The year mark has come and gone. 12 June 2008

Hello again… it’s been too long. I hope you’re well, wherever you may be. I can tell you that the last two months have been interesting here in my neck of the woods… that neck named Nicaragua.

Teaching is going relatively well. My students are good young people (saying the word kids makes me feel old). They recently told me that they liked me because I am “chiller than the other” foreigners that they’ve known. I do have the advantage of having two years to get comfortable here… most people come for only a few months at the most. But the compliment made me feel good, nonetheless. And, in addition to my teaching work in the high schools, I’m going to be starting another project giving a business class to high school graduates who are unable to go to college. It’s a three-month, intensive course that I’ll start in July. While my schedule will be very full, I’m looking forward to the experience.

In the last blog, I mentioned the wedding planning to which I was being subjected—my little host sister’s nuptials. Let me just clarify something: I understand that weddings are beautiful ceremonies, representing the cultivation of love and the hope for a strong future. I know that. But I am not a wedding person. If I ever get married, I will not put as much work into my own wedding as I put into this Nicaraguan fiesta of love.

During the weeks leading up to the wedding, I was running errands, decorating centerpieces, organizing the hors d’oeuvres, etcetera. The days before the wedding had me picking up the wedding dress and accessories, gathering the hors d’oeuvres, helping chop the vegetables for the 250-person feast, assisting in the decoration of the 12-pound cake, actualizing the promised wedding gift which had me cursing myself (the redecoration of the happy couple’s bedroom), and going crazy. The day of the wedding, my eyes were glazed over and my head bobbed up and down as my host mom told me that I was in charge of decorating the reception. Flattering, but it’s the kind of job that makes you want to pull your hair out. Especially when you believe things are prettiest when they are simple and elegant. Simple doesn’t cut it. And elegant is what they called the three archways I decorated with the delegated fake flowers and the Christmas lights. I had to swallow my pride as they handed me the arches’ accessories.

Then, when all the planning was done and it was finally wedding time, my biggest job commenced: that of photographer. I ran around the ceremony like a lunatic. I was down on my knees taking pictures of the grand entrance; I was up with the Father taking pictures of all the important parts of the ceremony; I was in the back taking pictures of the much decorated church; I was everywhere. The reception brought equal photog duties. Then the real work started when I had to get on my computer and edit them all. All 700 photos.

For all the complaining, I do admit that the wedding was gorgeous. My host mom did a great job of planning and it’s still being talked about in my town.

Hmm… what else? Well, I can tell you some creature stories. I was sitting in my kitchen, peacefully working one day when I looked up and saw this guy on my wall:

I guess that I should say this girl, as she is clearly a proud mama sitting on top of a very large egg sack… hosting, in my imagination, millions of soon-to-be equally as scary spiders. I didn’t move. Because if I moved, I knew I’d have to kill her and all of her spawn. But I did yell for my host dad to come to my house and do the dirty job. Thank goodness for well-practiced host dads. (Clarification: Brittney, you should not stop packing your bags. It was a fluke… a rare sighting… nothing to be worried about.)

As dirt-poor volunteers who live in small towns in Nicaragua, we often take advantage of the Wal-Mart-owned supermarket, La Unión, located solely in Managua. It’s not quite the spectacle that Wal-Mart is (with every possible thing inside), but it’s quite appreciated for its cleanliness and great variety of foods (sometimes even American brands!—though I can’t really afford them). So today I was in Managua for a Peace Corps errand and, along with another volunteer, I stopped in for some very exciting grocery shopping (zero sarcasm included). We walked the aisles, holding ourselves back from many potential purchases according to our Peace Corps budget, and finally got to check-out with a few very satisfying things (for instance, skim milk which can only be found there). As my friend started loading up all of his grocery bags into one very large bag he brought with him, I noticed something on the side. I got a little closer to see if it was worth mentioning, only to discover that it was a scorpion. Yes. A scorpion.

Some volunteers see scorpions daily. I do not. I could not. If I did, I wouldn’t be here. In fact, I haven’t yet seen one in my site. So this was a bit of a surprise for me.

So, there we were: in the middle of a refined grocery store, hob-knobbing with the Managuan elite, knocking scorpions off of big canvas bags, and smashing them on the shiny, white, tile floor. Well, honestly, I wasn’t smashing anything. As soon as I saw that little guy hit the floor and get pissed (tail-like thing swirling around above him), I covered my eyes and squealed a little bit. My friend smashed it, and I got to see scorpion goo soil the floor.

The check-out girl promptly yelled “clean up at check out!!” Thanks for your help, check-out girl.

And, for two months, that’s all I’ve got for creature stories.

When my wonderful family packed up their Christmas spirit and came to visit me in December, one of the things we discussed regarding Nicaragua was the very extensive system of public transportation: despite the condition of the buses and the politeness of the bus staff, it is possible to get from any one town in Nicaragua to any other town in Nicaragua. And the country depends on it. Few families own a car and so, for the majority, the only manner of travel is on one of these buses. And the reality of that dependence becomes painfully clear when the bus guys decide they can’t afford gas anymore (which they can’t) and decide to strike. That’s what happened at the beginning of May. The country was frozen for over two weeks. The markets in Managua were dead, the roads were barren (minus the picket lines), the people were sitting at home without pay. It was a sad situation. It was only solved when the government agreed to provide minimal subsidies to the transportistas. Hopefully these subsidies keep them happy in the face of ever-rising oil prices. In a country where money is scarce, you can imagine that $5.20/gallon gasoline is beyond affordable. And, as we all know, those prices affect everything. Food becomes more expensive, services become more expensive… everything. Nobody can afford for life to be more pricey, no matter where you are… but as Americans, the majority of us can sell the SUV, we can cut down on the $100 hair cuts, we can leave out the expanded package of the monthly cable bill… we can downsize. In Nicaragua, and in all poor countries, there is nothing to downsize. There is only food to be left off the table or clothing to be left at the used-clothing store. It’s a scary situation. And something to ponder.

Anyway, I live in a place that receives water only once a week. On Sundays, the water agency lets the pipes flow in full force, and the whole town fills up all of the available water-storage containers, goes out to wash clothes, flushes toilets with glee, takes long showers, etcetera. The rest of the week, we all have to carry buckets full of water from said storage containers to wash clothes, flush toilets, take showers, etcetera. It’s clearly no wonder that I never encountered any issues with my back before my water-carrying service in Peace Corps (water is heavy). About a month ago, I was laid up with unbearable back pain and, while it’s diminished, it has yet to leave me. After a long process of identifying the source of the problem, some x-rays answered the question. The x-rays basically screamed that I needed to start physical therapy. So I’ll be therapy-ing twice a week in Managua trying to get this under control. And, while therapy includes “soft tissue stimulation” (read: massages), I’m not very excited about all that comes with it. Especially the really boring exercises I have to do every day. I’ve been bad about exercising in this country but, I swear, as soon as my back pain is gone, I’m on the exercise train. Front seat. Hell, I’ll drive the train. But I hate being a cripple.

On a good note, the therapist I’m visiting is very good at her job. She’s well studied and has lots of experience. I feel confident that I will make headway with her.

And now, this is the part of the blog where I marvel at how time has flown. I’ve been here a whole year now. Unbelievable. And, already, the next round of Small Business volunteers has landed in Nicaragua. It’s a good group of 19 people, who seem to be very enthusiastic about their future tasks as volunteers. About half-way through the three months of training, these trainees are let loose in Nicaragua to visit a well-seasoned volunteer. So I started this week hosting a trainee, and I had a great time. My main goal was to indulge her (training is a tedious, frustrating, annoying three months). We went to see a movie, we ate out at a Mexican restaurant (big treat: Nicaraguan food is not at all like Mexican food), we visited a touristy area and had a big lunch overlooking a huge dormant volcano and an even huger active volcano, etcetera. The three days went fast, and I, of course, also really enjoyed the indulgences.

But what was even more fun was talking with her and hearing her perspective and [silently] reminiscing about my attitude coming into this “toughest job I’ll ever love”. I’m not unenthusiastic now… but I am realistic. I’ve been here a year. And I’ll only be here a year longer. And the work I’ve done has provided me with zero measurable results. How can I feel about that? That realization and subsequent question are the inevitable trap for development workers. As a development worker, you cannot try to measure your work. I’m a measurer. I have to be able to see the progression and then check it off my To Do list (you’ve seen my countdown arrow, for Pete’s sake). But, on a daily basis, I have to overlook that. I have to ignore that itch to quantify my work. It definitely isn’t quantity I’m here for.

That said, I have to sign off now and start my quarterly report, quantifying my work. As a development worker, that’s an annoying obligation. An impossible, but required obligation. I have to turn students’ ideas into numbers. I have to turn garbage pick-up outings into numbers. I have to turn counterparts’ enhanced skills into numbers. I have to turn quality into quantity. I’m of the belief that that is never a good conversion.

Cross your fingers it goes well. And thanks, as always, for checking in. Especially after so much time. I hope you’re well. Take care.

Becca

A little clarification… 23 April 2008

The fungus on my arm has come from nothing other than being hot and sweaty all the time. Don´t be getting any gross ideas, you all.

An entertaining month. 14 April 2008

Here it is, mid-April, and I’m shocked at how the time is flying by. I have this countdown arrow in my kitchen. (It’s the grown-up, Peace Corps equivalent of those countdown paper-chains I did every year, waiting for Christmas.) Anyway, the twentieth of every month is celebrated in my house (and by “celebrated”, I totally mean that I wake up in the morning and immediately run to color in another section of the countdown arrow). Without having even colored in this month’s box yet (no cheating! It’s only the 14th), this countdown area shows serious progress. At the end of this month, I’ll have been in the country for a full 12 months. It honestly baffles me.

And, given that a whole year has seemingly flown by, I’m sure you understand that the months also just slip by… slippery little suckers. So Carla Jean was the one who reminded me (ever so kindly) that a blog was nearly due. But, to her surprise, I think I might even be early for the once-a-month-ish schedule I’ve been running.

So, let’s see. ¿Qué te puedo contar?

Want to hear something awesome? I have a fungus on my arm. Apparently sweating so much (have I mentioned how hot it is?) can turn into such disgustingness… I’ve had my share of skin problems but, seriously?, a fungus??? And, to boot, the cream I have to use (which won’t show improvement for at least 2 weeks) makes it itch more! Basically, this is my idea of greatness. I’m really thrilled about it.

Today I was in the backyard hanging my clothes up to dry. I was taking my time, chatting with the neighbors, etc. As I finished up the chore and made my way back into the house, I discovered that a pigeon (rats with wings, right?) had made himself comfortable; perched on the bar of one of my hammocks, he was. First, I suppose this explains the bird poo I found on my floor a few weeks ago. I had been hoping it was a fluke accident: that the bird had accidentally flown in my house and been so disoriented and scared that he quite literally shat himself. But that bird’s reaction to me today proved otherwise. That little bastard sat and watched me for a while (which was bold enough of him that I was too scared to be proactive in shooing him out—aren’t they supposed to fly away when people get close?). Then, as if he was bored with me, he leisurely flew directly out the window as if he’d done it a million times before. It makes me wonder how often it happens during the day when I’m not at home… but it’s just too hot to shut the windows and leave things to heat up in here. Too bad I don’t like cats.

A few weeks ago I was at a conference with all of the people from my group. I have to say, I feel pretty lucky to have come in with the group I did. We’re 15 people from very diverse backgrounds who all get along extremely well. There isn’t a single wallflower (unless I’m unknowingly her), and we all add a little something to the dynamics of get-togethers. Anyway, we hadn’t had a reunion since November, and we were thrilled to have the chance to spend some time together. It was a very full two days of work, but we wanted to take advantage of our last night together and go out for some beers. I didn’t really want to go (I’m getting old, I think), but they politely told me to get my ass out of bed so that the group would be whole. I promptly got my ass out of bed.

As is normal, we squeezed everyone we possibly could into the cab. There were 6 passengers plus the driver in what was probably an old Nissan Sentra (or something equally as small). I claimed height-rights and sat myself up front before anyone could beg to differ. As the backseat filled up with 4 other people, the last person to get in, climbed in front to sit on my lap. (My claustrophobia is being treated in this country with the good, ol’ fashioned classical conditioning approach.) Anyway, we made our way to the bar, and everyone started to pile out when we realized that the front passenger door (MY door) was inoperable. It wouldn’t open. Kari, my ever-so-adaptable lap buddy, just hoisted herself up and climbed right out the window. I remained in the seat, primly folded my hands in my lap, and declared, “I don’t climb out of windows”. I mean, seriously. There are many things I’d rather do than try to squeeze my not-so-compact body out of a little car’s window. It sounded like something that would be ungraceful, that would get me dirty, and that would embarrass me in the end. So I refused.

At this point, the cab driver took the initiative to get out of the car and go around to try to open the door. I mean, it’s the least he could do since he charged us by the person in a very cozy ride. He didn’t have luck, so he told me to go out his door. Remember: I’m not small, the car is small. And, to boot, the cab driver was about 5’3” tall, so his seat was pushed up good and close to the steering wheel. So, as my friends were standing out there laughing at my ridiculousness/stubbornness/conundrum, I finagled my booty over the stick shift and very full center console to the driver’s seat, with my legs draped into the passenger’s side. I returned to my primness and said, “I absolutely don’t fit. He had better get that door open.” Since I said it in English, it must not have been understood by the 4’9” on-looking bouncer. This little guy immediately sprang into action. He saw a gringa in need, and he was going to be my knight in shining armor.

So Little Guy ran over to the driver’s side of the car, reached his hands in, grabbed my left leg, and pulled it to the other side of the steering wheel. Really big help guy. So there I was, stuck in a very awkward, folded up, spread eagle position over the steering wheel: butt squeezed into the small seat, right leg still over in the passenger’s side. At this point, I didn’t want him “helping” me more, but it’s also a really good thing he didn’t just leave me there. He quickly reached in and grabbed my right leg, pulling it up next to my left leg. It wasn’t much better, as I still wasn’t able to move myself (at that point, I was shmushed into the driver’s side with both legs above the steering wheel and my arms trapped in the folding chair that was my body). So the third and final step in the Free the Gringa initiative was accomplished when he shoved his arms behind my back and put one under each armpit and pulled. Pulled hard. As he freed me, I still wasn’t able to support myself, as my legs were still above the steering wheel. So Little Guy must have been a little overwhelmed when he was charged with supporting my entire body. And, before he gave me the chance to pull my legs to the ground and support myself, he just kind of dropped me. After all of that, he just kind of let my body fall to the gravel parking lot. I was in such shock and, thus, laughing uncontrollably, I could hardly stand up. And the only thing running through my mind when I finally did was that Little Guy was going to see how big I was in comparison, and he might finally realize how ridiculous his conquest had been.

What were my 5 friends doing while this was taking place, you ask? Well, seeing as how they are very supportive and proactive people, they politely stood on the other side of the car, laughing hysterically, gripping onto each other, and crossing their legs tightly to keep from wetting themselves.

The experience has scarred me. I really hope they’ve forgotten it.

On another note, things are finally going really well in the schools. My hold-out school has finally given me the schedule I need to do the project I’m here to do. So I’m feeling really good about work right now. Plus, with this new and improved schedule, even though I have more hours of class, I only have class from Monday afternoons through Wednesday mornings. That frees up time to do lots of things… unfortunately, not a lot of that will be relaxing and sipping margaritas pool-side (none of that, actually). But having such a good block of available free time during the week will make it easier to elaborate some secondary projects, such as consulting small businesses or working with youth groups.

Or running wedding errands. No! Not my wedding errands… but, as Head Foreign Consultant and Official Photographer of my little host sister’s wedding, I’m very involved the day-to-day planning of her shot-gun wedding: a formal, 250-person event planned in 6 weeks. So far, I’ve spearheaded a 300-picture photo shoot of the happy couple, I’ve designed and printed the wedding invitations (and all related stationary), I’ve organized the favors, I’ve attended all wedding dress outings, etc. It’s been amazing. And, by “amazing”, I totally mean… (if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all, right?)

I think that’s about it.

So, in closing, I have to apologize to all of those wonderful friends of mine who faithfully and patiently write me emails. I’m working to catch up from a serious back-log of letters, and there is truly no telling when I’ll be back on track. You know who you are, and I’m sorry.

Love to you all. Thanks for checking in!

Becca

P.S. Happy Tax Day!
P.P.S. I haven’t taken lots of photos this month, so I just posted some of my favorites. Don’t look at them too much. You all know how much I like to frame my photography as gifts… one of them may end up under your birthday tree some day.

A little update 25 March 2008

Fresh, juicy and sweet are the papaya, watermelon, pineapple, mango, bananas, cantaloupe, and orange… my little fruit salad breakfast gets me going as I settle down to write this next blog. (Tempting, right? Managua airport code: MGA.) It’s been over a month since I’ve written. What’s happened since then…?

It’s gotten seriously hot. And they promise it’s only going to get hotter. I won’t dwell on that. It’s not something I’m in love with.

February and all of its fiestas ended on a good note. It was definitely a fun month, and I’m looking forward to next year already.

My host dad turned fifty just after my last blog, and the family put together a huge party to celebrate. It was a “small family dinner” that amounted to two bands, 80 guests, and a home-cooked meal for all. Don Chico loves to dance, so he spent the night tearing up the dance floor, and we all happily joined in. Like any big party, it was a lot of work in preparation, but it was well worth it. We had a great time.

The hipica, or horse festival, was the last weekend of February. It’s kind of the official conclusion to the month’s festivities. I’m basically in love with hipicas. Horses are trained to dance, stomping their feet to the beat of the music. It’s quite a sight when hundreds of horses from all around the country partake in these festivals. They parade around town, not with a ton of order or reason, prancing to the music. The streets are lined with spectators, and all available extra space is devoted to tents selling beer and food. It’s nothing short of wonderful.

This past week was Semana Santa, or Holy Week as we know it… in a predominantly catholic country such as Nicaragua, this particular week is of utmost importance. The entire week is vacation for nearly everyone, and the country practically shuts down from Thursday through Sunday: transportation stops running, everyone has prepared food in advance to avoid cooking, many people have made their way to the beach to hang out for those last few days, etc. Also, the Catholic Church holds various processions daily to celebrate each day’s significance. The largest procession is the Via Cruz on Friday morning. The crowd stretched for 5 full blocks as the statue of Jesus bearing the cross made its way through the procession.

As far as taking advantage of the week of vacation is concerned… well, I definitely enjoyed it. I took a day trip to Granada (one of the old colonial cities) to meet up with a friend whose parents were visiting. It was very fun to do some touristy things for a day; visiting some churches, climbing a big bell tower, eating a yummy (American) breakfast, taking a carriage ride through town, etc.

I also met up with a friend in Managua, the capitol city, and he introduced me to tons of foreigners working here in Nicaragua. I spent the evening chatting with people working for the World Bank, for USAID and the Canadian equivalent, for Save the Children, etc. It was a very interesting evening spent sharing opinions and perspectives on development work.

Another volunteer hosted many of us for a potluck lunch one of the days. It turned into a day-long event, and volunteers came from all over the country. It was a ton of fun to spend the day with people I hadn’t seen for some time. Complete with a piñata, it was a great little fiesta.

And, in true Nica fashion, I decided to spend the last part of the week on a little beach excursion with one of my friends from my town, her boyfriend, and a group of his friends. I can chalk that one up to nothing more than an experience… a learning one… or something like that. For lack of experience in Semana Santa travel, I left the planning up to the group. Next year, I’m going to be very active in planning my trip. I can’t describe how incredible it felt to sleep in my bed on Sunday night… after a weekend of just a few hours of sleep, hardly any food, and a very high level of frustration and annoyance, I slept like a very content log when I finally got home.

On the work front, things are going really well. Classes are progressing, and the students are excited this week to be forming their business groups. One of my schools is supposedly finally reorganizing my schedule to meet their agreement with Peace Corps (two hours of class time per week—easy, right?)… We’re in the eighth week of classes, and it’ll probably be ready by week 9. Please cross your fingers for me.

My environment projects in the mayor’s office are progressing. As the organizer of one of the projects heads home to Switzerland for a few-month sabbatical, I’ll be taking on her responsibilities.

Next week we have our In-Service Training. This is the much-anticipated, one time only retreat for the entire small business development group. Given that I was on the organization committee, there aren’t really any surprises in store for me… but, all in all, I’m looking forward to it.

In short, things keep picking up here…

I hope you’re all doing well.

Best regards,
Becca

And, lastly, a plea to you all… For lack of direction in writing these blogs, I basically resort to a chronological rundown of the happenings in my life. If ever you have a suggestion or a question or want my speculation on any given topic, I’d more than welcome (love) the inspiration. I promised to keep up on these blogs, but writer’s block is a serious hindrance. Thanks!

This is a long one… 18 February 2008

While I’ve never been truly unhappy here, I have to admit that there have always been relatively frequent occurrences of those annoying downs that can really take a toll on a person. I’ve been lucky in that my downs have been no more than mere annoyances; nuisances to motivation levels, hindrances to a social life, barriers to entry in a doors-always-open culture. While they’ve been frustrating, they’ve been nothing that could hinder my service or my role as a volunteer. Also, I’ve been realistic all along. I knew coming into this crazy little thing called Peace Corps that it wasn’t going to be easy. So I’d prepared myself for lots of really rough patches.

And it makes sense that the majority of those rough patches present themselves in the beginning of service. They present themselves during training; the time when a newbie can’t speak the language or determine what the food on her plate really is or clearly understand her role for the upcoming two years. They present themselves when a volunteer first arrives in site and is overwhelmed by the opportunities but, simultaneously, overwhelmed by the return of the unknowns—nobody knows me, nobody understands my role, nobody knows why this gringa is living here, nobody else happens to be a gringo.

Thank goodness I’m finally pulling ahead in my service. I can identify nearly all types of food (you wouldn’t believe how many different ways corn meal can be prepared). I can communicate (for the most part). I know what I’m doing, I know who I’m working with, and I have ideas for projects I want to do in the future (even if I don’t always know exactly how to pull them off). I’ve gotten to know many people in the community (neighbors, friends, community leaders, NGO representatives, etc.). Basically, I’m getting settled and comfortable.

Being settled is definitely not a panacea for those looming downs, but it definitely puts them in perspective. For example, I’m able to clearly recognize that a bad day here is not any worse than a bad day there… it’s just different. And that’s not a bad thing.

So, here I am, living this life that is not totally normal by any stretch of the imagination, but it is good. And, for now, it’s mine. And I like it.

It’s taken 10 months to say that, but that lapsed time almost makes it better… more rewarding.

So, anyway… what I’ve been up to.

Almost immediately after my last blog, I spent the day with my host family in the hospital for my host mom’s surgery. It was an interesting experience being in a hospital in such a poor place. The hospital they chose is a private institution and is reputable for its standards. While everything worked out, the surgery was a success, and Doña Leyla has almost completely recovered, I couldn’t help but be tense during the entire experience. I guess the thing is that, while the hospital was fairly clean and seemed to be well-run, it was definitely not a place where I’d feel comfortable having any procedure done. And then it made me imagine the public hospitals—the public hospitals where there is always the risk that, when the power goes out, your machines will stop running; where the patients often need to supply their own bedding; where patients are discharged based on bed space and not on prognosis. Those are the places where even the poorest of Nicaraguans, who have seen it all, are hesitant to go… many people choose to give birth in their houses over going to these institutions. It kind of puts it all in perspective when I’ve always complained about the comfort of hospital waiting room chairs.

From hospitals to schools. The following week, I volunteered to help register students in my high school. All of the teachers were in a week-long training event, so I figured I could help out with some of the administrative work. And, for the most part, I really enjoyed it. It was a great way to get to know people from the area (everyone was definitely curious why a gringa was registering students), it was fun to hang out with the support staff who I hadn’t yet gotten to know, and it was interesting to see the process. However, I can’t tell you how many times I repeated the question, “Why don’t we do this on the computer?” It’s not as if the schools don’t have a few working computers (for nothing more than word processing), it’s that the Ministry of Education wants everything done by hand. So by hand we did it. All. There were even a few times when I did the work on the computer to organize it, and then manually copied the results by hand. What took an entire week could easily have been done—and more accurately—in just a day or two.

Oh! And students can’t register unless they provide the school a manila folder for filing their information. In fact, the schools don’t provide any supplies or textbooks or anything. Everything the student needs, they have to supply themselves… but the school can’t request that the students purchase anything specific. For example, I have a great workbook to correspond with my curriculum. It would make in-class and homework exercises much more efficient. This book costs a mere C$16 (about $.80), but we cannot request that the students make that purchase. If a teacher specifies that the students purchase something, that teacher can be fired. Solution: teachers generally stick to the tried-and-true method of writing what they need to convey on the whiteboard, and students copy it all into their notebooks. It makes 45 minutes of class go really quickly when the majority of it is spent writing on the board and waiting for the students to copy it. But it’s not as if supplies are free… and when there’s little money to go around, decisions on how to spend that money have to be made.

On a happier and more festive note, my town’s fiestas patronales are in full swing. My town’s patron saint, the Virgin of Montserrat, is recognized on February 8. So the entire month of February is spent in festivals in her honor. These include carnival rides, booths of random goodies in the park, bull fights on the weekends, parties every Friday and Saturday night, a queen competition, an hípica (which is a much-celebrated parade of horses), and random parades and marches with the image of the Virgin of Montserrat. I’ve partaken in nearly all, and I know I’ll be sad (and bored) when February comes to a close.

Anyway, I started the month by being recruited by a neighbor to help with the make-up of one of the queen candidates. It was an interesting experience, and I learned that I definitely can’t cut it as a Latina stage make-up artist. But it was fun to be behind the scenes at the first big party of the month. And the parties have continued. I’ve gotten more exercising from dancing this month than I have since I’ve been here.

Also, this weekend was my first foray into the world of los toros (bull riding)—as a spectator anyway. And it’s been an experience. Upon entering the rickety, annually-reconstructed arena, intensity commences. From the poorest to the wealthiest, from people selling food and beer to the people collecting the empty cans for refunds, from the chichero band to the speakers blaring reggaeton… it’s noisy, it’s dusty and dirty, it smells… but I love it. As I tried to explain to my mom, the States Becca would probably abhor the experience. Because it’s noisy, it’s dusty and dirty, it smells… and it isn’t exactly enjoyable for the bulls either. But the Nica Becca really enjoys it. In this world, I’m used to the noise and the dust and the dirt. In this world, I don’t feel bad for the bulls, because they’re better fed and cared for than the majority of bulls in the country. I don’t like that just any guy willing to take the risk (which turns into many guys after a few beers) can enter the ring and taunt the bulls, throwing empty plastic bottles and waving their baseball caps. But when the bull gets his revenge, when he throws a rider from his back or when he flips a tormenter into the air with his horns, it’s considered part of the risk that those guys chose to take. It seems to be a pretty level playing field in the end.

I’ve debated on whether or not to write of the whole bull riding thing. The last thing I want to do is offend anyone. But I decided it is representative of so many things here and was worth sharing. First, it represents how I’ve changed, and how being open-minded and impressionable has helped me to adapt to a culture that is so very different from my own. Also, it represents the different perspective that is held by people here. In the States, we’d never see Joe Schmoe enter a bull ring after a few beers just to prove his masculinity by taunting a bull. There are rules and regulations, and a security guard would undoubtedly drag the contender out by his ear. But, in this world, those guys who choose to put themselves in that position are signing up for whatever happens to them. It’s accepted. I’m not saying either side is right… to each his own.

In addition to February’s festivals, my host family hosts their annual rezo in February. It’s a catholic tradition, very similar to a rosary. I’m sure it’s different in different places, but here the hosts invite family and friends to their home to celebrate different significant events of the church. There is a short service, and the hosts give gifts to all in attendance. So my family hosted their rezo on Saturday. From Friday night, once all the supplies were purchased, to Saturday afternoon when the service began, we were preparing. The biggest job was the food. Cooking for 200 people is definitely a project. A traditional food here is arroz a la valenciana, which is basically a version of fried rice with lots of vegetables and chicken. So we started chopping on Friday and continued chopping well into Saturday. Huge buckets full of carrots, green peppers, onions, celery… I’ve never cubed so many things in my life. And then there was the cleaning. And then there was the setting up. And then there was the delivery of the gifts (which is always an adventure when crowds of children are practically tackling you to get their little bag of candy). And then there was the clean up. We used my house as the work station, because it was easier access to those in attendance… and it still smells like arroz a la valenciana.

So this week is the third week of classes. By now, I should have taught about 21 classes. By now, I should have my official schedule. By now, we should be well underway. In reality, my schedule is still changing, I’ve taught only 5 classes, and I’m still getting through the introductory material. It’s slow going. It’s normal, but frustrating nonetheless. I guess this is the perfect example of why they repeat, ad nauseam, to incoming volunteers, “patience and flexibility.”

One of my goals here is to make classes more entertaining and dynamic for the students. As I mentioned, classes are generally modeled after the copy-from-the-whiteboard method (probably a better name for it than that, I know). We want to come in and show that a dynamic classroom can lead to more creative thinking and better learning. So we play games. We play games to introduce ourselves. We play games to review topics. We play games to get their attention. We play games. It takes up class time, it’s hard to think of games for every day, and sometimes they don’t want to play. But we continue with our games.

In the first day of class, we had little time to get through the agenda. And we wanted to use a game to get them to contribute ideas to our list of class rules. So, as I do for many other games, I brought a little plastic ball. It was going to be kind of like a hot potato game. Whoever had the ball when we called it had to give me an idea. To begin the game, my counterpart (the Nicaraguan teacher I work with) was telling them the plan of action. And he said, to a classroom full of 16 year olds, “a ella le gusta jugar con pelotas;” directly translated, “she likes to play with balls.” In America, that’s absolutely not something you’d announce to a classroom full of 16 year olds!! My face turned bright red, and I couldn’t control my hand when it reached over to slap him on the arm. The whole class lost it. I was dying of embarrassment; practically crying from laughing. As it turns out, in the end, it was nothing more than a completely innocent statement. One person has admitted to me that maybe if you really emphasized the word pelotas, it might mean something to someone. Definitely not worth slapping my counterpart in front of the entire class. One of my finer moments.

And since I last wrote my schedule and secondary projects have filled in dramatically. In addition to the committee to organize our annual competition, I’ve been assigned the project of organizing our Small Business Development annual training. Also, I’ve started two new projects with the mayor’s office. Both are environment-related projects: one is helping to organize a community-wide competition to collect plastic bottles and educate citizens on recycling (and on why burning plastic bottles is not a good idea), the other is working with a committee to make decisions regarding environmental concerns in the area (such as areas where people don’t even have latrines, or situations where people dump garbage into the street during a big rain storm so that it just washes away—out of sight, out of mind). I’m looking forward to getting more involved in both of these projects. It’s not exactly the business consulting that my program specifies, but I think these are very important topics.

So that’s what’s been happening here. It’s starting to change from the pleasantly cool months of November, December, and January… So as I’m gearing up for the really hot March and April, I hope some warmer weather heads your way too. I’ll happily share.

I hope all is well where you are.

Best,
Becca

Down to business. But, first, that pesky problem… 22 January 2008

My intention was to take complete advantage of the few remaining weeks of vacation. And I started off on a pretty good roll. I saw a few movies, I went to the beach (as if two weeks of beach time at Christmas wasn’t enough), I hung out with volunteer friends in various parts of the country (from Rivas to Managua to Granada and home again)… all in all, I was doing a pretty good job of bumming around in an effort to get it out of my system. But I was thwarted. Seriously thwarted. Some little mosquito decided to infect me. So my last five days of vacation have been accompanied by Dengue—and, yes, it deserves a capital D.

My last five days which were supposed to include a night of hosting one of my best Peace Corps girlfriends, two days visiting a buddy who I’ve been trying to visit for months, the wedding of one of the first girls I met in my town, and a bonding day with the women in one of my schools. They were going to be a beautiful five days.

Anyway, starting last Tuesday afternoon, I knew I wasn’t feeling normal. By the time I went to bed, I had a fever of 103۫ and everything that comes along with a temperature that high. That lasted about 36 hours before it finally broke. Once it broke, I felt pretty good! So I got out of bed and went to a meeting in my school and then to the doctor. By the time I was home from the doctor, my fever was back, and I felt worse than ever. I’ve basically been in bed ever since. The fever has fluctuated quite a bit, but it thankfully hasn’t gotten to 103۫ again. And, slowly but surely, I have begun to recover in strength and stamina (I can finally brush my teeth without needing a nap afterward). So it seems that I’ve begun to recover enough to start thinking about work. This is good, as work starts today (though I’m going to be a day or two late).

Classes actually begin in two weeks’ time, but over the next two weeks I’ll be attending scheduling meetings. I’m torn between my two high schools, so I have to basically put myself in both places at the same time… or something like that. But these meetings will determine my schedule for the next year. It’s almost like scheduling college classes: nobody wants early morning ones, nobody wants Friday ones, nobody wants Monday ones. However, to our credit, it’s not because we want to sleep in and have four-day weekends (although those are bonuses). Nobody wants early morning classes because, along with the expected tardies and morning hang-ups, there are frequently school-wide activities that cut into the first class of the day. Nobody wants Friday classes because, well, many students just stop coming to school by the Friday of each week. And nobody wants Monday classes because school is frequently cancelled on Mondays.

See? It’s not laziness or selfishness. It’s pure devotion to the job. And the Peace Corps business curriculum is detailed and structured enough that I need those hours. If we get too far behind, the material is often too complicated to cover quickly and catch up. However, given the obvious appeal of those desired times, I’ll have to fight pretty hard. Boxing gloves on. Also, given that I have eight sections of classes in two different schools, squeezing those obligations into just three days is a bit on the wishful-thinking side. But I’m ready to throw down.

So that’s that. But, while it’s really exciting to talk about illnesses and work and all, I think it’s more entertaining to review the fun I did get to squeeze into the end of my break. So let’s rewind a little bit…

My friend, Cella, is always a good diversion from the job / life / Nica-ness at hand. She’s another volunteer, teaching English in a site about an hour from me. She came in at the same time I did, so I’m lucky to bank on the fact that she’ll be here throughout my service. And, like everything else I’ve been doing, we’ve been squeezing in our fun nights together as our summer break winds down. Basically, when she comes over, we make really good food (our main and most rewarding project of the evening), we drink some really cheap wine from the box (volunteers can’t afford anything but), we listen to music (usually dancing around to, what we call, our guilty pleasure songs), and we chat. Nights like these replace (and trump) any therapy I could possibly seek.

I took a quick day trip to Granada to meet one of my best buddies, Jason. Granada is always a nice distraction because, well, there are so many expatriates living there that it almost feels like a little jaunt outside of Nicaragua for the day. And because there are so many foreigners, there are lots of food options that are just not available in most places in the country. It’s amazing how a good cheeseburger and fries are such a treat. I mean, this was nearly two weeks ago.

The next day, I headed south to go to the beach with my friend Cara. Her site is in the municipality called Tola, which is the largest municipality in Nicaragua (in terms of land area). And it’s got lots and lots of water front. Its beaches are considered the best in Nicaragua. One is even ranked fifth in the entire world for its surfing! Needless to say, it’s an amazing little part of Earth. It’s unfortunate that it’s so difficult to get there (or perhaps it helps to maintain its hidden treasure status). After getting off of a bus that had taken us far down a scary, dirt road, we still had a 3 mile walk to go (and it’s not as though the road improved!). But it was worth it to spend the day on a beautiful, quiet beach; to hike over to another beach that was completely untouched; to eat fish that had just been brought in from the water; to swim in clean, sparkling water. It was worth it. Until my phone fell into a puddle of water… then I was a little annoyed. But I’ve since recovered.*

I also got to spend a day with my Nicaraguan counterpart. We wanted to get together and chat before school started. Since he lives on the very edges of the earth, on the other side of town, it always turns into a good walk. So I walked the several miles of dirt roads to his house, then we hiked over to his brother’s farm. Then we walked through his brother’s farm. Then I walked the several miles back home again. It was a good long day. And it was my last one spent out of bed.

And who knows where that little mosquito got me. But I hope she’s since met her match.

Thanks for stopping in! I hope you’re doing well and staying warm wherever you are.

Best,
Becca

*Since I managed to rescue the chip from the drowned phone, my phone number hasn’t changed (505-417-6089). Just in case you were wondering.

It’s a miracle if you still feel inclined to check in on me… 2 January 2008

And thank you so much for doing so. I’ve been incredibly absent with this blog. Part of it is my busy schedule. Perhaps it’s not so “busy” as it is erratic. But the erratic nature of it has made it difficult to carve out chunks of time to sit in the cyber, reflect, and write. However, given that my summer break from school began at the end of November, I shouldn’t really try to pass that as a completely valid excuse (but I do reserve the right to use it again starting in February).

Some of it has been a lack of things to write about. I’m sure that’s not totally true, but it certainly seems like that from my perspective. I’ve settled into such a routine here that it seems unexciting. I suppose my routine is both good and bad for me on a personal level, but it’s just plain bad for the blog. I promise I will try to see it from a grandma’s / old friend’s / outsider’s point of view. But please bear in mind that my life in Nicaragua isn’t exactly glamorous. For glamorous, I’d recommend one of those really fantastic celebrity gossip blogs that can suck you in. In the meantime, I resolve to try to keep you entertained here.

And, honestly, part of it has been stubbornness; it can be tedious work to keep up a blog in a third world country, and sometimes I feel as though it eliminates the emails people feel compelled to send me (evidenced by the recent spike in received emails). I know this isn’t completely fair, especially given that the recent spike in emails hasn’t been fully reciprocated by a spike in replies from me. So here’s my proposal: keep on sending me those emails, and I’ll continue to reply as well and as frequently as I can… and I’ll try to return to semi-regular blogging.

But realistically, the biggest hurdle to accomplishing a regular blog has been the inconvenience of doing it. It’s not just finding the time. It’s a whole slew of obstacles. We lose power all—all—the time. And while the computers at the cyber are good enough for surfing the web and writing quick emails, they always seem to freeze in the middle of Peace Corps reports or a long-winded blog. A couple of mid-blog freezes are enough to discourage me.

Wow. I’m full of excuses today. I suppose that probably doesn’t bode well for my new year’s resolutions.

Anyway, I’m only giving you the excuses now, after the fact, because a remedy has been provided. My mommy has pulled through and provided me with a wonderful little machine known as a laptop. With this beauty, I’m able to sit leisurely, with or without power, nightly or biweekly or whenever, and write my blog. Write those reports. Organize and edit my photos. Watch DVDs. Update my IPod. It may seem like a little thing to you, but it’s like having a limb reattached.

Anyway, since I’ve been long-winded enough, I’m going to try to give you a rundown of what has gone down since I last wrote… so many long months ago. (3 whole months! That’s disgusting.)

Just a few weeks after returning from Chicago, I had my first Nicaraguan birthday. Just being in Nicaragua seriously messed with my birthday routine: I always have dinner with my family and always celebrate with my birthday buddy / best friend, Abbie. Needless to say, I was a bit reluctant to get excited about this one. I recruited one of my best Peace Corps buddies for a weekend in Granada to celebrate with me. And then my host family surprised me, once again proving how wonderful they are, with a huge birthday cake and a wonderful dinner. Also, my birthday happened to be the first sunny day in the entire rainy month of October. So it was pretty good. Even if I did miss my family dinner and my fun with Abbie.

As I mentioned before, my summer break began at the end of November. The school year ended pretty well, and I’m really looking forward to getting started with the next one. A challenge that I faced through my first semester of teaching was a lack of real structure in the curriculum. The project is designed so that I join my students halfway through their 3rd year and continue with them through their 4th year and halfway through their 5th, final year. This first semester of working together was largely a get-to-know-you opportunity. But it’s hard to sustain get-to-know-you lesson plans for 17 weeks. We worked on some very basic business concepts and some life skills, but there were never real results to achieve. So, even though the upcoming 4th year project will be much more work, I hope I’m not the only one who will be more motivated by it. Every week we’ll be going over basic, necessary business concepts, and over the course of the year, the students will be working in groups to start, run, and manage their own businesses. At the end of the year, the student businesses compete against each other locally, regionally, and nationally. It’s an interesting program—one that’s completely unlike anything the students have been exposed to before. I’m not delusional enough to believe that all of my 500 students will love the class, but I do hope a few of them find it interesting and helpful. And I’d really love to get a group through the national competition!

Speaking of the national competition… that’s another exciting thing I’ve experienced since I last wrote. I didn’t have any students participating this year, but it was quite the event. In this particular program, Peace Corps plays a kind of liaison role between our sponsors, big businesses and NGOs in Nicaragua, and the schools with which we work. So the event brings students and their business plans from all over the country to Managua, competing for some very coveted titles and prizes. Some students even win scholarships! And all of this is made possible by our sponsor agencies, who also attend the competition. It’s a pretty small gathering, probably less than 300 people. But it’s an incredible experience for the students. Few have entered a hotel such as the Intercontinental. Few have given a presentation to the press and a large audience—much less a presentation of a business plan! And few have the opportunity to win such prizes. Needless to say, when I was put on the committee to organize next year’s competition, I was quite pleased!

At the end of November, as our duties in the schools are concluding, Peace Corps hosts the annual All Volunteer Conference. It also coincides with Thanksgiving. So after spending three days in the conference (nice hotel, hot showers, yummy food, meetings and seminars, big swimming pool, and all of the volunteers from around the country together), we each get invited to join an American family for Thanksgiving dinner. There are various families living in the country, here on Foreign Service duty or working for other agencies. I considered myself pretty lucky to be one of the few invited to dine at the Ambassador’s house. It was a lovely meal (full-fledged traditional turkey dinner), and a fun experience to see the family side of the American Ambassador to Nicaragua.

Returning to my site after the conference week with all of my friends may have been difficult, as it can be hard to adjust to my Nicaraguan life after indulging in the company of so many gringos. However, my own little house had just been completed and was waiting for me upon my return! My host family had been nothing but incredible, and I was just fine living in their house with them. But there is something unexplainably wonderful about having my own space: my own kitchen, my own bathroom… the ability to sing out loud and dance around… the freedom to talk on the phone and not feel like I’m bothering everyone else in the house. So, anyway, I happily moved right into my little place and spent the first few weeks of my break getting settled. It’s really become my little home in here. And, for the curious, I have neither dirt floors nor a thatched roof. Though I could have chosen such a house, I think you all probably know me better than that.

And to the dismay of my boss, I haven’t yet found any community projects or consulting opportunities in addition to my teaching work. I started a project with the mayor’s office, giving lessons to a group of women who make corn products. But between a lack of interest, some coordination issues, and a change of leadership, that project fell through. So I’m just sitting tight for now. Some people are much more aggressive in pursuing such projects, but I’m confident that things will come along in due time. My town is chock full of potential and lots of hard workers, so I know that opportunities will present themselves, especially as I continue to grow my presence in the community.

And to finish off 2007 really well, I spent the last two weeks on vacation at the beach! I am tanned, rested, and feeling very spoiled! My dear friend Mike came down for the week before Christmas, and we had a great time exploring San Juan del Sur. It’s a beautiful little fishing village that was once very sleepy—until the gringos found it. Now it’s turned into quite the destination, but still holds some of its sleepy fishing town qualities. So we went on a sailing adventure, spent some time at the pool, ate lots of really good food, and relaxed. It was an ideal vacation. And the day Mike departed, my family came to town!

My parents, my brother, my aunts, and my grandparents all arrived. We piled in our big family van and headed south, back to San Juan del Sur (but only after rescuing some luggage that hadn’t run through the airport quite as fast as my parents had). No amount of warning could prepare them for the condition of some of the roads we needed to travel (see photo), but we made it. We spent our first day sailing, spent Christmas day eating, spent lots of time walking around town and lounging at the pool, spent an afternoon swinging down a cliff on a canopy tour, spent some time getting pedicures and massages. It was wonderful. And upon leaving San Juan del Sur, we passed through my little town so that everyone could see my house and meet my host family. Then we went to a little market near my house so that everyone could get some Nicaraguan shopping done. Then we went to the top of one of the nearby volcanoes. The week was great and definitely wore everyone out.

(miles upon miles of this…)

And then I had to say goodbye to them all. I hated those goodbyes. So, though I’ve managed to come away largely unscathed by homesickness during my time here, I’ve got a little bit clinging to me right now. I know it’ll pass, but it hurt to watch the entire family walk through security without me!

So here it is, January 1, 2008. I hope you had a wonderful holiday season. It’s hard to believe that it’s come and gone. But I’m ready for this year… I have a good feeling about 2008.

Again, thank you for coming back here to check on me. I really do appreciate your thoughts and support. I hope you’re well.

Best,
Becca

Volver 16 October 2007

I think that all volunteers coming into the process have such an open mind regarding the limitless potential of what they´ll face, we get through the first few months of our service with an almost numb attitude. Whatever happens happens…

I´d heard that visiting the states during service helped provide some perspective, and that may be the most accurate speculation I’ve heard yet.

Anyway, I´ll start from the beginning…

I made plans to fly home for the first weekend of October. It was the weekend of Chicago´s marathon, and I could not miss it. My brother, Matt, was looking forward to running it for the first time. Since it´d been a long year for him, this was such an incredible way to finish it with a bang. I really couldn´t stand the thought of not being there to cheer him on, so I booked the flight and made the trip home to surprise him.

The weekend was amazing. Perhaps it´s due to my diminished English vocabulary, but I honestly can´t think of a more fitting word. I was greeted at the airport by some of my very best friends who whisked me away to a yummy French dinner. I received a fresh-out-of-the-oven batch of my favorite cookies, Cinnamon-M&M-Benamin (I think it´s a secret recipe). I got to spend a few hours scouring the aisles of Target, America´s greatest store. I met some girlfriends for a delicious seafood lunch. All in all, it started off on a fun and indulgent note. Then came the best part… surprising Matthew.

The surprise was nothing extravagant—actually, on the contrary, it was completely unplanned. Matt was with my mom and dad, none of whom I´d seen for five long months, and they parked the car in front of where we were staying for the weekend. So, without much ado, I leaned into the car and said, ¨Hi Matt.¨ I guess it doesn´t make for a very exciting story; it sounds a bit anti-climactic. But it worked—he was shocked! Three long hugs later, and we´d started our weekend of family fun.

Our time together flew by, but every second was wonderful. We were lucky to be joined by our crew of favorite people—Jon, Lizzie, Patei, and Mike, thank you all for spending the weekend with us. Saturday was a relaxed day. The girls got in some shopping while the boys watched college football. I even caught up on Grey´s Anatomy!

Then Sunday came, the big day. Matt was pumped and ready to run, and we were all ready to cheer him on. Though we would have happily cheered him on for every step of the 26.2 miles, it´s not as though the logistics of marathon watching are uncomplicated. So, short of running it with him, we did our best. We got to see Matthew at a few points in the race. And even though the record-breaking heat led officials to call the race, Matt successfully completed every last bit of it. It´s a pretty amazing feat, if you ask me, and it was such a good reason to be there.

So between the marathon and my time with family and dear friends, my weekend was really quite complete. Thank goodness, though, that when we´re all together much of our schedule is driven by when, where, and what we´re going to eat. This was enhanced by Matt´s need to properly prepare for his big run (carb-loading and the like). Anyway, I´ve always loved food, but I was especially thrilled to take advantage of all eating opportunities (I guess you could say that the range of cuisine I´m currently getting really doesn´t stack up to Chicago´s culinary cornucopia). So we did a big Italian dinner on Friday night. Saturday night was Japanese fare. And Sunday, after the marathon, was none other than Chicago´s finest: Pizano´s Pizza. I loved every bite and cursed my stomach for not being bottom-less.
So that was it. I couldn´t have scripted a better way to spend 3 days. And now it´s over. I knew it would be difficult to get on that return flight, and I had a feeling it´d foster a sense of homesickness that I´d managed to avoid until now. I was right. But there is no doubt that it was worth it.

So I´ve been back for a week, and it´s absolutely true that my brief visit to the States gave me a new perspective on my service. I suppose you could say that it´s made the challenges more challenging but, perhaps, more worth it; the successes sweeter; the world a little bit smaller; the things and people I miss a little further away. I may not make a ton of sense, but that´s how I´d describe it. I mean, what else could make me tear up by seeing a scene from Seinfeld?? It was poorly dubbed in Spanish and George Castanza was eating Chinese take-out at his desk… not really anything to cry over, right? But it´s things like take-out food, a big desk stocked with office supplies, or plain old telephones that seem a million miles away.

Anyway, upon my return, I immediately had to jump into writing a couple of Peace Corps reports. Every four months we have to track our progress, qualifying and quantifying all we´ve done. It´s a normal process associated with all development work, but that certainly doesn´t make it easy. How can I accurately count the number of students who are affected by my work? How can I quantify my impact when it may not be realized for years down the road? The process requires some serious reflection, but it also does serve as a sort of motivator.

So that´s where I am. I am happy to be back, and I do adore Nicaragua and my experiences here. Especially after getting to spend some time with some of my volunteer friends, I´m feeling settled again. But the past month has definitely been a roller-coaster—of emotions, experiences, etc.

Oh… and I must apologize for giving you what was probably a quite boring play-by-play of my weekend in Chicago. I just couldn´t choose anything to edit out, and I figured I´d indulge myself in loving every second as I won´t be making the trip again until at least next fall.

Thanks for checking in! I hope you´re well.

Love,
Becca

P.S. Anyone have a good sugar cookie recipe? My host mom has one of those Spritz cookie forming tools (I think that´s the name), but she hasn´t got a single recipe to use it with. Thought it could be a fun project.

P.P.S. Is there a good tip to making pie crust?

Thanks for the tips!

Arañas and Coronaries 25 September 2007

I just killed a tarantula. It was a huge little bastard. At least he wasn´t in my bed, I suppose.

Ugh. I still have the chills.

Better late than never…? 6 September 2007

I’ve officially been a Peace Corps volunteer now for just over six weeks. And in those six weeks, I’ve done a lot—some exploring, daily teaching, a bit of settling in, lots of hanging out (to maintain a level of sanity), and zero blogging. What a delay! And what a busy six weeks to fill in.

First, regarding my site… my new home is called La Concepción and is just 45 minutes from the capital. This makes my life easy when I need to be in the office for something, or when I want to travel (as all of the buses are hubbed in Managua). Combine this convenience with a perfectly-sized community (about 11,000 in the town), and you’ve got La Concha (as it’s known). It’s big in agriculture, a large source of the country’s mangos, citrus fruits, avocadoes, etc. Also, as my counterpart helped me to discover on a get-to-know-La-Concha walk, it has some of the most incredible views (although I suppose that in the land of lakes and volcanoes, you’re bound to find some good views). And even though the bus rides are always an indescribable adventure (seriously, you just have to experience them to know), the views can make them all worth while; as I ride on winding roads, up and down through farms of the local agriculture, with the volcanoes and their puffy clouds of sulfur in the background, I can’t help but feel relaxed.

One of the downfalls to my site, however, is the lack of dependable water service. It varies from town to town, and we got the short end of the stick. We only get running water during the weekends, which requires families to store it for use throughout the weeks. And it’s difficult to store water for six days of use. Think of six days of showers, washing dishes, flushing toilets, cooking, cleaning, etc. It adds up! Most families have a pila, which is basically a small swimming pool to store the water. So, in addition to the inconvenience, it also happens to be a major contributor to an already thriving mosquito population. All of that standing water is just heaven for my biggest little enemies.

Anyway, something that makes me feel even more at home is that I’ve just signed a lease to rent a house that’s currently being built. It may seem a little fachento (snobby) for a Peace Corps volunteer (I mean, wasn’t I supposed to be living in a grass hut with dirt floors?), but I think this’ll be a really good situation. The host family with whom I’m currently living is building it in the backyard as another source of income. So I’ll have the conveniences (think pila) and added safety factors (big, sturdy fence with pokey things at the top) of living within the family compound, but the privacy of my own place. It should be finished within the month, and I’m quite excited to start getting settled.

And, as far as the work is concerned, everything is going pretty well… and my schedule is full! I’m working in two schools with two counterparts (the Nicaraguan teachers I’m helping to train) and about 500 students. My students are in third year, which is similar to freshman year in the States, and I’ll work with them until their final year of school. In this time, I’ll be teaching them basic business concepts, and I’ll be helping them form and run their own small businesses. This approach is designed to aid the population that frequently doesn’t have the opportunity to go on to college, and, in a country of soaring unemployment, is frequently left to support itself through self-employment of some sort.

So, in the grand scheme of things, all of this is still just starting. I’m just getting to know my town, and I’m nowhere near learning my students’ names (I’m not sure 2 years is adequate to know all 500). But, nevertheless, I’m off to a good start.

In the past six weeks, I’ve also squeezed in a few weekend trips. These are great to let loose, remove myself from my site (which, though I love it, can be the source of some frustrations), and spend time with fellow volunteers. The big one was a retreat to León with nearly my entire group. The 15 of us had a great day at the beach, enjoyed a scrumptious Italian dinner (not easy to find in this country), and indulged in a big night out. It was nothing short of fantastic. Also, this past weekend, my current host family took me to a beach called Pochomil for another day of waves and sun. It too was great, but would have been even better if the horses we rented would have done more than lazily stroll down the beach. Next time I’ll be sure to scout out the horses that look a bit more enthusiastic. And this weekend, I’m headed south to visit a friend in Tola, Rivas. If our friend Felix makes a timely departure, the sun may make an appearance and provide me with some more beach time… but, if not, it’ll be fun to just hang out.

In addition to the weekend trips, I’m also lucky enough to have another volunteer, Deenah, within a short bus ride. And, to boot, her site is home to Ave Maria, an American-accredited college. This college brings lots of Nicaraguan money to the area and some other very nice conveniences—like some good coffee shops! (Which are also not easy to find in this country.) So whenever we need a mid-week break from class sizes of 70 students, the daily language adventures, or just plain cultural differences, we meet up for a quick drink and vent.

So it all boils down to the fact that life is good. I feel lucky to be a part of my group of volunteers, my site is quickly becoming my home, and my work provides a bit of excitement and a lot of the unknown. It’s not easy—for many reasons—but I didn’t sign up for easy, I suppose. But it’s good.

Thanks for checking in… sorry to have kept you all waiting for so long. I hope all is well with you.

Best,
becca