It's amazing how busy a person that has no formal employment and few responsibilities can be.
Since my arrival in Nicaragua I have done so many different things and experienced so much already.
After getting settled in with my family we developed our routine. I get up in the morning and they have breakfast for me before I walk to the school. In the evenings we attempt conversation. During one of these talks they asked when my birthday was. When they discovered it was the day I arrived in Nica they decided to throw me a surprise birthday party. Unfortunately I got sick quickly and was out of commission for a couple days where I laid in bed and they nursed me back to health. When I was finally well the fiesta was on! We walked to another neighborhood to pick up a pinata and candy to fill it with. Back at the house the pinata was strung up and an amazing cake was brought out. On the cake was written Happy Birthday Jasmine in Spanish. A huge crowd of all the neighborhood kids came for the party. Then the music- Latin dance music- and the first little girl was blindfolded, given the baton and prepared to face the pinata. This tiny little four year old swung at the pinata as my friend yanked the rope up and down to tease her. In between swings the little girl would dance and twirl around to the music. Many little kids took turns and then it was my turn. I was blindfolded and then tried to hit it. Everyone yelling "bailar, bailar" or "arriba" to get me to dance or swing the baton up. Finally the bigger kids took a turn and the candy broke free. By tradition I made the first cut of the cake and then it was passed around. Later in the night I was brought back to my feet to attempt some dance lessons. We laughed, danced and acted silly in our house full of women and children. It was the best birthday party a girl could hope for.
My schedule consists of volunteer work at the garden in the mornings where I catch a micro bus to the neighborhood and back to the school for lunch and afternoon lessons. So far my work has included going to the beehives to see the honey (the richest, most floral sweet treat ever), watering plants by hand, raking leaves and burning them, painting signs to post for the children in the daycare. I work with Pedro, a gardener and handyman, who speaks no English and is very patient teaching me Spanish. Pedro tolerates not only my lack of English but my tedious gardening habits. As a city girl that has grown up mostly in apartments and condos I have limited gardening experience. When presented with the rake I shuffled the dirt around and got a few leaves. He showed me the efficient way to rake and I became an expert. There is a beautiful harmony that develops in my head when I work with my hands. The feeling of accomplishment coupled with my mind being free to wander bring a sense of joy.
The other day a couple young fellows wandered in and greeted me in English. Joseph is 18 and studying English. We worked on his homework together. He asked if he could be my friend and I accepted. He is now my sidekick at the garden and helps me with my work. He says surprisingly profound things. He asked me what the purpose of my life was this year. Completely caught me off guard but I thought about it and we had a great conversation. He said something about me being pretty and I tried to fend that off by saying I wasn't. Earnestly he said to me, "why would you say you are not pretty? All the people of the world are pretty". His sidekick, a small guy for 13 years old, carried a slingshot which he used to shoot at the chickens. He let me borrow it to shoot at the trees and fruit.
Last Sunday I got to go horseback riding up the hills for a view of the volcano. We rode through the dusty neighborhoods out to the fields where everything was multiple shades of green, gold and browns. Up on the vista we dismounted and looked out at the volcano and the ground below that was scarred from previous lava flows. It was spectacular.
Spanish lessons are coming along. I understand so much more than I had hoped for but the speaking is coming along slowly. I am a work in progress.
Emotionally I am touched every day. Pedro took me to meet his friends who were sorting mandarins for the market. We tried to visit and laughed more. Before I left I was given two bags of fruit as a gift.
This country grows on me more all the time. The foreign beauty I'm beginning to understand and respect. The people I have come to see as family.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Learning to Adapt in Central America
I have arrived in Nicaragua. People in my home country want to know why I would choose to come here. Isn't Nicaragua a scary, dangerous, third world country? The answer to all of those questions can be complicated.
Since beginning my adventuring I realized knowing only English can be a disadvantage. I also learned traveling around Europe that I still lived and traveled very comfortably. There were almost always people that could communicate in English, a comfortable bed and hot shower, first class transportation options. I might as well have been in the US for all the discomfort I didn't suffer. The next part of my decision making process involved evaluating my cultural interests. I've always been intrigued by Latin culture. While in Montana I began the search for international Spanish language schools. Of course Spain was top of the list but at this point of my unemployment it was too expensive. I researched Central and South American options and accidentally stumbled upon La Mariposa which happened to be in Nicaragua. The reviews of current and past students were outstanding as well as the website explaining their mission. After doing a bit more research I found Nicaragua intriguing for its volcanoes, lakes and turbulent past. I emailed the owner, a British ex-pat named Paulette, and she set me up with a home stay. And here I am...
Yes Nica is a third world country, second poorest in the Western Hemisphere behind Haiti and yet it has a lower crime rate than the USA. I was warned, however, that it wasn't wise to be in the capital, Managua after dark among other places.
I booked my flight out of Miami strategically to arrive mid-afternoon and requested the airport pick-up from the school which lies about one hour outside Managua in La Concepcion. As I watched American Airlines continually delay the flight it occurred to me I would be arriving just in time to drive out under the stars. The flight took only 2 1/2 hours and I was here. Breezed through Customs and found the guy holding the butterfly sign just outside arrivals. We had to wait for a second passenger who was actually on my flight also. Shannon from Maine made it through and we piled into the mini-van and took off into the night. Roads are insane: people on motorbikes, families on a single bicycle, horse drawn carts next to huge old American school buses jammed with passengers all trying to traverse pot-holed, bumpy roads.
Driving out of town we saw so much that I wouldn't have seen during daylight. Impromptu fiestas, little arcades, many street food vendors, a couple of giant Christmas Tree light displays with a massive sign topper saying Viva La Revolucion 2011. People hanging out with nothing to do but drink, smoke and get high. Little families eating or buying snacks roadside. All of this before we arrived in La Concha where we were introduced to our host families and placed in their care.
I met Elisabeth, a teacher at the school, in the home she shares with her family. It is a concrete block house with a corrugated tin roof that lays over the top. There are naked light bulbs which are used sparingly to illuminate the area currently being used. I was shown my private bedroom (there is one other bedroom and a main room in the whole home) which has a comfy little bed, locking wardrobe, small table and chair and a curtain over the entryway. I have no door to my room. The back of the home empties into a dirt courtyard which is lined with many green plants and pours into the homes of the other family members. There is a kitchen of sorts where meals can be prepared. The lavatory is a composting hole in the ground with a blue tarp over the entry. Bring your own paper with you girls. My first night in I was led to the toilet room via flashlight and they threw a seat over the opening for me. After that I was on my own. I was also shown the shower. That experienced will be reviewed momentarily...
After getting settled in to my bedroom a group of us walked to another part of the neighborhood to meet more family and eat dinner. In a tiny concrete room sat a tiny gas stove where delicious food was being prepared. I was treated like an honored guest. They broke out the little table for me to set my plate on and I was served before everyone. All of the little kids eyeballed me while I received my meal of rice and beans, fried plantains, fried chicken and salad of cabbage and tomato. They were so proud to prepare me the typical dish of their country. Everyone attempted to speak to me in Spanish and practice with me. I was introduced to multitudes of little children who were in turn shy and curious. It was almost exclusively women in the house until after dinner Papa stopped by to meet the gringa and give me a polite kiss on the cheek which smelled of cerveza. They laughed after he left and told me he had muy cerveza haha. It was an exciting night and already I'm learning to understand and attempt a language that seems to foreign.
Yesterday I met the gardener at the daycare where I would be volunteering five days a week. He is an old Campesino with some good stories of the Revolution if I can get my Spanish up enough to understand. He will put me to work in the garden later this week helping install some water pipes, tend the botany and whatever else comes to mind. I believe I'm also going to get to help him extract honey from the hives. All of this each morning before coming back to the school to study language in the afternoons.
Last night I returned home where we went for a walk to the store. When we passed one of the fruit stands my friend asked me if I liked pineapple. I told her I loved fruit so she bought me a pina de Nicaragua and presented it to me as a gift with a hug. It was absolutely beautiful.
This morning I finally decided I couldn't delay the shower any longer without risk of offense or infection. When I woke up I asked to use the shower and Elisabeth proceeded to fill the big bucket with a hose. Before I go any further I should be honest in admitting I never wanted to be in a place where I couldn't take a cold shower. I always crank up the hot water to scalding in my showers and let my skin prickle from the heat. When I realized I not only would use a bucket shower but it wasn't heated there was a passing moment of panic. I entered the shower room with the bucket and smaller bowl and stared. There are no instructions for this kind of thing. How do you use a small bowl to wash everything? And so I dipped the bowl in, bent my head and dumped tepid water over myself. I didn't drop from the cold, nothing awful happened to me and I figured it out. Of course it isn't that difficult at all. And the amazing part of all this... I looked down at the bucket and realized I only used maybe two or three gallons of water. Bucket showers are totally efficient and sooo much more environmentally friendly in this water-deprived community.
As I lay in my humble little bed attempting to sleep amidst street noises, animal sounds and people hanging around outside I turned on the iPod to drown out the noise and try to sleep. I realized what a strange world I am in where I am living in the most humble of homes and listening to an iPod which probably cost more than the whole house earns in a month. And yet they are happy and proud to share with me. I hope I can in some way return the favors and blessings they bestow on me so regularly.
Since beginning my adventuring I realized knowing only English can be a disadvantage. I also learned traveling around Europe that I still lived and traveled very comfortably. There were almost always people that could communicate in English, a comfortable bed and hot shower, first class transportation options. I might as well have been in the US for all the discomfort I didn't suffer. The next part of my decision making process involved evaluating my cultural interests. I've always been intrigued by Latin culture. While in Montana I began the search for international Spanish language schools. Of course Spain was top of the list but at this point of my unemployment it was too expensive. I researched Central and South American options and accidentally stumbled upon La Mariposa which happened to be in Nicaragua. The reviews of current and past students were outstanding as well as the website explaining their mission. After doing a bit more research I found Nicaragua intriguing for its volcanoes, lakes and turbulent past. I emailed the owner, a British ex-pat named Paulette, and she set me up with a home stay. And here I am...
Yes Nica is a third world country, second poorest in the Western Hemisphere behind Haiti and yet it has a lower crime rate than the USA. I was warned, however, that it wasn't wise to be in the capital, Managua after dark among other places.
I booked my flight out of Miami strategically to arrive mid-afternoon and requested the airport pick-up from the school which lies about one hour outside Managua in La Concepcion. As I watched American Airlines continually delay the flight it occurred to me I would be arriving just in time to drive out under the stars. The flight took only 2 1/2 hours and I was here. Breezed through Customs and found the guy holding the butterfly sign just outside arrivals. We had to wait for a second passenger who was actually on my flight also. Shannon from Maine made it through and we piled into the mini-van and took off into the night. Roads are insane: people on motorbikes, families on a single bicycle, horse drawn carts next to huge old American school buses jammed with passengers all trying to traverse pot-holed, bumpy roads.
Driving out of town we saw so much that I wouldn't have seen during daylight. Impromptu fiestas, little arcades, many street food vendors, a couple of giant Christmas Tree light displays with a massive sign topper saying Viva La Revolucion 2011. People hanging out with nothing to do but drink, smoke and get high. Little families eating or buying snacks roadside. All of this before we arrived in La Concha where we were introduced to our host families and placed in their care.
I met Elisabeth, a teacher at the school, in the home she shares with her family. It is a concrete block house with a corrugated tin roof that lays over the top. There are naked light bulbs which are used sparingly to illuminate the area currently being used. I was shown my private bedroom (there is one other bedroom and a main room in the whole home) which has a comfy little bed, locking wardrobe, small table and chair and a curtain over the entryway. I have no door to my room. The back of the home empties into a dirt courtyard which is lined with many green plants and pours into the homes of the other family members. There is a kitchen of sorts where meals can be prepared. The lavatory is a composting hole in the ground with a blue tarp over the entry. Bring your own paper with you girls. My first night in I was led to the toilet room via flashlight and they threw a seat over the opening for me. After that I was on my own. I was also shown the shower. That experienced will be reviewed momentarily...
After getting settled in to my bedroom a group of us walked to another part of the neighborhood to meet more family and eat dinner. In a tiny concrete room sat a tiny gas stove where delicious food was being prepared. I was treated like an honored guest. They broke out the little table for me to set my plate on and I was served before everyone. All of the little kids eyeballed me while I received my meal of rice and beans, fried plantains, fried chicken and salad of cabbage and tomato. They were so proud to prepare me the typical dish of their country. Everyone attempted to speak to me in Spanish and practice with me. I was introduced to multitudes of little children who were in turn shy and curious. It was almost exclusively women in the house until after dinner Papa stopped by to meet the gringa and give me a polite kiss on the cheek which smelled of cerveza. They laughed after he left and told me he had muy cerveza haha. It was an exciting night and already I'm learning to understand and attempt a language that seems to foreign.
Yesterday I met the gardener at the daycare where I would be volunteering five days a week. He is an old Campesino with some good stories of the Revolution if I can get my Spanish up enough to understand. He will put me to work in the garden later this week helping install some water pipes, tend the botany and whatever else comes to mind. I believe I'm also going to get to help him extract honey from the hives. All of this each morning before coming back to the school to study language in the afternoons.
Last night I returned home where we went for a walk to the store. When we passed one of the fruit stands my friend asked me if I liked pineapple. I told her I loved fruit so she bought me a pina de Nicaragua and presented it to me as a gift with a hug. It was absolutely beautiful.
This morning I finally decided I couldn't delay the shower any longer without risk of offense or infection. When I woke up I asked to use the shower and Elisabeth proceeded to fill the big bucket with a hose. Before I go any further I should be honest in admitting I never wanted to be in a place where I couldn't take a cold shower. I always crank up the hot water to scalding in my showers and let my skin prickle from the heat. When I realized I not only would use a bucket shower but it wasn't heated there was a passing moment of panic. I entered the shower room with the bucket and smaller bowl and stared. There are no instructions for this kind of thing. How do you use a small bowl to wash everything? And so I dipped the bowl in, bent my head and dumped tepid water over myself. I didn't drop from the cold, nothing awful happened to me and I figured it out. Of course it isn't that difficult at all. And the amazing part of all this... I looked down at the bucket and realized I only used maybe two or three gallons of water. Bucket showers are totally efficient and sooo much more environmentally friendly in this water-deprived community.
As I lay in my humble little bed attempting to sleep amidst street noises, animal sounds and people hanging around outside I turned on the iPod to drown out the noise and try to sleep. I realized what a strange world I am in where I am living in the most humble of homes and listening to an iPod which probably cost more than the whole house earns in a month. And yet they are happy and proud to share with me. I hope I can in some way return the favors and blessings they bestow on me so regularly.