back to hot water and cold A/C

My last week in Nicaragua, I convinced my parents to come visit Granada to share this place and these people with me.

On Friday, my piñata women and my English class girls surprised me by working together to throw a wonderful party. It was complete with music, dancing, lots of tearful and heartfelt speeches, and of course, a piñata to break. As heart wrenching as it was to say goodbye, it was amazing to get to experience this beautiful despedida with my parents—everyone wanted to talk to them and share with them. I felt so overjoyed and blessed; I can’t even put it into words.

Later that night, my parents were invited to a final goodbye dinner with Doña Marta and my host family as well. After some great food, laughter, lots of translating back and forth, and a few more tears, I packed up my luggage and, ready or not, left Granada with my parents.

~~~

After saying goodbye to Granada, my parents and I headed off to the island Ometepe for one night to catch our breath, unwind, and revel in the some of the beauty of Nicaragua. There we hiked partway up Volcán Maderas (the volcano that I climbed a few weeks earlier) to a waterfall about 1/3 of the way up. I must say, I was pretty impressed with my parents—although it was definitely less demanding than my previous trek up the entire volcano, the waterfall hike was no easy trail. After a couple hours of hiking, climbing, and wading upstream, we reached the base of a tall, gorgeous waterfall just as a typical nica rainstorm rolled in. Not another soul in sight. My parents and I stuck our tongues out in the rain and waded into the small lagoon at the base of the waterfall… pretty unbelievable, huh?

After a night on Omeptepe, we swung by Granada one more time for some final goodbyes and then spent our last night at one of the most gorgeous places I’ve ever been too— the Laguna de Apoyo. On our way to the laguna, we drove up to the lip of the active Masaya volcano. Looking down into the massive crater with steam billowing out, I felt like I peering down into Mordor or something (It was seriously cool—they would never let people get this close to an active volcano crater in the US!). Looking through the fumes down into the craggy dark volcano (did I mention that this thing erupted in 2001?), I could’ve sworn I saw Gollum scurrying along crater’s edge :)

After departing Middle Earth, I took my parents to the Masaya artisan’s market for some shopping before heading to the laguna.

My mind finally beginning to settle down from the chaos and emotion of the past couple of days, I was ready to see that beautiful, calm crater-lake again.

Lying in bed in my cabana, I tried to stay awake and think— to process and reflect on my time and my experiences here. Soon however, I was engulfed by the overwhelming sounds of a rainstorm brewing over the lagoon in the crater valley, and I gave up and fell asleep instead.

~~~

Waiting for my luggage at the DFW baggage claim, I noticed that everyone was speaking English; everyone was clean, well dressed; things were organized. Where were the horse carts? The dirt? The trash? The street vendors? I suddenly started to feel a little claustrophobic, panicky even. So many gringos, so much wealth…

Is this culture shock? Or I suppose the proper term is “reverse cultures shock” now, isn’t it? If that’s the case, I wonder: Was I going forward before and now I’m going in reverse? Or was the life I lived before that which was backwards and now I’ve straightened out again? (Or could it be that we’re all just directionless?... I think I like that option the best…). Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll have many more thought on this subject as time passes.

Well… my last abrazo has been given, the last photo has been snapped, the last gallo pinto eaten, and now, the last blog post uploaded. I guess this means that my “trip”/“internship”/“experience” (or any of those other words that I find unfitting and inadequate in describing my time in Nicaragua) is over. Although I feel like I should have some concluding analysis or momentous thoughts with which to close this blog, I can’t seem to come up with anything. I guess I don’t feel compelled to express any kind of thoughtful conclusion to this blog is because I can’t help feeling that the “experience” (if that’s what we’re calling it) isn’t really over. In leaving Nicaragua and coming back to the States, I don’t feel like I’m necessarily closing a door or finishing a chapter in my life. In fact, the doors now appear to be open wider than ever! Although I will be the first to openly admit that I still have no idea what my future holds— where I will be, what I will be doing, or with whom— I can’t help feeling that this wasn’t my last time in Nicaragua (she says with a mischievous grin).

: )

Finally, here’s a link to view some more photos from Nicaragua (don’t worry, non-facebookers can access these photos as well):

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2053359&id=1521540271&l=de478b698c

A million thanks to everyone who supported me this summer through prayers and emails, facebook messages and skype conversations.

And of course, a very special “thank you” to everyone for reading this blog.

Until next time!

LOVE TO ALL,

sarah

“I will lead the blind in a way that they do not know, in paths that they have not known I will guide them. I will turn the darkness before them into light, the rough places into level ground. These are the things I do, and I do not forsake them…Because you are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you. … I will say to the north, Give up, and to the south, Do not withhold; bring my sons from afar and my daughters from the ends of the earth… Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert… For I will pour water on the thirsty land, and streams on the dry ground…

Sing O heavens, for the Lord has done it; shout, O depths of the earth; break forth into singing, O mountains, O forest, and every tree in it!”

- Isaiah 42:16, 43:4, 6, 18-19, 44:3, 25

the beach, politics, and saying goodbye-- 2nd to last blog post!

To start my penultimate blog post and to try my hardest to convey the things I’m seeing and feeling, I wanted to compile a short (and certainly not comprehensive) list of everyday moments and experiences that will always define the spirit of my life here in Nicaragua. I could never explain these things, justify my love for them, or capture their beauty in a photo. Nonetheless, these are some little things that I have really come to cherish:

-- Sweaty babies— Smelly, sticky, drooling, and sleeping on my chest in the muggy Nicaraguan heat… There are few things more beautiful.
-- Buses— Crowded and swelteringly hot and stuffy, there’s something so raw and communal about this standing-room-only method of public transportation.
-- Street vendor food— Repocheta, cao cao and grama frescos, buñuelos, mango, papaya, arroz con leche, mamones, rosquillos— Oh, I will miss you so much. What’s the equivalent of street vendor food in Dallas/Memphis? Taco Bell?...... well darn…..
-- Mental pictures— Oddly enough, I’ve come to really appreciate being surrounded by things that aesthetically please and fascinate me without being able to take pictures of them. I don’t carry around my 35 mm camera here—that’s what tourists and backpackers do (neither of which I associate myself with). Being someone who usually loves taking pictures, it at first irked me when I didn’t have my Canon on hand to snap shots of the dilapidated corrugated tin homes, the women with huge baskets of tropical fruit on their heads, the children playing futbol in the alleys, and the wrinkled old faces of the men who make shoes by the mercado. But then I began to slow down. I looked at people and things instead of picturing what their photo or portrait would look like in my head. And although I’ll always have an itch to photograph the beautiful things and people I see, I’m convinced that it’s good for the soul to take your eyes away from the lens every once in a while. Liberating, in fact.
-- Finally, I love this moment. The electricity is out and I’m typing by candlelight in the pitch black of my room. The water is out, too; and as I lie here, I can feel my whole body covered in sweat and grime from a very full day’s work in Valle de Granada. I smell like dirty kids. You know how kids have a specific scent, especially when they haven’t been bathed? Well that’s me right now. Now that I think about it, I realize that it’s been at least three days since I’ve felt air conditioning. I’ve got a headphone in one ear listening to “Life in Technicolor” by Coldplay and the other ear open to the daily evening rainstorm just outside. Does is get any better?
~~~

Sorry it’s been so long since my last blog. Every time I sit down to write, I’m overwhelmed by emotions and memories, and overcome by my inability to even begin to convey them all. Regardless of my utter verbal inadequacy in both English and Spanish, I want to try and articulate what I’ve been experiencing. I think that one of the reasons why I haven’t been very inclined to write recently is because the things that I’m doing are no longer novel or foreign. Learning how to cook plátano frito and gallo pinto with Doña Marta is not an event to blog about, it’s just how I spend Monday night. Similarly, staying at Magaly’s house in Valle de Granada eating repochata and dancing the marimba with her family is just as much a lively and beautiful cultural experience as it is a powerful and concrete glimpse at poverty, but I don’t see it as that anymore. I see it as the simple generosity and hospitality of some friends of mine who took me in on a rainy night. Despite the familiarity and comfort I feel here, there are still many experiences that merit special attention and reflection, which is what I hope to accomplish with this post.

~~~

I’ll start with work, as that’s much easier to express. The census has surprisingly turned around and is going really well. Although I realize I won’t be able to finish the whole neighborhood while I’m here, I‘ve at least started something that someone else can complete in the upcoming weeks. I’ve personally interviewed about 40 homes, and I’ve learned so much about the community and each of these individual families through it. The data I’ve been collecting has really opened my eyes to the depth and width and reach of poverty here. Although it’s tough and it certainly takes some guts and some getting used to, it’s really neat to be able to sit down in someone’s home and discuss these things with them, things that maybe I would have felt uncomfortable to discuss in another setting. I want to use this research to compile some sort of report or something outlining the needs of the community and suggesting programs (it will have to be finished from the United States). We’ll see.

As far as Piñatas Alegría is concerned, here are a few photos from the catalogue I made to showcase many of the piñata designs we’ve mastered for potential clients. Also, before Shaun left he commissioned Magaly’s brother to build a huge armoire with locks and shelves to store and organize all of our piñata-making materials. He finished yesterday; it looks great!

A picture of the whole crew before Shaun left:


~~~

Although far too many events and experiences have passed for me to recount them all, one certainly deserves to be told. Last Saturday, July 10, Shaun and I rented a camioneta (a covered pick-up truck) for the day and treated the women and their children to a trip to the beach at San Juan del Sur, about 2 hours away. Despite all of the inevitable complications that come with hauling 7 adults and 8 children to the beach for a day (besides just the Piñatas Alegría crew, we also invited our piñata profe Luis and his son to join us), it was one of my favorite memories that I will really, really cherish. This trip served as the despedida for Shaun, his goodbye party of sorts (he left last Tuesday). In honor of Shaun and in gratitude for everything, the women made him his very own Shaun piñata, complete with flip-flops, backpack and water bottle! We brought it along to help us celebrate.



Most of the kids had never been to the beach before, and we spent hours lifting them over and splashing them into each oncoming wave. Miguel, Naomi, and Alejandra squealed and giggled after getting bowled over by the water every few seconds, and tiny Regina fearlessly splashed head-on into each wave. Julisa was a little more tentative, insisting that we hold her (which is not easy considering we already had a few kids on our backs). Even baby Rudy didn’t want to leave the waves! Soon the moms got in too, and we all goofed off on the beach, playing childhood games until we were all beat and tired and sunburned— that wonderful feeling of exhaustion you get from a day at the beach.



Heading into the shade, we all enjoyed a fantastic picnic lunch that the women made. After eating we celebrated by breaking Shaun’s piñata and indulging in cake and caramelos (candy). Let me just take this moment to express how wonderful piñatas are. Everyone really gets a kick out of them here, not jut the kids... they’re an absolute blast! Screaming children hyped up on sugar swinging big colorful sticks while blindfolded—why don’t we do that at every party?? Never fear, I fully intend on bringing this party trend back to the United States with me.
: )



Saying goodbye to Shaun was tough; the women took it really hard, and rightfully so. Try to imagine—they’ve never had a man in their lives who’s supported them and genuinely cared for them and their children. Never.
Saying goodbye to Shaun sort of shook my own perspective a little bit, too—I realize that this is real. In college I’m used to doing work that only matters for me— my learning, my grades, my resume, my teacher’s opinion of me. But this is very different. These past 8 weeks have not been spent hanging out with friends or working on a project or doing an internship. Although I’ve done all of the above while here, I really just feel like I’ve been living. This has been real life that we’ve been living with these women, and now we’re leaving. Thinking about it in terms of an international internship, it seems perfectly normal for me to go home after the “experience” is over. But thinking about it in the way it truly is, in light of these people, my friends, and their lives, it feels odd and unnatural. I can’t seem to put my finger on it—why did Shaun leave, again? I mean, I know he has school and work and family, but that just doesn’t seem to explain it. I understood at one point in time, but now I can’t seem to wrap my head around it. Why am I leaving, again?

Last Tuesday Shaun left for real, but not without some more tears, kind words, gifts, and of course, some dancing at Lola´s. He left a week ago yesterday, and it seems like eons ago. I can’t believe that it will be my turn so soon.



~~~

Monday was July 19, Día de la Revolución, the anniversary of the Sandinista revolution ousting violent dictator Somoza in the 1970´s. This national holiday has really turned into a party holiday (like the Sandinista political party, not like woohoo fiesta party). Because the country’s political scene is so controversial and polarized, I think that the current government is trying to use everything in its power to engender the support of its people. For example, the government sent practically every public bus in the country to Managua on Monday, free of charge, so that everyone could attend the celebration. For this reason, the capital was overstuffed with buses and bursting at the seams with people.

Although I don’t necessarily have any personal affinity for the current government (that’s another conversation), I decided to head to the capital with another American intern, Jessica, to see what all the fuss was about. Managua was a mess. Heading towards the main plaza, we were greeted by hundreds of public buses parked bumper-to-bumper on the highway, overflowing with people singing party songs and waving huge flags and FSLN support gear. Men were on top of all of the buses and hanging off the sides, black and red banners tied around their foreheads, lighting homemade bombas with the butts of their cigarettes. I felt like it was like something from a movie or a history channel special, except I was there… it was nuts. After getting off the bus as far as they would take us, Jessica and I hopped off and tried to make our way into the crowded plaza. I don’t think I’ve every seen so many people in one place before. The atmosphere had the feeling of that of a music festival—crowded, pushing, shouting, beer— but politically charged. The feeling was celebratory, but a little tense too. It was then that I began to wonder if this was a good idea or not. I’ve never felt so conspicuous in my life; people saw Jessica and I and shouted “¡gringas!” as we passed. I guess not many Americans make it to the socialist government’s political rallies…

I heard bits and pieces of Daniel Ortega’s speech amidst the singing and drunken chanting. Although this holiday marked the anniversary of the revolution, I found nothing particularly “revolutionary” about his speech. The usual jargon— unity, brotherhood, peace, socialism. (The “peace” bit I found interesting, considering that along with the black and red FSLN paraphernalia, camouflage is representative of the revolution and therefore one of the party’s unofficial symbols, so everyone at the rally/celebration looked like a guerilla warrior.) From what I could hear between bombas, there was complementary talk of Cuba and Castro as well. Although I know that there is so much I don’t understand about the political situation (and politics in general, for that matter), I nonetheless have a few opinions of my own about Ortega’s government, which I happily kept to myself in Managua. If you want to hear some of these, or if you want a quick run-down of the political situation in Nicaragua, feel free to email me or Google it. I just don’t have time to start that discussion here.

To be honest, I was blown away to see so many FSLN supporters; the entire city was completely taken over by tens of thousands of rowdy Sandinistas. Where I work in Granada, the people are much more contra the government, so I didn’t realize how many people are actually in support of Ortega. We spent a couple hours taking in everything and then began walking through the masses to secure our spots on one of the buses home, our heads reeling from the chaos.

It was certainly an educational experience unlike anything else I’ve ever seen. Unfortunately, I was too scared (or maybe too sensible, for once) to take out my camera to document the crazy scenes, but here’s one picture of me on top of one of the free buses waiting to ride home back to Granada. This was taken about 15-20 blocks outside the main plaza, so everything was much calmer.



~~~

Today when I arrived at Caracolitos, the women covered my eyes and surprised me with a piñata that they had made to look just like for my despedida! It’s great! Although I certainly don’t see myself as blonde, they do. They depicted me perfectly; wearing the sandals, purse, brown skirt, and hair band that I always wear here. I’m touched and delighted that they spent their time and materials making this for me and for my celebration. I almost wish that I could keep it and take it home with me as a memento of our business and our friendship, but then I remind myself that that’s not what piñatas are for.
Piñatas are for smashing (and spilling out candy, of course).
It’s not the piñata itself that’s important; it’s the memory it allows you to make (and the candy you can collect, of course).
: )



This evening I walked home from the community in the cool night air with Maria Auxiliadora, one of the young women from my English class. As we parted ways by the ruins of the old hospital—I turned left towards my neighborhood and she the other direction— I felt like crying.
Although I’ve tried and will keep on trying, I could never recount to you all of the beautiful and heartbreaking stories and memories that have bonded me to these people and to this place, and for that reason I can’t explain what it feels like to leave. I’m not sure where it came from, but there’s a bridge to a Switchfoot song called “Yet” that I couldn’t keep from repeating itself over and over again in my head as I walked home tonight:
“If it doesn’t brake your heart it isn’t love / No, if it doesn’t break you heart it’s not enough.”
In this sense, I am so thankful, thankful for the sadness and frustrations and confusions I’m feeling right now, as they are indicative of the authenticity of my work, relationships, and efforts of the past 8 weeks. More than that, they are truly indicative of the open arms and hearts of the people who I’ve been privileged to know; every one of them welcomed me, trusted me, was patient with me, fed me, laughed with me, and taught me. And I feel like I’ve been able to give so very little in return. Honestly, besides friends and family (and oh yeah, college), I don’t really feel too much of anything else pulling me back to the United States… maybe The Office and 30 Rock, but really that’s it. Who would have ever guessed that I would have come to this country looking for an “internship experience” and now be leaving behind something that’s become such a part of me?
Yes, in this sense I am so, so incredibly thankful.

Finally, for those of you who don’t know, my parents are coming to Granada tomorrow! As I have less than a week left, they’re going to come and see the community and meet everyone before we all head back to the US. I’m absolutely thrilled!!
I imagine I’ll write one more blog post after this one about my time here with them and final goodbyes to everyone else… maybe some reflection too, we’ll see
: )

Apologies for the practically unreadably-long blog post. And apologies also for being a little emotional and mushy at parts—these are just some of the thoughts bouncing around in my head right now. Believe me, I still feel as if I’ve barely told you anything.

Thanks so much to everyone for reading!



LOVE TO ALL (seriously),
sarah

“Yet it was I who taught Ephraim to walk; I took them up by their arms… I led them with cords of kindness, with the bands of love, and I became to them as one who eases the yoke on their jaws, and I bent down to them and fed them… For I am God and not man, the Holy One in your midst, and I will not come in wrath… So you, by the help of your God, return, hold fast to love and justice, and wait continually for your God.”
- Hosea 11:3-4, 9, 12:6

I’m a madrina!

— A godmother—to Rudy, Liset’s one-year old son!

Me and Rudy a couple of weeks ago:

A couple of weeks ago, Liset (one of the women in Piñatas Alegría) asked Shaun and me to be the godparents of her little son, Rudy. Being that the women often joke around with us, at first I wasn’t sure if she was being serious or sarcastic… she wasn’t kidding!

Shaun and I attended and participated in Rudy’s baptism yesterday morning, along Rudy’s family— Liset, Regina (Liset’s three-year old daughter), and Alejandra (Liset’s ten-year old niece). During the baptism, the priest charged us with supporting Rudy and modeling a Christ-seeking life for him as he grows up. I can’t believe Liset chose to honor Shaun and I in this way. Needless to say, I am very touched.

Shaun and I took Liset, Rudy, Regina, and Alejandra out to lunch after the baptism. It was the first time Regina had ever had pizza:

~~~

Update on work in the community:

Piñatas Alegría has been quite busy lately—we’ve started selling our piñatas at a stall in the marketplace; we’ve created and printed colorful flyers/business cards; we’re working on a booklet for potential clients with photos of all of the diseños (piñata designs) we’ve mastered; we’ve received several encargos (special orders) for piñatas to be sold in other fiesta stores; and we even handed out our first round of paychecks to the women for 230 córdobas (about $11.50). We’ve come across a few setbacks of course, but so far I’m incredibly impressed with the way our little business has been steadily growing and coming to stand on its own two feet.

As an alternative to the cash loan, Shaun and I decided to purchase materials with the women as our micro-loan instead. Since they’re still uncomfortable keeping large sums of money themselves (they only recently conceded to keeping the business’ funds alone, much less an additional cash loan), we were planning on going out on Friday and giving them the equivalent of 500-1,000 córdobas worth of materials as our micro-loan.

Previously, Shaun and I had half-jokingly said to each other that we weren’t even sure if they needed the loan—as of now, Piñatas Alegría is a tiny, yet functioning and profit-creating business on its own. Much to my surprise, the women felt the same way. They approached us on Friday and told us that they preferred not to take the Viva Nicaragua loan, that they wanted to try and continue growing on their own.

We talked over the advantages and disadvantages with them. Although they realized that they might grow at a slower pace without the loan, they felt that it would be best for the business if they could maintain their pattern of growth thus far without the hindrance of having to pay back a loan. Although this wasn’t the original plan, I’m proud of the women and I’m happy with this decision.

Whether or not we intended it to be, Piñatas Alegría is up and running. To me, the main drawback right now is the women’s’ salaries. To be truly sustainable, this business has to be financially worth the time and effort they’re putting into it. And after spending so much time with them and their families and in their homes this summer, I know that they not only need skills and self-confidence from this business, but they need a considerable income as well.

In short, I want their salaries to be better.

So how do we do that? Isn’t there some kind of formula or accounting magic that I can use to make those numbers bigger? I feel like there’s a way to do that in Mathematica…

Maybe that’s one of those things you learn how to do in grad school…

Shaun and I agree that piñatas alone will not provide an ample enough income for these women to earn a living off of. All dreams of mathematical wizardry aside, we think that the answer lies in expansion. From day one, the women have been talking about increasing production to table centerpieces and other popular party needs. I see this decision to bypass the loan right now not as saying “no” to microfinance, but as simply postponing it a bit. I think that everyone feel comfortable allowing Piñatas Alegría some more time to operate on their own, handle their own money, gather some clients, and to settle into their skin as a business. A few weeks from now, we plan on taking out a loan from Viva Nicaragua aimed specifically and intentionally at expanding the business beyond just piñatas. This means that the loan will be given after Shaun and I have left. Although I certainly wish that I could be there every step of the way, I do feel confident in the women’s abilities of commitment, vision, and hard work that they’ve demonstrated thus far.

But let’s be real, I’d prefer to be there every step of the way.

I’m tempted not to leave at all. Senior year of college isn’t really that necessary… Is it?

~~~

On top of everything else, Doña Sandra and I attempted to kick-start the census this week, which proved to be more complicated than I could have known. Things so far have not been going according to plan, and I’m beginning to get frustrated by not only our lack of headway, but also my personal lack of experience and confidence on this project.

Besides basic questions concerning the number of people per household, their birthdates, etc, the census also inquires about education levels, literacy levels, family economic situations, etc. It even asks a few open-ended questions addressing potential problems and solutions in the family and the greater community.

To be honest, I really, really want this data. Not only would the gathered responses be fascinating to study on a social and economic level, but they would also be incredibly useful in the formation of new programs and services created to serve the greatest needs of the community. This information could help me and others really get to know Valle de Granada, and to come to a greater understanding of the difficulties and complications of life and development in other communities like it.

As of right now, unfortunately, I am less than encouraged by our progress thus far (or lack thereof). I know there is a right way to do this, efficiently and accurately, and I sincerely hope that I can figure it out before I have to leave in just a few short weeks…

~~~

I’ve also been teaching an English class in Valle de Granada for the past few weeks, which has provided unanticipated joys and challenges of its own. I don’t have time to write extensively about it tonight, so for now I’ll just hit the highlights:

First of all, my students impress me beyond words. Bright, curious, dedicated. And that’s without even mentioning the difficult life situations they’re coming from.

Also, I’ve discovered that I love teaching. It feels so natural, so fundamental to society, humanity, and to each individual mind. We are all always learning, and I can only teach others because I myself know what it is to learn. I have learned, I am learning, I will always be learning. Helping someone else to learn is like helping someone to breathe, but with a curriculum.

Finally, English is weird. Seriously.

o Why do we only put indefinite articles in front of singular nouns?

o Why to we put “to” in front of made-up conjugations of verbs and call it an infinitive?

o And what the heck is up with the word “do”? Why we use it? .... I mean..… Why do we use it? (Think about it for a minute and you’ll get confused too)

~~~

So the gringo church group has come and gone, Melissa leaves for the U.S. on Wednesday, and Shaun leaves a week and a half after that. I can’t believe how fast the time has gone by!

And yet there is still so much left to be done—so many tasks yet to accomplish, so much progress yet to be made, and so many afternoons yet to slip away as we sit on front porch and sip frescos in our rocking chairs.

On one hand, it feels like I arrived yesterday and I have the whole summer ahead of me. On the other hand, it feels like I’ve been here for years. How is it possible that I feel both of those things to be true?

Maybe I’ve just allowed myself to get sucked into what scholars call the “polychronic” concept of time assumed by most Latin American cultures. Nicaraguans feel no pull or pressure for appointments and meetings to start or end at a specific time, so why should I expect to feel any differently about my summer? Maybe I’ve just caught that bug, and the days and weeks have been simply flowing by me without structure or timeline.

Or maybe I just never noticed the time passing because I was too busy watching Liset, Dolores, and Magaly turn old newspapers into colorful piñatas while cradling a sleeping, sweaty child in my lap.

Me and Rudy a couple of weeks ago:

As you can see, it’s quite a consuming task.

: )

LOVE TO ALL,

sarah

Ometepe

Apparently a church group from the United States is coming to do some work in Valle de Granada this week. This is a pretty big deal considering how many communities of poco recursos (few resources) there are in and around Granada; much less in all of Nicaragua, much less the world. No one really knows how this group found out about Caracolitos, but I’m not too surprised. I have no doubt that this is Doña Sandra’s doing. Because of this, we spent last Friday cleaning up the building as best we could in preparation for the gringos arrival. Although I anticipate that a tiny part of me will be almost disappointed to see other Americans running around in what feels like my neighborhood and playing with my neighborhood kids, I am of course excited about the amount work that could potentially be accomplished by this team. There is certainly much to be done here.

~~~

Friday after work Shaun and I rushed to pack our things and head off to Ometepe, an island in el Lago Cocibolca (Lake Nicaragua) made up of two giant volcanoes.

Shaun and I went with Melissa, Marion (a recent college graduate and assistant program director of Viva Nicaragua), and two of Marion’s close friends who are backpacking through Nicaragua and Costa Rica this summer. Ready to go, the six of us began walking through the streets of Granada towards the cemetery to catch the bus. Just as we began, so did a typical afternoon rainstorm. After reaching the cemetery completely soaked, we piled on an extremely crowded bus, standing room only, for the hour and a half trip to Rivas. From Rivas we shared a taxi to San Jorge, from which we took a ferry to Ometepe.

Some photos of me and Melissa on the ferry and arriving at the ¨port¨ on Ometepe (volcanoes Concepcion and Maderas in the background):

We spent the next morning on the beach, looking up at Volcán Maderas, the volcano we intended to climb on Sunday. After a couple of hours we decided to check out a relaxing water hole we’d heard about called Ojo de Agua. We began walking down the road and were soon offered a ride in the back of a passing pickup truck. From there we rode to Ojo de Agua and spent the day reading, swimming, and enjoying our pre-packed snacks of platano chips and corn flakes.

Photo in the back of the truck on the way to Ojo de Agua and hiking through the plantain forest leaving the water hole:

Like I mentioned in an earlier post, I’ve since finished all of the books I brought with me to Nicaragua. My efforts to find English titles in local hostels was largely unsuccessful until Melissa found an old, torn-up copy of Harper Lee’s “To Kill a Mockingbird” in a nearby café. We brought it with us to Ometepe. This edition is one of those great paperbacks published years ago —the kind whose text runs across the entirety of its crinkled, yellowing pages with barely any margin on either side. You know the kind I’m talking about? The kind whose cover page is ripped off by now and the binding is worn and creased from having been laid on its face too much? Yeah, that’s it.

Anyway, I let myself be engulfed in 1930’s Alabama last weekend, reading by the water in Ometepe. One of Marion’s friends happened to bring the same book, and we passed our two copies around until almost every member of our group had read the entire novel by the end of the weekend. Thoroughly wonderful; a great read.

After chilling by the water all day, we walked back to the hospedaje (hotel/hostel) and caught a van to our next night’s lodgings—an ecological finca (farm) in the secluded hills. On the way to the finca, we stopped for dinner at a comedor, a restaurant-type establishment which really just looked like someone’s house. Melissa and I ordered pineapple juice with our meals (I drink fruit juice at least twice a day here, guaranteed), and we saw them go out into the selva with a machete and cut down some pineapples before blending them up and serving them to us. Needless to say, it was the most fantastic pineapple juice I’ve ever had.

After dinner we tightly squeezed back into the van and headed for the finca. With six people, six regular backpacks, two backpacker’s backpacks, and some typically unreliable Nicaraguan car parts, our van huffed and puffed its way up into the hills and mountains towards the finca. Close to the top, our van suddenly jerked, made a loud popping sound, hissed, and promptly began to slowly roll backward down the mountain. A few tense seconds and some louder popping and more violent jerking later, and the van came to a tentative halt.
It didn’t take much discussion for all of us to agree that we’d prefer to walk the rest of the way. So we kindly thanked our driver and quickly scrambled to exit the untrustworthy vehicle. Fortunately, it was only a short walk through the pitch-black forested road until we arrived at our finca and checked in for the night.

A photo of the finca in the morning:

~~~

I was excited for Sunday morning to finally arrive. Besides simply seeing the island itself, climbing the Volcán Maderas was one of the main reasons why I came to Ometepe. Apparently there have been a small number of foreigner deaths over the years on Ometepe’s volcanoes, and for that reason it was required that we climb with a local guide. (Don’t worry Mom; I happen to believe that this rule is more of an effort to create local jobs than a signifier of the actual danger of the climb.) Nalgenes filled up and sack lunches prepared, Shaun, Melissa and I (the same crew that climbed Mombacho together) woke up early and waited for our guide to arrive, a contact we had met the day before. A half an hour later, he hadn’t arrived. Dismissing his tardiness as a classic example of typical Nica “punctuality”, we continued to wait. Two hours passed, and we concluded that something was amiss. Apparently his car broke down on the way to the finca (like our bus the night before) and instead of calling us, he simply went home.

Knowing that the hike was supposed to take about 8 hours and that the sun began to set around 5:00pm, we were worried that we wouldn’t have time to track down a new guide and complete the hike before nightfall. That’s when the dueña of the finca told us that she had a guide we could use. Mainor, a 16-year-old boy who worked on the farm, could take us. We gratefully accepted and Mainor quickly grabbed a backpack and water bottle and led us to the start of the trail.

Mainor was wonderful. A shy high school student, we chatted (when I could catch my breath, that is) about life on Ometepe, his future plans, etc. Once he finished high school on the island, he plans on going to college in Managua and studying tourism, a very popular field here for many young people. Mainor had hiked Maderas five times before, and he shared with us that he really enjoyed the climb. Shaun, Melissa, and I marveled at his super-human ability to leap up boulders and navigate the tricky trail without even breaking a sweat.


For us gringos, however, the climb was a much more taxing one. The phrase “dripping with sweat” doesn’t even begin to describe the state we were in on this hike. My quick-dry Nike shorts were completely soaked and my hair just as wet as if I had jumped in the lake. I am not exaggerating. The hike itself was probably the most intense I’ve ever done. Trudging through the rainforest-like selva, most of the trail was a thin, rocky creek bed which turned into a small river in the rain. For much of the hike, especially the last half, we were climbing on our hands and knees, hoisting ourselves up the slippery “trail” with roots, boulders, and muddy footholds. I loved it.

Some pics of the trail:

At one point Mainor informed me that we may not make it to the top, that we would soon be forced to turn around because of the diminishing sunlight and our late start. We convinced him to let us continue on another half hour before turning around. Powered by adrenaline and our mental desire to make it to the top, we practically sprinted up the nearly vertical, muddy “trail” until we reached the highest point on the volcano (I’m sure we weren’t really sprinting, but it certainly felt that way!).

After reaching the highest point, we descended down an incredibly steep path (if anyone really did perish on this volcano, I imagine it was here), which spit us out by an amazingly calm and serene lagoon. Enveloped by the clouds, this little patch of flat, green land was a crater in the volcano. There we rested and ate lunch before forcing ourselves to head back down the volcano.
Although I honestly loved the intensity and challenge of the climb, it was certainly hard to will myself to leave that lagoon.

The hike down was only slightly less tiring than the hike up, but certainly more treacherous. The formerly steep, muddy, uphill climb was now a steep, muddy, downhill ski slope. Between the three of us, Shaun, Melissa, and I tallied up around 20 falls, face plants, and wipeouts on the trek down Volcán Maderas. About 8 hours after we began our adventure, we arrived back at our finca and the base of the volcano, safe and sound, feeling utterly exhausted and accomplished.

The electricity was out at the finca when we arrived home, so I showered in the dark. Thinking that I was perfectly clean, I stepped out of the shower just as the lights came back on. It was then that looked and realized that I was still completely covered in mud.
Several days later, I can tell you that my feet are still stained with lodo (mud) from Volcán Maderas.



~~~

We spent Monday travelling on various crowded and sweaty vans, ferries, and buses until we reached Granada again. It felt great to arrive home to my Nica house and family! Doña Marta cooked a wonderful dinner and we chatted together about the weekend’s events.

Once again, I wish I had hours of free time to fully remember, process, and articulate the dozens of other experiences floating around in my head and heart that I didn’t have time to narrate here.
But then I wonder: Could I ever really adequately write about all of these stories? Just like trying to take photos while kayaking on the stormy Laguna de Apoyo, will a blog ever really be able to capture these experiences?
And not only the “big” ones like climbing volcanoes and travelling to other cities and islands, but more importantly the everyday ones, like walking out to Valle de Granada every weekday past the old abandoned hospital, stray dogs, rickety horse carts, and street vendors calling out for frescos and rosquillos? These scenes are the ones that create my Nica experience.
Apologies to the reader, but my guess is “no”.


NOTE: I intended to post this entry last Tuesday but got a little stomach bug/flu which put me behind on things for a few days. Don’t worry Mom, I’m feeling pretty much back-to-normal now, thanks to Doña Marta’s endless supply of homemade lemonade, cebada, and avena (different kinds of supposedly very nutritious juices). And thanks also to Pepto Bismol.

So I’m unfortunately a little behind in my blogging (for example, I´ve already met the new gringos in Valle de Granada on Thursday). Work has been pretty exciting this week; a lot of things have been happening lately.

I’ve got a chill weekend in Granada planned, so I’ll be sure and update yall soon!

LOVE TO ALL,
sarah