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.
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