Hello from Managua! A quick little update on my life here.
Tomorrow, we head to the Carribbean Coast (I know, right? I lead such a hard life here...) to learn about the Autonomous Atlantic Region of Nicaragua. As you might be able to figure out from the name, the region is autonomous, and Nicaraguans keep telling me that the Atlantic coast is "a completely different world." I´m not sure what that means, and nobody seems to want to tell me if that´s a good thing or a bad thing, but I guess I´ll soon find out? In true SIT fashion, we know nothing about what we´re about to experience... but we leave at 5:30 am tomorrow morning, and return on Sunday. In the meantime, no internet access.
This past weekend, I travelled with a few other students to the colonial town of Granada. There is much that I could write about this experience, but let´s just say that the day began at this wonderful little breakfast place where I had (wait for it) CHOCOLATE CHIP PANCAKES. Best meal of my life. We then indulged ourselves as true tourists and went on a "canopy tour" in the Mombacho rainforest. For those of you who don´t know what this is (as I didn´t until I was in the bus on our way there), it is essentially a series of zip lines through the trees of a rainforest. (Actually, for those of you who watched The Office this past week, it is what landed Toby in the hospital for five weeks while he was in Costa Rica. I didn´t find this out until Sunday when we arrived back in Managua and all crowded around someone´s laptop to watch the season premiere... and I almost fell off my chair when I saw that because I had just done it 24 hours earlier.) Anyways, I´m not going to lie... it was absolutely terrifying. At times, we were at least a hundred feet in the air. I really had no idea what I was getting into. On the bus ride over there, someone found out that I was scared of heights and said, "Well good for you for doing this, then!" I asked what she meant, and she said, "You do realize what a canopy tour is, don´t you?" ...It was then that I found out I´d be spending the next two hours of my life hanging from ropes in the jungle. Perhaps the most terrifying part, however, was that our little Nicaraguan guides only had two rules for us... and one was "to have fun." That should have been my first clue that this wasn´t a good idea. But we survived, and lived to tell about it. (Actually, when we told Aynn about it today, she said, "YOU DID WHAT!?" ...Apparently, it´s against the rules of the program. Who knew?)
Other Managua news:
-I finally found/visited the neighborhood bakery... Let´s just say, it´s a good thing I didn´t choose my study abroad country based on their baked goods. But I do enjoy the pan dulce (bread with a little sugar sprinkled on top).
-I shared the rice krispy treats I received in the mail (thanks fam fam) with my host family. I think they liked them, but mostly they were just really intrigued by them. They asked me how to make them, and I tried to describe it to them, but that was a trainwreck. As it turns out, "marshmallow" doesn´t really translate to Spanish, so I had to leave that ingredient out, and ultimately left them feeling very confused as to how to cereal and butter turns into THAT.
-My house has rats (shoutout to Courtney). I still have yet to see them, but I can hear them scampering across our tin roof. At night, when I lie in bed, I try to decide if my mosquito net would catch a rat if one were to fall through a crack in my roof.
Ok, that´s all I have time for! More to come when I get back from the Caribbean. Love to all!
Monday, September 29, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008
"A stone in your shoe..."
We were sitting in class the other day, and someone asked Aynn (our director) a question that they had been wrestling with, related to the people of Nicaragua and their suffering. This person wanted to hear what we all wanted to hear: an answer, or an explanation, or something at all to satisfy our confusion of why things are the way they are.
Instead, she responded, "You have a stone in your shoe."
We were all confused, but she went on to explain: when you come across something that forces you to think in a different way, or when you stumble upon something that doesn´t sit well with you, it´s like getting a stone stuck in your shoe.
Something in me clicked when she said this... And I realized that what she was trying to say is that we are MEANT to wrestle with these questions. And that, rather than fish out the stone, we are meant to walk with it, feeling its impression on our foot every step of the way... and maybe even limping a little bit because it´s there.
So here´s the stone in my shoe.
I left "the campo" one week ago, and ever since, I haven´t been able to stop thinking about that community. As I´ve already described, it was a wonderful, beautiful place. My host family understood life in a way that I´m not sure I ever will. But I have had to be careful not to romanticize it. It may have been the most beautiful place I have ever seen, and I may have had some of the most uniquely wonderful experiences of my life there, but at the end of the day, they lead difficult lives. "La vida es dura" is an expression you hear often in Nicaragua, literally translating to "life is hard." And believe me, it IS- especially in these communities. They don´t have access to clean water, they don´t have access to a market, few have electricity, and some lack decent (durable) shelter.
During day three of my experience in el campo, I was going absolutely stir-crazy. I satisfied myself by going for a walk, but during this walk, all I could think about was the complete contrast between my reality and that of my rural host family. All I could do was wonder, "what is going on in the world today?" I wanted to hear about the United States, about my family, about Richmond, about home. I wanted to hear what was going on in MANAGUA, for crying out loud. And I wanted to know why it mattered to me, and why none of this holds the slightest significance for my host family.
I wrote about "choque cultural" in my last blog, and explained it by all of my bizarre experiences. And believe me, they were all BIZARRE, and each one brought me joy and frustration and plenty of laughs. But if I´m being honest, the greatest culture shock of all was how completely and totally isolated and self-sustaining this community was. In a world that is becoming increasingly interdependent, this rural village in northern Nicaragua has somehow remained entirely isolated and independent. To such an extent that, while I was there, I began to wonder how much money my family had... and then I had to stop myself and wonder if they even HAVE money. I had to ask myself, what do they spend money on? Almost everything they have is self-produced. This very thought blows my mind.
And then I got to thinking about poverty. And what is poverty? In one of my earlier entries, I shared that 80% of Nicaraguans live on less than $2 a day. And that´s true, but does that indicate poverty, especially when a community such as this one doesn´t have money to spend? How do you measure poverty? Is it the ability to participate in the economy? Is it having access to clean water, electricity, and food? Is it having power, or having representation in power?
I don´t know. And for now, I´m not looking for answers. But I just thought I´d write down some of my actual reflections, in addition to the stories I´ve shared. Because this has been a stone in my shoe, and I´m beginning to realize the value it holds. I´ll continue to walk with it, chew on it, think about it. And I´m excited to learn! ...from my host family, from the campesinos, from the other students in the program, from Aynn, and from you.
Meanwhile... I finally had success downloading a few pictures, after many failed attempts! Managua pictures will come later, but for now, a few from my campo experience:
This is me with Raul and Marlin, my host cousins.
My host parents and I:
The green rolling hills of coffee and bean country...
The view from the latrine (no joke).
The OTHER view from the latrine. :)
Instead, she responded, "You have a stone in your shoe."
We were all confused, but she went on to explain: when you come across something that forces you to think in a different way, or when you stumble upon something that doesn´t sit well with you, it´s like getting a stone stuck in your shoe.
Something in me clicked when she said this... And I realized that what she was trying to say is that we are MEANT to wrestle with these questions. And that, rather than fish out the stone, we are meant to walk with it, feeling its impression on our foot every step of the way... and maybe even limping a little bit because it´s there.
So here´s the stone in my shoe.
I left "the campo" one week ago, and ever since, I haven´t been able to stop thinking about that community. As I´ve already described, it was a wonderful, beautiful place. My host family understood life in a way that I´m not sure I ever will. But I have had to be careful not to romanticize it. It may have been the most beautiful place I have ever seen, and I may have had some of the most uniquely wonderful experiences of my life there, but at the end of the day, they lead difficult lives. "La vida es dura" is an expression you hear often in Nicaragua, literally translating to "life is hard." And believe me, it IS- especially in these communities. They don´t have access to clean water, they don´t have access to a market, few have electricity, and some lack decent (durable) shelter.
During day three of my experience in el campo, I was going absolutely stir-crazy. I satisfied myself by going for a walk, but during this walk, all I could think about was the complete contrast between my reality and that of my rural host family. All I could do was wonder, "what is going on in the world today?" I wanted to hear about the United States, about my family, about Richmond, about home. I wanted to hear what was going on in MANAGUA, for crying out loud. And I wanted to know why it mattered to me, and why none of this holds the slightest significance for my host family.
I wrote about "choque cultural" in my last blog, and explained it by all of my bizarre experiences. And believe me, they were all BIZARRE, and each one brought me joy and frustration and plenty of laughs. But if I´m being honest, the greatest culture shock of all was how completely and totally isolated and self-sustaining this community was. In a world that is becoming increasingly interdependent, this rural village in northern Nicaragua has somehow remained entirely isolated and independent. To such an extent that, while I was there, I began to wonder how much money my family had... and then I had to stop myself and wonder if they even HAVE money. I had to ask myself, what do they spend money on? Almost everything they have is self-produced. This very thought blows my mind.
And then I got to thinking about poverty. And what is poverty? In one of my earlier entries, I shared that 80% of Nicaraguans live on less than $2 a day. And that´s true, but does that indicate poverty, especially when a community such as this one doesn´t have money to spend? How do you measure poverty? Is it the ability to participate in the economy? Is it having access to clean water, electricity, and food? Is it having power, or having representation in power?
I don´t know. And for now, I´m not looking for answers. But I just thought I´d write down some of my actual reflections, in addition to the stories I´ve shared. Because this has been a stone in my shoe, and I´m beginning to realize the value it holds. I´ll continue to walk with it, chew on it, think about it. And I´m excited to learn! ...from my host family, from the campesinos, from the other students in the program, from Aynn, and from you.
Meanwhile... I finally had success downloading a few pictures, after many failed attempts! Managua pictures will come later, but for now, a few from my campo experience:
This is me with Raul and Marlin, my host cousins.
My host parents and I:
The green rolling hills of coffee and bean country...
The view from the latrine (no joke).
The OTHER view from the latrine. :)
Choque Cultural
Literal translation: culture shock, or better yet, culture collision. Every now and then, I stumble across a word/phrase that I like more in Spanish than English, and this is one of them. I can´t think of a better way to describe my past week than to say it was a "cultural collision." Right before our three hour bus ride to el campo, we were told a little bit about what we were about to experience. Our group of 18 students was going to split into three groups, each to a different rural community. These communities had never hosted students from our program before, because the program always chooses new and different communities. In this way, our program director explained, we are guaranteed a far more authentic experience.
"In essence, we sacrifice quality control for authenticity," she said.
...Not exactly the kind of thing you want to hear as your program director waves good-bye and the bus pulls away, beginning our week-long excursion.
So what did this translate to? Well, I ended up staying in a community that is nestled into the mountains, WAY THE HECK UP THERE. After the three hour bus ride, we drove another 2 hours via bed-of-the-truck to this wonderful, beautiful, incredibly strange community called "El Jicaro." It consists of 500 people, which is semi-misleading because it is so spread out that each family really only interacts with one or two other families. Speaking of isolation, I found out very early on that this community has never received foreign visitors before... in other words, they had never SEEN a white person before.
Talk about "choque cultural."
My dear, awkward host family didn´t have a clue what to do with me. I can honestly say that the first fifteen minutes after my arrival were THE MOST AWKWARD MINUTES OF MY LIFE (and if you´re reading this, you know that I´m prone to awkwardness as is). After walking to our house, I was invited to sit in the chair on the porch, where the family proceeding to sit in a circle around me and just STARE. I smiled, then looked away, then looked back only to discover that they were still staring, so I looked away again, and this continued for about five minutes. I was racking my brain, trying to figure out what questions I could ask or what things I could say, but every word that came out of my mouth was met with... more staring. And painful, painful silence.
I can´t tell you how much relief I felt when, after fifteen minutes (or what felt like 34 hours), my host mom asked, "Would you like me to show you where the latrine is?"
Never in my life have I been so excited to see a latrine. The second after I responded with "I would absolutely love that!" I realized it was slightly too emphatic. I was slightly less enthusiastic about this when I discovered that the letrine is situated right next to the pigpen... literally. I'll leave it to you to imagine the smell of THAT area.
The next five days followed in this pattern of awkwardness, but there were some wonderful moments interspersed in there. Some highlights:
-My friend Jessica and I taught the kids how to play hide-and-go-seek and sardines, and they LOVED it. They taught us how to play "the blind chicken," which consists of blindfolding someone, and all sorts of craziness follows.
-My first morning, I was invited to help my host dad milk our cows. All I have to say about this is that it´s tough work. After we finished with the first cow, my host dad asked my little brother, Juancito, to bring out half a cup of coffee. When he returned with it, my host dad squirted milk from the utter into the cup, then handed it to me and said, "Cafe con leche!" I laughed nervously and asked, "For me?" to which he commanded forcefully (as only a Nicaraguan man can do), "Yes. Drink it." With all eyes staring at me, I gulped it down, only to find that it was the most delicious thing I´d ever tasted. As I was drinking it, I thought to myself, "I will probably get a parasite from this, but what a way to go." (Don´t worry... I think somehow I managed to escape el campo without a parasite.)
-Every day, I walked fifteen minutes down the mountain to the well (which is really just a hole that collects rainfall) to bathe. I took some of the best bucket showers of my life there. But then, I had to walk fifteen minutes back UP the hill, barefoot in the mud, and would take shower #2 when I arrived at the house. The whole process seemed a little unnecessary to me.
-After begging my host dad to take me with him to plant beans (I begged because the point of our excursion was to experience both gender roles), he finally let me come on the third day. So I went out to the field with the dad and my four brothers. After three hours, I collapsed under the shade of a tree and started pouring water into my mouth, and my dear host dad came over to me and said, "Shall we go home now?" I nodded pathetically, and now I think I fully understand and support gender division of labor (to an extent).
-I made tortillas from scratch! Every morning. Like, we´re talking cut the corn off the husk, ground it up, mix it with water, and cook it over the fire. This was the real deal. Then, I proceeded to eat tortillas, beans, and cheese (which I later found out was curd) for every meal for the next five days. And coffee. Oh, the coffee. Family (minus mom)- you´d all be in heaven. But really, the campo was fantastic in the sense that they produce EVERYTHING that they eat. Beans, corn, fruits, vegetables, milk/cheese, coffee... EVERYTHING.
-I had a true "Nicaraguan time" experience when, on Sunday, my host brother took me to church. Drop all preconceived notions of church. We walked an hour and a half up the mountain, sat in the church for five minutes (we made it in time for announcements), only for the pastor to say, "We´re going to convene later tonight instead! Enjoy your morning." So we turned around, and walked an hour and half, back down the mountain. Unfortunately, I can´t tell you just how typical this is.
-I rode a mule.
-I woke up at 5 every morning, and went to bed at 8 every night. Because there is no electricity or running water, you get up when the sun rises, and go to bed when it sets. Not gonna lie, I LOVED THIS. It really catered to my inner age of a 65 year old woman.
There is so much more I could write, but if you´ve made it this far, you´ve already read enough! And you´re a champ for sticking with me. Overall, it was an incredible experience. Certainly one of the most trying of my life, and hopefully at some point I´ll get a chance to write about some of my reflections from the experience as well. But for now, know that I love you all, and miss you dearly.
"In essence, we sacrifice quality control for authenticity," she said.
...Not exactly the kind of thing you want to hear as your program director waves good-bye and the bus pulls away, beginning our week-long excursion.
So what did this translate to? Well, I ended up staying in a community that is nestled into the mountains, WAY THE HECK UP THERE. After the three hour bus ride, we drove another 2 hours via bed-of-the-truck to this wonderful, beautiful, incredibly strange community called "El Jicaro." It consists of 500 people, which is semi-misleading because it is so spread out that each family really only interacts with one or two other families. Speaking of isolation, I found out very early on that this community has never received foreign visitors before... in other words, they had never SEEN a white person before.
Talk about "choque cultural."
My dear, awkward host family didn´t have a clue what to do with me. I can honestly say that the first fifteen minutes after my arrival were THE MOST AWKWARD MINUTES OF MY LIFE (and if you´re reading this, you know that I´m prone to awkwardness as is). After walking to our house, I was invited to sit in the chair on the porch, where the family proceeding to sit in a circle around me and just STARE. I smiled, then looked away, then looked back only to discover that they were still staring, so I looked away again, and this continued for about five minutes. I was racking my brain, trying to figure out what questions I could ask or what things I could say, but every word that came out of my mouth was met with... more staring. And painful, painful silence.
I can´t tell you how much relief I felt when, after fifteen minutes (or what felt like 34 hours), my host mom asked, "Would you like me to show you where the latrine is?"
Never in my life have I been so excited to see a latrine. The second after I responded with "I would absolutely love that!" I realized it was slightly too emphatic. I was slightly less enthusiastic about this when I discovered that the letrine is situated right next to the pigpen... literally. I'll leave it to you to imagine the smell of THAT area.
The next five days followed in this pattern of awkwardness, but there were some wonderful moments interspersed in there. Some highlights:
-My friend Jessica and I taught the kids how to play hide-and-go-seek and sardines, and they LOVED it. They taught us how to play "the blind chicken," which consists of blindfolding someone, and all sorts of craziness follows.
-My first morning, I was invited to help my host dad milk our cows. All I have to say about this is that it´s tough work. After we finished with the first cow, my host dad asked my little brother, Juancito, to bring out half a cup of coffee. When he returned with it, my host dad squirted milk from the utter into the cup, then handed it to me and said, "Cafe con leche!" I laughed nervously and asked, "For me?" to which he commanded forcefully (as only a Nicaraguan man can do), "Yes. Drink it." With all eyes staring at me, I gulped it down, only to find that it was the most delicious thing I´d ever tasted. As I was drinking it, I thought to myself, "I will probably get a parasite from this, but what a way to go." (Don´t worry... I think somehow I managed to escape el campo without a parasite.)
-Every day, I walked fifteen minutes down the mountain to the well (which is really just a hole that collects rainfall) to bathe. I took some of the best bucket showers of my life there. But then, I had to walk fifteen minutes back UP the hill, barefoot in the mud, and would take shower #2 when I arrived at the house. The whole process seemed a little unnecessary to me.
-After begging my host dad to take me with him to plant beans (I begged because the point of our excursion was to experience both gender roles), he finally let me come on the third day. So I went out to the field with the dad and my four brothers. After three hours, I collapsed under the shade of a tree and started pouring water into my mouth, and my dear host dad came over to me and said, "Shall we go home now?" I nodded pathetically, and now I think I fully understand and support gender division of labor (to an extent).
-I made tortillas from scratch! Every morning. Like, we´re talking cut the corn off the husk, ground it up, mix it with water, and cook it over the fire. This was the real deal. Then, I proceeded to eat tortillas, beans, and cheese (which I later found out was curd) for every meal for the next five days. And coffee. Oh, the coffee. Family (minus mom)- you´d all be in heaven. But really, the campo was fantastic in the sense that they produce EVERYTHING that they eat. Beans, corn, fruits, vegetables, milk/cheese, coffee... EVERYTHING.
-I had a true "Nicaraguan time" experience when, on Sunday, my host brother took me to church. Drop all preconceived notions of church. We walked an hour and a half up the mountain, sat in the church for five minutes (we made it in time for announcements), only for the pastor to say, "We´re going to convene later tonight instead! Enjoy your morning." So we turned around, and walked an hour and half, back down the mountain. Unfortunately, I can´t tell you just how typical this is.
-I rode a mule.
-I woke up at 5 every morning, and went to bed at 8 every night. Because there is no electricity or running water, you get up when the sun rises, and go to bed when it sets. Not gonna lie, I LOVED THIS. It really catered to my inner age of a 65 year old woman.
There is so much more I could write, but if you´ve made it this far, you´ve already read enough! And you´re a champ for sticking with me. Overall, it was an incredible experience. Certainly one of the most trying of my life, and hopefully at some point I´ll get a chance to write about some of my reflections from the experience as well. But for now, know that I love you all, and miss you dearly.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
"Just the 'eco' of ecotourism"
Hello all! It is Tuesday afternoon and I am about to head back to my house and pack, as tomorrow the group is heading up north to the rural countryside (or "el campo"). As is becoming the custom, we haven't been told much about what we're about to experience, except that it's going to be very different from Managua (where we currently are) and that we'll be "up to our knees in mud" (I'm still trying to figure out if this is literal or figurative... I'm afraid it's all too literal).
A quick fact about Nicaragua: we were informed last week that roughly 80% of the population lives on less than $2 a day, which is one of many factors that contributes to its status as the second poorest country in the western hemisphere (second to Haiti). The majority of this 80% live in the campo, which is clearly less-developed and predominantly coffee-growing country. To quote Aynn: "Most Americans who visit Nicaragua are coming for the ecotourism. What you're about to experience isn't ecotourism. It's just the eco."
So, more on that experience will come after we return next Tuesday, but until then, I won't have interet access. And before I head out, I thought I'd give a quick update on things and respond to a few questions that have been asked (mostly by my family).
As for Managua life in general:
I live in a "barrio" (or colonia, as the residents prefer to call it) in Managua, called Maximo Jerez. It consists of a few square blocks, a park, and some small shops: cyber cafes, bakeries, and "pulperias" (where you can buy soap and things like that). Yesterday, I discovered that there is an "ice-cream store" (more or less) right next to the SIT study center, which is both wonderful and dangerous news. Since this discovery yesterday, I been three times (you have to sample every flavor, right Mom?), two of those being today. I like to play a game with myself where I make up reasons why I have earned it. The ice-cream, along with my daily peanut-butter and honey sandwich, has quickly become a highlight of my day. Next week, Jessica and I are going to replace the honey with nutella... I know, we're almost getting ahead of ourselves.
There are a few other shops as well. For my first week in Managua, I couldn't figure out why there was such a market for ferrets here... I finally swallowed my pride and asked someone, only to find out that a "ferreteria" is a HARDWARE STORE, not a place where they sell ferrets.
Moving on...
Maximo Jerez is a working class neighborhood. As I may have mentioned before, we have running water from 2-7am. Apart from that, we bathe/wash clothes and dishes with buckets of water. There ARE paved roads, and also "andens" (little alleys that go off of the roads). I live in an anden, which is just wide enough for one car to drive through. Some of the more well-off families own cars; mine does not.
As for the house itself (pictures will come), there is a barred gate, which opens to a small patio. Once you enter through the door, there is a family room/eating area, which leads to the kitchen. To the right is our small bathroom. Behind that is the bedroom of my host madre, her daughter, and the two little boys. There is another room for the other daughter, and then a small back patio area. My room is on the far side of the house. (Pictures will help.)
A little more on my family:
My host brothers/sisters discovered that I am slightly afraid of our house parrot, and have since made it their hobby to stragetically place him around the house where I'll bump into him. It's an endearing game, really. But one that might get old soon.
My madre also has a new hobby, and it consists of buying the newspaper every morning and handing it to me and saying, "for you to improve your spanish!" Nothing like subtlety, Dona Maria Ines.
Ok, that's all for now! I'll be back on Tuesday, which much to share.
Love and miss you all.
A quick fact about Nicaragua: we were informed last week that roughly 80% of the population lives on less than $2 a day, which is one of many factors that contributes to its status as the second poorest country in the western hemisphere (second to Haiti). The majority of this 80% live in the campo, which is clearly less-developed and predominantly coffee-growing country. To quote Aynn: "Most Americans who visit Nicaragua are coming for the ecotourism. What you're about to experience isn't ecotourism. It's just the eco."
So, more on that experience will come after we return next Tuesday, but until then, I won't have interet access. And before I head out, I thought I'd give a quick update on things and respond to a few questions that have been asked (mostly by my family).
As for Managua life in general:
I live in a "barrio" (or colonia, as the residents prefer to call it) in Managua, called Maximo Jerez. It consists of a few square blocks, a park, and some small shops: cyber cafes, bakeries, and "pulperias" (where you can buy soap and things like that). Yesterday, I discovered that there is an "ice-cream store" (more or less) right next to the SIT study center, which is both wonderful and dangerous news. Since this discovery yesterday, I been three times (you have to sample every flavor, right Mom?), two of those being today. I like to play a game with myself where I make up reasons why I have earned it. The ice-cream, along with my daily peanut-butter and honey sandwich, has quickly become a highlight of my day. Next week, Jessica and I are going to replace the honey with nutella... I know, we're almost getting ahead of ourselves.
There are a few other shops as well. For my first week in Managua, I couldn't figure out why there was such a market for ferrets here... I finally swallowed my pride and asked someone, only to find out that a "ferreteria" is a HARDWARE STORE, not a place where they sell ferrets.
Moving on...
Maximo Jerez is a working class neighborhood. As I may have mentioned before, we have running water from 2-7am. Apart from that, we bathe/wash clothes and dishes with buckets of water. There ARE paved roads, and also "andens" (little alleys that go off of the roads). I live in an anden, which is just wide enough for one car to drive through. Some of the more well-off families own cars; mine does not.
As for the house itself (pictures will come), there is a barred gate, which opens to a small patio. Once you enter through the door, there is a family room/eating area, which leads to the kitchen. To the right is our small bathroom. Behind that is the bedroom of my host madre, her daughter, and the two little boys. There is another room for the other daughter, and then a small back patio area. My room is on the far side of the house. (Pictures will help.)
A little more on my family:
My host brothers/sisters discovered that I am slightly afraid of our house parrot, and have since made it their hobby to stragetically place him around the house where I'll bump into him. It's an endearing game, really. But one that might get old soon.
My madre also has a new hobby, and it consists of buying the newspaper every morning and handing it to me and saying, "for you to improve your spanish!" Nothing like subtlety, Dona Maria Ines.
Ok, that's all for now! I'll be back on Tuesday, which much to share.
Love and miss you all.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
First Impressions
Hello, friends!
So, it has been a little over a week since I left Seattle, spent the night in Chicago, flew to Miami, and then stepped foot in Nicaragua… and let me tell you, much has happened in that time! I am just starting to get my bearings and adjust to a new culture and life (as the Nicaraguans would say, I´m getting settled “poco a poco”). From here on out, I should have more regular access to a computer (quizás!), and will be able to update the blog more often. So with that said… I´ll try to give a semi-brief recap of my time here so far!
I met the majority of my group (18 students in total) in the Miami airport last Wednesday, and the rest once we landed in Managua. It is a wonderful, eclectic, passionate group of people, and I have already learned much from each of them. When we arrived in Managua, we were met by our academic director, Aynn (who is phenomenal), and then began our orientation. Orientation was, in one word, a WHIRLWIND. They briefed us on the culture, the customs, gave us a thorough tour of Managua, and introduced us to Nicaraguan food.
[A quick side note on Nicaraguan food: Aynn captured it best when she said, “sometimes Nicaraguans eat beans and rice, sometimes they eat rice and beans, and sometimes they eat gallo pinto” (which, as I soon found out, is a mixture of rice and beans). And as it turns out, her description was entirely too accurate.]
Perhaps the most ridiculous part of orientation occurred on Friday (the 29th), when our group took a day trip to Leon, the former capital city of
Nicaragua. Prior to being dropped off, we knew nothing about Leon, nor did we have any sort of map or guide or ANY information about the city. But as we approached it, our bus driver pulled off to the side of the road and asked that two students volunteer to step off the bus. So, the two students closest to the exit stepped off, thinking that they were going to run into the store right there to grab food for the group or something... No. Instead, they were given a piece of paper that had a question written on it about the city, which they were supposed to somehow find the answer to by interviewing people on the street, and at the bottom of the sheet was the name of a hotel where we were all supposed to meet five hours later. That´s all- oh, and $4 for lunch. As the bus drove off with the rest of the students on it, the two left behind looked absolutely petrified (and I couldn´t blame them). But then the bus proceeded to drive across the city, stopping every five minutes or so to let another 2 people off. It was, in one word, RIDICULOUS. I think it was an hour into the experience after we had been dropped off that I realized that we had no means of communication (not to mention that we didn´t really speak the city´s language) should we have gotten lost. Terrifying. My friend Nicole pretty much hit it right on the nose when she called it “Darwin Day.” Luckily, however, everyone survived, and somehow managed to make it the hotel.
Ok, so that was orientation in a nutshell. On Sunday, we were introduced to our host families. Our host madres came to our hostel/hotel where we were staying, and they threw us a true Nicaraguan fiesta, dancing and all. It was wonderful. My host mom is this wonderful tiny little Nicaraguan woman, Doña Maria Inés, who is probably the most precious woman in the world. Every day, she feeds me enough food for the entire household, and every day, I try to tell her (as kindly as possible) that my stomach physically can´t retain all of that food. Por ejemplo, a glimpse into my daily breakfast (and this is no exaggeration): a large plate of gallo pinto, a large plate of beans, a bowl of corn flakes, a big bowl of fresh fruit, a plate of fried cheese and bread, a fried egg, a cup of coffee, and a cup of milk. EVERY MORNING. Oh, precious Doña Maria Inés.
As for the rest of the household, well, let me preface by saying that the dynamics are very confusing and difficult to figure out… then throw
Spanish in the mix, and it´s like GOOD LUCK. But here´s what I think is going on: My madre is the mother of six kids, and two of her granddaughters live with us (Karla and Jill, 24 and 19). Their cousin
Marcos (nine years old) lives there too, as does Karla´s 4 year old son,
Armando. Therefore, Marcos, at age 9, is the uncle of Armando.
Armando, by the way, is probably the most precious boy that I have ever met, in spite of the fact that he loves running around the house yelling (in Spanish), “KENDALL IS AN AMERICAN WHITE GIRL! SHE ONLY SPEAKS ENGLISH!” Thanks, Armando. He is one of those annoyingly cute kids who, even when he´s annoying, is cute. And in the meantime, we are able to bond by playing soccer on the patio and watching “La Esponga de Bob” (Sponge Bob, for my American readers).
So, the house is constantly busy and there are always people coming in and out. I was warned ahead of time that my Spanish level would probably be most equal to that of the four year old when I arrived in the house.
Instead, to my disappointment, I have found that my Spanish level is most equal to my family´s parrot, Raul (I think he´s a Mariner at heart wearing jersey #28), who knows how to say “HOLA!” y “SI!” y “BUENO!” Like Raul, when I don´t understand what my family is saying to me, I usually resort to nodding my head and saying “si!” y “bueno!” and the few Spanish phrases that I DO know.
…Which, by the way, has gotten me into some uncomfortable situations a couple of times. One in particular that comes to mind was when I accidentally asked my madre if she could show me how to LLEVAR (wear) mi ropa (clothes), instead of LAVAR (wash) mi ropa. I was completely confused when she starting showing me how to put on and pull off my socks (and other various articles of clothing), and didn´t understand until later, after little Marcos stopped laughing for long enough to explain my
mistake.
But in between my broken Spanish, the freezing bucket baths I take every morning, the gallo pinto for breakfast, and watching Esponga de Bob with
Armando, I´m going to classes and living the Nicaraguan life. It´s been quite an adventure already, and I´ll be sure to keep you all updated as it continues. Sending my love your way…
Kendall
So, it has been a little over a week since I left Seattle, spent the night in Chicago, flew to Miami, and then stepped foot in Nicaragua… and let me tell you, much has happened in that time! I am just starting to get my bearings and adjust to a new culture and life (as the Nicaraguans would say, I´m getting settled “poco a poco”). From here on out, I should have more regular access to a computer (quizás!), and will be able to update the blog more often. So with that said… I´ll try to give a semi-brief recap of my time here so far!
I met the majority of my group (18 students in total) in the Miami airport last Wednesday, and the rest once we landed in Managua. It is a wonderful, eclectic, passionate group of people, and I have already learned much from each of them. When we arrived in Managua, we were met by our academic director, Aynn (who is phenomenal), and then began our orientation. Orientation was, in one word, a WHIRLWIND. They briefed us on the culture, the customs, gave us a thorough tour of Managua, and introduced us to Nicaraguan food.
[A quick side note on Nicaraguan food: Aynn captured it best when she said, “sometimes Nicaraguans eat beans and rice, sometimes they eat rice and beans, and sometimes they eat gallo pinto” (which, as I soon found out, is a mixture of rice and beans). And as it turns out, her description was entirely too accurate.]
Perhaps the most ridiculous part of orientation occurred on Friday (the 29th), when our group took a day trip to Leon, the former capital city of
Nicaragua. Prior to being dropped off, we knew nothing about Leon, nor did we have any sort of map or guide or ANY information about the city. But as we approached it, our bus driver pulled off to the side of the road and asked that two students volunteer to step off the bus. So, the two students closest to the exit stepped off, thinking that they were going to run into the store right there to grab food for the group or something... No. Instead, they were given a piece of paper that had a question written on it about the city, which they were supposed to somehow find the answer to by interviewing people on the street, and at the bottom of the sheet was the name of a hotel where we were all supposed to meet five hours later. That´s all- oh, and $4 for lunch. As the bus drove off with the rest of the students on it, the two left behind looked absolutely petrified (and I couldn´t blame them). But then the bus proceeded to drive across the city, stopping every five minutes or so to let another 2 people off. It was, in one word, RIDICULOUS. I think it was an hour into the experience after we had been dropped off that I realized that we had no means of communication (not to mention that we didn´t really speak the city´s language) should we have gotten lost. Terrifying. My friend Nicole pretty much hit it right on the nose when she called it “Darwin Day.” Luckily, however, everyone survived, and somehow managed to make it the hotel.
Ok, so that was orientation in a nutshell. On Sunday, we were introduced to our host families. Our host madres came to our hostel/hotel where we were staying, and they threw us a true Nicaraguan fiesta, dancing and all. It was wonderful. My host mom is this wonderful tiny little Nicaraguan woman, Doña Maria Inés, who is probably the most precious woman in the world. Every day, she feeds me enough food for the entire household, and every day, I try to tell her (as kindly as possible) that my stomach physically can´t retain all of that food. Por ejemplo, a glimpse into my daily breakfast (and this is no exaggeration): a large plate of gallo pinto, a large plate of beans, a bowl of corn flakes, a big bowl of fresh fruit, a plate of fried cheese and bread, a fried egg, a cup of coffee, and a cup of milk. EVERY MORNING. Oh, precious Doña Maria Inés.
As for the rest of the household, well, let me preface by saying that the dynamics are very confusing and difficult to figure out… then throw
Spanish in the mix, and it´s like GOOD LUCK. But here´s what I think is going on: My madre is the mother of six kids, and two of her granddaughters live with us (Karla and Jill, 24 and 19). Their cousin
Marcos (nine years old) lives there too, as does Karla´s 4 year old son,
Armando. Therefore, Marcos, at age 9, is the uncle of Armando.
Armando, by the way, is probably the most precious boy that I have ever met, in spite of the fact that he loves running around the house yelling (in Spanish), “KENDALL IS AN AMERICAN WHITE GIRL! SHE ONLY SPEAKS ENGLISH!” Thanks, Armando. He is one of those annoyingly cute kids who, even when he´s annoying, is cute. And in the meantime, we are able to bond by playing soccer on the patio and watching “La Esponga de Bob” (Sponge Bob, for my American readers).
So, the house is constantly busy and there are always people coming in and out. I was warned ahead of time that my Spanish level would probably be most equal to that of the four year old when I arrived in the house.
Instead, to my disappointment, I have found that my Spanish level is most equal to my family´s parrot, Raul (I think he´s a Mariner at heart wearing jersey #28), who knows how to say “HOLA!” y “SI!” y “BUENO!” Like Raul, when I don´t understand what my family is saying to me, I usually resort to nodding my head and saying “si!” y “bueno!” and the few Spanish phrases that I DO know.
…Which, by the way, has gotten me into some uncomfortable situations a couple of times. One in particular that comes to mind was when I accidentally asked my madre if she could show me how to LLEVAR (wear) mi ropa (clothes), instead of LAVAR (wash) mi ropa. I was completely confused when she starting showing me how to put on and pull off my socks (and other various articles of clothing), and didn´t understand until later, after little Marcos stopped laughing for long enough to explain my
mistake.
But in between my broken Spanish, the freezing bucket baths I take every morning, the gallo pinto for breakfast, and watching Esponga de Bob with
Armando, I´m going to classes and living the Nicaraguan life. It´s been quite an adventure already, and I´ll be sure to keep you all updated as it continues. Sending my love your way…
Kendall
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