rainy season has officially started here, though we'll have a few days of rain then it's bloody hot for a week before it rains again. we're still experiencing water shortages, and only have running water for about 2 days per week. anyways, all the rain has led to a massive influx of bugs (mainly beetles) and frogs (hopping around in puddles on the street) and other random critters.
last thursday i had a disturbing experience where i found the second tarantula within 24 hours in my bedroom- so i squished it with a shoe only to have the thing basically explode and about 50 baby spiders come streaming out of an egg sack i hadn't seen on its belly. i somehow maintained my composure enough to find a bottle of windex in our kitchen (of course i don't have bug spray or anything useful like that) and drowned the little buggers. now normally i'm all about saving little bugs lives but when they're gnarly spiders like that in my room that crosses the line.
the line was leaped across however that night as i was sleeping. i woke up at around 2 AM to something crawling up my pant leg and knew immediately it wasn't the normal beetle/moth/ant/mosquito experience. so, half-asleep still, i reached my hand down to brush it off and was stuck in my kneecap by a huge sting (OH GOD!) and looked down at my hand to see a HUGE black scorpion clutched on to my fingers (it was the size of my hand- probably about 6 inches long) so i shook it off and it ran under my bed (GREAT) then i sat down for a moment thinking "well, this really could be the end of it all" shaking something awful and trying to make myself breathe. i found my nicaragua guidebook (obviously i didn't have any bug identification books) because i wanted to know if i should go to a doctor, if i had to worry about dying or anything like that... thank goodness i had seen it and knew it was a big negrito scorpion which according to my MOON guidebook are "not normally deadly" to healthy humans. a bit of good news, but didn't make me feel any safer, that's for sure. i tiptoed into the kitchen (don't ask me why at this point i was not wanting to wake my roomates up) and reached into the freezer to get some ice (which was the only thing i could really think to do) since my kneecap felt like someone had stabbed a knitting needle through the middle of it (unlike what the guidebook said it would feel like "a bee sting" HA!). we didn't have any ice, so i grabbed the next best thing... a bag of frozen chicken drumsticks, and laid in bed for a couple of hours with my knee raised feeling the numbness slowly spread through my body. a very unnerving feeling, let me tell you. the wierdest part of it was that though the rest of my body was nearly numb, my knee was still throbbing like crazy.
somehow i fell back asleep for a few hours and when i woke up in the morning i felt much worse. i stood up and immediately had to sit back down, dizzy and unable to balance. i made my way to the kitchen to get a glass of water and to try to eat something (i knew that if i didn't, i'd feel even more faint) and told my roomate chico what had happened to which he replied:
"oh don't worry, i've been stung 5-6 times by scorpions and you'll feel awful for a while but you'll be fine. just drink some milk."
now i don't know anything about recovering from a scorpion sting but his advice seemed better than anything else i'd heard- so i drank the rest of the delicious boxed milk i had on hand and still felt terrible. luckily one of the drivers, jose, was at the house and drove all of us to school so i didn't have to worry about walking there. i told magda what had happened and she was much more concerned than chico, so she had me talk to the doctor at the school who took one look at me and said:
"oh, you'll feel better in 3-4 days so don't worry too much about it. you won't die, they aren't THAT dangerous."
3-4 days of numbness seemed like a pretty big deal to me, and with the way i was feeling at the time i decided to go with the rest of my roomates to somoto where i'd be closer to a doctor who could do something for me if things got worse. the ride down was pretty miserable, but by the time we arrived i was feeling a bit better and my arms and legs were less numb, which made walking a heck of a lot more manageable. the 3-4 days really only ended up being 24 hours, and after that amount of time only my mouth was numb (which i'd heard was the last place to re-gain feeling). so... i stayed in somoto for the night, bought a mosquito net... and now sleep a little bit lighter and am more wary about shaking out my sheets and blankets before going to bed.
ah... the lessons i've learned. at least now i'm not scared of tarantulas anymore, as long as i don't get any more scorpions crawiling up my pants in the middle of the night i think i'll be just fine.
lunes, 23 de abril de 2007
lunes, 16 de abril de 2007
Amarguillo (How Else Could We Understand?)
A blast of the brightest sunshine yellow sparks,
brave amarguillo trees speckled
amidst dried fields of hopeful farmers
withering crops
crinkling pine needles
fallen trees crying for water, for life.
Smokey the Bear shakes in his Forest Service boots.
I’m told the dry season never ended last year,
and in some towns the water gets shut off for three months at a time.
Forty people died in Chinandega last weekend in temperatures hovering between 35 and 40 degrees Celsius.
Heat stroke can’t be blamed when water’s not an option.
The sharpened guillotine blade hangs on a thread,
perched for the fall.
This is normal.
My roommate Fransisco laughs at my awestruck shock at this statistic
and the joy disperses, as fleeting as it came
with my wondering "Como puede vivir sin agua por tres meses?
(an honest question- how do you live without water for three months?)
Honest but severely loaded.
How do you LIVE?
In one instant I’ve found why Nicaraguans have such faith in God.
His answer:
"We believe because how else could you explain a world in which we must live without water for three months at a time? How else would we understand?"
A slap in the face.
How else could a world in which people with all the power choose to
fund and fight unwarranted religious wars based on fear and oil
yet disregard poverty as part of the "other" world,
the THIRD world.
Why would we care about the THIRD world as much as OUR world?
We invest our money CAREFULLY there, in this other world
Just enough to keep them coming back for more
Just enough to keep the hands outstretched
Just enough to keep the UN off our backs
Just enough to keep opportunities for photo opportunities arising
Just enough to keep them silent and downtrodden
Just enough to keep their starry-eyed focus on our American dream alive.
What is this "American Dream"?
If it’s not meant for all of America,
rather meant to justify the rise of the rich to their castles in the clouds
and blame the victims of our carelessness,
our neighbors
who gaze in our dining room windows
awestruck at the opulence
salivating with hope for our scraps
who struggle every day just to live.
I sound cliché-
how do I paint you a clearer picture what it means to struggle every day to LIVE?
Have you woken in the morning to the same hunger pangs, knitting needles in the depths of your stomach that have haunted your dreams for your whole life?
Have you constantly and consciously been forced to drink water infused with sewage and garbage day-after-day simply because you had no other CHOICE?
Has this water given you life-threatening fevers and blinding migraine headaches?
Has your water been carried up a mountainside in 5-gallon-plastic-jugs by your seven-year-old daughter every morning, her back hunched unnaturally under its crippling weight?
Have you also been forced to send this daughter to beg for pesos to buy rice and beans,
her bare feet dodging broken glass and rusted barbed wire?
How do I get you to see this painting in color, not in the black and white of "THE OTHER"?
For if you are to realize that this type of poverty exists in every moment of every day
for millions upon millions of our brothers and sisters
throughout the entire world
and in your backyard
it MUST be in vivid color
high definition if you will.
Do I need a PowerPoint presentation and a flat screen TV
or will these words of impassioned truth
reach beyond your ears and your eyes and into your heart?
These words, " THE OTHER" and "3rd WORLD" must be abolished
we must learn to empathize
if the world can ever change for the better.
If we can open our minds and our hearts to realize
"THE OTHER" as an intimate, essential, precious component of ourselves,
if we can understand that these words "THE OTHER" and "3rd WORLD"
have been fabricated by people with power,
people who judge and fear change,
people who refuse to grant freedom,
and voices to the voiceless
their bullets silenced with a justification of "US versus THEM".
We must not buy into this
unjustified disabling dichotomy
For each time we turn a blind, ignorant, guilt-laden eye
averting our gaze from the pain and suffering of this world
we in fact turn from the deepest part of our soul.
Who felt the right to draw black lines
zigzagged boundaries across our globe?
How have we not noticed these lines are INVISIBLE?
Invisible until we forget the past
and break ground to construct another embarrassing wall
as if blocking our view of the wrong side of the tracks
will make our neighbors disappear.
The make-believe black lines are pathetic enough,
but walls go beyond the zigzags.
We’re playing a game of Risk so real
that if we allowed ourselves a moment of clarity
our hearts would break into a million pieces.
Do we need these fancy adjectives
these walls
to justify how terribly we treat each other?
Is this all just a big game to people like Mr. G. W. ?
I’d compare his game to chess
but I know the only players he’s aware of are the king and the pawn.
Maybe if he could ever wipe that all-knowing smirk off his face
for long enough to say something real
we’d have a glimpse of some sort of truth…
Ironic how mumble-jumbled and repeated key words
"insurgents"
"terrorists"
"freedom fighters"
"rebel forces"
"fanatics"
cause more conflict, misunderstanding, hatred and war than bombs ever could.
How many soldiers to this date have died
defending these words?
I’d tell you but I’m not trying to give a history lesson.
Would it matter more if it were ONE person or THREE HUNDRED THOUSAND?
How can I paint this picture in COLOR when our own government will not allow the media to show pictures of caskets being carefully carried off a military plane draped in those glorified stars and stripes?
An image sticks in my mind, a 2002 clipping from a newspaper scrap booked next to lyrics from John Lennon’s "Imagine" … a middle-aged man, long beard trailing in the dust, white robes spattered with blood, white linen and crimson death pooling around his knees, arms outstretched desperately to the skies, mouth hanging open in a primal wail that only a man at the foot of the coffins of his two children aged four and six years old could pour forth on an unjust world, dried riverbeds of tears marking the end of any happiness and future he’d seen in life. His babies, gone forever at the hands of "freedom fighters".
"Imagine there’s no Heaven, it’s easy if you try."
It doesn’t take much effort to imagine, Mr. Lennon, that there’s no Heaven
when we’re willing to kill each other in the name of GOD.
How do we think GOD feels about these justifications?
Does he sit on his throne in the sky contentedly staring down as we play plastic soldiers
with real guns
remarking to himself "How lovely are these wars in my name?"
(these words strike too close to "Hallowed be thy name")
or "I must give this judgmental sect of soldiers for Christ a first class seat on the train to glory?"
(those who claim "there are two types of people in this world, those who believe in Jesus Christ as their personal savior and those who don’t")
Even if Jesus Christ was our personal savior and the only son of GOD…
I’d still like to hope GOD sees in color.
Or…
Does GOD sit silently as tears stream down his cheeks,
mourning the death of true life?
Pleading for all of humanity
to give up our fabricated terms of differentiation,
to face each other as human beings,
casting fear aside,
breaking down walls,
tearing across boundaries,
looking through open and non-judgmental eyes,
bowing deeply in acknowledgment of the divine in all,
in communion with nature and our Brothers and Sisters,
filling the deep and lonely fear of vulnerability
with simple, deep, and unconditional love?
We claim an operation in Iraq based on FREEDOM.
Is this another fancy word we’ve manipulated for our own causes?
Freedom from what?
From our own fears and anxieties?
From having to explain the selfish reasons we’re still there?
From "THE OTHER"?
From terrorists?
From four and six year-old Iraqi children?
Where does freedom end and murder begin?
It’s a slippery slope;
the boundary between the two as invisible
as those inked black lines flowing across the maps of humanity.
Yet across the deserts of hopeless lands
rise moments of triumph and brilliant life
amarguillos, my eyes see in rusted dry brown and mid-day sunlight yellow
tufts of blossoms defiant in the face of drought,
peeking over walls to the better side of town.
"Amargo, like coffee without sugar" my friend Henry explains.
He speaks of bitterness with an unsettling smile.
It’s why we believe in GOD.
"How else could we understand?"
brave amarguillo trees speckled
amidst dried fields of hopeful farmers
withering crops
crinkling pine needles
fallen trees crying for water, for life.
Smokey the Bear shakes in his Forest Service boots.
I’m told the dry season never ended last year,
and in some towns the water gets shut off for three months at a time.
Forty people died in Chinandega last weekend in temperatures hovering between 35 and 40 degrees Celsius.
Heat stroke can’t be blamed when water’s not an option.
The sharpened guillotine blade hangs on a thread,
perched for the fall.
This is normal.
My roommate Fransisco laughs at my awestruck shock at this statistic
and the joy disperses, as fleeting as it came
with my wondering "Como puede vivir sin agua por tres meses?
(an honest question- how do you live without water for three months?)
Honest but severely loaded.
How do you LIVE?
In one instant I’ve found why Nicaraguans have such faith in God.
His answer:
"We believe because how else could you explain a world in which we must live without water for three months at a time? How else would we understand?"
A slap in the face.
How else could a world in which people with all the power choose to
fund and fight unwarranted religious wars based on fear and oil
yet disregard poverty as part of the "other" world,
the THIRD world.
Why would we care about the THIRD world as much as OUR world?
We invest our money CAREFULLY there, in this other world
Just enough to keep them coming back for more
Just enough to keep the hands outstretched
Just enough to keep the UN off our backs
Just enough to keep opportunities for photo opportunities arising
Just enough to keep them silent and downtrodden
Just enough to keep their starry-eyed focus on our American dream alive.
What is this "American Dream"?
If it’s not meant for all of America,
rather meant to justify the rise of the rich to their castles in the clouds
and blame the victims of our carelessness,
our neighbors
who gaze in our dining room windows
awestruck at the opulence
salivating with hope for our scraps
who struggle every day just to live.
I sound cliché-
how do I paint you a clearer picture what it means to struggle every day to LIVE?
Have you woken in the morning to the same hunger pangs, knitting needles in the depths of your stomach that have haunted your dreams for your whole life?
Have you constantly and consciously been forced to drink water infused with sewage and garbage day-after-day simply because you had no other CHOICE?
Has this water given you life-threatening fevers and blinding migraine headaches?
Has your water been carried up a mountainside in 5-gallon-plastic-jugs by your seven-year-old daughter every morning, her back hunched unnaturally under its crippling weight?
Have you also been forced to send this daughter to beg for pesos to buy rice and beans,
her bare feet dodging broken glass and rusted barbed wire?
How do I get you to see this painting in color, not in the black and white of "THE OTHER"?
For if you are to realize that this type of poverty exists in every moment of every day
for millions upon millions of our brothers and sisters
throughout the entire world
and in your backyard
it MUST be in vivid color
high definition if you will.
Do I need a PowerPoint presentation and a flat screen TV
or will these words of impassioned truth
reach beyond your ears and your eyes and into your heart?
These words, " THE OTHER" and "3rd WORLD" must be abolished
we must learn to empathize
if the world can ever change for the better.
If we can open our minds and our hearts to realize
"THE OTHER" as an intimate, essential, precious component of ourselves,
if we can understand that these words "THE OTHER" and "3rd WORLD"
have been fabricated by people with power,
people who judge and fear change,
people who refuse to grant freedom,
and voices to the voiceless
their bullets silenced with a justification of "US versus THEM".
We must not buy into this
unjustified disabling dichotomy
For each time we turn a blind, ignorant, guilt-laden eye
averting our gaze from the pain and suffering of this world
we in fact turn from the deepest part of our soul.
Who felt the right to draw black lines
zigzagged boundaries across our globe?
How have we not noticed these lines are INVISIBLE?
Invisible until we forget the past
and break ground to construct another embarrassing wall
as if blocking our view of the wrong side of the tracks
will make our neighbors disappear.
The make-believe black lines are pathetic enough,
but walls go beyond the zigzags.
We’re playing a game of Risk so real
that if we allowed ourselves a moment of clarity
our hearts would break into a million pieces.
Do we need these fancy adjectives
these walls
to justify how terribly we treat each other?
Is this all just a big game to people like Mr. G. W. ?
I’d compare his game to chess
but I know the only players he’s aware of are the king and the pawn.
Maybe if he could ever wipe that all-knowing smirk off his face
for long enough to say something real
we’d have a glimpse of some sort of truth…
Ironic how mumble-jumbled and repeated key words
"insurgents"
"terrorists"
"freedom fighters"
"rebel forces"
"fanatics"
cause more conflict, misunderstanding, hatred and war than bombs ever could.
How many soldiers to this date have died
defending these words?
I’d tell you but I’m not trying to give a history lesson.
Would it matter more if it were ONE person or THREE HUNDRED THOUSAND?
How can I paint this picture in COLOR when our own government will not allow the media to show pictures of caskets being carefully carried off a military plane draped in those glorified stars and stripes?
An image sticks in my mind, a 2002 clipping from a newspaper scrap booked next to lyrics from John Lennon’s "Imagine" … a middle-aged man, long beard trailing in the dust, white robes spattered with blood, white linen and crimson death pooling around his knees, arms outstretched desperately to the skies, mouth hanging open in a primal wail that only a man at the foot of the coffins of his two children aged four and six years old could pour forth on an unjust world, dried riverbeds of tears marking the end of any happiness and future he’d seen in life. His babies, gone forever at the hands of "freedom fighters".
"Imagine there’s no Heaven, it’s easy if you try."
It doesn’t take much effort to imagine, Mr. Lennon, that there’s no Heaven
when we’re willing to kill each other in the name of GOD.
How do we think GOD feels about these justifications?
Does he sit on his throne in the sky contentedly staring down as we play plastic soldiers
with real guns
remarking to himself "How lovely are these wars in my name?"
(these words strike too close to "Hallowed be thy name")
or "I must give this judgmental sect of soldiers for Christ a first class seat on the train to glory?"
(those who claim "there are two types of people in this world, those who believe in Jesus Christ as their personal savior and those who don’t")
Even if Jesus Christ was our personal savior and the only son of GOD…
I’d still like to hope GOD sees in color.
Or…
Does GOD sit silently as tears stream down his cheeks,
mourning the death of true life?
Pleading for all of humanity
to give up our fabricated terms of differentiation,
to face each other as human beings,
casting fear aside,
breaking down walls,
tearing across boundaries,
looking through open and non-judgmental eyes,
bowing deeply in acknowledgment of the divine in all,
in communion with nature and our Brothers and Sisters,
filling the deep and lonely fear of vulnerability
with simple, deep, and unconditional love?
We claim an operation in Iraq based on FREEDOM.
Is this another fancy word we’ve manipulated for our own causes?
Freedom from what?
From our own fears and anxieties?
From having to explain the selfish reasons we’re still there?
From "THE OTHER"?
From terrorists?
From four and six year-old Iraqi children?
Where does freedom end and murder begin?
It’s a slippery slope;
the boundary between the two as invisible
as those inked black lines flowing across the maps of humanity.
Yet across the deserts of hopeless lands
rise moments of triumph and brilliant life
amarguillos, my eyes see in rusted dry brown and mid-day sunlight yellow
tufts of blossoms defiant in the face of drought,
peeking over walls to the better side of town.
"Amargo, like coffee without sugar" my friend Henry explains.
He speaks of bitterness with an unsettling smile.
It’s why we believe in GOD.
"How else could we understand?"
martes, 10 de abril de 2007
let the rain fall down...
my three month "anniversary" of being in nicaragua! i can't believe how fast the time is going- yet sometimes it truly seems to stand still. today was my first day back at work after a week-long trek around southern nicaragua with james and josh. i visited my family in la concha for a weekend, then we went to isla de ometepe, grenada, and i spent the last few days of my trip in managua staying at the jvi house. here are some trip highlights:
- morning from hell getting out of cusmapa: a bus breakdown between las savannas and somoto- 45 minutes of three guys taking pieces of the motor off, cleaning them, and re-assembling them on the sidewalk much to the amusement of passers by- fransisco assuring me that they were "engineers" as i (baffled) watched one lean over the running engine with a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth- drinking apple juice and feeling very much a spectator in some ridiculous nicaraguan sport
-spending time with paulette and gaiermena, enjoying her lovely library, meeting new members of their animal clan (or zoo as i like to refer to it)
- climbing a mandarin tree with elton and raquelita (two of the kids in my family in la concha) to get a view of a volcano- eating handfuls of plump perfectly ripe mandarinos, stuffing ourselves silly- trying to explain to them why i felt more comfortable with my feet planted firmly on the ground
- day trip to grenada with mama gina, raquelita, and madi (from florida who is living at their house)- hopping on a boat and walking past a 50-year-old woman saying the rosary, boat ride to an island with a "pool" which was filled with kids and dirty lake water, sharing beers with mama gina, a beautiful sunset over the lake and a purple moon rising
- long trip full of mishaps to get to ometepe: left late, took a useless 100 cord taxi cab ride to see the "scenic route" in grenada, a long bus to rivas, another taxi to san jorje, caught the last ferry to the islands- had a spectacular sunset approaching the island, caught the last bus to altagracia (which got us half way to our hotel) and wandered around asking about a place to stay for cheap, stumbled into a house where we were put up for 30 cords per night (less than $2), ate fritanga with an argentinian jewelry maker and his girlfriend- talking about politics and hitchhiking while attempting to drown out evangelical ramblings in the city's central park
- beers at a random tucked-away bar, the glorious cartoon of a man who struck up a conversation with us: think billy crystal but nicaraguan with a purple long-sleeved satin button-up shirt and poufy curly hair and a voice like a cross between mickey mouse and the gatekeeper to the city of oz ("not nobody, not no how!")- some choice quotes from his side of the conversation:
"you like this music? (we were singing along to summer of '69) i thought only people my age like this music? you like Brian music? (i assume here he was referring to brian adams) and patrick swazy? you know him? i would not recommend you to Rambo, the movie- all nicaraguans are rambo junior (i don't even know what that means). i have been practicing my A.B.C.'s this week. you know, mouth to mouth? A.B.C.'s? we are all very important people (gesturing to the three other men who were seated at his table). these two work at the mayor's office, he is a doctor, and i am that guy" (at this point i was holding in what was sure to be an explosion of laughter and replied enthusiastically while pointing for emphasis: "you ARE THAT GUY!". james turned to me and said "no, Cal. he's a GUIDE. he's a TOUR GUIDE." OH. i still think he was that guy. best character i've come across in a very long time.
- bonfire the first night at monkey's island hostel, sharing a little rum and skinny dipping under a full moon
- josh & i taking a somewhat treacherous swim out to an island made of volcanic rocks, seeing monkeys curiously poking their heads out of the trees (joking that both of us are blind and neither one had glasses on... which was sort of sad)
- waking up in the middle of the night and listening to the rain for an hour
- a day spent reading, playing 31, chess, checkers, and singing along to james playing the guitar- sharing pistachios and macadamia nuts with jacinto (the hostel owner) who'd never tried them before
- throwing rocks at 60' tall mango trees to get the ripe fruits to fall- young nica boys taking pity on the gringos and showing us proper form
- sophie the crazy belgian who has a not-so-sneakily taken picture of james in the buff
- chocolate ice cream shared in an empty market vendor stand
- glorious fritanga and the biggest vat of ensalada i have ever seen, people-watching in the park of grenada
- playing pool, yahtzee, and trivial pursuit with james while eavesdropping on josh playing monopoly with two 18 year old norweigan girls in our hostel- key cards and factoids learned: pope JPII wore white doc martens, the buffalo bills cheerleaders are called 'the buffalo jills', there are 15 people on a scottish jury, they don't speak egyptian in egypt, israel's not in europe (HM. think i need to work on my geography), and the kicker: about 10 years ago london tried to enforce slow and fast lanes on its sidewalks (i wonder are there speed limits to these lanes?)
- waking up early in our hostel (after enjoying a night's rest on couch cushions and being bit by a nasty spider) and enjoying a cup of coffee in the morning breeze before anyone else woke up
- finding out my high school choir gets to go to DC in june for an international children’s arts festival!!!!
- walk to the laguna apollo- being a bit sketched out about getting robbed and having a guy with a leather glove endowed with metal spikes try to convince us to take his "safer" road down to the lake. we may be gringos but we're not that stupid!
- day spent at the laguna relaxing, swimming, exploring underwater, reading out loud to each other, picnic-ing, and getting royally sunburned
- catching the last bus to managua by an absolute miracle
- sleeping in till 9 AM!!! going to james' favorite reading spot and devouring a david sedaris book, james knocking down starfruit out of the tree we sat under (just the fact that i was reading under a starfruit tree was pretty awesome in general i think) for a snack
- good friday service- my teary-eyed singing along to 'be not afraid'
- an excellent and very patient guitar lesson from james
- a fest of a dinner for the arrival of ad's friends from the states (who she hasn't seen for more than a year) beans, veggies, garlic bread (thanks josh!), and spaghetti
- james and josh finding, reading out loud, and performing songs they'd written in high school mostly about loves... my favorite being josh's "apple of my eyyyeeeee"
- giggling with margy till my belly hurt and i had tears running down my cheeks
- riding an expresso bus with reclining seats (i didn't even know those existed here!) not getting off at the right spot (though i've made the journey about 10 times now) and instead an hour later realizing i had no idea where i was- taking a random taxi to somoto (when i realized it we were somehow near a junction and somoto was only 10 minutes away!), feeling like a silly gringa
- getting to talk to my fam on the phone (and regs!)
- a day spent in easter celebration by writing letters and cooking a weeks worth of beans, listening to the rain trample across my rooftop
today i got back into the swing of things, though in my 5 classes i had a grand total of 10 students... but we finally had the internet so i got to respond to all sorts of emails and post pictures, chatted with jason and nikki (who i miss terribly), had quite a bit of cleaning time (the amount of dust here after a week is phenomenal!), gave a frustrating english class (i hate the books we have to use) to ONE person, loved my little ones- who held my hands and gave me hugs at the end of class, practiced the guitar, had a heck of a time with my tenors in the high school choir.
right as i was about to leave it started raining so i thought "i'll wait it out" because i wanted to bring my computer and guitar home. so i sat to practice the guitar a bit and watched the rain. the eye of the thunderstorm seemed to hover over the oratory for at least 45 minutes, pouring huge droplets and letting forth a FURY of thunder which (even when i anticipated it) made my heart leap. i finally decided (after a good hour of a relentless storm) to just leave my computer in my office, and that i'd better get home before it was completely dark. i went to get the key from juan carlos (one of my roommates) and in the 20 seconds i was outside i got absolutely soaked to the bone (i needed the house key because a missionary stayed at our house last week and left with my key- or so i thought).
i resigned myself to getting good and soaked and made my way toward home, leaping across small rivers which had formed in the road and hopping gleefully in puddles. a small figure came scurrying toward me buried under a broken umbrella- the only other person silly enough to be out in the dumping rain- she stopped, lifted her protective cover- and it was Anyelka- i exclaimed "what ARE you doing?!" and she answered "i came to look for you" so we walked, her arm around my waist and mine around her shoulder back to he house. along the way i lifted her over particularly large streams of water while we giggled and she pointed out a frog hopping across the street which made me wide-eyed and open-mouthed in delight. i had water running down my entire left half but a smile on my face. when we reached the house there was a light on and jubelki poked her head out the door. dona miriam was STILL THERE! (it was about 6:30 by this time) they had all been worried and waiting for me to come home. turns out dona miriam had my house key- the missionary had left it with her, and she couldn't bear the thought of leaving my house open, so she was waiting till i got home. i invited the girls to stay for tea and crackers, and we chatted for a bit- anyelka started to try to go home barefoot because her shoes were so awful and soaked so of course i gave her a pair of shoes to wear.
again i am humbled by the amount of thoughtful and genuine care i receive from people here, i am brought to my knees. three months blessed by lots of living, learning, and love- good health and good spirits, and the making of wonderful new friends. here's to many more months to come!
love and miss you all- joy and peace to you! cal
- morning from hell getting out of cusmapa: a bus breakdown between las savannas and somoto- 45 minutes of three guys taking pieces of the motor off, cleaning them, and re-assembling them on the sidewalk much to the amusement of passers by- fransisco assuring me that they were "engineers" as i (baffled) watched one lean over the running engine with a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth- drinking apple juice and feeling very much a spectator in some ridiculous nicaraguan sport
-spending time with paulette and gaiermena, enjoying her lovely library, meeting new members of their animal clan (or zoo as i like to refer to it)
- climbing a mandarin tree with elton and raquelita (two of the kids in my family in la concha) to get a view of a volcano- eating handfuls of plump perfectly ripe mandarinos, stuffing ourselves silly- trying to explain to them why i felt more comfortable with my feet planted firmly on the ground
- day trip to grenada with mama gina, raquelita, and madi (from florida who is living at their house)- hopping on a boat and walking past a 50-year-old woman saying the rosary, boat ride to an island with a "pool" which was filled with kids and dirty lake water, sharing beers with mama gina, a beautiful sunset over the lake and a purple moon rising
- long trip full of mishaps to get to ometepe: left late, took a useless 100 cord taxi cab ride to see the "scenic route" in grenada, a long bus to rivas, another taxi to san jorje, caught the last ferry to the islands- had a spectacular sunset approaching the island, caught the last bus to altagracia (which got us half way to our hotel) and wandered around asking about a place to stay for cheap, stumbled into a house where we were put up for 30 cords per night (less than $2), ate fritanga with an argentinian jewelry maker and his girlfriend- talking about politics and hitchhiking while attempting to drown out evangelical ramblings in the city's central park
- beers at a random tucked-away bar, the glorious cartoon of a man who struck up a conversation with us: think billy crystal but nicaraguan with a purple long-sleeved satin button-up shirt and poufy curly hair and a voice like a cross between mickey mouse and the gatekeeper to the city of oz ("not nobody, not no how!")- some choice quotes from his side of the conversation:
"you like this music? (we were singing along to summer of '69) i thought only people my age like this music? you like Brian music? (i assume here he was referring to brian adams) and patrick swazy? you know him? i would not recommend you to Rambo, the movie- all nicaraguans are rambo junior (i don't even know what that means). i have been practicing my A.B.C.'s this week. you know, mouth to mouth? A.B.C.'s? we are all very important people (gesturing to the three other men who were seated at his table). these two work at the mayor's office, he is a doctor, and i am that guy" (at this point i was holding in what was sure to be an explosion of laughter and replied enthusiastically while pointing for emphasis: "you ARE THAT GUY!". james turned to me and said "no, Cal. he's a GUIDE. he's a TOUR GUIDE." OH. i still think he was that guy. best character i've come across in a very long time.
- bonfire the first night at monkey's island hostel, sharing a little rum and skinny dipping under a full moon
- josh & i taking a somewhat treacherous swim out to an island made of volcanic rocks, seeing monkeys curiously poking their heads out of the trees (joking that both of us are blind and neither one had glasses on... which was sort of sad)
- waking up in the middle of the night and listening to the rain for an hour
- a day spent reading, playing 31, chess, checkers, and singing along to james playing the guitar- sharing pistachios and macadamia nuts with jacinto (the hostel owner) who'd never tried them before
- throwing rocks at 60' tall mango trees to get the ripe fruits to fall- young nica boys taking pity on the gringos and showing us proper form
- sophie the crazy belgian who has a not-so-sneakily taken picture of james in the buff
- chocolate ice cream shared in an empty market vendor stand
- glorious fritanga and the biggest vat of ensalada i have ever seen, people-watching in the park of grenada
- playing pool, yahtzee, and trivial pursuit with james while eavesdropping on josh playing monopoly with two 18 year old norweigan girls in our hostel- key cards and factoids learned: pope JPII wore white doc martens, the buffalo bills cheerleaders are called 'the buffalo jills', there are 15 people on a scottish jury, they don't speak egyptian in egypt, israel's not in europe (HM. think i need to work on my geography), and the kicker: about 10 years ago london tried to enforce slow and fast lanes on its sidewalks (i wonder are there speed limits to these lanes?)
- waking up early in our hostel (after enjoying a night's rest on couch cushions and being bit by a nasty spider) and enjoying a cup of coffee in the morning breeze before anyone else woke up
- finding out my high school choir gets to go to DC in june for an international children’s arts festival!!!!
- walk to the laguna apollo- being a bit sketched out about getting robbed and having a guy with a leather glove endowed with metal spikes try to convince us to take his "safer" road down to the lake. we may be gringos but we're not that stupid!
- day spent at the laguna relaxing, swimming, exploring underwater, reading out loud to each other, picnic-ing, and getting royally sunburned
- catching the last bus to managua by an absolute miracle
- sleeping in till 9 AM!!! going to james' favorite reading spot and devouring a david sedaris book, james knocking down starfruit out of the tree we sat under (just the fact that i was reading under a starfruit tree was pretty awesome in general i think) for a snack
- good friday service- my teary-eyed singing along to 'be not afraid'
- an excellent and very patient guitar lesson from james
- a fest of a dinner for the arrival of ad's friends from the states (who she hasn't seen for more than a year) beans, veggies, garlic bread (thanks josh!), and spaghetti
- james and josh finding, reading out loud, and performing songs they'd written in high school mostly about loves... my favorite being josh's "apple of my eyyyeeeee"
- giggling with margy till my belly hurt and i had tears running down my cheeks
- riding an expresso bus with reclining seats (i didn't even know those existed here!) not getting off at the right spot (though i've made the journey about 10 times now) and instead an hour later realizing i had no idea where i was- taking a random taxi to somoto (when i realized it we were somehow near a junction and somoto was only 10 minutes away!), feeling like a silly gringa
- getting to talk to my fam on the phone (and regs!)
- a day spent in easter celebration by writing letters and cooking a weeks worth of beans, listening to the rain trample across my rooftop
today i got back into the swing of things, though in my 5 classes i had a grand total of 10 students... but we finally had the internet so i got to respond to all sorts of emails and post pictures, chatted with jason and nikki (who i miss terribly), had quite a bit of cleaning time (the amount of dust here after a week is phenomenal!), gave a frustrating english class (i hate the books we have to use) to ONE person, loved my little ones- who held my hands and gave me hugs at the end of class, practiced the guitar, had a heck of a time with my tenors in the high school choir.
right as i was about to leave it started raining so i thought "i'll wait it out" because i wanted to bring my computer and guitar home. so i sat to practice the guitar a bit and watched the rain. the eye of the thunderstorm seemed to hover over the oratory for at least 45 minutes, pouring huge droplets and letting forth a FURY of thunder which (even when i anticipated it) made my heart leap. i finally decided (after a good hour of a relentless storm) to just leave my computer in my office, and that i'd better get home before it was completely dark. i went to get the key from juan carlos (one of my roommates) and in the 20 seconds i was outside i got absolutely soaked to the bone (i needed the house key because a missionary stayed at our house last week and left with my key- or so i thought).
i resigned myself to getting good and soaked and made my way toward home, leaping across small rivers which had formed in the road and hopping gleefully in puddles. a small figure came scurrying toward me buried under a broken umbrella- the only other person silly enough to be out in the dumping rain- she stopped, lifted her protective cover- and it was Anyelka- i exclaimed "what ARE you doing?!" and she answered "i came to look for you" so we walked, her arm around my waist and mine around her shoulder back to he house. along the way i lifted her over particularly large streams of water while we giggled and she pointed out a frog hopping across the street which made me wide-eyed and open-mouthed in delight. i had water running down my entire left half but a smile on my face. when we reached the house there was a light on and jubelki poked her head out the door. dona miriam was STILL THERE! (it was about 6:30 by this time) they had all been worried and waiting for me to come home. turns out dona miriam had my house key- the missionary had left it with her, and she couldn't bear the thought of leaving my house open, so she was waiting till i got home. i invited the girls to stay for tea and crackers, and we chatted for a bit- anyelka started to try to go home barefoot because her shoes were so awful and soaked so of course i gave her a pair of shoes to wear.
again i am humbled by the amount of thoughtful and genuine care i receive from people here, i am brought to my knees. three months blessed by lots of living, learning, and love- good health and good spirits, and the making of wonderful new friends. here's to many more months to come!
love and miss you all- joy and peace to you! cal
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