Mombacho y más

Last Saturday, 2 other interns (Shaun and Melissa) and I decided to climb Volcán Mombacho, the giant volcano which looms over the city of Granada:

First we walked to the marketplace to catch the bus to Volcán Mombacho. We weren’t really sure of where or how to catch the bus, but our questions were soon answered when we ran into men frantically shouting “¡Mombacho, Mombacho! ¡Mombacho, Mombacho!” and pushing people towards a broken-down-looking school bus. Assuming that that this was probably our bus, we allowed ourselves to be herded onto the crowded, dilapidated school bus. For the equivalent of 30¢ we rode the bus outside of town until some of the men indicated that it was our stop. So we hopped off the back and grabbed a mototaxi, a 3-wheeled tuk tuk-style cab. For $1 our driver squished the three of us in the backseat and dropped us off at the base of the natural reserve in which Volcán Mombacho is located.

The hike was a steep 2.5-hour journey— well worth it! At one point we were startled to hear what sounded like a pack of ravenous dogs coming from the trees above us. At further inspection we realized that they were howler monkeys, dozens of them! Half-jokingly, we began imitating their bark-like howls, only to be even more surprised when they howled and yelled back at us, loudly. It was actually a little scary, haha. We conversed with our new primate friends for a while and then decided to press on.

Besides the wildlife (which, in addition to the monkeys, also included lots of huge lizards, tropical birds, and a particular species of salamander that can only be found on Volcán Mombacho), I was also impressed and surprised by all of the flora on the volcano. The forest on either side of the trail was just stuffed with huge ferns, vines, bright white orchids, and other colorful plants that looked like they should be for sale at exorbitant prices in an American flower shop.




When we finally reached the top, we found two more trails, one that was 1.5 hours and another 4-hour hike that led past the three large craters on top of the volcano. We had to get back to Granada by 5:00pm, so we could only take the shorter hike. I can’t imagine we missed out on much, though. Our hike was gorgeous. The clouds cleared when we got to top and we could see Granada, Lago Cicibola (Lake Nicaragua), las isletas, the island Ometepe, Volcán Masaya, Lago de Managua, and I’m pretty sure I saw Dallas, TX and Memphis, TN off in the distance. : )
It was so beautiful and peaceful. The three of us sat alone at the top for a long while without really doing or saying anything; just looking, enjoying, being. I swear— a hammock, a book, and a cup of coffee or hot tea and I would have been beyond content to stay there for days.




On the way back to the original trail we stopped to check out a cave-like fissure in the ground that was emitting hot, humid steam from deep in the volcano. That was pretty cool.

I must admit that I assumed that the hike down would be a snap, that it would feel like nothing compared to the tough trek up. Surprise, surprise; I was mistaken. Shaun, Melissa, and I exchanged muscle pain for joint pain as we zig-zagged down Mombacho. Including a brief stop to check out a coffee plantation halfway down the volcano, the hike down took just about as long as the hike up. At one point we passed a truck carrying people up to the top. As we watched them effortlessly motor past us, admiring the jungle and the views from inside the car, we knew we had made the better choice. There’s no way to climb a mountain without actually climbing the mountain. Am I right?
: )

After we reached the base of the volcano around 4:00 pm, we realized that there was still a short ways to go along the dirt path until we could exit the nature reserve and reach the main road where we could catch the bus or another mototaxi. Having had our fill of walking for the day, we decided to give Nicaraguan hitchhiking a try. I waved and Shaun stuck his thumb out as a truck passed. The driver signaled to us to hop on in and we enjoyed chatting with him and the other passengers until we reached the main highway. Apparently he was working with a tour group that lead people up into the cloud canopy of Mombacho. After we reached the main road, we thanked him, hopped out, and caught another cute little mototaxi. For $1, the mototaxi sped us back to Granada where I enjoyed a much-needed shower.

Our mototaxi:


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After waking up a little stiff and sore the next morning, Melissa and I met to find a bus to the nearby town of Masaya to check out the artisans market that we’d heard about there. We walked through one of, in my opinions, the coolest places in Granada—the marketplace. There we bought some very local nicaragüense snacks. First we bought a bunch of mamones for 5 córdoba (25¢); they’re small fruits that you unwrap from their peeling and suck on the pits. They’re kind of sweet and kind of sour, with a texture similar to what I would imagine an eyeball would have if you were to eat one. Appetizing, no? We also tried frescos for the first time (I’ve since had many more). Frescos are great; they’re like juice boxes except they’re sold in plastic bags. Women sell them all over town and locals are always sucking on them in various flavors—different fruits, cacao, pinolillo, cebada, and a couple other flavors that I’ve tasted but still haven’t figured out what they are yet (again, 5 córdoba).

Me and Melissa with our snacks outside the market:

Bus rides here are unlike bus rides anywhere else. There’s a man who stands at the front and shouts the destination to everyone on the street. He helps people hop on and off the bus, sometimes even while it’s still moving. There don’t appear to be any actual bus stops; one just jumps on or off whenever they want to. A couple times the bus pulled over on the side of the highway and people jumped off and ran into or out of the nearby, unmarked woods. We became friends with the man riding at the front of the bus, William, and he chatted with us in between shouting at passersby and hopping on and off to collect more passengers. He was particularly happy when he found out that we had no plans to go to Costa Rica—I guess most gringos he comes across are travelers or backpackers who plan on touristing there. Although I’m sure Costa Rica is lovely, I agree with William in that I’m glad I chose Nicaragua. I can’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else.

The Masaya marketplace was pretty cool— a dirty and unorganized mess of hammocks, bags, paintings and jewelry, along with an even dirtier and more unorganized mess of shoes, clothes, random electronics, foods, drinks, and dulces. One thing that I was surprised about was that I didn’t notice any other gringos. Although I don’t usually see gringos in Granada (or at least not in the in the areas of Granada where I work and hang out—the only other American I’ve ever seen in Valle de Granada is my fellow intern, Shaun!), I expected the Masaya market to be more of a tourist destination, the kind of place that you find in a travel guide book. But there really weren’t any others, just Melissa and me. I found out later that there was a nicer, more polished market where tourists are directed. Since Melissa and I weren’t adhering to anything we’d read in a guidebook or on the internet (we just hopped off the bus and started walking until we found a marketplace that we thought was cool), we’d missed the newer market completely. Apparently they have all of the same goods, just at (not surprisingly) higher prices. So it looks like going the dirty and unorganized local route pays off in the end.

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Work in Valle de Granada the first half of this week was slow at best. It rained for a few days, and since people often stay in their homes when it’s raining, it was hard to get all members of the group together. We were supposed to have a man from another community come and teach them how to make more complicated piñatas (Cars, Barney, etc) but in typical nica style, he cancelled last minute.

Tuesday I found out that one of our women who was pregnant, Maria Auxiliadora, had experienced some complications and a near miscarriage and was bedridden. Only 4 months into her pregnancy, she will need to be almost completely bedridden for the remaining 5 months. I was shocked to hear that but extremely relieved to know that she and her baby appear to be OK. Needless to say, I want her to do everything in her power to keep it that way, though I will definitely miss her as part of our team, as I felt closest to her.

Shaun and I purchased some envelopes and made a chart splitting up the money from each differently priced piñata sold into 4 divisions: one to pay back the loan (this envelop doesn’t have anything in it yet as we haven’t made a loan, only donations so far), one to re-invest back into business and purchase materials with, one for Caracolitos, and the final envelope with money to be divided 4 ways (now 3 without Maria Auxiliadora) for salaries for the women. We wanted to create a system that was as simple as possible, something that will be easily sustainable after we leave.

I was excited to give them their profits from the first 4 piñatas already sold— 100 córdoba for materials, 30 for Caracolitos, and 40 córdoba for each of the women as a salary (about $2). I was frustrated to find out, however, that they didn’t feel comfortable holding the money and wanted me to continue holding it and paying them back for any materials they buy. None of the women felt like they had a safe and secure location in which to keep the money, especially since many of them live in a home with multiple families and family members who aren’t necessarily trustworthy. Additionally, I think that they’re just not comfortable with the responsibility of holding their own money or the business’s money, as most of them haven’t had much experience in handling their own finances before. This is a big problem, as you can’t really run a business and simultaneously avoid touching money. Shauna and I have been brainstorming all week on some possible solutions.

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Tuesday the women had run out of materials and so we didn’t do any work and instead just hung out at Dolores’ house in their rocking chairs (everyone has rocking chairs in this country—they are equivalent to the nonexistent A/C). Maybe it was because I had spent the night before hanging out with Melissa and speaking English, or maybe it was because I’d spent my morning reading English books, or maybe it was because we were in their home and they were loosening up and speaking more colloquially, but I just couldn’t seem to express myself that afternoon. Although I know I have a lot of things left to learn in this language, I rarely feel as inept as I felt on Tuesday. It was exasperating. I couldn’t seem to understand 50% of what everyone was saying and every time I tried to join in the conversation, I felt like there was a 10-car pileup in my mind and in the words coming out of my mouth.

Operating almost everyday in a foreign language is a bit of a roller coaster—some days I feel practically fluent, and in other situations I feel as if I’ve barely progressed past Spanish 101. (Not to mention I can feel myself daily becoming less and less articulate and eloquent in English). I’ve concluded that speaking and learning in any language, even your first language, will always be a continuous process, one that I doubt anyone can say they’ve ever truly mastered. There will always be more words, more types of literature, poetry, more ways to express yourself and more ways to learn to listen and more fully understand others. Although some scholars and philosophers find language cumbersome and limiting, I happen to think it’s pretty incredible and beautiful.

~~~

The second half of the week was much more encouraging. The sun was out and Shaun couldn’t make it Wednesday and Thursday so I headed to Valle de Granada by myself. Lisset, Dolores, Magali, and I hung out and talked for a few hours, working on a large Barney piñata. On Wednesday Dolores sent one of the kids off to get us some 2 córdoba helado, a frozen fruit treat sold in baggies, like the frescos. We tore off a corner of the plastic bags with our teeth and sucked on the frozen juice while we worked and chatted, making really great progress.

On Friday we had a new teacher come to Caracolitos to help advance the women’s piñata-making skills, a teacher that the women found on their own. One of the biggest daily problems we face in these piñata-making sessions is the chavalitos, the little kids. It feels like children outnumber adults in this community, and with the combination of a couple of foreigners and what looks like arts and crafts, the kids usually come running to be a part of our piñata-making sessions. A dozen local kids running around can often cause missing materials, broken piñatas, injured children, yelling moms, and other such distractions. Since the women were pretty busy with their new teacher, Shaun and I distracted the kids by playing a few very muddy games of soccer and hopscotch, and exploring the woods behind the mango tree with the children for the whole afternoon. Lets be honest, I wasn’t “distracting the children” so much as I was having a great time myself.

The members of Piñatas Alegría with Carrie (the founder/director of Viva Nicaragua) and a giraffe piñata they made for Carrie’s son’s first birthday. They came up with the design and everything themselves! Even though I protested, they insisted on giving it to Carrie and wouldn’t accept payment for it, as Carrie is the one essentially funding this whole project. They were adamant and told me that they never wanted to be egoístas—selfish.
Left to right: Lisset, Dolores, Carrie, Magali



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In other news: There’s a building on the corner of my street that holds daily aerobics classes; whenever I walk by at night I hear blaring 80’s music blaring. Doña Marta’s daughter, Loren, who lives with me, sometimes attends these classes. Thursday night Melissa and I decided to check it out. So for 20 córdoba (almost $1), we sweated through an hour of step class with no A/C and with a skipping CD of techno versions of American 80’s and 90’s hits in the background. I had a great time and intend on going back a few times a week.

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The other day I woke up with my stomach feeling particularly iffy… not sick sick, just a little more rumbling going on than I was comfortable with. I decided to stay in bed that morning and steer clear of street vendor food for a couple of days to get over my little bug. Amongst the 5 other books that I packed for the summer, I was pleasantly surprised to find that I had accidentally thrown into my luggage C.S. Lewis’ The Magician’s Nephew, the first in his famous The Chronicles of Narnia series. I haven’t read any of the Narnia series in 10 years, and I honestly have no idea how it got in my backpack. Regardless of where it came from, I spent the morning reading it cover to cover, and thoroughly enjoying it. I’ve never read the Harry Potter or Twilight series, but I can’t imagine there are any “children’s” books about magic that are better than the Chronicles of Narnia. I was sorry I didn’t pack the whole series.

I find myself in trouble though; as I’ve now already read 5 of the 6 books I brought (“Crazy Love” by Francis Chan, “Life Together” by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, “Nice Girls Don’t Change the World” by Lynne Hybels, “Sex Trafficking: Inside the Business of Modern Day Slavery” by Siddharth Kara, and “Souls in the Hands of a Tender God: Stories of the Search for Home and Healing on the Streets” by Craig Rennebohm). Although these books were all really great (very different, as I’m sure you can tell from the titles), they were far too short.

So I’m off to explore the city this morning in search of some books in English! I know that a couple of local backpackers’ hostels have “give a book, take a book” libraries where I’m sure to find a few English titles. I’m not sure I want to part with any of my books, so maybe I’ll try and convince them to lend a couple out to me, just for the summer. Wish me luck! After that I’m going to watch the US vs. England World Cup game with some people. I wonder who the Nicaraguans will be cheering for?

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Throughout the past week or so, Granada has been celebrating some saint’s day or something by shooting up bombas, loud firecracker-like explosions without color, at random times throughout the night and early morning. They shoot these bombas off from the Iglesia de la Merced, which is about a block away from my house; so they’re quite loud, especially when they wake me up at 4:00 or 5:00 in the morning. I asked Doña Marta what they were celebrating exactly, and she pretty much just told me that there’s not really a reason; Nicaraguans just like to celebrate things with bombas and justify it by attributing the celebration to a particular saint. Truthfully I’m not surprised at all by her response : )
Although its never fun to be woken up in the middle of the night, in these moments I usually smile as the bombas loudly and unabashedly remind me of the words to Phil Wickham’s song “Cannons”:

It’s falling from the clouds, a strange and lovely sound
I hear it in the thunder and the rain
It’s ringing in the skies, like cannons in the night
The music of the universe plays
They’re singing: You are holy! Great and mighty!
The moon and the stars declare who you are!
I’m so unworthy, but still you love me!
Forever my heart will sing of how great you are!

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As always, I can’t help regretting that I’ve left so many stories still untold. More to come soon!


LOVE TO ALL,
sarah