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