Country Under My Skin

The good ol' USA, a road trip, and a new apartment!

2007-07-05T16:40:00.001-07:00

Today I talked to a young woman who I have never met but got referred to me because she is deciding whether to do a year-long internship with Opportunity International in Nicaragua. My first emotion was envy, I must admit, partly because I wish all of my time in Nicaragua had been spent working for Opportunity and partly because I just really love Nicaragua. However, I also love being with Ben, connecting with friends and family more easily, and living in Seattle. The transition has been pretty smooth. People talk about culture shock, and maybe it's because I've kept busy or traveled a lot or maybe it's because I did get to go home for a weekend about a month before actually coming home, but I've been fine.

A week after coming home, my sister and I took a road trip out to Minnesota, where we got to see such things as "Pioneer Mom with Scary Child," a life-size X-Wing Fighter (from Star Wars), and some friends and family, of course. Lucky Allie got to be dragged along to meet a lot of my friends and Carleton people. Allie left me in Minnesota and I continued on to Seattle. I love Seattle, I love the apartment, I love the location. The rain has not arrived, so I am generally pretty happy. And job-searching.

This picture was taken right before I left, before anyone had started to cry (notice the lack of red eyes). When Christopher, the 2 1/2 year old, saw that my host mother and I were crying, he started to cry as well, and then actually came with me and 2 friends to the bus stop to give me a last hug. If that's not sweet, I don't know what is.

Stacy, me, and Allie, living it up in Chicago!

Instead of going to an art museum, Allie and I just hung out on the grass, by Millenium Park, with the cool globe (see below).

Allie's new home next year!

I loooove motorcycles!

Ely, MN

Medora, North Dakota--the only interesting part about the North Dakota drive

On the road again...

Seattle! (view from my bedroom)

the nicest apartment I will probably ever live in

Blessed beyond words

2007-05-30T14:32:00.000-07:00

As my time in Nicaragua comes to a close, I keep thinking of where I was at the beginning of this year and where I wanted to be, and where I am now, and I honestly couldn't imagine a better place. I'm asked constantly when I'm going to return, which makes me sad because I would love to return as soon as possible but also know that I probably won't live here again. At the same time, I'm looking forward to being back in my country and reconnecting with the people who I've been away from for so long.

I have been trying to think of how to thank Geralyn Sheehan, the Opportunity International director, the rest of the Opportunity team, and the community that started Biblioteca "Quiero Aprender Contigo" because they have all taught me more than I could have ever imagined. I have been challenged, frustrated, exhilarated, and incredibly blessed to have gotten involved in this project. Well, they beat me to it. Imagine my surprise on Wednesday when I went to one of the last Board of Directors meetings and found that community members, the Board of Directors, the entire Opportunity International staff, and school students were waiting in their classroom with a goodbye ceremony. Eva Maria, the President of the Board of Directors and the other members organized the entire ceremony, which was more than I could have ever asked for. Students danced folkloric dance, sang a song, read poems, and then presented me with beautiful gifts. Since the library organized a crafts class and a painting class, students from the painting class presented me with a painting that was done from the view of the school with the volcano Mombacho in the background and students from the crafts class presented me with a beautiful hand-crocheted bag. I was blown away by their generosity and their sincerity and only wish I could do something in kind.

I find myself sometimes reluctant to use the word blessing, because I come from pretty secular backgrounds, but I really do consider this year a blessing in my life.

Destruction and sadness in a small town

2007-05-28T06:40:00.000-07:00

Granada, Nicaragua feels like a safe town. Everyone knows everyone's business, the streets are walkable, the houses are brightly colored, and you don't hear of much crime other than petty theft. That's not to say that you throw all caution to the wind, but I've felt safe living here. Until this past weekend. Last Thursday, a single American 49-year-old woman, Lemon, who owns a bar in Granada and has been robbed twice in the past few months, was raped multiple times and hit over the head with a vase that essentially crushed her skull by a group of young male neighbors in their 20s. Other neighbors heard her shouting and somehow managed to call the police, who took her to the hospital, where she lay in a coma until she died yesterday.

I had only gone to her bar twice, a cozy bar with bright paintings on the walls and funky lights and rum infusions, and tried to go a few other times with no success (due to the robberies). Apparently she had had some troubled with neighborhood boys in the past sitting on her stoop and being rude in general, and even had some proof that they were the ones who robbed her house the second time since she lined a back entrance with nails that had the heads cut off and the next day their arms were covered with scratches, but the police never did anything.

Last night I went to a candlelightvigil where more than 50 Nicaraguans and foreigners came to offer condolences and pray together and share the grief. I lift up a prayer for Lemon, but also for all women around the world who have to suffer such horrific deaths.

I feel fortunate to be living with a Nicaraguan family on a quiet street where I know almost all the neighbors. Honestly, I do not feel that much less safe after this incident and do not want you all to be worrying about me. It's a reminder to me that this kind of thing can happen anywhere. The really unfortunate thing is that the police seem to be ineffective in this town because they often arrive late to crime scenes or just never arrive at all and don't follow-up on investigations. Hopefully in the future that will change.

(Some pictures, limited that I have, of the bar, Casa de Limon.)

Feliz Dia de la Madre...with a surprise!

2007-05-16T12:42:00.000-07:00

About two months ago, I found out that the youth program at my church back home in New Jersey, Central Presbyterian Church, raised $1600 for the Network of Libraries that I'm working to establish here in Nicaragua. I couldn't have been more thrilled that youth so many miles away (and the incredibly hard-working adults that made this happen of course) were able to raise the money to support community-owned lending libraries here in Nicaragua. Through my mom's Spanish-teaching resources, the money was used to buy books in Spanish, and each kid who participated got to choose a book and put a dedication sticker with their name inside. The real question became how to actually get all these books down to Nicaragua. While I've found the postal service to be mostly reliable here, it would have been a great loss for the books not to arrived.

Claire and Kim, the two amazing women who organized the entire project, threw out the idea of me flying home for Mother's Day weekend and bringing the books back, because the children were doing a special service that day and could present the books to me (with the added bonus that I could surprise my mother!). My dad stepped in with the purchase of the ticket and last Thursday, I got on a plane at 7am, and my brother and sister picked me up from Newark airport that night. My mom was having a meeting at a local restaurant and my whole family entered the restaurant, me last. My mom was a little confused and then completely shocked to see me. The brilliant part is that my dad caught it all on his little video camera.

Being back in NJ felt remarkably normal, which sort of surprised me. I hadn't actually been in the United States in 8 months, and I think in some ways I expected the place to change as much as I feel changed by my experience here. Relaxing, stress-free, lots of great eating (Indian, Thai, Japanese...mmm I love different types of Asian food and it's hard to find here!). Plus, the weather was absolutely gorgeous. I could actually wear jeans without sweating during the day and slept with blankets at night. Riquisimo. I don't think I'm a tropical-year-round-type-of-gal, although who knows what I'll be saying come next winter in Seattle with gray skies and constant rain (or so I've heard).

Speaking of which, I will be in Seattle starting in July and already have an apartment! Check out pictures here. It's in downtown Seattle and the apartment building has a Whole Foods, Bank of America, Starbucks, and an 18-seat movie theater that can be reserved. Next step: finding a job.

One month left

2007-04-30T17:21:00.000-07:00

The other day I got lost walking around in a wealthy neighborhood in Managua trying to find a private school. When I finally found the school, I had a successful meeting with the director about a possible collaboration between the school and the library network I'm trying to develop. She had the idea of an interchange where students learning to read from this school each bring a book to the library and read to students there and then donate a book at the end. The meeting made me very aware of how little time I have left in Nicaragua because we were looking at dates, and when she mentioned June, I felt shocked that I wouldn't be here.

Although there have been some things happening lately that have made me looking forward to going back home--being harassed by six guys on bikes, having at least 3 Nicaraguan professionals not call to cancel a meeting and leaving me feeling rather foolish when I arrive for the meeting, the intense April heat, getting an apartment in Seattle with Ben, my trouble communicating at times despite speaking in Spanish for 8 months--I'm sad to be leaving soon. I feel it more acutely working in community development because building community takes time and it feels sort of unfair that I can come for 10 months and then go back and resume my life "as normal". When I tell Nicaraguans I'm leaving in June, everyone asks me if I'm planning to return. The answer is "yes," but only for vacation (unless in 5-10 years I have the opportunity to return). People understand, but I always feel a little like I'm letting them down: I'm just another foreigner who came for a short time wanting to "help people". I don't want to sound too cynical, though, because I love the time I've spent here and the people I've met and the experiences that have made me grown stronger.

Back to the job search...the less fun part about returning home. (If anyone knows of a job in community development or education in Seattle, send the opportunity on!)

Semana Santa

2007-04-10T08:31:00.000-07:00

So I've been meaning to write this entry for a while. The downside of working in an office where I have internet access all day is that I'm not inspired to stay later. But here's a better-late-than-never update.

Semana Santa (Holy Week) is probably the biggest holiday in Nicaragua, tied with Christmas. The not-very-religious Nicaraguans hit the beaches because the weather is HOT (April is the hottest month) and the whole country is on vacation. As I sit writing here now, the 87 degrees Fahrenheit actually doesn't feel too bad. I had Thursday and Friday off, and instead of going to the beach, decided to go up to the northern part of Nicaragua with my friend Sara, who is from Sweden and was here in the fall volunteering with La Esperanza (the tutoring program where I was working before) and has now returned to write a thesis for school.

As most vacations I've been on in Central America, nothing was really as it seemed or advertised, but I highly recommend playing things by ear because everything works out, even if you do have to share a bed in a storage room (continue reading). To explain, Sara and I had made reservations at this place called the Tisey Eco-Posada, located in this nature reserve that someone had recommended to us. We read in the book that from the town Esteli, the reserve is just a 60-90 minute walk or thus a short taxi ride (it would seem). We arrived at the entrance, and then proceeded to talk with more than 2 taxi drivers and owners of a little corner grocery store right next to the entrance, not one of whom actually knew how far the eco-posada was or seemed like they had even heard of it. There was a sign that seemed to indicate that it was 5 kilometers away, but people were estimating about 20 kilometers, a pretty big discrepancy, especially when the road was not especially high quality. We finally a negotiated a price with a taxi driver that would vary depending on how far away the hostel actually was. Going up the road felt like we were driving in the middle of nowhere in a desert-looking area. I hadn't noticed a big difference appearance-wise between the rainy season and the dry season until then because it reminded me of fall in NJ with no leaves on trees and very little greenery. Very different scenery. When we arrived at the Eco-Posada finally (20 km, NOT 5), we were surprised to discover it filled with people. Honestly it felt like they flew in from the sky or something because the road had been so deserted. When we went to check in, we found out that despite my spelling my name several times the day before and being assured that we had a reservation, somehow the information had not been taken down and so there were no other rooms. After waiting for about an hour with people seem to be running around and no information being given to us other than that they would find a solution, they let us know that they were preparing a bed for us in the storage room where they keep sheets and such. Oh, and would we mind sharing a single bed? I actually didn't sleep too poorly. Sara and I apparently share a bed well. The highlight was getting to use actual blankets. Que rico! (How wonderful!)

Despite our being able to share a bed well, we decided not to stay there the next night--it felt a little more like camping than we wanted. We walked down the 10 km to a waterfall the next day where we were literally almost the only foreign tourists, although it was full with Nicaraguan tourists. What a highlight! I'm not one of those people who only wants to go to places where there are no foreigners, but it's kind of a nice surprise when you seem to discover one of these places. That was sort of how the whole weekend passed, actually, which was really fun. Well, besides Friday night when we ran into a bunch of La Esperanza volunteers in Esteli, without knowing that they were going to be there and came from literally just asking a taxi driver to take us to a hostel in Esteli.

The absolute highlight of my trip up north, and now one of my favorite places in Nicaragua, was the canyon of Somoto. Once again, there were absolutely no foreigners and yet the place was filled with Nicaraguan tourists. [Side note: when I talked to someone later who's been here for longer, she let me know that in the north, especially near the border of Honduras where Somoto is located, there are still bandits who attack cars and rob people, so there's still a warning to be cautious there. However, since Sara and I were just taking the public buses with the rest of the Nicaraguans, I don't think I would have been very nervous even if I had known this.] To get to the canyon, we took a bus, then walked 2km, then rode horses, and then took a little boat. It's not a slot canyon, but there is sheer rock going up many many feet on both sides of you and you can swim in little pools for a really long way. The water was warm and relatively clean and people friendly for the most part. There were some overly friendly Nicaraguan boys who were videotaping and when we passed in our bathing suits (unusual, since most Nicaraguans tend to swim in their clothes) they followed us. Let's just say our swimming increased in speed for a while.

The extremely full bus ride on the way back with me half-sitting on a seat for 3 hours was not incredibly fun, but at least I got to watch a chicken in a bag in the seat in front of me. I arrived tired, but contentisimo (very content).

2007-04-02T17:13:00.000-07:00

Enjoy some pictures from around Granada and elsewhere!

Teaching a crafts class at the library

Students working on their crafts project

My "cousin" Maria Fernanda, who is probably one of the most affectionate people I know here.

A shot from Granada, the main street near where I live.

A community meeting out in the countryside

Why charity doesn't appeal to me (and why community capacity-building does)

2007-03-28T10:02:00.000-07:00

Charity, philanthropy, sustainability, community development, empowerment...Sometimes a difference in words seems to be only that, a difference in words, but after living in one of the poorest nations in the Western hemisphere where there are organizations galore wanting to address the poverty, I can't help but think that there are important distinctions in words and actions that make a huge difference in the lives of the very people that so many people in other places want to help.

Sometimes when I talk to friends and family about Opportunity International (where I'm working now), I feel like a broken record because I feel so passionate about the organization and the work that it's doing, especially here in Nicaragua. As with any job, it's not perfect and I often feel overwhelmed or insecure, but no matter how tired I feel at the end of the day, I always leave feeling in awe of the mission and the accomplishments so far. The way the organization overall attempts to "transform the lives of people in poverty" (the mission statement) is by giving micro loans to people who want to start or enhance a business. Microfinance is well-known these days; what's not as well known is that while microfinance helps people in poverty become stable, it's not actually helping much to move the poorest-of-the-poor out of poverty.

What's cool about what Opportunity International is doing in Nicaragua is that another layer of community economic development is being added, with the idea that if communities learn to work together and develop leadership/group management skills and put in plan great ideas, communities will start to move out of poverty. The reason I got involved with the library project is that a community applied for a loan to start a library, but had no experience with libraries in general, let alone managing a system of control, volunteer librarians, or accessing books. Although I am not a librarian, I have access to research tools such as the internet and educators, and thus helped develop training materials on how to create a library, in the most simplified form possible. The library is now up and running, and other communities are interested in receiving a loan to start a library. Since Opportunity has to think about sustainability, our idea is to form a network of community-owned libraries so that they can access books for really cheap prices, network with each other and already existing libraries, be treated as professionals, attend conferences, (details to follow as I am currently trying to write the policy). The great part is, EVERYTHING is community-initiated. If no other communities apply to create a library because they have other great ideas, my job will not be as applicable and I'll turn to something else where I can be of assistance or be out of a job (which wouldn't be too bad since I leave fairly soon.)

When I first was talking to Geralyn, the director of Opportunity here in Nicaragua and a strong woman who I highly respect, she told me that when she first started talking to clients in poor communities asking what they thought their communities needed, not one person thought of their own skills and talents. Instead, she heard "we need Habitat for Humanity, World Vision, Save the Children, UNICEF, (you name the organization)" to come help us. I'm not trying to put down any of those organizations, but what was striking is how dependent-sounding these communities were. So many organizations are deficit-based: children lack education, clothes, jobs food, parents don't have resources. The solution is to then fill those needs: provide education, jobs, clothes, food, resources. What if all these organizations became asset-based and focused on the skills that these communities do have? The children may lack education, but maybe they have dedicated parents who want to create a library; people may lack professional skills but are able to do construction work, run a micro business, fill out a loan. Let people come to the table with their abilities, and then provide training to help them reach a next level. Every single person I know has skills and then also has the potential to develop their skills, regardless of whether they have a Ph.D. or did not finish elementary school. Geralyn told me the key to community development work is to "never do for someone what they can do for themselves." The thing is, though, it's hard work. Sometimes really hard work.

Phew, kudos to those of you who made it through that. Why I don't like charity is that it seems to create a dependency, an "us vs. them" mentality. Maybe it's just a difference in words, but I really don't think so.

Photos to enjoy

2007-03-25T14:29:00.000-07:00

I don't have much to say blog-wise, but I did want to post a few more photos of the Guatemala trip, a climb on the Volcano Mombacho near Granada where I'm living now, and a few of a party I just went to. Be sure to note my favorite 90-year-old man climbing the volcano in Guatemala! I will never cease to be amazed by his endurance. I also have an album on www.kodakgallery.com that if you want to see more (read: an excessive number of) photos of various trips and adventures, let me know.

When I was younger, I had the concept that all volcanoes were pretty much the same, with the only difference being whether they were actively spewing lava or not. Well, turns out that they can be pretty different. I've done and seen quite a few now on various adventures in Central America. Sometimes they look exactly like I pictured a volcano: a mountain with smoke pouring out of the top. Sometimes there is no "top" but rather a huge crater that formed a lagoon from some big explosion a long time ago. Sometimes they are incredibly luscious with greenery, flora, fauna, animals, etc. and are more of a cloud forest, and sometimes they are barren. My favorite volcano so far has been the volcano Pacayo in Guatemala because it was the most active volcano, and probably the one that is most in accordance with my childhood image of a volcano where I actually saw red lava streaming down and red-hot lava rocks crashing from the volcano.

I've always thought that I am not a good dancer, and usually attribute my lack of dancing skills to my German/Irish/Norwegian blood ( in other words, my whiteness). Well, I'm by no means saying that I'm a fabulous dancer or that you will see me on the next up-and-coming music video, but I think I had condemned myself to not being a good dancer before, which then contributed to a tenseness that then did make me dance very stiffly. However, after having lived here in a culture where dancing is encouraged as soon as a child learns to walk (Christopher, the 2-year-old I live with, dances amazingly well for someone who still seems to have balance issues at times), and where it's incredibly easy to go out and go dancing, most frequently to salsa/cumbia/merengue/reggaeton, and where it's what people do on the weekends to relax and have fun, I've realized that it's great fun when you just learn to let go and not care what people are thinking. Plus, people are more self-absorbed that you realize, and unless you're doing something really odd (such as a 6'1" 23-year-old female dancing with a 4'5" 90-year-old male), they're not likely to be judging your dancing skills. P.S. I've met many white Europeans and Americans who dance excellently, so I'm also learning to change my stereotype. :)

A hop, skip, and a looooong bus ride to Guatemala

2007-03-18T15:33:00.000-07:00

I love telling people that I went to Guatemala with a Nicaraguan Alcoholics Anonymous group, because (a) it's true, and (b) I am definitely not an alcoholic. Back in December, a friend I have here told me that she knows of someone who organizes a trip to Guatemala every year and that I should go along. I've heard wonderful things about Guatemala, and so I was definitely interested, but didn't think anything would come of it because I didn't even know the other family. Well, fast-forward a month or two to the end of January and I did get the chance to meet the family. Just as an example of how friendly and welcoming Central Americans can be (despite being somewhat reserved at first, as I've found with Nicaraguans), the first time I met the family, I slept over at the house (unplanned). Well, we talked more about the trip and I found out that it was a weeklong trip, including the bus ride, to Guatemala for $45 round trip, meals included. I was definitely in.

Looking back at the whirlwind of a trip to Guatemala with 50 Nicaraguans and me, the 6'1" gringa, I can't imagine a more surreal experience. I knew that we would be going by bus to Guatemala (about 15 hours away), but I was still a little surprised when a yellow school bus (fondly known as "chicken buses" by foreigners, for the chance chicken encounter) pulled up. I was directed to my seat, where once again a surprise awaited me in that I would be sharing a seat with 2 other people. Thankfully, this did not end up being the case as there was a seat with a 13 year old girl available further down the row. The bus ride itself, even with confusing the border patrol by being the only gringa in a sea of Nicaraguans, was uneventful. Well, sort of. After we had crossed the border into El Salvador at 1:30am or so, I was ready to try to at least get some rest, if not sleep. About 10 minutes after I close my eyes, scrunch down in the seat, and sprawl my legs into the aisle (they did not actually fit into the seat), the bus driver turns on Palo de Mayo music. This music is not calming in any sense. The music comes from the Atlantic Coast and is the music at clubs that people dance to by vibrating their entire body, one of the many moves that I have not yet mastered. The bus driver played this one CD over and over and over for about 2 hours and was not drowned out by earplugs or other music sadly. Needless to say, I did not get much sleep.

One day was spent in San Salvador, a big city with bustling markets and the hugest mall I have seen since coming to Central America (not comparing to the Mall of America, of course, which I know from last year, but in my opinion was nicer because it was open to the air and wound in and out). Another day was spent in Antigua, which is a colonial city similar to Granada, where I'm living in Nicaragua, but cleaner and more built-up and with more tourists. And the best bakery that I have had since coming to Central America! Good bread is incredibly hard to come by, and good whole-wheat bread, impossible. Another day we bopped around the city of Guatemala in the various markets, which are bustling and overwhelming and where you find women dressed in traditional clothing and babies strapped to their backs by a gorgeous piece of cloth. The final day, we hiked the most active volcano I've ever been on in my life.

It's funny because when people ask about my week-long trip to Guatemala, they naturally want to know what I did. While I know that it was a full week, it wasn't a tourist trip in the typical sense. I saw some sights, but I didn't see all the sights I would have planned for myself had it been a personal trip, or even a trip with other gringos. And for that reason, I absolutely love what the trip was. In the future, I'd love to come back to Central America, and Guatemala in particular, for a travel vacation because these countries are absolutely beautiful. At that time, I'll hike all over to see the ruins and the different volcanoes and the small country towns. What struck me most about this trip was the incredible generosity of everyone I met. We stayed with families in Guatemala City, that not only provided food and beds, but kindness and open arms and conversation.

There is so much more to say, but for now, I'll leave you with three of my favorite moments on the trip. (1) The AA group had a goodbye party at the home I happened to be staying, where I shed all my fears of not being able to dance by just letting go and having fun. The great thing about being a girl with salsa/cumbia/merengue style of dances is that as long as you get the basic step and hip-swinging motion down, you don't have to do much more (sorry, guys). One of the members of the AA group was this tiny, shrunken, 80-90 year old man who always wore a black sombrero. I had seen him dancing earlier in the night, but a little later, he still looked eager to dance and yet wasn't dancing with anyone. So I decided to ask him to dance, much to the hilariousness of everyone there (this man comes up to a little lower than my chest). Let me tell you, this man did NOT tire--he danced until about 12:30am, and the only reason he stopped was because I did and the party was winding down. Anyone who's ever feeling "old," whether you are 25, 40, or 80, take an example from this man. Amazing. (2) Unsurprisingly, this moment also involves this tiny old man, easily one of my favorite people. We climbed volcano Pacaya, which is the most active volcano I've ever been on. After climbing a seemingly normal moutain hike with trails and greenery, you reach a path of black lava rock, which someone told me was from an eruption in November (!). When you climb some more, everything that you're walking on is black lava rock. And when you climb even more, there is whitish black lava rock that water sizzles on because it's so hot. I actually burned my finger slightly on a rock that I thought was cool, but turned out not to be. At that point, I looked up and saw red lava falling and rocks crashing (still a great distance away). The tiny old man climbed practically all the way up, almost as far as you could go, and this was not a super-easy hike. Anytime I felt tired and out-of-breath, I just had to look at him steadily plugging along beside me, slightly ahead of me, or (rarely) slightly behind me. (3) During one of the AA sessions one night, one of the twenty-something sons of a Guatemalan AA member, took a few of us who were around the same age and also not part of AA, took an area of Guatemala City which I absolutely loved, and wished I had something similar in Granada, or knew of the area in Managua. There was a 3-block radius which the community had gotten together to build of all funky bars and restaurants, with a market in the middle. We went to a bar with lime-green couches, low red lighting, and street artists (paint street art, crystal blowing) to have juice smoothies and watch the people passing by. The perfect night.

More pictures to come later.

An ode to rocking chairs. Plus, some random pictures!

2007-02-25T09:04:00.000-08:00

Something I've really gotten used to here and will definitely miss when I return to the US is the culture of sitting outside in rocking chairs. Every family probably has at least 4 rocking chairs, and if you walk the residential streets of Granada at night, almost all the houses you pass have families sitting outside in their rocking chairs. The other night, a friend came over and played guitar, sitting outside in the 75 degree weather in one of the rocking chairs. Although there are times when I miss having seasons to designate passing of time, I can't say I'm missing the freezing cold.

I also just wanted to post some pictures, which are from random times here in Nicaragua--mostly from when I had a stream of visitors actually. (To give some sense to what the pictures are, the people in rocking chairs are family members or friends of the family that I'm living with, the 2-year-old is Christopher who lives in the house and calls me "Tia" which means "Aunt," the people sitting around the table are the staff at Opportunity International currently, there are two of me dressed up with friends was when we went to a fancy party a few weeks ago, and the last are from when Ben visited and we went to the beach, volcanoes, and the largest island in a freshwater lake).

Party on, Nicaragua.

2007-02-23T05:41:00.000-08:00

Nicaraguan parties fascinate me. No matter what event is being celebrated, be it birthday party, wedding reception, baby shower (known affectionately as "baby shower" here, not "ducha de bebe" as some of you might be thinking), or who knows what else, the party is almost exactly the same, with the only difference being that younger children's parties tend to have a piñata.

When you enter, dozens of white plastic chairs are pushed against the wall, music is blasting out of huge speakers, and after sitting in one of the chairs, you wait. The first time I went to a Nicaraguan party, I had no idea what we were waiting for, because no one was talking to each other, except for maybe awkwardly making conversation with the people they were sitting by. Well, after a little while, the host (or host's wife) and other women in the family come around with drinks on a tray for everyone in the room, which by this point may include some 40-60 people. After everyone's been served a drink, the host and family members then circle around with a plate of food for everyone. The first time this happened, I was completely amazed by the amount of preparation that goes into a party, between the guest list and the food and the decorations and the party favors.

Eventually, after the eating and the drinking, the music is turned up even louder (if possible; one of my friends has a theory that Nicaraguans are rather deaf) and the dancing/piñata bashing begins. I've always loved piñatas, and here I love them in a terrifying sort of way. The piñatas here are the largest I've ever seen in my life. For the 2-year-old's birthday in the family I've been living in, the Winnie-the-Pooh piñata was definitely much larger than he was, maybe explaining why he likes the ideas of piñatas more than the actual piñata itself. Piñatas are terrifying to me, probably because I've grown up in the US culture of lawsuits and more cautious parenting, and here, kids are whacking at piñatas very close to each other and little babies.

And the dancing. Man, can Nicaraguans dance. I'm not one of those people who claims that white people can't dance, but I have to say that dancing is ingrained in the culture here and is encouraged from day one. I tried to capture the 10-year-olds dancing in these pictures, but it's hard to capture in just a few images. "Hips don't lie," indeed. (Speaking of which, that song is a requisite in all parties, dance clubs, bars, you name it. Surprisingly, I still like the song).

One of my Nicaraguan friends came with me to a party at one of the volunteer houses a few weeks ago, a house which is comprised of mostly gringoes and Europeans, and was surprised at how little food there was and kept asking me when the dancing would get started or if the music was going to be turned up. It was one of those culture realization moments for me, because I had been thinking how "normal" the party felt, with some snack food and people mingling, but obviously my normal is another person's strange. The parties here are all about the preparation--the food, the drinks, the setting-up of speakers, the purchase of really nice party favors, etc. The party itself just flows by itself. No pre-ordained activities, no children's tables apart from the adult tables, just simply talking and dancing.

An ending, but a new beginning

2007-02-16T14:18:00.000-08:00

Photos from the last day of tutoring for Erin

Pretty much ever since I arrived here in September, I´ve been involved with two different projects: tutoring Nicaraguan first-graders in math and reading as well as helping initiate a library in a completely different, yet similarly poor and rural community. About two weeks ago, I was approached by the Director of Opportunity International, the NGO supporting this library project, and asked if I would be interested in working for the organization in Nicaragua another year as the Library Projects Coordinator. I was blown away by the opportunity, but also knew personally that I couldn´t take the job. The decision was simultaneously easy and one of the hardest decisions of my life. As a wiser and older friend here told me, ˝Whenever I´ve had decisions in my life choosing between personal and career, I´ve always chosen the personal.˝ What she said rang true with me, and also what I actually wanted. So last weekend, I mentioned to the Director that I would let her know by today about the job, but that she should know that I was definitely leaning toward not taking it. I was happy with my decision, if not a little sad that I wasn´t at the right point in my life to take it.

Well, yesterday morning, she approached me and asked if I would be interested in working until I was originally meant to leave in June. My decision was instantaneous-YES. I start work on Monday. This has meant that the past few days have been an abrupt leaving of my tutoring responsibilities, and that today was officially my last day tutoring. It was sad to say goodbye. I was no longer very excited about tutoring one-on-one, but the kids are so affectionate and really know me now that I´ve been around for about 4 months (not including vacation time during December and January). I´m including some pics I took below of my last day of school.

And so here begins, not a new adventure exactly, but a different one. I feel daunted and intimidated by the work that lays ahead, but also incredibly excited.

Library inauguration!

2007-02-15T06:48:00.000-08:00

(To the left, Biblioteca "Quiero Aprender Contigo" (TOP), Inauguration crowd (MIDDLE), Director of Opportunity International receives gift (BOTTOM)

Yesterday, Biblioteca "Quiero Aprender Contigo" celebrated Valentine's Day** with an inauguration ceremony. Yes, the library is officially open! In October, I gave a training to a group of community members on the functions of a library. Now, there is a functioning Board of Directors (Nicaraguan style, so for the most part), volunteer librarians, a painting class that is going to start this Sunday, and an open library with about 150 beautiful books. (Check out www.aprendercontigo.org for information on how to donate books). Despite roasting under the hot Nicaraguan sun, the ceremony was fabulous and professional. In fact, it was the gringos who were late in coming. A poem by Ruben Dario (the famous poet of Nicaragua), folkloric dancing, an official presentation of a check from the local microfinance trust bank, refreshments at the end--what more could I want?

**Happy Valentine's Day, belatedly! Here Valentine's Day is known as "Dia de la Amistad y Amor," which translates to "Day of Friendship and Love." I'm particularly fond of that name for it because it doesn't seem to be just about romantic relationships, which can make people bitter/melancholy if they aren't in a romantic relationship (or if their boyfriend/girlfriend is far away in another country, I suppose...). Here the Nicaraguan tradition is to go out and dance. I didn't participate, but there might have to be a make-up day this Friday.

(To the left, the President of the Board of Directors, Eva Maria Davila, on the left, lets Helen Rorengold of the private library in Granada speak)

When something goes bump in the night

2007-02-13T08:39:00.000-08:00

Two nights ago, I woke up at 4am to hear a bag rustling. Living in a hot, humid climate where cockroaches and insects and scorpions occasionally (not the dangerous Mexican kind, however) are part of life, and where when I once went to the bathroom in the middle of the night, I saw a huge rat in the corner, hearing a bag rustling in the middle of the night is not a good sign. When I couldn't see anything with my rather dim flashlight, I got up and turned on the lights. Let me establish that I had done a rather stupid thing by having a bag of garbage in my room hanging from my doorknob, and that I had thrown some food in it. Never mind that I was meaning to throw it away soon; the point is, I hadn't. I looked toward the bag, and what did I see but a shadow of a mouse running back and forth in the bag. At this point, I sat up straight in my bed, both disgusted and rather alarmed. Maybe I am a wimp and tend to be overly dramatic in creature situations, but I didn't like the idea of a mouse being trapped in a bag, rustling the bag for who knows how long, and potentially creating a hole whereby all the garbage would fall to the floor and invite the mouse's family to feast. (Yes, this was my irrational thinking at 4am).

Being aware that the rest of the family in the house is sleeping, at this point I was trying to think of a way to get the mouse out of the bag without making too much noise and without getting too close to the bag (touching it was not an option in my mind at that point). Instead, I took a hard case I have and slammed it against the bag. This was the most traumatic part of my story, and the reason that I couldn't even fathom writing about it yesterday, because I do not consider myself a violent person. The bag stopped moving, and then I realized that I possibly just killed a mouse, and not in the mousetrap kind of way. The thought really disturbed me, even though I realize that I do eat meat and I am not always aware of the humane or inhumane conditions that animals live in when they are getting killed. Unable to go to sleep, I just sat there for a long time, contemplating whether I should just try to go to sleep, try to read, dispose of the bag, or what.

Ten minutes later, the bag started rustling again. Fabulous. I still had a mouse problem PLUS now I was disturbed that I had tried to kill it. Luckily, this time, the mouse climbed out of the bag and ran under the door. I put earplugs in, turned off the light, jumped back into bed, and managed to sleep until morning. By the way, the bag is now thrown away.

Country Under My Skin

2007-02-12T07:57:00.000-08:00

The Country Under My Skin is actually the name of a memoir about Nicaragua by Gioconda Belli that I have not read, but aptly describes what I want to express, especially starting this blog five months into my Nicaraguan journey. Nicaragua has gotten under my skin, in many senses of the word, both positively and negatively, as most experiences of life are. Conflicting emotions just seem to be more raw and extreme here. I will be walking down the market street in all its hustle, bustle, and general chaos I have gotten used to and think to myself, "Wow, I am completely comfortable in this environment," when a man will touch me on the shoulder as he walks by, hissing "Adios, Amor," and shatter my assumed ease. I think of the people I know now who I didn't know five months ago, though, and realize that this is the right place for me to be right now.