! In a country where clean water flows from every sink in every household, there is absolutely no excuse for that!

Just when I though I'd seen it all...

Yesterday morning, just after snoozing my alarm for the third time, while stretching and trying to convince myself to get up and at 'em, I was called into reality by the very loud and familiar voice of my next door neighbor, Doña Mayra. 

“Kristel, (it’s a much more common name here than my unheard of variation, so a few people have never gotten used to saying, Krista) no salgas al patio jajajajaja!” Translation: Kristel, don’t go out into your backyard hahahahaha!”

I amusedly yelled back from my bed, “Ideay!! Porque no?!” Translation: “Eediay!! (an invaluable sound here used for expressing surprise, horror, impatience, dismay, or pretty much anything depending on the tone) Why not?!”

Turns out the night before, the cow she had tied up just behind the barbed wire that separates our yards got spooked, ran towards my yard, somehow crossed the barbed wire, and in the process of all that, completely took out my latrine.  I mean literally tore it to the ground. (Benefits of sleeping with a fan: relief from the terrible heat, AND from the noises of the night, aka barking dogs, crowing roosters, and demolition cows??) The only part left standing was the “throne.”

As I slowly opened my back door, there it was. A giant cow butt blocking my exit. So I looked through the wooden planks that make up the walls around my washing area and saw my latrine completely toppled. I really couldn't help but laugh!

I didn't have a second option. Unlike some fancier homes here that actually do have indoor toilets, mine does not. So, I wandered over to Doña Mayra's house with my toilet paper and made myself at home in her latrine. It was just as comfortable really. I could still see the outside world through the gaps between the wooden plank walls, could still hear the neighbors' kids getting ready for school, the birds chirping, and of course the roosters, which crow all day and all night here. The seat they have is made of wood, which provided a different texture than my cold metal variation, and unlike my curtain that blows in the wind, there I had an actual door! Hahaha, goooood timessssss.

That same day, they fixed up my latrine, and they've politely decided to tie up their cows a bit farther from my house now. So, all in all, no harm done! (Luckily I wasn't in there when that cow got spooked!)

Shout-out to Andrew!

The following is copied from a blog of a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer and awesome friend of mine, Andrew BoddySpargo. His blog is absolutely worth following and I suggest skimming through his past posts to get a different outlook on life here in Nicaragua, and just on life in general. =) Here he explores the use of the words “developed” and “developing,” which have been adopted to replace the terms, “first world” and “third world.”

Calling Nicaragua a developing country seems very nice because it focuses on the progress that’s being made in economic development, healthcare, education, etc. Still, it hit me the other day that development itself is a loaded term. It implies that there’s some path from one point towards an end goal of being ‘developed.’ As many Peace Corps volunteers will tell you, there are lots of benefits of not being ‘developed,’ too. People tend to rely on each other more and form stronger communities. They also have a closer relationship with nature and the environment. This closer relationship with nature gets to the heart of an important difference of perspectives on development. What if we think of development as a movement from the subjection of humans to nature to the subjection of nature to humans? At some point in our history we must have realized that our brains give us the ability to manipulate nature and make it more amenable to us. Isn’t that what healthcare is? Doctors changing the natural course of our bodies and artificially lengthening our lives? Isn’t that what infrastructure is? Cutting down trees and bulldozing hills so that we can more easily move around? Isn’t that what modern conveniences do? Keep bugs out, control the indoor climate, cook and freeze food to our liking. And modern agriculture? We essentially uproot what was and replant what suits us in row after row of monoculture commercial farms.

What if development is thought of as a move to artificiality? If the dichotomy is natural and artificial, then the value judgment is kind of turned on its head. Nicaragua becomes a less artificial country and the US perhaps the most artificial country that has ever existed. Now, obviously ‘artificial’ has its own baggage, and I’m not suggesting we stop using the word ‘developed,’ but as a thought experiment it helps underscore the influence of language on how we conceptualize our world. If we uncritically use the term ‘developing’ to describe countries that share characteristics like low material wealth and less infrastructure, then we risk stifling the diversity, beauty, and connections that are everywhere in the world. I don’t think we should stop using the word, but I do think we should think beyond it.

I absolutely loveeee this analysis and thank Andrew so much for sharing it with us! Check out some more of his blogs at http://boddyspargo.wordpress.com/ !

Open Minds Open Doors

Me: At one point we went without water for 8 days.

Mom, Omi, Grandma, Dad, anyone from home: WHAT?!?! 8 days!?! That's unimaginable!! But how did you all survive?! What did you do?!

Me: At one point we went without water for 8 days.

Fellow volunteer, Jessi: (Less than sympathetic smile) Umm...yeah, it's rough right?

Living here in Nicaragua for the past two years has brought about a whole new set of norms for me, and while some of them are common no matter which volunteer you talk to here, the variety of “Peace Corps experiences” in Nicaragua is much wider than one might think. Each volunteer is placed in a community, town, or city in his or her own corner of the country. While some frequent restaurants and bars, have internet in their houses, can watch TV while laying on a sofa, and work in Universities; others have no electricity, no water, must travel miles by bus to get to the nearest “ciber” to use the internet, and work in one-room school houses. Some have apartments in the cities with cafes, supermarkets, and movie theaters within walking distance. Others have grown fond of shopping in their “mercados,” or farmer's markets, and have forgotten that movie theaters even exist in this world.

I live in a relatively big town; definitely not a city, but not a tiny community either. Within a two block radius of my house, I have a giant Catholic church, two elementary schools, two high schools, a beautiful central park, a gated basketball court, an ice cream store, the Mayor's Office, a pharmacy, a restaurant/bar/club, two “cibers,” a school supply store, and countless “pulperias,” aka corner stores that people run out of their houses. I feel as though I'm living in the ideal Nicaraguan town. It's not too developed which means there are no draws for tourists and I can therefore have a genuine Nica experience without a bunch of “gringos” wandering around polluting the culture. I'm just a half hour bus ride from the nearest small city where I can sit with my laptop in a bakery and use wireless internet. I can even bus it to touristy beaches when I need to escape and still get back before nightfall.

Finally I just about always have electricity; and during rainy season, there is always potable water in the pipes.* (During dry season, we generally have water every other day.) Who could ask for more?

*See next blog for an update on the water in our pipes this “rainy” season.

Well, the above conversations were had a while back when, during dry season, we were experiencing water rationing that was a bit less reliable that the usual “every other day” rule. At one point...oh yes, I've already told you...8 days. During those eight days without water, people in my town came together like you've never seen. The lack of water made for immediate bonding between any two strangers on the street; it was the perfect conversation starter. People who still have open wells in their yards immediately let it be known that anyone who needed water could show up with their buckets to start hauling. People who own horse drawn carts could be seen transporting giant rain barrels full of water from the well houses to the people who didn't have wells within walking distance. I quickly learned to boil my well water, and was blessed enough to not have to haul it myself. (My little next door neighbor, Carlos Erik, loved to bring me a small bucket each morning and that was enough for me to drink and cook with while my boyfriend, Carlos, (surprise??) made sure I had any other water I might need for washing clothes etc. )

Whenever I mentioned that week to people at home, I was always met with the same shocked disbelief. It was difficult enough for them to imagine even “every other day” water rationing, much less eight long, hot, waterless days. I felt like a survivor when I said that it really wasn't so bad. I was a hero who had braved eight days without a drop of water from a spigot. When I mindlessly mentioned it to my volunteer friend, Jessi, however, I was met with a different reaction. She paused before answering, giving me a moment to remember who I was talking to. In her town, there is never water. Walking to the well and hauling up buckets is part of her daily routine. Just as I've become accustomed to saving buckets for the no water days, she's become accustomed to walking with a 5 gallon bucket on her head from the community well back to her one room house everyday.

It really made me think. We can really get used to anything. People in my town had become so accustomed to having reliable, potable water that when it disappeared, they were outraged. Although it hasn't been many years since they all lived with just well water, the forced regression was unappreciated to say the least. When the lights go out here, people immediately respond with phrases like, “Que problema!” and “Y ahora, que hacemos?” (and now what do we do?). Just a generation back, it was normal to not have electricity, and now people here can't imagine living a day without getting to watch TV and listen to music.

It's the same in the US. Think about it. I'm 26 years old, and while I spent half of my life without the internet, now I can't imagine surviving without it. I made it to 18 years old before they invented Facebook, and now I feel as though I'd have absolutely no way of communicating with all of my “friends” without it. The entire infrastructure of the US would collapse if there were no water for eight days. Latrines don't even exist there, so what would everyone do about going to the bathroom in toilets that don't flush? People don't have open wells, and at least no one in my generation has ever hand washed a load of laundry, much less gone to the river to do so. So what would happen?

Meanwhile, Jessi and her neighbors do just fine with their situation. Sure it's less than ideal, but it's just a different daily routine. People there still have normal lives; it's just that their normal is different than my normal. Just like my current normal is different than my college normal, which was different than my high school normal and so on.

So really, what is normalcy? People for example, who have lived in the city their entire lives, in any part of the world, can't imagine living in the country – and visaversa. They each have such acutely defined ideas of normalcy that their own stereotypes and assumptions about other ways of life are completely exaggerated. City people are viewed by country folk as conceited, rich, anti-social snobs that are too busy to enjoy life, while those city dwellers view country people as uneducated, porch-sitting hicks. Ignorance and close-mindedness are what cause such extreme opinions. People in “developed” countries tend to imagine that those in “developing” countries are starving, hopeless, helpless, and sad, while this is by no means the case. Similarly, people in “developing” countries tend to think that all people in the US or any other “developed” nation live in giant houses, can afford anything their hearts desire, and want for nothing – also a misunderstanding.

I guess I have no real conclusion to reach with this blog. It just occurred to me that by living in our own little bubbles and not ever interacting with people who live differently than we do, we truly limit ourselves culturally, intellectually, socially, and experientially (which a squiggly red line is telling me is apparently not a word). Without even realizing it, we allow our untested assumptions to form our opinions about other peoples, other cultures, and other ways of living. These notions of us and them, and normal and other, while perfectly natural, can sometimes be harmful. We would do well to remember that without diversity of opinions, wants, cultures, languages, lifestyles, abilities, colors, and sub-cultures, this world would be a very different place.

I'm thankful to come from a nation as diverse as the United States, and hope to promote an appreciation for such diversity when I'm back to teaching in good ol' New York, one of the most diverse states there is. But appreciating diversity within my own country might never be enough for me. There is still so much of the world to see. Who knows if I'll ever get enough.

La Vela

It's been a while since I've written about a beautiful Nicaraguan tradition and after last night's “vela,” I realized that I have to share the beauty of this custom with those of you who have been following me on my journey for the last (almost) two years.

When someone dies here in Nicaragua, amidst the mourning and sadness, the family and friends of that person immediately begin the task of preparing the house for the “vela.” I don't want to cheat the word by directly translating it to“wake;” although like wakes in the US, the vela is a chance for the loved ones of the deceased to gather around the body, reminisce, reconnect, and show support for the family. A vela however, is much more than just a wake.

The day someone dies, his or her family must get the word out as they begin to prepare the house and the body for the vela. Here in my town, “getting the word out” almost always means paying the - directly translated - truck of publicity* to drive around every block announcing the death, a verbal obituary if you will, to the tune of a touching song about meeting again some day in Heaven. While this is going on, friends, neighbors and extended family of the deceased do all they can to emotionally, financially and physically help the family with the task at hand.

*The truck of publicity is a pickup with giant speakers on the back that rides around town announcing everything from deaths, to parties, to political campaigns. I've been told that one announcement costs about US$20.

The vela is held in the house of the deceased, which therefore means the body must be prepared, the casket bought, the flowers cut, the curtains hung, the coffee made, and the chairs rented and transported to the house all before sundown. Here in my little town of Belen, people chip in to help each other in any way they can. If the suffering family is very poor, people show up throughout the day with coffee and bread contributions for the night's activity. Neighbors walk around town collecting funds for the chair rental and the few who have vehicles offer their services at no cost. Lunches and dinners are cooked for the suffering, and all the women on the block can be found hanging the curtains, arranging the flowers, and cleaning the street out front.

As dusk begins to settle over the town, chairs are set up inside around the casket and outside on the street. Rows and rows of little, wooden, fold-up chairs face the house, sometimes taking up the entire block. People begin to wander in as soon as the sun starts to set. Some of them enter the house to pay their respects to the body, while others look for seats outside on the street. People show up with any contribution they can make to the family – fruits, vegetables, rice, sugar, oil, or when people have it, just plain cash. Comforting words and hugs are exchanged all night with those in the immediate family. Tears are shed at the casket, and memories are recounted outside on the street in the clusters of chairs that form and reform as the night goes on.

The purpose of the vela is that the body be accompanied until the moment it is buried the next day. This means that some people stay at the house or out on the block all night supporting the family and showing their devotion to the defunct. Men sit around makeshift tables playing cards or dominoes while younger boys gather around them to see who wins. Families and friends grieve, comfort, laugh, and talk for hours in the street. The women and girls in the family of the deceased, serve coffee and bread to their guests all night long. I've been told that rich families also serve liquor to the men.

As the night grows older, some head home, while others wander in for their turn to accompany the family. In the morning, the church service is arranged and after mass, everyone accompanies the body as it is walked on the shoulders of the men in the family, from the church to the cemetery. Last words are said and family members gather around the body to see the face one last time before he or she is laid to rest.

The solidarity and support that flows so naturally into the velas here is absolutely beautiful. Everyone gives what little they can to support the grieving family. Then, in most cases, for nine days after the death, people gather at the same house at noon and at dusk to say the Rosary for the deceased. For nine days after, they continue praying for the peace of his/her soul and for the healing of the family left behind.

Sabados Gigantes

So since most of my posts are dedicated to Nicaraguan culture, my adventures here, and tidbits from day to day life, I decided it's time to finally dedicate a post to a project of mine. I'm going to take a few moments here to brag about a really successful Saturday camp I designed and ran in my town.

Since my idea for a summer camp fell through due to a series of scheduling conflicts and lack of matriculation, I decided that instead of scrapping it completely, I'd find a way to do it just on Saturdays. I wanted to include English classes, arts and crafts, sports, and environmental projects. I figured I'd need 3 teachers plus myself, and then a few counselors. I looked immediately to the kids and friends I give English class to, for support in the “teen helper” or “counselor” roles. I was initially worried when Cristina and Alvaro, two of my older more responsible friends said they couldn't help since they have class on Saturdays, but I was happy to see that some of my 7^th and 8^th graders were immediately excited and enthusiastic to participate. =) Since Carlos has been helping me give my community English classes during the week, he volunteered to teach them on Saturdays as well! I decided to leave two of my 9^th grade boys in charge of the sports department, which left only an arts and crafts teacher position. Since no one seemed to jump at the chance, I immediately said yes when one of my co-teachers from the elementary school, Profesora Josefa, volunteered to teach dance! Things were really coming together.

With permission from my official Peace Corps counterpart, the director of one of my schools, we decided to hold the camp in the school on my block. There, we had access to a boom box for the dance class, plenty of room for the sports and environmental projects, and a pavilion for shade.

Finally, since I've been dedicating most of my Sundays to teaching English to the local English teachers through a non-profit organization here called, Fundacion Uno, the director of the program decided to provide all the funding I would need for the camp!

Teachers? Check!

Helpers? Check!

Permission? Check!

Funding? Check!

All that was left was deciding how to limit the amount of students invited. I decided to invite only 3^rd through 6^th graders, party because they have similar abilities, likes, and dislikes, and partly because I honestly don't have the patience to work with preschoolers or the like. Since we didn't have a million volunteers helping out, I decided to limit the number of kids to 60. I went classroom to classroom in each of my schools with 5 invitations to “Sabados Gigantes” per class. The teachers distributed them to the kids that “deserved them” either for their good behavior or good grades. With 15 kids from each grade, I had my 60 invitees with written permission from parents, and we were good to go!

Each Saturday in May, the kids rotated through the four classes in their grade groups. My “teen leaders” were amazing! It's so great to see how a little bit of responsibility can completely transform a student. I placed two of them in charge of each grade group and they brought them through each of the rotations, and helped with the games and projects. In the environmental section, each kid planted his/her own tree to take home; they planted tomatoes and peppers, also to take home; we had a school cleanup competition; and made some flowers from the bottles we collected.

The last day, we changed the organization a little to have an hour and half for Olympics!!! We broke the kids into mixed groups and let them chose their country names. Then Espana, Paraguay, Brazil, and Los Estados Unidos (US) competed in various relay races, kickball and soccer tournaments, agility competitions, etc. They absolutely loved it!

After the last day, I took all the teen leaders and teachers out to get ice cream to thank them for all they had done. I really wouldn't have been able to do it without them. I threw out the idea of doing it all over with new kids in August and they all said they'd help again. =) Gotta love volunteerism!

                     Profesor Carlos!! The kids loved him! They were all so excited to learn English!

                                            Learning Traditional Nicaraguan Folklore Dances

                                                             SPUD! Yay camp games!

                                                                             Sports

Some of the best (pre)teen helpers I could ever ask for!

Overall I'd say it was a huge success! It was really fun getting to invent and plan something completely from scratch and when one of the 6^th grade girls told me those 4 Saturdays were the best ones of her life, I knew that although she was surely exaggerating, we had done something good. =) Extra-curricular activities don't really exist here outside of sports leagues. That means that after their 5 hours of school each day, kids here are completely on their own as far as entertainment goes. For the girls especially, that usually means plenty of chores in and around the house, and very little time with friends. I'm really looking forward to doing it all again, and I hope to include some more teachers this time to see if I can get some of them to continue it when I leave in November.   

Updates for 2012

As you may have noticed, I've been suffering lately from pretty severe writer's block. I think it's because things have completely normalized here and I'm finding it difficult to just write about the day to day routine.  Here are some pretty unremarkable updates for now:

Now that the school year's well on it's way, I've become immediately busy again. I'm still “co-teaching” with seven teachers, three of whom I worked with last year. The other four I was working with were all moved to lower grades, so I got to select new ones to pair up with. I've started off on a pretty good foot with the majority of them as far as getting to know all of our students and teaching some great science lessons...now we just need to master the art of co-planning, an ominous task that seems to drain all of us.

I've also been giving some pretty good teacher training workshops. I've covered topics such as behavior modification through rules/routines/consequences/positive reinforcement, games and bonus activities, keeping students busy etc. I also gave a workshop on all of the environmental projects (school gardens, tree nurseries, organic composting, trash management) to my four schools combined during the monthly “Pedagogical Circle” meeting that all of the teachers must attend here. This way, since I can't work with every single teacher individually, they all still received training on how to execute each project with their own classes. Having success/failure stories (maybe more of the latter) to work with from last year helped a lot.

Overall, the teachers have been extremely receptive to all of the workshops, even requesting new topics and offering to stay extra hours at school to receive them. This has motivated me to continue analyzing different strategies I've learned both through formal college classes, and just from my own personal experiences as a student in the US Public School System. Last year I was too insecure in my Spanish and in my teaching ability to give many teacher training sessions. Who was I to tell a bunch of experienced teachers how to improve their classes? Now though, after learning from them and working among them, I've realized that I too have a lot to offer. Just shining a new light on certain topics and presenting different strategy ideas has become my goal for right now.

Outside of my official work in the schools, I've also reconstructed my community English classes. I now have four different levels, with students ranging from ages 11-36, plus an elementary level with the 5^th and 6^th graders from one of my outer communities, Chacalapa. With weekly quizzes, I've been able to monitor their progress, and it seems that their class presentations, games, and conversation practice have motivated them all to actually study!

Project wise, we've started up tree nurseries in all three of my schools. They're coming along pretty well, because the teachers are really on board this year. We've made chore charts, and the kids are really motivated to take care of them. They've all used recycled materials to label their plants, and to make signs explaining the importance of protecting their trees. 

In one of my schools, we've also begun to make a border for the school garden with all of the recycled 3 liter bottles we collected the year before. It's the only school where we don't have to worry about chickens, cows, horses, or worst of all pigs, so instead of enclosing the garden with wire or fencing, the kids decided to do it with just bottles. 

 

Last but not least, this past weekend, a fellow volunteer and I headed up a pool tournament in my town to raise HIV awareness. Since I generally only work with the youth in the schools, I wanted to reach out to a different sub-culture with the AIDS education that Peace Corps encourages in all sectors and in all countries. So, I decided the pool hall was a great place to start. After getting permission and support from the billiard owner, I was off to find the prizes. I was able to get a grand prize of 500 cordobas for first place (half from the Mayor, half from Fundacion Uno), a dinner at the restaurant in my town for second place, and an appetizer at the bar for the person that answered the most questions correctly after the charlas we gave! We even got soda donated for the players by one of the store owners in my town.

After all that running around, and after planning the 3 charlas (lessons), I realized that the project would actually require me, a woman, to enter the billiard hall in my town!! (Cue ominous “dum dum dummm!”) What would the people in my town say? As soon as I got there, I put up a sign outside that explained that the tournament was to raise awareness about HIV/AIDS and I decided that was enough of an explanation. I reminded myself that those who wanted to talk about me would do so regardless, and therefore decided I didn't care. The guys inside were completely respectful and actually really into the charlas and everything! They played four rounds in total, and between each round we taught mini lessons about HIV transmission, prevention, treatment, etc. After the semi-final, we had a round of questions with some extremely enthusiastic participants, which means they really did learn! The guys that usually hang out on the street outside even came in for the charlas, and I'd say in total we reached about 40 guys! (Even some of my girl friends showed up to support the cause!) Overall I'd say it was a great success!

I apologize for not updating sooner. Like I said, I've been really busy and hadn't found anything interesting enough to write about on here. I hope these updates will suffice for now!

"You know what? I could actually get used to this!"

April 5, 2012

“You know what? I could actually get used to this.”

So on the last night of Sarah's stay here in Nicaragua, as she was coming back in from using the latrine, she said, “You know what? I could actually get used to this! Actually I'm used to it already!”

During her week here, we visited the beautiful island of Ometepe, where we stayed in a quaint little Nica hostel with a gorgeous view of Volcan Concepcion. 

Was is a five star hotel? Well considering this is what we found in our bathroom sink one morning, I'd say no.

But it was absolutely gorgeous and run by amazingly hospitable locals, with great food options, access to local beaches, and one of the best views on the island. At $10 a night for a private room and private bathroom, who could ask for more?! While on Ometepe, we biked out to a breathtaking waterfall on the other volcano with Andrew and some other pretty cool volunteers/friends. It was a longggg haul, but after biking on arguably the worst road in existence through a few communities and along the lake shore, we made it to the reserve.

*Biking the outskirt of the island along Lake Nicaragua*

*Entrance to the Waterfall Reserve...that's Volcano Maderas behind us*

From there we hitched a ride two thirds of the way up (while Andrew and company hiked) and then hiked up the last stretch where it was impossible for any type of vehicle to enter. 

The payoff was absolutely worth every drop of sweat along the way. See for yourselves...

*We were standing on a rock here, it was deeper than that*

*We even refilled our water bottles with the ice cold, pure waterfall water!*

After two days on the island...hitching rides in the backs of pickup trucks, eating all delicious local foods, biking through normal Nicaraguan communities, visiting Andrew in his site, etc...we headed back to my town. Sarah chilled with my friends and I in my house, we went to a local beach all together, and we walked around my street meeting my neighbors and taking pictures all over town.  She even helped me wash clothes one morning!

I'd say that of all my visitors, Sarah definitely got the most genuine “Nicaraguan experience.” I remember at first she said it was amazing that I was able to “live like this,” with bucket showers on "no water" days, with a latrine, in an unfinished house etc. I tried to tell her that anyone can do it...that those things are just “things” and that they don't matter at all, but I've found that that's not something you can explain. Luckily, because Sarah's awesome, I didn't really need to explain it at all...because after just two nights in my house, she exclaimed that she indeed could get used to the way things are here - that she actually already had.

Living here is in no way a sacrifice. I absolutely love my friends. I love the work I do in the schools. I love my town. There are sports leagues, youth groups, church groups, kids that play baseball in the streets, an ice cream shop, bars, a club(!), restaurants, a beautiful park, a lazy winding river, giant hills, people that take care of each other, people that take care of me...I could go on and on.

*Catholic church in the entrance to my town*

*Central Park, Belen (a block from my house)*

If you think about your life right now, wherever you may be; what are the things that make your life so great? Your family, your friends, your neighbors, your job, your daily interactions. It's definitely not your new furniture, your flat screen TV, or your iPad. All of that is just stuff...just props...the setting in which the beautiful story of your life takes place. The material things really don't change the quality of your life, and if you think they do, I challenge you to live without some of them for a while, to see what it is you're really missing out on. Human connections are what really matter. Relationships, smiles, laughter, learning, being active, staying healthy, finding something in common with someone new, relaxing on an off day, sleeping late once in a while, indulging in a chocolate bar (or insert other tasty treat).

Before she left, Sarah told me, “You know what, you really do have a life here now. You have...a completely normal life here.” And it's the absolute truth. I do normal things with normal people and all of that has formed my new normal life here in Nicaragua. Thanks Sarah, for seeing it how it really is! =)

Está Panzona!! (Ay, Dios Mío!)

So it seems that while giving countless charlas about avoiding early pregnancies, I forgot to take my own advice. Bahahaha I just realized what kind of reaction that probably got out of my poor unsuspecting family!

Noooo I'm not pregnant!! But I think the extremely young cat that's taken to living in my house is. I knew I should've taken time out of my busy schedule to look for, buy, and administer the birth control injection they give to animals here, but it was just one of those “it can wait until tomorrow” errands; plus she's not technically my cat!  There I was, assuming I was in the clear because she's nowhere near fully grown yet, and much to my dismay, she went into heat.  She and my beloved departed Nico enjoyed every minute of what became the worst night of my existence. Take any knowledge you have of cats in heat, and imagine how horribly those screams and cries echo in a house with a zinc roof. Then imagine yourself kicking them out of the house and realizing that the next best place was apparently on top of that zinc roof.  Needless to say, I didn't sleep a wink, and I'm pretty sure no one on my block did either. (Sad aside: For those of you who didn't find out from my Facebook, my cat, Nico, died a few weeks ago from eating food that my neighbors left out with rat poison in it. It was devastating. ='( May he rest in peace. The girl cat is technically my neighbor's, but may as well be mine, considering she spends 23 hours a day in my house.)

So here we are a little over a month later, and it seems that the only part of her tiny little body that's growing is her belly. Looks like I might have a pregnancy, bloody birth, and a litter of runts to deal with in the coming months. My horrified friends have all suggested “losing” her for a little while until she has them and finds her way home...but I feel like I'd be the equivalent of a mother kicking her pregnant teenager to the curb if I did that. Ahhh open to any and all suggestions/advice/etc considering I know absolutely nothing about caring for pregnant cats or preparing for kittens!! (Let's all cross our fingers and hope she's just getting fat!)

I guess while I'm writing, I'll give some other quick updates...

Summer vacation is unfortunately coming to a close. It's been a great two months though, first with a trip out to the Island of Ometepe with my closest Nicaraguan friends...then a trip HOME to see my family and amazing friends...then some day trips to the beaches here in my department...visits from other volunteer friends and their friends/family from the States...Mid-Service Training with Peace Corps...and there's still a little more to go!

From February 3^rd – 6^th, I'll be working as a counselor at a Leadership Camp that Peace Corps is sponsoring. I'll be in charge of 10 of the 95 high school kids from all over the country, and I can't wait to see how it all pans out. We have some great charlas about self-esteem, goal setting, being pro-active, serving your community etc, and we're even going to get some team-building rope courses in! To make things even better, we'll be up in the mountains of Northern Nicaragua and we've been told to pack sweatshirts, jackets and blankets!!!! (Expect a blog afterwards!)

School matriculation starts tomorrow, and classes start on February 13^th. I've scheduled meetings with my school directors and co-teachers this week to plan out schedules and to map out projects for the year. I've learned a lot from last year's trials and setbacks and plan to use them to make this year as productive and "exitoso" as possible. I'm hoping to kick off the school year with a teacher's workshop on routine setting and classroom preparation, since the first day of school is crucial in terms of laying out clear expectations and guidelines for a productive classroom environment.

Everything else is pretty normal here. Not too much to report, other than the fact that I'm really sad to see the end of my last “summer vacation” here in Nicaragua. It's been absolutely amazing!!

PS HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOOMS!!

One Year in Service!

(Written November 26th, 2011)

Well it's official...I've been living here in my Little Town of Bethlehem (that's what “Belén” means in Spanish) for a complete year!! I absolutely cannot believe that a year ago this week, I was nervously getting off the bus in the entrance to my new town, weighed down by suitcases, backpacks, and a hundred pounds of self-doubt and insecurity. I had finished my three months of training and still didn't feel as though I could communicate well in Spanish. I had lived immersed in Nicaraguan culture for 3 months, but being torn away from my training family meant that in that moment, I was a complete stranger, walking into a brand new town where no one recognized me and I was pretty much terrified.

I remember feeling light years outside of my comfort zone. Those first months were absolutely the most intimidating, challenging and stressful of my entire life. I've never felt more alone or more unsure of myself. The host parents I lived with did nothing to help me as far as introducing me to people in the community. They never slowed down their Spanish for me, never invited me into conversations – and I was left fending for myself in a home and a town that were completely foreign to me. (I have to note that their relative coldness is the complete opposite of what I've experienced with almost everyone else I've met here...) My insecurities found me sneaking off to the cyber probably much too frequently just so I could talk to my family and friends – so that I could remember that I did have connections to someone in this world. Since no one walked around with me to introduce me to people, it was up to me to make a good impression on all the people that were sizing me up in the street. I had to find my way around town and literally force myself to use my embarrassingly pitiful Spanish to talk to people. I felt like I would never be comfortable here...like I would always be an outsider.

Gracias a Dios, I found angels in the form of teachers and friends that I got to know, and they took me under their wings. They introduced me to their families, and with time I started seeing familiar faces on the street. I concentrated my energy on starting up a youth group which quickly turned into community English classes. Once the school year started and I moved out of my host house, everything got easier. I found my niche and started to feel a little more “at home.” Teaching in four schools supplied me with instant acquaintances. Of course it was easy to get the students to love me, but learning all the names of all the teachers, remembering who taught where, and trying to fit in among all the teacher cliques was another challenge. I still can't say that I fit into any of their little recess circles, but I've always been a floater, so that doesn't discourage me much. Giving a few teacher trainings helped me to feel as though I was contributing, and at the same time helped me gain some respect professionally.

Living alone meant I could start coming and going as I pleased. I didn't have to worry about being locked out of my host house, or about reporting to anyone when and where I was going. My students almost immediately began to visit me at home. My new neighbors blessed me with visits, tables, chairs, food, and most importantly a general feeling of welcome. After 3 torturous months, I finally felt like there were people that wanted me here, people that would miss me if I left.

My community English classes started to attract new faces and three of the students that are my age quickly became my closest friends here. They've completely adopted me into their families and groups of friends and thanks to them, I can honestly say that I feel completely comfortable and genuinely happy here.

When I pictured my life in Peace Corps, I had high hopes of connecting to the people I'd be living among, but I had trouble imagining those relationships. I figured I'd connect to my students and my teachers and that I'd maybe find some neighbors to visit from time to time. I never ever imagined I'd find friends like the ones I have now. I can't even try to count the number of times we've all had tears in our eyes from laughing so hard. We have dance parties in my house, go to the beach, spend hours at a time just chilling in my house with nothing but music and conversation to pass the time. Oh and those conversations? Thanks to them, I've reached the point where I can converse completely comfortably with anyone I meet. I give most of the credit to Carlos, my best friend. Since he has such an interest in learning English, he understands how important it is to me to speak fluently in Spanish. Thanks to his patient explanations and his willingness to constantly correct me, I'm pretty sure I would test into one of the upper “advanced” levels of Spanish now!

Looking back on this past year, I see that it started out a little rocky, but I would absolutely do it all again if it meant that I'd end up where I am now. I have found true friendship, unexpected family ties, students that seem to really need me, and a brand new town where I sincerely feel at home. I've learned so much from the people of Belen. In a town where the grand majority live in extreme poverty, I have found by far the most generous and selfless people. Their faith in God is absolutely an essential part of their daily lives and it gets them through the hardest of times while encouraging them to always share and do what they can for their friends and neighbors.

That being said, in terms of personal growth, I can say that I've absolutely gained more than I could have ever imagined from my experiences here. But what have I done for my community in this past year? Sure I've taught lots of great science lessons and have observed measured “mastery” of certain topics among some of my most struggling students...I've led some teacher trainings and have attempted to co-teach with seven teachers all year, so that we could interchange teaching strategies and lesson ideas...I've begun and maintained four leveled community English classes in which my students are gaining confidence and are actually starting to hold conversations in their newly obtained idioma...I've worked on some gardens, planted some trees, and started some organic composting.....But all of those things seem so small when one is looking for measured successes on a Peace Corps work report, or a year end blog reflection. I haven't built any schools out of plastic bottles, nor have I organized a community bank in my town. I haven't done anything big enough to gain me community recognition as someone they'd be lost without, but I guess being a hero isn't what Peace Corps is all about. It seems to me that being humble enough to realize that life here will go on with or without me is an important part of my service here. Sustained community development is complicated work, and I'm reminded of the Peace Corps guiding principle that I quoted in my very first blog from Nicaragua - “Go to the people. Live with them. Learn from them. Love them. Start with what they know. Build with what they have. But with the best leaders, when the work is done, the task accomplished, the people will say 'We have done this ourselves.'” -Lao Tzu .

At the very least, what I have accomplished this year is that I've become a fully integrated member of my community; I've formed real ties with my new friends and neighbors, and with my new found love for my little corner of Southern Nicaragua, I plan to dedicate my second year to doing all I can to bring about positive changes, no matter how small they might be.

Headed Home from Home

Welp, after 12 days back in NY, here I am in the airport again, heading home from home. It's a weird thought, but I like it.

Being home for Christmas in NY after spending just about 16 months in Nicaragua didn't feel nearly as strange or foreign as I thought it might. Everyone always talks about reverse culture shock, so I had prepared myself for that feeling of being an outsider in my own country, but as I walked off my plane and saw my mom and family (thanks for the surprise pick-up Kim, Christie and Livi!) waiting for me in the airport, I knew I didn't have to worry about that.

These past few days have been a complete whirlwind of visits, holidays, and errands but even though I didn't have endless hours to spend with each of the people I've missed so much, the little time I spent with them showed me that no matter the time and distance between us, I can always come home to my amazing family and awesome friends like no time has passed at all. I felt like I hadn't even left!

Sure, some things have changed...marriages...breakups...new relationships...graduations...apartment changes...new jobs. I had to be introduced to dubstep and learned how to “Just Dance” on Wii. No one seems to be able to survive half an hour without internet access at their fingertips on their fancy touch screen phones...something that I've become so adjusted to living without. And there are seriously 3D TVs now?!? What?!? Other than little things like that though, nothing had really changed. I remember being really worried about that before heading out for Peace Corps. I was sure that everything would change during my two years away and that I'd come home and step into a brand new world where people had just moved on without me. Sure people's lives have gone on without me, but we've also kept in touch and I've found that the ties of family and real friendship can't be broken just by a few months apart.

I guess I've changed a lot too. Being home, I found myself questioning the need for giant houses with more rooms than people. I feel a little nauseous when I see the size of stores like Walmart and Target and wonder what happens to allllllll that stuff in the mall that could never be worn or used before the trends change again. I find the rampant consumerism both disheartening and disappointing. If people knew how much good they could do with just the money that they spend at Dunkin Donuts or Starbucks every month, maybe they'd think twice about their habits and just how much stuff they really need to have. Not to mention the environmental effects that come from such a subconscious dependency on drive-thru s and addictions to (fill in the blank with some mindless new “must-have”)s. I guess it's just that I've truly come to love the simpler life I live in Nicaragua. Waste is just not a part of daily life there, and I guess that's why it was so disgustingly noticeable for me back in the States. People in Belen live full and happy lives without their days being polluted by addictions to technology and information. Free time is spent talking with neighbors or visiting friends as opposed to sitting in front of a Facebook screen for hours or watching reality TV all day. People value hard work, yet they do not let it take over their lives. To quote a fellow Nica volunteer, “Time is different for them. Time isn't money. It's free and it's something they can give.” That seems to sum up perfectly one of the most noticeable differences between New York life and Nicaraguan life.

I found that even while enjoying the time I got to spend with my family and friends, so much of me wanted to cling to my Nicaraguan self. My friends from Belen were amazing and called me pretty much daily. As I was leaving Managua airport, I resented the fact that the flight attendant was speaking in English. Weren't we flying out of Central America? I used Spanish all the way home. Then for the rest of the week, I continued to jump at any opportunity to use it, which was pretty often since I live in New York. I realized immediately how useful my Spanish will be to me when I get back for good.

Well here's to an amazing few days at home, surrounded by the people I love most. It was beyond amazing getting to catch up, laugh about old inside jokes, share stories from the past year, and just soak up each others' presence.

Now that I'm just about back “home” in my little corner of Nicaragua, I plan to focus on making my second year even more productive and awesome than my first! I hope time doesn't fly too quickly, as I'm sure leaving here will be way harder than anything I've ever had to do in my life. Goals for my 2012 here in Nicaragua?

*Give all I can to the people in my town...both professionally and personally.

*Treasure every single day and live in the moment...remember that we only get one chance to live each day to the fullest.

one year in service blog to come...it's on my external hard drive and i unfortunately don't have that with me at the moment.

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