Home.

I have been back home for almost a week now and I have to say it has been wonderful. I no sooner stepped out of the airport into the crisp, frigid air in Seattle than felt like it was finally Christmas time (90 degrees just doesn't cut it for getting me into the holiday spirit). I have had a great time catching up with many of you and it has given me plenty of chances to consider my answer to the question "so how was it?" Since this question is often asked in passing, I usually spit out the words that I think most succinctly describe my experience. So far I have:
-intense
-a growing experience
-challenging
-adventurous
-thought-provoking

While discussing the past five months of my life over dinner with my mom the other day, I came to see that an emerging theme of my time there was truly learning to make the best of any situation, and as Paul says, to be content whatever the circumstances. There were lots of times when my circumstances were less than ideal, but somehow I can look back and honestly say that most of the time I was happy there, and I had a good time. It pushed me to be more emotionally independent, take care of myself, and figure out how to find the resources I needed when no one was around to show me.

Another valuable aspect of the whole thing was that it gave me unique insight into what it's like to be a foreigner. For most of my life I have never really been an outsider. Even when living in Honduras two years ago, I was fairly protected from many of the daily struggles of culture shock because I was living with Americans who knew the place and took care of me. In Nicaragua I gained more of a sense of how darn clueless you can feel sometimes doing things that were once simple to you, whether it's finding the FedEx office or learning the etiquette (or shall I say, lack of) for shoving your way onto a bus or picking up on idiomatic expressions and hand gestures. It has helped me narrow down, a little bit, my future career goals to something in which I am helping immigrants to the US in cultural adaptation. We'll see where that leads.

In the meantime, I am enjoying catching up with friends and family while looking for a place to live in Seattle and some source of income (if you know of anyone looking for a Spanish tutor, let me know!) I am thinking that I might keep blogging from time to time, so if you enjoy my musings, maybe we will keep in touch on the blogosphere.

Reflections...

Now that I am finally done with classes, papers, and, well, my entire college career (!) I´ve had some time to reflect on Nicaragua. I´ve realized that I´ve learned quite a bit about myself here, especially from some unlikely people.

For starters, I will miss my host grandpa, Raul (the crazy old man of previous blogs´ fame). Despite the fact that we never really understand each other ( a combination of my accent and his hearing, I suppose), we have become, as he told me today with slightly teary eyes "muy buenos amigos." Somewhere in the past four months, in between me running in and out of the house and him yelling indecipherable phrases while making the "hang loose" sign at me, I have come to really admire his calm, perseverant spirit. When my host mom (his sister) is cranky with him (which happens a lot), he has a way of taking it in stride, nodding his head, smiling, and often waiting until she turns her back to make a funny face at me which says "I´m not going to let that bother me." I laugh and make one back that says "I get you." It´s a shared little secret language we have which is rather funny. Not that my host mom is a witch or anything. She just has her moments when she´s rather high strung. There will always be people like that around us, and Raul has taught me how to laugh it off and keep on living your life.

On that same subject, I think I have developed my own spirit of perseverance and been forced to be really proactive in my life at times when I wasn´t quite sure where to turn for support. Through the challenge of navegating the UNAN´s academic system, making friends, improving my Spanish, learning the quirks of my host family, getting robbed, and getting to know a new city, I figured out ways to rely on God and my past experiences to get by.

I´ve been touched by the openness of my Nicaraguan classmates who became acquaintances and friends. It has caused me to question my own hesitancy to reach out to people sometimes, and to get close to people. Even though none of them will be my best friend forever, they accepted me like one of their own and are even planning a goodbye party for me. When I get back to the states I will be a lot more conscious of the experience of international students and immigrants in my midst.

Some of the best conversations I´ve had have been with taxi drivers. They are so open to talking about their life, family, political views, and experiences as taxi drivers. I will miss out on that opportunity in the States, I think I can continue the habit of trying to learn something from every stranger I encounter.

I have experienced more first hand the effects of poverty and underdevelopment. At one point in my life I thought of poverty only as the absence of material things. Some time ago I came to realize that poverty is not only not having a TV, house, or food; it´s also missed experiences, lack of opportunity, and inconveniences in daily life. Living in Managua has given me the chance to understand that firsthand. Even though I am fairly frugal, I did not live like a poor person here. I traveled on weekends, went out to bars and concerts, and used the internet whenever I pleased. Lots of my friends at school have not seen half of what I´ve seen in Nicaragua. They´ve barely left their cities because traveling takes money, and even going out at night involves a couple of cab rides. They miss out on things they should be able to enjoy, because they just don´t have the resources. As much as I may pride myself in living simply because I don´t buy fancy electronics, I am privileged to be experiencing so much.

I´ve become more patriotic while I´ve been here, despite some professors´attempts at the opposite. In spite of everything, there are wonderful things about living in a country that is relatively safe, clean, and just. I will tell people that they can argue with me, or you can also go live in the developing world for awhile and tell me how that goes.

My cyber cafe time is about to expire, so I will sign off for now. Check back soon for more updates. Lots of love!

Oh hey...

Hi there. I know I haven't written in awhile. I've been working on final papers and exams and emotionally preparing myself to come back home in a couple of weeks. I've been homesick and ironically that has made me less inspired to post. I'm still trying to think about what Nicaragua has meant to me and how to explain my experience here. In some ways I feel it has been very profound, and in someways very ordinary. I'll let you know when I figure it out... if I figure it out. Until then, I wish you all the best and am excited to see (most of you) soon!

Pictures from Up North

Here are some pictures from our group's trip up north two weekends ago, near Somoto Canyon.


At the end of a long hike! Gorgeous views....


Sarah, Mary and me, enjoying fresh-picked carrots from the organic farm.


Our group on a hike up to a rock face to see the rock carvings....



Where an old man spends his days carving images into the rocks.

Dia de los Muertos

Tuesday was a holiday here called Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead), which is observed in most of Latin America. I was disappointed when I learned that it isn’t considered a big celebration here like it is in Mexico, but nonetheless, it is a sacred time when people remember and pay respects to their loved ones who have passed on. In Nicaragua, this usually consists of going to the cemetery to put flowers on, clean and sometimes paint their families’ graves, and say a prayer. I was in Granada in the morning, a city which happens to have a beautiful cemetery, so I went to check out what the traditions were all about.

If most cemeteries are deserted and lonesome most of the time, this one was the opposite. Outside, dozens of vendors sold flowers, decorations, and brooms necessary for accomplishing the days’ tasks. Once I managed to squeeze past hoardes of people through the front gates, I beheld the sight of some of the largest and most well-kept tombs- all above ground- that I had ever seen. Inside was a flurry of activity as entire families dispersed throughout the area. I quickly realized that the most visible tombs belonged to the very richest families of Nicaragua- many ex-presidents are buried there- so I set out to find the graves that might have come from more humble circumstances. They were hard to find, but eventually I found a few dirt mounds with simple hand-constructed and painted crosses marking the name of the person who lay there. The scene at the cemetery was an interesting contrast: rich and poor, dead and alive, old and new. While I wouldn’t describe it as a celebratory mood, it wasn’t somber either. There was something about having the entire community out there, in the cemetery together, under a sunny sky, which gave it a special meaning not seen on other days of the year or in other places.

Because of Dia de los Muertos I had a long weekend, and used it to the fullest. Just outside of Granada there is a new treehouse hostel being built in the forest which isn’t open for business yet but is accepting volunteers to come and help out in exchange for a free place to stay for a few days. I happily took the chance to check it out. Besides helping build a “banana circle” (an organic system for dealing with waste water- I hadn’t heard of it either), I slept in a treehouse, watched and listened to howler monkeys, walked across a suspension bridge, kicked back in the hammock, ate great food, and chatted it up with backpackers from all over the place. Oh, and the property covered a whole mountainside, with trails all the way to the top, where the view was stupendous. It was fun meeting other travelers, hearing their stories, and seeing another beautiful side of Nicaragua. Apparently all around the world there are hostels which will let you work for a few hours in exchange for a free place to stay. If you’re interested, I recommend checking out Help Exchange (Google it!) to see what’s out there. It was quite the adventurous, cheap vacation.

Tell me the truth about this squirrel.

If you can say that sentence without effort, you're probably a native English speaker. Congratulations.

Recently I have been meeting with a couple guys to help them practice their English- both people who I met because they randomly approached me on campus one day and asked if I spoke English (ah, the joys of being so obviously a foreigner). It is a somewhat entertaining, and also fulfilling, experience. Both Eliseo and Pablo can read pretty well but need help with pronunciation. We went over words that I never considered would be hard to pronounce, like “truth” (that’s a lot of consonants!), “this” (the Th and the short I are both killers), and “squirrel” (oof). We also went over some choice four-letter words and idioms like “sort of” and “oh well.” In exchange, they helped me with rolling my double r’s (a sound which I thought I had down but it turns out I’ve been faking for years), and taught me some other choice phrases.

Last weekend I had another great adventure in the Nicaraguan countryside. Our group took a trip up north to an absolutely breathtaking piece of Mother Nature called Somoto Canyon. The canyon is more like a ravine in between two huge rock faces that was carved out by a river thousands of years ago. We had a guide take us on an epic trek. For the first couple hours we wound our way through the mountain trails until we got to the river, where we loaded all of our stuff into a (semi) waterproof container and, with the help of our life jackets, bobbed around in the currents and let ourselves be carried by the rapids. For probably a couple miles we swam, waded, and climbed over rocks to get down the river. One part of the adventure entailed jumping off a 13-foot cliff into the river in order to bypass a waterfall. I think that was a first for me. The terrain was so rugged, green, and beautiful. It was rejuvenating to be out in the fresh air and, yes, out of the city.

I have five weeks left in Nicaragua, and I have to say I am excited to come home and am glad that it will go by fast. Still, I have lots I want to see and do before I leave, so I am excited to see what other adventures I can cram into my time here.

Until next time!

This One Time, A Cow Almost Ran me into the Lake...

After two weekends in a row of random international trips, I decided to stay in the country this week. Here in Managua, the latest news is that the rainy season is coming to an end, mangoes are almost back in season, and our house just got painted yellow (a tone-down from the previous brilliant orange).

While I may have stayed in the country, I still found my way out of the city. Gabriel, Anna and I went to the nearby town of Granada, on the shore of the gigantic Lake of Nicaragua which takes up about a third of the country’s area. I enjoy that town because it is much smaller, safer, and easier to get around there than in Managua (but what place isn’t?!). I have to say that one of my favorite places there was a real live, actual, Seattle-style coffee shop. This was a big deal because they are hard to come by in Managua. Even though I could care less about coffee, the fresh scent, comfortable chairs, organic menu and colorful gelato assortment were almost too much for me to contain my excitement. I’ve been homesick for reminders of Seattle as of late, and this was a good remedy.

We also went to visit Gabriel’s mom, who still lives in the house he grew up in. This entailed an hour-long bike ride right along the beautiful lake on a road that was sometimes paved, sometimes falling into the lake, and sometimes blocked by cows. I hadn’t ridden a bike in months and I really enjoyed it, when I wasn’t nearly falling off the bike because my tire hit a piece of trash or stopped abruptly in a patch of sand. Riding along the lake, with the views of the green volcanoes across the water, reminded me a little bit of being on Whidbey Island in the summer and looking onward to green mountains. His mom lives in a simple concrete house right on the lake, so we splashed around a bit and ate a delicious lunch of fried fish (a Nicaraguan waterfront favorite), fried plantains (classic), rice, and beans (even more classic).

Back on the home front, I think my host mom and I have started to enjoy each other’s company more and are getting along well. And my host grandpa (her brother, so maybe my uncle?) is just as old and cute, but strange, as ever. I think if I ever write a novel I have some good characters already sketched out. He refers to everything I eat as “chompipe” (turkey), every potential thief as a “pirata,” (pirate), and everyday he tells the dog “No mereces mi cariño!” (You don’t deserve my affection!). In general, our conversations consist of him going on about how dangerous this or that is (“muy peligroso”), or about how natural disasters are the will of God, while I try to casually hint that I’m trying to do homework. Conversely, when I have a free hour I occasionally dare to initiate a conversation and he asks me to repeat myself five times before proceeding to answer a completely unrelated question. You never know quite what you’re going to get, so it’s always an adventure!

When I’m not arguing with old men about whether or not cold water is bad to drink when you’re sick, I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting about the reality of Nicaraguan society as I prepare to write my final papers. Recently it has begun to weigh on me just how serious Nicaragua’s economic problems are. I could have told you that before coming here, but it has started to strike me in a more personal, emotional way. As much as I am frustrated by constantly being the target of crime (I am up to 2 successful robberies and 2 attempts!), I see that there are simply no jobs here. Students at school are getting degrees without knowing if they will ever use them. It goes to show that education alone is not the key to development, if there is nothing to do with that education once you’ve graduated. As much as I am always happy to see the men pushing the Eskimo ice cream carts up and down the streets, I wonder how a 40-year old man who probably has several kids feels to be spending his life on a rather mundane, unskilled task. I suppose I take it for granted that I’ve always assumed I’ll dedicate my life to a job that both makes a difference in the world and is personally satisfying and challenging, not to mention that pays enough to live decently. I just about went crazy after two years at Jamba Juice. While I suppose the people juggling fire in the streets or wearing clown costumes around the mall are probably grateful to have an income, I wonder if it gives them dignity or satisfaction, or if they ever thought they would do something more.

As a final note, I’m trying to decide what to be for Halloween, and how to procure a costume. While it’s not officially celebrated here, there are enough foreigners in town to put on an event or two, and there is enough American influence that Nicaraguans are curious about how we dress up, what pumpkin carving is all about, and why the heck we let our kids accept candy from strangers.

What’s everyone dressing up as for Halloween?

Coming Full Circle

Hi everyone! This past week has rewarding, frustrating, redemptive, and refreshing. Here are some of my musings:

School this past week has led me to some frustrating realizations. I got a midterm back from my Latin American Reality class, and did quite possibly the worst I've ever done on a test. Please note, during the entire test there were loud speakers about 100 feet away blasting Lady Gaga (I've learned not to ask why anymore). As much as I love her music at the right time, she doesn't help me remember what factors influenced Simon Bolivar's liberation of South America. Obviously, the Spanish element adds some difficulty, but in addition, the academic culture here is distinct- there are other methods of teaching, taking tests, grading and studying here that just aren't the style I'm used to, so even thought I studied, I didn't study the right way. A lot of our class time is spent reading and summarizing material, whereas I'm used to hearing a lecture and discussing or analyzing things as a class. My plan is just to work my butt off for the next 2 months, be extra diligent about asking questions, and hopefully pull off a B.

On the other hand, I found out I have an A in my Central American history class- which I've never been so relieved to hear. We are starting to write our final research papers in all classes (so far I've got three 15 pagers on the to do list!) and I'm excited because I secretly really love writing research papers and I think it's how I learn best. For one class I'm thinking about investigating the role of liberation theology in Central American revolutions. For another, I'm going to research "brain drain" that occurs as a result of educated and skilled Nicaraguans migrating to the United States, Costa Rica, and the handful of other places they seek out to improve their economic opportunities, but at the expense of Nicaraguans back home who are left with a shortage of doctors, engineers, and teachers.

On Thursday I helped lead the workshop on sexual health for women at Mujeres en Accion. We had about 9 women come, and I felt it went pretty well. They were mostly interested in learning about protection from STIs, so that is what we talked about. The interesting, and sad, thing (in response to a comment about the last post) is that these women are at high risk for STDs, yet most of them are married, so preaching abstinence isn't really practical. Why, then, are they so susceptible to sexually transmitted infections? Thanks to machismo (which exists throughout Latin America, but is especially prevalent in this country known as the "most unfaithful country in Latin America") means that a majority of men cheat on their wives. The male-dominated culture accepts it as normal, but of course women are held to a double standard. This double standard is so bad that if a woman, who assumes her husband is unfaithful, asks to use protection, she can be accused of being the unfaithful one, and with multiple kids to take care of, she isn't in a position to make demands of her husband. This isn't the case with all marriages, but with all too many. However, through organizations like Mujeres en Accion, which empower women to work together and support each other, women are finding ways to deal with the challenges of being female in this society, and realizing that they don't have to be passive victims to this system. Still, the struggle continues, and it is great to see the hope that women have when they come into our building.

Speaking of hope, last weekend I went back to Tegucigalpa, Honduras to visit the place you could call my second (or third? or fourth?) home. I can't believe that two years have passed since I lived there for a summer, teaching kindergarten at AFE. I toured AFE and marveled at the improvements, went to worship at the new building of Pastor Jeony's church, hung out with Rey, Elise, and Elijah, spent time my old friends Roger and Susan, and said hi to lots of (slightly older-looking) kids that I had built relationships with. I also baked cookies, ate frozen yogurt, did yoga, and felt cold- all things that I had not done for a long time. It was a wonderful, beautiful experience and I'm going to do everything I can to go back and spend Thanksgiving with them.

Ticos, Hippies, and Break Dancers

On the one hand, I have been too busy to write, but on the other, I don't really have any super important thought to express, so I'll give you a pistache (is that the word?) of what's been on my mind and in my agenda in the past week or two:

Last weekend I made a quick trip with Anna to Costa Rica to renew my 90-day tourist visa for Nicaragua (would you believe that 90 days has almost passed?) It was my first time physically walking across a border, and kind of exciting. It is also interesting to see the subtle differences that exist between two cultures, even when they are bordering countries. We observed a bit of the hippie culture on Saturday night when a group of university students performed on the streets, juggling fire and dancing barefoot. The whole town came out to watch and it was a cool sense of community. Later there was a youth break dancing performance in central park. I'm not sure if that's a normal occurrence, but we enjoyed watching it! I haven't seen too many hippies or break dancers in Nicaragua, but maybe I just don't know where to look.

In addition, we listened to our Peruvian hostel owner rant about stingy European tourists, had a cop give us a tour of an old army fortress, paid with coins that came in denominations up to 500, and ordered pizza, where we found out that albahaca is not, in fact, artichoke, as we had hoped, but basil. It was still good!

This Thursday at my volunteer place I'll be helping to facilitate a discussion for women on sexual health. The women I work with told me that lots of women in the neighborhood have misconceptions about birth control or STDs, and need some basic information on how to protect themselves, as well as how to have fewer children, because having too many kids quickly becomes a poverty trap. I've been studying a really nifty book they gave me called Nuestros Cuerpos, Nuestras Vidas (Our Bodies, Our Lives), which is specially written for Latina women around the world. I'm learning interesting things about the way that sex and femininity are viewed in Latin America. There are so many factors that influence whether or not a woman uses contraceptives or protection: cultural stigmas, lack of control in the relationship, or religious rules. I'm trying to prepare really well because it wil not be as simple as saying "take the pill," etc, but I hope that the discussion is helpful for them.

Well, those are my musings for now. It is very late and I should get to bed before I stop making sense (hopefully that moment hasn't already passed?)

Love to all!

10,000 words worth

This week has been busy with midterms, studying, etc, among other things, so I haven't written for awhile. But I finally got some pictures off of my friend Anna who I traveled to the coast with, so here are some of my favorites:



The ridiculous boats we rode for 2 hours to get to the town of Bluefields, after the 6 hour bus ride.


Waiting for the boat to leave. Keeping it cool as always.


Climbing up the church bell tower to get a view...


The view! With my travel buddy, Anna


The priest and church worker who showed us the bell tower and invited us to lunch the next day


Bluefields


(1233-1) We did lots of boat riding and got some good views from the water.


The infamous early morning marching band.


The group we traveled with for a bit, at the Survivor set!


This is from a day trip to the Pacific Coast, but I thought you might want to see a picture of Gabriel, the guy (of last posts's fame) who I've started dating (I suppose he also accounts for some of last week's busyness!)

What's your story?

“Dame un cordoba,” the little girl said, extending a tiny, dirty hand. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the 50 centavos I had, worth about 3 cents, and hoped she would believe me when I said it was all I could give her. It wouldn’t be a good idea to go digging through my purse on a busy street. I was with my friend Gabriel, who was taking me on a walking tour of the old part of Managua, but as I hurried to keep pace with him she followed me.

“It’s all I have,” I told her apologetically. I still wasn’t sure the best way to handle begging kids on the street, but I knew that dishing out money right and left wasn’t the best strategy. In Seattle I make a point of stopping and talking to homeless people, but I’m more cautious about talking to strangers in Managua. At least that’s how I rationalized it during our quick encounter. I suppose smiling and moving on was the easiest option.

She brushed her long brown hair off of her face and turned to Gabriel, again asking for a Cordoba, which is worth about 5 cents. He paused for a minute and pointed to the statue on the street corner where we were standing.

“If I give you money, you have to tell me a story about that statue over there.”

“What?”

“Tell me a story. I’m giving my friend here a tour of the city, and we want to hear a good story about the city. You can make it up if you want. Just be creative.”

Her face changed from surprise, to confusion, to delight, to mischief. “Um… my friend will tell you a story,” she offered. Just then another little girl walked up, about the same age, barefooted, holding a window squeegee which she was using to clean windows of cars stopped at the stoplight, in hopes that drivers would tip her a Cordoba or two. Window washers, vendors, and street performers account for the occupations of many of Nicaragua’s poor, who find creative, informal ways to make money.

“Tell me a story,” Gabriel said again. He sat down under the shadow of the statue, showing that he was in no hurry, and the girls shyly joined him, all giggles and grins, as he began to ask them questions to get conversation going.

I don’t think they ever got to telling us a story. But I do know that for a few minutes on a busy, dirty street corner in the middle of Managua, two little girls took a break from their weekend labor and got to be kids again- smiling, laughing, interacting with someone who showed interest in them. We both managed to find a few more cordobas to give them for lunch. I still don’t know the most socially just way to deal with giving money to begging kids. But I do know that I will not let myself make excuses again to treat them as anything less than the precious, beautiful children of God that they are.

The next time you are faced with a homeless person or just someone who needs a listening ear, I challenge you to sit down and learn something from them!

(Note: there are more new posts below)

Living History

Hello everyone! I’ve had quite a few thoughtful experiences this week, so lots to update on. So I started volunteering last Thursday at Mujeres en Accion, Women in Action. I think I’m going to like it. I spent the first half of the day chopping vegetables for the large meal which was distributed to women around the community. Though a simple task, I enjoyed cooking, which I haven’t done much of here, and used the time to get to know some of the women who work there. The second half of the day I spent helping women fill out applications for microloans. If you’re not familiar with microfinance, it’s the practice of giving small loans to women in poor areas (as research shows that women are more responsible with money, and the loans give them power that they would otherwise lack at home), so they may start businesses or improve on existing ventures. Credit is very hard to come by for poor people, but sometimes $100 is all that stands between a woman and a new sewing machine that will allow her to sew much faster and bring in $25 more per week. In general microfinance has shown to be a successful method of poverty alleviation and when women pay back loans, they are left with feelings of self-satisfaction, as well as the ability to generate additional income. I’ve studied microfinance quite a bit but have never seen it actually put into practice, so I enjoyed being a part of the process. The women all seem so hopeful to be trusted with the money and given a chance to improve life for their families.

In my free time (which is becoming less frequent) I’m reading a book, Dreams of the Heart, which is an autobiography of a famous woman in Nicaraguan history, Violeta Barrios de Chamorro. Most recently, she was president of Nicaragua beginning in 1990, but before that, she was married to Pedro Joaquin Chamorro, the resistance leader whose assassination in 1978 set the spark for the people of Nicaragua to join together to topple one of the longest and most oppressive dictatorships in Latin American history, the Somoza dynasty. Reading her account of the political rallies, boycotts, and secret meetings that occurred during those tense years of the escalation of the revolutionary movement has given me a new appreciation for living in Managua. Students at the UNAN, the school I attend, led several protests which were instrumental in garnering public support for the movement. Mrs. Barrio’s son attended a school in my neighborhood. As I read the names of places and people which were key to the movement, I identify with it because I’ve been to that place or have read that name on a memorial around the city.
The Managua of today is not as unified as it was during the glorious people’s victory of 1979. Poverty, inequality, and crime continue their downward path. Still, I can only hope that the people of this city take pride in the legacy that lives on and remember that one time, everybody managed to come together for something good.

In other news, I’ve generated a new list. (yes!) Knock-off brands are very popular in Nicaragua. They usually take the name of a famous American brand and use the same logo, but change a few letters. I don’t know if I’m not supposed to notice, but it is funny to see the names prominently displayed on products when they are obviously not the originals. Among my favorites:

Pizza Hot
Burguer Queen
On backpacks: Samsport; Joysport
On tee shirts: Holistar

See below for new pictures!

Fotografias

As requested....






Random sights from my neighborhood...






...and the nearby volcanoes in Granada! (Nicaragua is, afterall, the land of Lakes and Volcanoes!)

Picture Update

Here are a random collection of photos from the past month or so:


Our program group, out to dinner



At the Volcan Masaya- I think we were hiding them here, but we wore gas masks for protection from the fumes!



My school



Overlooking a street in front of my neighborhood, where I catch the bus



On a hike at a nature reserve



(If it looks like I only hang out with gringos, it's because they're the only ones who have cameras!) I will try to add more pictures as my friends get them to me.

The Real "Survivor: Nicaragua"

I just got back from a fascinating, and exhausting, trip to Nicaragua’s Atlantic coast. Sometimes known as “the other Nicaragua,” it is distinguished by its Caribbean culture, use of English creole more than Spanish, large Afro-descendent population, and remoteness. I traveled with a friend named Anna, an engineer from Boston who quit her job to volunteer in Nicaragua for a few months, and we also met up with a group of her acquaintances- half Nicaraguans and half North American expats- who live and work near Managua.

After 6 hours on the bus and 2 hours on a boat, we reached Bluefields, Nicaragua- a town not accessible by road. Though it’s on the coast, it’s mostly a port city so there are no beaches and therefore not many tourists (perfect!). Anna and I spent some time wandering around town and making random friends, such as a Honduran woman who had just opened a smoothie shop (don’t mind if I do!), and a priest who, after answering our plea to show us the view from the top of the bell tower, invited us to lunch the following day. I became familiar with, though cannot fully comprehend, the English Creole which is widely spoken by the area’s Afro-Nicaraguan population, a fascinating testament to the region’s history of English colonial rule, indigenous influence, and slavery. Though Creole is still widely spoken on the coast, a more recent influx of mestizos (the race of mixed European and indigenous people, which comes to most people’s minds when you think of Latino, or Hispanic, people), means that Spanish is spoken too. This caused a great deal of confusion as I would walk into a store and try to decide what language to speak- nearly everyone speaks Spanish, but many are more comfortable with English Creole and would give me inquisitive looks when I, an assumed English speaker, started a sentence with “buenas tardes…”

On a side note- Today is Independence Day in Nicaragua, though the real celebrations seem to have been in the days leading up to today. It is really quite amusing… well, mostly. All across the country lots of secondary school students are forced to don their uniforms and march in parades down the center of town where they don’t even try to hide the bored looks from their faces. We had heard them a little bit last week in various parades and rehearsals and things. That was all fine and dandy until Monday morning at approximately 3:30 AM. Anna and I were asleep (as you would expect most people to be) when blaring drum sounds in the streets jolted us into consciousness. Not just a couple of stray drums; a godforsaken MARCHING BAND was in the streets. I have no idea why they needed to practice before 4 in the morning but it went on for a good hour. Finally after 60 minutes of the same 8-beat rhythm we were able to sleep, before it resumed again.
At 7.
I didn’t even bother asking anyone in town about it because, if my other experiences in cross-cultural confusion have been any indication, the response would be something like “yeah, they were practicing music. So?” Such is life!

Later in the day, during normal daylight hours, we took a boat ride to nearby Pearl Lagoon, an even smaller town at the edge of a lagoon by the same name. Though Pearl Lagoon also had no beaches, our group of 12 rented a boat yesterday (with a driver who bore an uncanny resemblance to Ben Stiller) to take us around to the Pearl Cays, a series of small islands known for the white sand of Caribbean fame.

All of you Survivor fans will be jealous to hear that I walked on the island and the set where the show was filmed. Apparently filming just ended because everything is still set up, yet abandoned. I hate to burst your bubbles, but most of the rocks were made of plastic or plywood and the grass hut where all the tribal counciling takes place looked professionally constructed. We had a nice time swimming and relaxing in the water. Needless to say, I don’t really feel sorry for these "Survivors". With warm water, a disappointing number of permanent structures, and ample coconuts on the island, I maintain that the real “Survivor: Nicaragua should take place on the streets of Managua!

Here are my latest lists:

Signs I’m adapting to life in Nicaragua:
• I carry my own soap in my purse with me
• I don’t leave the house without my umbrella and raincoat
• My ears perk at the sound of a bell, which signals that the Eskimo ice cream vendor is near
• I push my way onto the bus like everyone else.
• Before entering a public bathroom, I dig through my change to have the required fee handy.

English words and expressions which I love but whose Spanish translations just don’t fully capture the essence of what I want to say, and which I really, really miss using:
• Random
• Awkward
• Creeper
• Oh smack! (though I have discovered a Nicaraguan gesture that I think conveys the same idea)

I will post pictures from this trip when Anna gets them to me... in the meantime, I'll try to catch up with some old pictures.

Love to all,
Kelly

My Nicaraguan cameo appearance!

These past couple days I’ve had a really unique experience. My theatre group performed a play at the National Theatre in Managua (one of the city’s few gems), and I got to be a part of it as an extra (I think there is a technical theatre term for that, but I don’t remember). I had fun and it was awesome to perform in such a beautiful venue! The play was a farcical comedy interpretation of a famous Nicaraguan legend called La Novia de Tola (the bride of Tola). It’s about a bride whose groom runs out on the wedding because his lover shows up, so the bride goes insane. I was a guest at the wedding and got to be all shocked as the priests started cursing and everyone freaked out because the groom left. The legend is one of the oldest and most famous in Nicaragua, and takes place in a small town called Tola in the southern part of the country. I know all this from a conversation with my host mom (with a little help from Wikipedia), who told me about how she had learned the same legend when she was little. This afternoon, however, when I was actually in the play, I hadn’t gotten the chance to read the script or see the first half of it, so I was fairly confused as to what was going on (e.g. who is the woman the groom runs after when he runs out of the wedding?), but I followed along and made it work. Now that I know the story, though, everything makes a lot more sense! Also, I wore a hideous bright red dress (the same color as my face when I put it on) and waaay to much make up, aided by an overeager volunteer… but I managed. Haha. Here is what the theatre looks like:



Hanging out in the green room with everyone, waiting to go on stage, was a fun way to hang out and get to know people, though I still have trouble following Nicaraguans’ quick, informal way of speaking when they are conversing amongst themselves. Usually when someone speaks directly to me, I understand, but today was a down day because I had trouble even with that. Oh well, it was humbling, and I’m glad for the exposure I’m getting. Hopefully those “I’m sorry, could you repeat that again?” instances are getting less frequent.

This weekend, three students from my classes invited me to travel with them to a nearby town, Masaya, where one of them, named Erick, lives. It is supposed to be a neat town- the center of the artisan trade- and there is a lagoon there which I’ve heard is beautiful. We are going to hang out with his family and swim in the lagoon, and just enjoy some time in nature. Overall, being the new girl and foreigner that I am, I’m just really stoked that a group of Nicaraguans invited me to do something with them! Hopefully we become better friends on the trip.

In other words, today I bought a pair of Bermuda shorts (they are like capris that end above the knee, if you are not familiar!). This is a big deal because I realized it is the one Nicaraguan fashion -which Nicaraguans actually wear- that doesn’t suffocate me (like jeans) and that I don’t find ugly (like jean skirts). I plan on wearing them nearly every day. I may need to buy more.

Well, those are all my musings for now. I hope summer, or your respective season, in Seattle/ wherever you are is wrapping up nicely. I know it is supposedly really cold up north, but I am slightly jealous. Sorry I don't have any more personal pictures to put up... but I will try to get a hold of some soon. Much love to everyone!

Your friendly neighborhood Chela

Maybe it’s just me, but I seem to have a sign on my head that, anytime I’m alone, says “come up and talk to me!” When I wait for my theatre group to start on Tuesday and Thursday nights I’ve found it peaceful to sit at the outdoor volleyball court and watch the team practice, along with lots of other random students who make use of the space to toss balls around or just to hang out. And, without fail, every time somebody has come up and started talking to me, either to practice English (it's assumed that chelas [white girls] automatically speak English) or just to find out who I am and what a blond girl is doing at the UNAN. While I tend to have my guard up while walking around the city and try not to invite conversation, on campus I feel quite a bit safer so I usually play along and have met some interesting people. Last week I talked to a high school student from Mexico who now lives in Nicaragua, and we both talked about learning Nicaraguan slang and how different the accent is from Mexican Spanish. Later I met a guy who invited me to church, only to find out it was the church I already go to. I guess we just haven’t seen each other, which is funny because he is black (from the Atlantic coast) and as I am white, you’d think we would both stand out among so many mestizos, but I guess not. Well, now I have a new friend at church, and not surprisingly, he is eager to practice his English with me!

That goes along with a discovery I have made about the culture here which took some getting used to, but which I am fond of. When I meet a Nicaraguan it is not uncommon that on that same day they’ll ask for my phone number and ask me to do something with them. There is a certain openness and vulnerability about it that I like, as if they are eager to get to know me and it doesn’t matter if they already have a set group of friends. While it is a little uncomfortable at times (what if this person becomes really clingy or a phone stalker?), it so far has turned out okay and certainly makes it easier to make friends. I realize that I, by nature and as a product of my culture, am slow to take that step when I meet someone new. I usually figure that I have enough friends or am too busy, or I am just too shy to make myself vulnerable and say “hey, can I get your phone number and would you like to hang out some time?” right off the bat. A lot of people I’ve met don’t seem to let that bother them, and even college students are significantly less busy than students in the US. Most don’t have jobs and aren’t involved in 8 extracurriculars, so there are fewer excuses to use to distance themselves from other people.

A couple of highlights of this past week:
- I found a place where I am going to start volunteering. It is an organization called Mujeres en Accion (Women in Action), and it was started by a group of women in a poor barrio of Managua who offer different programs aimed at empowering women. I am going to meet with them for the first time on Thursday to talk about what I’ll be doing and work out the details, but it sounds like a great place.
- I discovered a place right behind my morning bus stop that sells fresh fruit smoothies for 50 cents. Obviously this is a big deal! It was perfect timing because mangoes, my previous fruit staple, just went out of season and now I have found a replacement for my fruit cravings (besides popsicles, that is).
-Yesterday Sarah and I went to the beach with our friend Gabriel, who is Nicaraguan, and a friend of his named Anna, who is from Boston. The beach had some amazing rock formations on the shore that were super smooth from years of being beaten by the waves, and it had some neat tide pools. It was generally just good for my soul to be out of the city and cool to think that even though I am far from home, I was swimming in the same ocean that I grew up around (though it was about 25 degrees warmer).

A time for it all

Un tiempo para plantar, y un tiempo para cosechar…
Un tiempo para destruir, y un tiempo para construir,
Un tiempo para llorar, y un tiempo para reír…
Un tiempo para esparcir piedras, y un tiempo para recogerlas,
Un tiempo para abrazarse, y un tiempo para despedirse…
Un tiempo para callar, y un tiempo para hablar…

A time to plant, and a time to uproot…
A time to destroy and a time to build,
A time to cry, and a time to laugh…
A time to scatter stones, and a time to gather them,
A time to hug, and a time to refrain,
A time to be quiet, and a time to speak

-Ecclesiastes 3 (with special thanks to Simon and Garfunkel)

When I chose to come to Nicaragua I knew I was signing on to an experience that would be one of the more difficult options for study abroad, because I wanted a challenge, and so far I haven’t been disappointed. I am realizing that in the midst of cultural adjustment there is a time for everything. A time to be frustrated about classes and a time to enjoy doing my homework. A time to not understand a word and a time to speak awesome Spanish. A time to stay out late dancing and a time to lounge around the house for hours. A time to miss home and a time to be busy and forget to miss it. A time to meet tons of new people and a time to Skype with old friends. A time to get familiar with Nicaraguan music and a time to retreat with the comfort of Lady Gaga.

It is a question of figuring out how long I let myself retreat, hang back, or complain before I push myself to get out there and get moving again. Which I think applies to life in any country.

In my “go” times, which are becoming more frequent, I have been having some great conversations. Even though I have experienced this in other travels, I have been amazed to remember just how aware people are of the United States here and how much US policies, news, and culture are on people’s minds because they’re so affected by them. It’s easy to lose sight of this living in the country that is in everyone else’s spotlight, but here in Nicaragua it’s blatantly obvious. Almost everyone I’ve asked or talked to here has a good friend, if not a family member, living in the United States. Everyone knows about the Arizona immigration law, and lots of people know where Seattle is. Everyone in my history class knew that we got our independence in 1776 and that George Washington was our first president (granted, they are history majors). They know this because it’s impossible to ignore. The US was the country who turned over the National Guard to the first Somoza dictator, (the first of a family who ruled ruthlessly for over 40 years), financed the contra war, built lots of houses as part of the Alliance for Progress (including the one I live in), and made English the Language to Know. People know both positive and negative things about the country I call home, but sometimes I worry that people (such as history students) associate me too closely with the bad things they’ve heard about the US, and I hope they realize that, while I am proud to be an American, I am not the government and I did not personally install their last dictator. Lots of people are surprised to find out that I too think the Arizona law is discriminatory, or that Western countries have interfered too much in Latin America, and that my professors in the US are just as critical, if not more so, of things my country has done in the past. I hope that if they make assumptions about me for my nationality, they assume some good things too.

Also, lots of Nicaraguans’ information about daily life in the US comes from TV and other equally as realistic and reliable sources. On Thursday I was talking to a lady who said that she would never want to live in the US because it is dangerous, because she had seen on the Discovery Channel that there are lots of crimes there, and she prefers Nicaragua because that kind of stuff doesn’t happen here. I had to laugh as I explained to her that my experience has been very different from that, but I suppose it depends on your perspective.

These are things that have been milling around my mind. Now for your viewing pleasure I will include my latest list:

Things that are harmful to my health (according to my host mom):
1. Walking around barefoot (the cold floor will hurt my bones)
2. Eating raw carrots (I’ll have no teeth by the time I’m her age)
3. Washing my hair every day (ok, I’ve heard this one before. But if you knew how hot it was here, you’d understand…)

Small Triumphs

These past couple days, things have really begun to click here, which has been a big boost to my confidence. Tonight I went to my first meeting of the UNAN Experimental Theatre group. Naturally, I arrived at 6 o’clock on the dot. And naturally, no one else did. While it’s normal for people to be late, it’s also normal for meetings to not happen at all, (i.e. class), and of course I always miss the memo but everyone else mysteriously knows not to show up. So at 6:10 or so, I began to wonder why not a single student had trickled in. Suddenly, about 6:13, a whole slew of students burst in. Where the secret before-party was, I may never know, but I was glad that people were there.

I immediately met a guy named Byron who was also there for the first time (he looked a lot like Ryan Rodriguez- weird, huh?). People were pretty friendly- theatre kids tend to be extroverts, which can’t hurt. If there’s one advantage to being the only chela in the class or the only one speaking with an accent, it’s that people know I’m new and generally try to be accommodating. There were about 20 or so students and we did some physical warm-up exercises (including some awkward partner massages…) as well as some improv. I haven’t done theatre in a long time and have missed it, so it is good to be getting back in the groove, although the Spanish element throws a curveball once in awhile. But, if I don’t understand something, that’s what improvising is all about, right?

I’ve been making friends in other areas as well- with neighbors, people from church, and friends of friends. I’ve connected with a few of them this week and made plans for the weekend, so I am slowly regaining that feeling of being busy and having plans, a feeling which I have come to love and cherish in my college life. Even though I have always had quite a bit of self-confidence and am definitely not shy, I wasn’t sure how I would do with making friends in an environment where for the first time in my life, I am completely removed from every one of my previously existing social networks. Arriving in Nicaragua without knowing a soul has definitely put my extroversion to the test, and finally I feel like my efforts are paying off and I’m getting in the groove of things.

Still, I have been missing my friends at home a lot. You guys are the best and I have been realizing that having friends as wonderful as you is pretty rare. And my family… you guys are pretty great too! I’m praying for you 

In other news, I have taken to creating lots of lists… funny quotes, cultural noticings, etc. The latest one I’m working on is: Things that distinguish Nicaragua (according to Nicaraguans). So far I have:

1. The safest country in Central America
2. The most phrases and words unique to the country
3. The most vulgar form of Spanish, anywhere

Here are some pictures from our trip last weekend to Rio San Juan, a beautiful river and nature reserve on the southern border with Costa Rica:



We took a 12-passenger plane on a small domestic airline. These were our boarding passes- yes, they were made of bright pink wood. For some reason, I found that hilarious. This is Shea, me, Sarah, Gaby, and Mary.


This is Gaby, our assistant program director, who is 22 and has become a friend of mine.



We went to a chocolate making cooperative and got to make our own chocolate! I am still eating it. This is Sarah, Shea, Mary, and me.



Sarah and I joined in on a pick up volleyball game in town

My friend Shea and I



My friends Mary and David (the lone man in our group)

the Fi-YES-ta de Santo Domingo

Nicaraguans sure know how to party, and it seems like religious occasions provide the best excuse. Yesterday was the culmination of a 10-day celebration of the Santo Domingo. I couldn't really get a straight answer out of anyone as to the real significance of the holiday, but everybody takes the opportunity to take a day off, go out into the streets, play loud instruments, set off even louder rockets, and drink lots of rum (the national beverage of choice). Some people cover their bodies in black oil and then there is a contest to see who can be the first one to climb up a tall pole, while covered in oil. They all run through the packed streets like crazy so you better wear clothes that you can afford to have ruined when one of them brushes up against you. I took these pictures off of the online newspaper, so you probably won't find me in them (but let me know if you do!)



Sarah and I met up with our neighbor, Luis, and a group of his friends. It was fun to hang out with a group of Nicaraguans who were eager to tell us about the way they celebrate the day. We spent hours wandering around the packed city streets, listening to music (lots of guys walk around with brass instruments, it turns out), dancing, and just having a good time. Since there is no one my age in my house, it is nice to know there are people in my neighborhood who I'm becoming friends with. Understanding conversational, vulgar Nicaraguan Spanish, spoken among friends, is sure different than speaking with adults, or even young people at church. It is one of the things that makes making friends difficult, and intimidating, even I will have to work up to it, I guess.



I am getting more savvy about riding the buses and have made some interesting cultural observations in the process. Even though Americans are supposed to be the rude and pushy ones when we travel, when I am waiting to get on the bus I have been the one who stands back, waiting for some kind of line to form, while old ladies physically push people aside to be the next one on. I'm realizing though, that that kind of attitude really is necessary here. Today I missed at least 5 buses while waiting to get to school because before they even stop there is a mad rush to meet it at wherever it might choose to pull over, and they are so filled to the brims that even though people are packed in like sardines, not everyone gets on. When the door can't even close because there is some guy hanging onto the bar with half of his body outside of the bus, you know it is full. Otherwise, you just hop on and hang on tight.

I don't mean to be frank, but...

I've noticed that Nicaraguans tend to be a lot more frank than North Americans. You're either offended by it or you find humor in it. I've chosen the latter. My host mom exemplifies this perfectly. Some of my favorite quotes:

"You're probably going to get fat while you're here, because you seem to eat when you're stressed." (note: today she changed her mind: "you eat a lot but you're not going to get fat because you run everyday")

"Your friend Sarah is more beautiful than you, but you're the more extroverted one and because of that, you attract friends more than she does." (I'll take it).

(After going to the Sandinista rally, which she firmly opposed) "You're not feeling well? Hm, maybe you should call Daniel (the president, a member of the Sandinista party) and he can cure you."

Or, my Spanish teacher: "I don't know, Sarah, I think the only one who's having problems with this assignment is you."

hahaha.

Gangsters, Grease, and... Jesus

Classes finally began on Tuesday, and I was more than ready. I am a little bit flawed in the fact that I usually enjoy homework and really like writing research papers. In the past few weeks I've found myself with a little more free time than I'm used to, which has led to a little bit of boredom. I know you're not supposed to say that when you study abroad, but when you go from being a full time student who works part time and does ministry, to taking one Spanish class, life slows down to an uncomfortable pace. Not that I don't have plenty to think about adjusting to a new culture, but I think I will adjust better when I have places to be, people to meet, and a bit more of a sense of purpose. Being in real class finally is a good start, but I'm also excited to start volunteering (I need to figure out where), and getting involved in some activities. I'm thinking about joining the theatre group. Theatre in Spanish might be difficult, but theatre kids are usually really friendly, if not odd, which will probably remind me of my own friends :)

Besides the core course just for students in our program, which is about the history and social development of Nicaragua, all of my classes are with Nicaraguan students. I picked 3 that are all part of the history major, so I have the same people in all of my classes because here, students in the same year and major take all of their classes together. So my class titles are (ready?): Seminar on the Latin American Reality, Seminar on the Central American Reality, and Seminar on the National Reality. There is no better place to learn about Central and Latin American politics, history, and social problems than here in Nicaragua, so I think I made good choices. The "seminar" in the title means that participation is a big part of the grade and we do lots of discussions and debates, and the classes are small, which is exactly what I'm used to.

I ride the regular bus to school every day, which brings up another funny irony of life here. The buses definitely give off a somewhat rough image: nobody smiles, everybody holds their things tight and watches their pockets, and people are packed in like pigs to the point where getting off at a stop, if you're not close to the exit, sometimes requires that you literally pry people apart from each other and squeeze through... you better hope you're skinny. Yet just as you put your "don't mess with me" face on and try not to smile, an American song will come on the speakers, like "Hopelessly devoted to you" or "You're the one that I want" from Grease. On top of that, they are all decked out with religious slogans and paintings. Today as I was trying to avoid a guy's intimidating stare, I looked up to see a painting of Jesus with a shepherd's outfit holding a lamb. Who decides these things?

Hope you are all well. Much love!

Volcanoes and Churches

Last weekend we took a field trip as a group to Granada, a beautiful colonial town on the shores of the huge Lake Nicaragua. We also hiked up Volcan Mombacho while there. Here are some pictures. Unfortunately, my camera got stolen, so I won't be able to take my own pictures anymore, but these are some that a friend took.




To get up the volcano we rode in this beater bus which reminded me of a cheesy Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland, so we tried to act really scared.











We took a boat ride around the isletas of lake Nicaragua and ate a fresh fish lunch on a little restaurant out on an island.

Livin' la vida Managua

Here are some examples of the charms, frustrations, and ironies of life in Managua:

There is trash all over the streets but in any given school, home, or shopping center, the floors get mopped at least once an hour. In my own house they leave discarded meat out on the counter for the flies, but every single piece of furniture gets dusted every morning.

Lots of women make a living by going door to door selling off brands of clothing and shoes for cheap. Yesterday a woman came with a duffel bag full of sandals, was invited in, and stayed for about an hour showing Dona Mirna and Karla everything she had, which led to them each buying several pairs. It was part business exchange, part social hour, which I found nice.

Until Friday, the UNAN still hadn't provided us with schedules of when classes were to be held, even though they are starting tomorrow. We had to jump through major hoops to access the schedules too!

Packaged food and produce at the grocery store is just as expensive as in the States, but food purchased from street vendors is really cheap.

My beloved Fuji apples are expensive and hard to find fresh, but I can get mangoes from a street market near my house for about 12 cents each. My plan is to make mangoes my new food staple. I wonder what they taste like with peanut butter…

All day, every day, men walk through the streets with pushcarts of Eskimo brand ice cream products... popsicles, ice cream cups, fudgesicles… needless to say, I’m becoming a regular customer.

A common phrase in Nicaragua is “adios,” which, besides being used as a farewell, is used as a greeting in passing because it literally means “to God.” Sometimes as I walk by someone sitting in front of their house and they want to be nice, they’ll say in English “goodbye,” not realizing that goodbye does not, in fact, also mean “hello” in English.

Men love gawking and making kissing sounds at both foreign and Nicaraguan women, but especially those of us with blond hair. I hate it. I have to laugh, though, when they try to show off their heavily accented English with phrases that come out sounding like “I loaf you,” and “be ma goorl fren.”

More Pictures

On the way to Leon, we came upon a little league baseball game (baseball is the national sport of Nicaragua, not soccer, as it turns out!)

Here are more pictures from our beach adventure...

To the Beach!

Last week Sarah and I realized that the best way to enjoy smoggy, noisy Managua was to get out of it as often as possible. While I have found some charms in a city about which guidebooks only say things like, “the best thing about Managua is that there’s lots of cool things surrounding it,” or “Managua is tolerable if you absolutely can’t avoid it,” the real beauty of Nicaragua lies beyond, and Nicaraguans are eager to tell visitors about everything their country has to offer. So last weekend we went to Las Peñitas, a laid-back beach town on the Pacific coast. The three-leg bus journey was an adventure in itself and raised my confidence in my ability to get around the city (I didn’t get lost, thankyouverymuch). The waves there were some of the largest I had ever seen, as the beach was very steep and made for some great curls. I spent hours bodysurfing and just trying to stay on my feet in the midst of monstrous currents. The water was refreshing after four hours of straight sweating on the buses.

We stayed the night in a hostel right on the beach which was full of backpackers and locals alike. I met a guy from Greenlake, Seattle! While I generally try to avoid places where other Americans congregate, it is fun to meet other travelers, exchange advice, and enjoy the shared sense of adventure and struggle that comes from traveling in another country. We also met a local guy named Fiel who hung out with us for awhile and showed us where to go dancing and took us to a small fish stand at the end of the beach where we ate a delicious and cheap fish dinner. It wasn’t really a restaurant and I wouldn’t have even known it was there if he hadn’t been with us because the power was out and there was simply one couple cooking fish under a tarp. We sat down at one of the two tables and, with the help of a flashlight and some candles, ate a somewhat unconventional but tasty dinner with stray dogs yelping at our sides.

Back in Managua, we have one week left of our intensive Spanish class (which turns out to be not so intense) and then we’ll start regular school at the UNAN. In the meantime, I’ll keep busy discovering things to enjoy about Managua!

God found me in Nicaragua!

I just had a really neat experience that I would love to share. If you spend any time with me, you know that I am very involved with my church in Redmond and that that community and faith are a big part of my life. So it was important to me that I find a church home in Managua. I did a Google search for Christian churches in Nicaragua (a predominantly Catholic country) and it led me to the Facebook page of a Christian student group at the very university I’ll be studying at. After a series of desperate-sounding posts on the group’s page (“Hi, I’m an exchange student and wanting to know when you meet.. and where… and any other information you have… thanks!”), I was led to their meeting tonight.

I went alone, because no one else in our group really goes to church and as it is, I like pushing the limits of my comfort zone. I have to say as I got out of the cab (don’t worry, I used a cab driver that I trust who was recommended to me!) I was slightly terrified. As much time as I spend with Spanish-speaking adults at the Esperanza service at church, I don’t interact with people my age very much, and when a group of your peers has a different culture and first language than you, it is very intimidating. Luckily, the guy I’d been in contact with knew who I was before I said anything (gee, do I stand out?) and we went right into worship so there wasn’t too much awkward small talk. They had me introduce myself and people seemed excited to have me- I don’t think there are many exchange students at all at the UNAN.

We started singing and I knew the second song, which I was happy with. But then a couple songs later, we sang my absolute favorite Spanish worship song- La Niña de tus ojos. There is a part that says, translated, “you saw me when no one else saw me, you loved me when no one else loved me.” I was overcome with emotion in a physical way that I didn’t expect at all, and it was amazingly comforting to hear that voice when I am so far away from anyone and anything familiar. It was a great confirmation that this was a place I should come back to, as if God was saying “you’re gonna be okay here.”