“Yea, I am totally going start a blog, update it all the time, show you all my pictures and things I am doing—DON’T WORRY GUYS”- me six months ago.
So here I am, as I promised so many of you. I have been living in Nicaragua for SIX MONTHS (whhattt?) now. I promise I will change with my newfound dedication to blogging.
You want excuses? The best I’ve got is Spanish keyboards are hard when you didn’t actually set up the blog in the United States. Or that you actually don’t have any idea on how to set up this whole blog thing…
A TON has happened in the past six months, and here I am to share with you all what I can remember at the moment. This is what is most likely to be my longest blog post EVER.
Meet Nica 65. We are a group of mas o menos 40 people, now livin’ la vida Nica…. spread out across the entire country.
The arrival.
If you can remember back to March, when I excitedly left my winter coat behind in my dad’s truck to journey to the tropical paradise that is now my home.
We arrived and stayed in the Best Western for orientation weekend. Do not be fooled…
Nica Best Western=Paradise.
We greeted, we ate, we saw folkloric dances, we ate and I said good-bye to my double nose piercing. Here I am, in a new country, loosing five years of my identity. I regret that last minute trip to Evolved prayin' there wouldn't be a line to be a good girl and take them out like they said. It did not happen without a fight. I mean, imagine 3 girls huddled in a bathroom all trying to put the studs back in. That was, until, the stud went too far up my nose and we used tweezers with wishful thinking to retrieve it. Welcome to the bonds of the Peace Corps fam…. where people you have known for 72 hours are willing to stick their fingers up your nose for you.
R.I.P. my cool-hip-double-nose-pierced-self (that is, until I visit the states).
For training, we were split up into groups of 4 or 5 trainees based on language levels. Then we packed our things into old ambulances and were sent to various pueblos to begin training. I got the tourist beauty of Catarina, Masaya.
They love ice cream. They love sitting in the park late at night. We obviously became fast friends.
Hint: Where Social Work major learns and becomes business expert.
Monday through Friday…hours and hours of Spanish.
And lastly, we held two community groups. One was a movie night in the Casa de Cultura…and the other was a volleyball tournament. Both of which I am still wondering how we managed to pull off.
And also the introduction to the real Nicaragua. Bombas at every hour. Band marches before 7 am. Band marches after 11 pm. Noise. Riding on buses where the motto is one more person can always fit.
Get back to me when you ride rush-hour to the capital for a training hanging on with one hand out the door praying you will not sweat to the point your hand slips and you become road kill.
Everyday is a new day, a new experience, a unique interaction, another chance to embarrass yourself in a culture not your own and something to look forward to.
In Peace Corps Nicaragua, we are required to live with a host family. My host family during training was awesome, and I could not have asked for a better family to transition to a new culture with.
Big family. HUGE. But awesome. People were always in and out (because cousins, aunts, sisters and everyone else all lived within a 500 feet radius). I always had someone to talk to, a baby to play with.
5:00 AM Wake Up Call.
I woke-up with company in my bed. I had forgotten to lock my door that night and by morning there where chickens and puppies on my floor, and a hen in bed with me. I was frozen for a few moments, but then I stood up on my bed and started jumping around trying to get it off. After it jumped off my bed, I had to use a chair to get all of the visitors out of my room.
During training, we are split up into new groups for one week to visit a volunteer to see what the “real world” of a volunteer is....
The week began with the six-hour bus ride to Tracy’s site. Highlight includes conversations with the cobrador (guy who collects money on the bus) about the “myth” (cue Riply’s Believe It or Not) of the MICA.
Micas. Women who transform into monkeys at night and jump from roof to roof. Legend has it that they are women who are jealous and will sneak into your backyard at night and steal your pots and pans…and your laundry hanging on the line.
Except this legend is a reality to many. Countless stories of Micas came after practicum week of ones they have witnessed or someone they know has.
And every time I left the room, I could always here whispers…
“She doesn’t believe...”
We visited a volunteer. We shadowed a few classes. We hiked. We ate fresh coconuts from Roger’s tree. I had the best chicken tacos of my life. I ate Sopa de Rondon. A coastal cuisine. A fish head and carbohydrates to keep you full for days.
Did I say a fish head?
They really know how to make a girl feel special. At the end of my training, my family threw me a despedida (going away party) fully equipped with ice cream, repochetas and a redheaded piñata. Did I mention you get blindfolded and have to dance in order to hit the piñata?
They showed me the Nica way to have a Birthday. You go to a two-year-olds birthday and see piñatas bigger than the birthday girl. They blindfold you, and, again, you dance in front of 60 people.
They greeted me with smiles and laughter at every meal…and all the other times throughout the day…
Training was intense…but this made it easy……
After 13 weeks of training, we all spiffed up and put our best clothes on. We took the same oath as the President takes when he swears in, and we committed to the next two years working in our sites.
The day after swearing-in. The day we all said good-bye and went off to our sites.
Getting to San Juan Del Rio Coco.
I got on the first bus to Esteli, express and all. When I got to Esteli, it was time to switch terminals and on to my next bus. Little did I know, it being a Saturday, is the university students go to Esteli for classes. Even luckier, I was waiting, with them, for the last bus to my site. We had no idea.
So the health volunteer from my group, whose site is an hour away from mine, strategized. She would get our suitcases on the top of the bus and I would get us seats (LOL). The bus came and a sea of people shoved to get in the bus…. from all entrances…needless to say WE DID NOT GET SEATS. Like, I could barely even get on the bus after all of them did. But ya know the motto; one more person can ALWAYS fit on the bus.
So winding up the mountains we went, standing, barely even able to put our feet on the ground. I stood for the first 3 hours of the trip. Did I forget to mention I dehydrated myself too for the long trip…and hadn’t eaten a thing since breakfast? Then, it started raining…and I mean pouring. LIKE WHY DOES IT ALWAYS RAIN WHEN I MOVE, every year since the Maynard residence? All I could do was think, do not pass out… and your digital camera and passport are soaked up there on top of the bus. Finally, some guy let me sit.
I arrived to my site. They threw my suitcases down to me (magically not wet…thank you plastic gods) and my new host sister sprinted to meet me with an umbrella. My new host mum thankfully made me dinner too.
Rio Coco is in the northern part of the country. It is mountainous and beautiful. Full of agriculture, and mostly cultivating coffee (cue the Starbucks logo’s that can be found in several parts of my site…who would have guessed), this part of Nicaragua is one of a kind. The climate is “fresco…” or not as hot as other parts. Coffee is abundant, culture is real and the views are incomparable.
Adjusting to Life in Site.
I am still living with a host family, although significantly smaller. I live with my host mom, who is something similar to a vice principal in my main school, and her two daughters of 7 and 9 years old. I hang out with the two girls a lot; we bake, eat choco-bananas, practice English, play board games and they attempt to teach me to dance.
I work in three communities, the community of San Juan and two smaller communities outside of the municipality. I enjoy moving about, but I sometimes do not enjoy the rides to the pueblos.
Picture it.
American girl gets on ruta once a week at 6:00 AM to go to rural site.
Ruta=The truck used in the states to transfer animals…only with benches and no gate to lock us in.
American girl’s stomach cannot handle the motion or the fumes of the ride. So, every time I go to this site…upon arrival…I dash out of the ruta and to the side of the dirt path and just vomit. I vomit. Literally. And always a group of farmers, machetes in hand, are walking to work and spot me. They always stop half amused/half worried/ half unsure of what to do. Let me tell you, this pueblo does not get a lot of foreign visitors. I am convinced if I do not pull it together in the next few months, they will be convinced all Americans vomit after exciting vehicles.
Goal 2…am I right?
My day-to-day life includes moving from community to community, giving classes. I co-teach in 3 different high schools with 6 different counterparts with 14 different sections in total. I teach fourth and fifth year students in the course of Entrepreneurship. I also co-plan with each teacher individually each week and discuss new strategies and materials to integrate into the lessons.
Over 70% of this country is younger than 30, and a large portion of the country own businesses and will own businesses in the future.
Sometimes I think to myself…is this real life? Am I actually walking into a classroom everyday giving lessons on business administration? Did I miss my real calling?
Outside of the classroom.
When I am not in the classroom, I find myself involved in other projects.
Thus far, I have judged 3 different English singing competitions. It’s a real deal here. People practice and groups can advance to the national English Singing competition. It’s like the spelling bee.
So, I walk into the school, the English teacher walks up to me and put’s a judging sheet in my hand. Here are some highlights:
I live in a humble and typical Nicaraguan home. I use a latrine. I take bucket showers that are more cold than you can imagine. I wash my clothes by hand. I cook for myself. Avocados are less than a quarter here…and I could not be happier. Coffee is abundant and so are bananas. The best days are when I am gifted these from a neighbor or a friend. My French press is a busy machine.
In the first few months, you only get a limited amount of time out of site.
Highlights Include:
Matagalpa.
First month in site, only one night out of site. So what do you do?
You travel 5 hours and 2 departments over for a day reunited with friends, ice cream that could compete with Jenny’s, a baseball teams win with celebrations and a pretty waterfall to hike.
Tourist hotspot. It’s basically America. So where else do you spend Fourth of July?
Second month in site, two nights out-of-site. So what do you do? You travel 9 hours and 3 busses to see your fellow Americans, go to the beach, dance, find an IPA and the street vending hot-dog cart you have been waiting for. You celebrate America in a sunset boat ride with locals.
When you only get paid once a month and the closest bank is a little over 3 hours away. So what do you do? You get on the 5:00 am bus to make sure you have enough time to go to that fachenta coffee shop with espresso and ice, as well as the supermarket with overpriced peanut butter.