Sunday, May 24, 2009
Heredia, Costa Rica
I got into Costa Rica safe and sound! I´m staying with my friend Coralia, who stayed with my family and me in December when she toured Soka University, a college founded by the SGI sect of Buddhism. We had a sleepover last night at Coralia´s friend´s house with her friend and a girl from Soka University who´s studying abroad here. Everything´s going really well! It rains for much of the day. This is a really bland post but I want you all to know that I will occasionally be posting updates about the trip! Tomorrow Shai gets in and I have no idea what will be in store for us after that. It will be exciting, whatever happens.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Experiential Learning Trip to Nicaragua
I know I haven't posted in an incredibly long time, but I was told to update at some point with a "where am I now" type thing, and I actually have news that you might be interested in!
I'm planning a trip for students at Grinnell College to go back to San Ramon with me and do some experiential learning over spring break. It's been an incredible process and I've already learned so much, despite not even having left yet. Nothing currently exists at Grinnell like this, so it's been an exciting journey of meeting people incredibly motivated to help pave the way to establish a formal, concrete relationship between the college and the community after a few years of connections via its students. I hope that this trip will continue for years to come, and will contribute to a sister city-type relationship between Grinnell and San Ramon. In particular, I hope that professors will supplement class coursework (whether in development studies or ecology) with trips to San Ramon to deepen the applicability of Grinnell's educational experience and provide real-world examples for textbook knowledge.
I'll post the project description from various funding applications I've filled out.
Taken from my Center for Peace Studies funding application:
During Spring Break 2009 (March 16th-27th), a group of eight Grinnell students will volunteer in San Ramón, Nicaragua, which is located in the Northern region. (The spots were highly competitive – twenty-two people applied for seven spots.) We will specifically be working with a community organization run by women, el Centro Promocional Cristiano por la Paz y la Vida (CPC). CPC also runs its own micro-lending office, a pharmacy, a health clinic (which was created through efforts of Jamie Zwiebel ’08), a community tourism office, and educational services for women and youth.
We will be in Nicaragua for 10 days, staying with homestay families organized by CPC. Our work will involve Finca La Hermadad, a primary cloud forest reserve that is home to howler monkeys and sloths. Our primary service project will be to work in the park, cleaning existing trails and clearing new ones. The reserve stems from the efforts of a shade-grown coffee plantation owner to preserve the local environment in light of increased deforestation in the region. Many farmers surrounding La Hermandad decide to clear primary forest and farm their property to garner an income from the land. Thus, the reserve maintains a quickly-disappearing environment that has yet to be examined by biologists—to this day, no species list has been created for the region’s cloud forests. The farmer lacks the economic resources to maintain the reserve, however; thus, any help would be much appreciated as he wishes to make the reserve available to locals who lack opportunities to see the surrounding natural environment.
As a group, we will also conduct interviews with recipients of microloans to evaluate the strengths, weaknesses, opportunities and threats within the microloan industry in San Ramón, Nicaragua. This project would bolster the microloan industry that has enabled individuals—women, in particular—to economically gain control of their lives. The interviews would be meshed into a document, which would be presented to CPC and to the recipients of microloans, thus placing emphasis on the voices of recipient populations. We will also take a tour of two women’s artisan cooperatives which are funded by microloans.
This trip builds upon the community’s pre-existing relationship with the college through its students and student groups: most recently, I held an internship in sustainable community tourism with CPC during the summer of 2008; Social Entrepreneurs of Grinnell (SEG) is currently lending CPC a microloan; Jamie Zwiebel ’08 studied abroad and worked with CPC, fundraised to help construct their health clinic and also created a sewing cooperative through a Davis Project for Peace in the community during the summer of 2007.
After a rigorous application process in which 22 students applied, a total of 7 were selected to participate in this trip. I've been able to acquire $3190 of funding as of now, which is incredibly exciting. This will make the trip cost about $350 per person, not including myself. That's less than the cost of the plane tickets. It'll be great!
When we get back, we'll be making at least three presentations on campus: first, we'll present to the campus at large to describe the trip and how it went, and second, we'll talk about microfinance in the region at a conference hosted by the Wilson Program. Third, we'll present to the college's board of trustees to describe the trip and where we'd like things to go from here.
I'll update after the trip. Maybe a little bit during as well, if we have time. If you want more information, feel free to send me an e-mail or post a comment and I'll get back to you.
I'm planning a trip for students at Grinnell College to go back to San Ramon with me and do some experiential learning over spring break. It's been an incredible process and I've already learned so much, despite not even having left yet. Nothing currently exists at Grinnell like this, so it's been an exciting journey of meeting people incredibly motivated to help pave the way to establish a formal, concrete relationship between the college and the community after a few years of connections via its students. I hope that this trip will continue for years to come, and will contribute to a sister city-type relationship between Grinnell and San Ramon. In particular, I hope that professors will supplement class coursework (whether in development studies or ecology) with trips to San Ramon to deepen the applicability of Grinnell's educational experience and provide real-world examples for textbook knowledge.
I'll post the project description from various funding applications I've filled out.
Taken from my Center for Peace Studies funding application:
During Spring Break 2009 (March 16th-27th), a group of eight Grinnell students will volunteer in San Ramón, Nicaragua, which is located in the Northern region. (The spots were highly competitive – twenty-two people applied for seven spots.) We will specifically be working with a community organization run by women, el Centro Promocional Cristiano por la Paz y la Vida (CPC). CPC also runs its own micro-lending office, a pharmacy, a health clinic (which was created through efforts of Jamie Zwiebel ’08), a community tourism office, and educational services for women and youth.
We will be in Nicaragua for 10 days, staying with homestay families organized by CPC. Our work will involve Finca La Hermadad, a primary cloud forest reserve that is home to howler monkeys and sloths. Our primary service project will be to work in the park, cleaning existing trails and clearing new ones. The reserve stems from the efforts of a shade-grown coffee plantation owner to preserve the local environment in light of increased deforestation in the region. Many farmers surrounding La Hermandad decide to clear primary forest and farm their property to garner an income from the land. Thus, the reserve maintains a quickly-disappearing environment that has yet to be examined by biologists—to this day, no species list has been created for the region’s cloud forests. The farmer lacks the economic resources to maintain the reserve, however; thus, any help would be much appreciated as he wishes to make the reserve available to locals who lack opportunities to see the surrounding natural environment.
As a group, we will also conduct interviews with recipients of microloans to evaluate the strengths, weaknesses, opportunities and threats within the microloan industry in San Ramón, Nicaragua. This project would bolster the microloan industry that has enabled individuals—women, in particular—to economically gain control of their lives. The interviews would be meshed into a document, which would be presented to CPC and to the recipients of microloans, thus placing emphasis on the voices of recipient populations. We will also take a tour of two women’s artisan cooperatives which are funded by microloans.
This trip builds upon the community’s pre-existing relationship with the college through its students and student groups: most recently, I held an internship in sustainable community tourism with CPC during the summer of 2008; Social Entrepreneurs of Grinnell (SEG) is currently lending CPC a microloan; Jamie Zwiebel ’08 studied abroad and worked with CPC, fundraised to help construct their health clinic and also created a sewing cooperative through a Davis Project for Peace in the community during the summer of 2007.
After a rigorous application process in which 22 students applied, a total of 7 were selected to participate in this trip. I've been able to acquire $3190 of funding as of now, which is incredibly exciting. This will make the trip cost about $350 per person, not including myself. That's less than the cost of the plane tickets. It'll be great!
When we get back, we'll be making at least three presentations on campus: first, we'll present to the campus at large to describe the trip and how it went, and second, we'll talk about microfinance in the region at a conference hosted by the Wilson Program. Third, we'll present to the college's board of trustees to describe the trip and where we'd like things to go from here.
I'll update after the trip. Maybe a little bit during as well, if we have time. If you want more information, feel free to send me an e-mail or post a comment and I'll get back to you.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
I'm home!
I totally forgot to tell you all - I'm home! I've been in the States for about three weeks now. I was in Irvine, CA with the fam and now am in good ol' Grinnell, Iowa. Nicaragua adventures are over (for now) but senior year adventures are about to begin.
However, I don't think I mentioned the orchid project that I was working on in my last few weeks at the internship. It ended up becoming the most important thing that I helped out with. I'll explain it more in another post some day - or you could send me an e-mail / note about it. Basically, we are going to create an orchid reserve for the indigenous orchids of Matagalpa, while also serving as a reserve for the ecosystems in general. There will also be medicinal plants, which are really popular in the area. So I'm home but am still trying to help them find funding sources for the project. If any of you know of any orchid enthusiasts that might be interested, please send them my way.
However, I don't think I mentioned the orchid project that I was working on in my last few weeks at the internship. It ended up becoming the most important thing that I helped out with. I'll explain it more in another post some day - or you could send me an e-mail / note about it. Basically, we are going to create an orchid reserve for the indigenous orchids of Matagalpa, while also serving as a reserve for the ecosystems in general. There will also be medicinal plants, which are really popular in the area. So I'm home but am still trying to help them find funding sources for the project. If any of you know of any orchid enthusiasts that might be interested, please send them my way.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Sandinistas
(I started writing this post while in Nicaragua but couldn't complete it at the time.)
The father of Marfa´s children, El Apache (nickname), asked me last week if I wanted to go to
While we were waiting, we both got free hats that say FSLN (the Sandinista National Liberation Front and modern iteration of the Sandinistas) and someone else promised me a bright red FSLN shirt. We ran into El Apache, who was sitting in the back of a white truck that had two giant (4-foot tall) stand-up speakers and a microphone sound system hooked up. Revolutionary music blasted. He invited Jacqueline and me to ride with them in the truck, which would lead the way for the San Ramón caravan to
At around 10 am, Lolo (the man wielding the microphone and apparently responsible for organizing San Ramón’s caravan) addressed the buses, trucks and motorcycles parked behind us, saying it was time to leave for
Once there, we parked in what looked like the town dump, scenically located next to the
Jacqueline warned me to watch my bag as we approached a huge fairground, where hundreds of people were selling balloons, jewelry, toys, food and hard liquor. I couldn’t believe how many people were there –red and white, the colors of most people’s t-shirts, consumed the landscape as all I could see were bodies milling around. One site said there were around 400,000 people there, which floors me. I’ve never seen so many people in my life.
It was incredibly surreal being part of this massive crowd of people. I just stood, listening to the layered sounds of revolutionary music, cheering and singing voices, and this creepy, slowed-down recording that rasped, “Viva Sandino” that randomly played. Whenever I heard it, I felt like I was in a horror film. There was a huge stage in front of us, where all the high-and-mighty of
After standing and sweating (it was really hot) for about two hours, we left at 6:30 to head back to the truck. It was nearly impossible to squeeze through the crowd – we formed a hand-holding chain so that none of us got lost. We dodged giant mud puddles and slipped by peripheral fist-fights to break out of the crowd. I let out a sigh of relief when we had reached an opening and wiggled my hand free to wipe off the sweat. On the main street, there were still hundreds of people milling around and at least a dozen who had completely passed out on the side of the road, serving as an obstruction to the passers-by. We got to the truck safe and sound, although my friend Frederman came back a little lighter as someone had snatched his wallet during our trek back to the truck.
The drive back was beautiful – I laid down in the truck bed and rested my head on Jacqueline’s stomach while looking up at the stars. Lolo, the guy who wielded the microphone, went a little loco for the Caballo, a type of rum in
I really want to go back next year for the 30th anniversary – it will be phenomenal.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Masaya and Piropos
So much to update you all on. I´ll start with my weekend trip to Granada and Masaya, which I think was about two weeks ago. It was a blast – hung out with my friend Liz who had been in San Ramón for a bit, her friend Rose and three of their friends from their community, which is about an hour southwest of Managua.
Piropos
I´ve gotten used to people yelling, Chelita preciosita, mi amor, I love you, bye (yes, they say bye here as a pick-up line. As I mentioned a while back, here they say adios as a ´hi´ in passing, so because adios means bye in English, they´ll switch it up sometimes and use that as well. The same applies for ´Te amo.´ I´ve heard I love you a lot as well.) . I usually don´t respond, pretend like I didn´t hear or don´t speak Spanish, and keep on walking without maintaining eye contact. On one occasion, I failed to demonstrate complete disinterest, which sparked a series of events that I will discuss.
A man down the street owns a few buses, one of which was being repaired. Starting about three weeks ago, every time I would walk by the bus (heading to work, come back from work for lunch, going back to work after lunch, and come home from work for dinner), the crew of mechanics working on the engine would whistle and one mechanic in particular led the group in these serenades. I didn´t even know what any of them looked like because I always avoided glancing, so as not to fuel their fire. One day when I was walking back to work after lunch, their boss was standing outside checking up on them. When he noticed me, he told me that I had an admirer and referenced the very expressive mechanic, I laughed and told the boss that I knew. The mechanic yelled at me as I was walking away, Te amo mi amor. The next day, I was trying to text my friend Liz as I walked by the bus. Once he noticed I had a phone, he yelled after me to give him my number. As usual, I kept walking.
I told Doña Marfa about this admirer and she told me that she knew one of the mechanics working there, and that if it was the same mechanic that she knew, that he was a very respectful, sweet, thoughtful guy. A few weeks ago she popped a tire and a young man stopped to help, gave her his carjack and then with her until she could find another tire; he told her he worked as a mechanic down the street. She told me that when we walked by the bus on our way back from Juana´s house, she´d check him out and tell me if it´s him or not. So we walked by and we almost walked completely past the bus when I heard, ·Mi amor give me your phone number.· I didn´t respond and kept walking with Marfa, but she turned around. ·Son, this girl lives in my house and I´m responsible for her. I don´t give her permission to give her number to people like you.· Silence passed and it seemed like she had physically hit him. We kept walking. Earlier I had explained to her that men in the US that whistled and catcalled were considered rude, and she said that here, there´s a type of catcall that is rude but the majority is not. – Marfa, does he have bad manners?- She laughed and nodded. We ate dinner at home; as she was cooking, she said, ¨Well, when we walk back to Juana´s house, I´ll just doublecheck in case it really is him.¨ Apparently she was having second-doubts. When we walked back, she yelled at him to come over; he hesitantly walked towards us. ¨Do you remember me?¨ she bluntly asked him. He nodded without looking her in the eye, ¨Of course. Did you forget my favor so quickly?¨ She immediately apologized and explained that she couldn´t see well and that he had been neatly dressed when she initially met him, so he looked different now that he was all dirty; she also said that it was her job to protect me so she had to be cautious about boys. ¨So you like my daughter Marissa?¨¨Yes, I really like her – I love her. Don´t you worry though, she´s good – she never stops when I say things to her.¨ He asked her if I was free to meet up this weekend and she said yes, and that we were going to Selva Negra (a popular forest in the area) tomorrow and invited him to come with us. He couldn´t but said that he could give us a ride back. She nodded and then told him that she didn´t have a cellphone but that I did, and prodded me to give him my number. So after all of this, Doña Marfa made me give my number to the guy who I had been avoiding. He coyly turned to me and asked, ¨Oh, you have a cellphone?¨ As if he didn´t know.
Somehow we made plans to meet up on Sunday to ´pasear´, or joyride. It was a 3-person date – we drove around and ended up at a bar, where we got rather tipsy and then had a group discussion about why I didn´t like this boy or Nicaraguan dating rituals. During this conversation, he asked me to marry him and told me that he was poor but that he could provide for me. All I could do was laugh. As we were leaving, Marfa introduced me to a former representative to the national government, whom she had worked with on the Sandinista campaign. He asked for my e-mail address and my number, promising me a photo of Sandinista.
Luckily that was the last of the mechanic, although I ended up feeling a little guilty for being so blunt with him. However, that was definitely not the last of the Nicaraguan men. I might even say that it was the beginning.
We all met up with Meredith for dinner, one of my friends from Grinnell who is working in Granada as a coordinator of a volunteer organization. I think we were all feeling like we needed a break from gallo pinto, so we grabbed some pizza. Liz, her friends and I went to a club and danced essentially the whole night, left at around 12:30 am and caught a cab.
I thought we were going back to the hostel but we ended up going to the lake near Granada, to another bar there and danced some more. We returned at 4 am and I experienced one of the scariest car rides of my life. I won´t describe it here – I don´t want to worry my parents. Met up with Mer for breakfast, saw her sweet pad, and don´t you worry Mer, I have the photo right here to prove our reunion actually occurred.
Mer and me in the central plaza of Granada. (We were looking at the flip-out screen of my camera.)
I thought we were going back to the hostel but we ended up going to the lake near Granada, to another bar there and danced some more. We returned at 4 am and I experienced one of the scariest car rides of my life. I won´t describe it here – I don´t want to worry my parents. Met up with Mer for breakfast, saw her sweet pad, and don´t you worry Mer, I have the photo right here to prove our reunion actually occurred.
Mer and me in the central plaza of Granada. (We were looking at the flip-out screen of my camera.)Piropos
I´ve gotten used to people yelling, Chelita preciosita, mi amor, I love you, bye (yes, they say bye here as a pick-up line. As I mentioned a while back, here they say adios as a ´hi´ in passing, so because adios means bye in English, they´ll switch it up sometimes and use that as well. The same applies for ´Te amo.´ I´ve heard I love you a lot as well.) . I usually don´t respond, pretend like I didn´t hear or don´t speak Spanish, and keep on walking without maintaining eye contact. On one occasion, I failed to demonstrate complete disinterest, which sparked a series of events that I will discuss.
A man down the street owns a few buses, one of which was being repaired. Starting about three weeks ago, every time I would walk by the bus (heading to work, come back from work for lunch, going back to work after lunch, and come home from work for dinner), the crew of mechanics working on the engine would whistle and one mechanic in particular led the group in these serenades. I didn´t even know what any of them looked like because I always avoided glancing, so as not to fuel their fire. One day when I was walking back to work after lunch, their boss was standing outside checking up on them. When he noticed me, he told me that I had an admirer and referenced the very expressive mechanic, I laughed and told the boss that I knew. The mechanic yelled at me as I was walking away, Te amo mi amor. The next day, I was trying to text my friend Liz as I walked by the bus. Once he noticed I had a phone, he yelled after me to give him my number. As usual, I kept walking.
I told Doña Marfa about this admirer and she told me that she knew one of the mechanics working there, and that if it was the same mechanic that she knew, that he was a very respectful, sweet, thoughtful guy. A few weeks ago she popped a tire and a young man stopped to help, gave her his carjack and then with her until she could find another tire; he told her he worked as a mechanic down the street. She told me that when we walked by the bus on our way back from Juana´s house, she´d check him out and tell me if it´s him or not. So we walked by and we almost walked completely past the bus when I heard, ·Mi amor give me your phone number.· I didn´t respond and kept walking with Marfa, but she turned around. ·Son, this girl lives in my house and I´m responsible for her. I don´t give her permission to give her number to people like you.· Silence passed and it seemed like she had physically hit him. We kept walking. Earlier I had explained to her that men in the US that whistled and catcalled were considered rude, and she said that here, there´s a type of catcall that is rude but the majority is not. – Marfa, does he have bad manners?- She laughed and nodded. We ate dinner at home; as she was cooking, she said, ¨Well, when we walk back to Juana´s house, I´ll just doublecheck in case it really is him.¨ Apparently she was having second-doubts. When we walked back, she yelled at him to come over; he hesitantly walked towards us. ¨Do you remember me?¨ she bluntly asked him. He nodded without looking her in the eye, ¨Of course. Did you forget my favor so quickly?¨ She immediately apologized and explained that she couldn´t see well and that he had been neatly dressed when she initially met him, so he looked different now that he was all dirty; she also said that it was her job to protect me so she had to be cautious about boys. ¨So you like my daughter Marissa?¨¨Yes, I really like her – I love her. Don´t you worry though, she´s good – she never stops when I say things to her.¨ He asked her if I was free to meet up this weekend and she said yes, and that we were going to Selva Negra (a popular forest in the area) tomorrow and invited him to come with us. He couldn´t but said that he could give us a ride back. She nodded and then told him that she didn´t have a cellphone but that I did, and prodded me to give him my number. So after all of this, Doña Marfa made me give my number to the guy who I had been avoiding. He coyly turned to me and asked, ¨Oh, you have a cellphone?¨ As if he didn´t know.
Somehow we made plans to meet up on Sunday to ´pasear´, or joyride. It was a 3-person date – we drove around and ended up at a bar, where we got rather tipsy and then had a group discussion about why I didn´t like this boy or Nicaraguan dating rituals. During this conversation, he asked me to marry him and told me that he was poor but that he could provide for me. All I could do was laugh. As we were leaving, Marfa introduced me to a former representative to the national government, whom she had worked with on the Sandinista campaign. He asked for my e-mail address and my number, promising me a photo of Sandinista.
Luckily that was the last of the mechanic, although I ended up feeling a little guilty for being so blunt with him. However, that was definitely not the last of the Nicaraguan men. I might even say that it was the beginning.
Friday, July 4, 2008
My job is awesome
Yesterday was a pretty rewarding day to be working in the tourism industry – a coworker and I created two new tours for the brochure that I made, so today we did a run-through of the first one. In the morning we hiked a hill that has a view of the city, and then we caught a bus to a nearby town that has a gold mine that was abandoned because it flooded. 
We had to cross a river to get to the mines = this photo shows a bit of the precariousness involved.
After the mines, we returned to San Ramón and hiked to Finca La Leonesa, a ranch that also has mine ruins on its property, where we received a tour. We saw a few different mine shafts, the abandoned and destroyed house of the owner, and walked a lot. The trails were really slippery and muddy, as it had started to rain, and we were climbing up and down hills so it felt a little dangerous, but we all survived and I was the only one to actually fall. When I fell, we were on our way back from seeing a waterfall on their property and I slipped on moist rocks. After this tour, we walked up the hill and crossed a bridge, which consisted of three felled trees and wire on either side. I initially assumed the wire was barbed wire, since that’s the only type of wire I’ve seen down here (and there’s TONS of it), so I didn’t think they were very useful rails until I discovered that you wouldn’t puncture your hand by using them to balance yourself. I was slightly concerned about falling since my shoes were covered in watery-mud, but it was fine.
Today we did the second tour package that my coworker and I created: this included going to Finca La Hermandad, a shade-grown coffee cooperative that has primary rainforest (I think cloudforest is also applicable but I´m not sure) and is trying to promote itself as a tourist site, but doesn´t have the resources right now; a waterfall called La Lima; a tour of the town; and a visit to a jewelry workshop run by a few women from a nearby community, in which they make jewelry from local seeds. We weren´t able to do all of it today because it was raining and the truck we had access to didn´t have gas for a while, but we did the most important parts.
There were a few moments where I imagined what my funeral would be like. At random parts of the river, someone strung barbed wire across so we had to duck under barbed wire while balancing on these slippery rocks. As I´m recounting this outing, it doesn´t sound nearly as... adventurous as it felt. It started pouring once we got back to the pasture. I put on my sandals and every few steps the mud would engulf one of my sandals. Once we got back to the dirt road, I was grateful not to be walking on rocks but instead we had another problem - pure mud for the majority of the walk back to town. Cows and horses often take this path and they loosen the dirt, so with the rain it just became a muddy river. Içm pretty sure that we´re going to cut the trip to Salto La Lima since the center would be responsible for any injuries, and I´m sure there would be injuries.
A view of the coffee plantation at Finca La Hermandad.
It actually was really awesome, although I fell once and almost fell countless times since it was so muddy and the paths were so slippery. There was one point where I had a streak of almost-falls, so everyone was giving me advice on how to climb up this one part and someone warned me not to grab onto the tree for support because it had spines, and when I lost my balance, my hand immediately went for the tree so I had to force myself to not grab onto it and just hope I didnt slide back down the hill. I couldn´t help but laugh at how ridiculous it seemed, hiking in primary rainforest in the pouring rain. The ride back was pretty cold, needless to say. We were all in the back of the truck with the wind blowing in our faces. Thankfully it had stopped raining by this point. Yet again, we were all soaked and I was caked in mud.
We had to cross a river to get to the mines = this photo shows a bit of the precariousness involved.I think something like 600 people died total, including mining deaths and deaths related to the flood. In some parts of the mine, the water goes up to around 4 feet. Needless to say, I had water in my shoes for the rest of the day. We saw a few bat corpses hanging from the walls, a few live bats, snake sheddings, a tarantula, and a cave crab inside the mine. I felt like Indiana Jones, seeing the bat skeletons, covered in cobwebs. I’ll add photos of them. I carried my camera in a plastic bag and held it on top of my head so it wouldn’t get wet. We continued down the 
passageway of the mine for about 30 minutes, but someone heard rushing water further on and thought it wasn’t smart to keep going, so we headed back. We ate lunch outside the cave. My host-mom packed me some cheese, avocado, a boiled banana and a potato-like thing, Delenia’s mom packed her a bunch of tortillas, and we bought cuajada at a store before embarking on the mines, so we had an eclectic picnic between the four of us that were there. The three people I was with were all tour guides, although we were missing the other 10 guides who were supposed to come.
passageway of the mine for about 30 minutes, but someone heard rushing water further on and thought it wasn’t smart to keep going, so we headed back. We ate lunch outside the cave. My host-mom packed me some cheese, avocado, a boiled banana and a potato-like thing, Delenia’s mom packed her a bunch of tortillas, and we bought cuajada at a store before embarking on the mines, so we had an eclectic picnic between the four of us that were there. The three people I was with were all tour guides, although we were missing the other 10 guides who were supposed to come.We saw this lizard while waiting for the bus that never came to take us back to San Ramón. We walked half the way and then hitched a ride with a group of people.
After the mines, we returned to San Ramón and hiked to Finca La Leonesa, a ranch that also has mine ruins on its property, where we received a tour. We saw a few different mine shafts, the abandoned and destroyed house of the owner, and walked a lot. The trails were really slippery and muddy, as it had started to rain, and we were climbing up and down hills so it felt a little dangerous, but we all survived and I was the only one to actually fall. When I fell, we were on our way back from seeing a waterfall on their property and I slipped on moist rocks. After this tour, we walked up the hill and crossed a bridge, which consisted of three felled trees and wire on either side. I initially assumed the wire was barbed wire, since that’s the only type of wire I’ve seen down here (and there’s TONS of it), so I didn’t think they were very useful rails until I discovered that you wouldn’t puncture your hand by using them to balance yourself. I was slightly concerned about falling since my shoes were covered in watery-mud, but it was fine.
Today we did the second tour package that my coworker and I created: this included going to Finca La Hermandad, a shade-grown coffee cooperative that has primary rainforest (I think cloudforest is also applicable but I´m not sure) and is trying to promote itself as a tourist site, but doesn´t have the resources right now; a waterfall called La Lima; a tour of the town; and a visit to a jewelry workshop run by a few women from a nearby community, in which they make jewelry from local seeds. We weren´t able to do all of it today because it was raining and the truck we had access to didn´t have gas for a while, but we did the most important parts.
I´ll have you know that I wore the same pair of jeans from yesterday, even though they still weren´t dry and there was mud caked around the ankles. That was one of the best wardrobe decisions I´ve made on this trip.
In the morning I left with a few of the guides for El Plomo once we found out that the truck didn´t have any gas. The workshop was closed so we stopped by the house of one of the artisans, who then opened up the workshop and explained what they did. We left pretty quickly and headed out to Salto La Lima, a somewhat nearby waterfall. We walked down a dirt road for a while and then turned to the left, ducked under barbed wire, and walked through muddy pasture to the river. We had to walk up the river to get to the waterfall and the rocks were ridiculously slippery - I had to bring my less-athletic shoes because my other pair was still soaked from the day before, and they had no grip so I ended up taking them off and gritting my teeth while stepping on rocks and twigs and thorns. I thought we were going to go swimming but the current at the waterfall was really strong, so we hung around there for a bit and then headed back. At this point, it started to rain. The route was already precarious and ¨thrilling¨without rain, so the extra water definitely intensified the experience. 
Salto La Lima. My friend Delenia was thinking about jumping in but we discouraged her.
Salto La Lima. My friend Delenia was thinking about jumping in but we discouraged her.There were a few moments where I imagined what my funeral would be like. At random parts of the river, someone strung barbed wire across so we had to duck under barbed wire while balancing on these slippery rocks. As I´m recounting this outing, it doesn´t sound nearly as... adventurous as it felt. It started pouring once we got back to the pasture. I put on my sandals and every few steps the mud would engulf one of my sandals. Once we got back to the dirt road, I was grateful not to be walking on rocks but instead we had another problem - pure mud for the majority of the walk back to town. Cows and horses often take this path and they loosen the dirt, so with the rain it just became a muddy river. Içm pretty sure that we´re going to cut the trip to Salto La Lima since the center would be responsible for any injuries, and I´m sure there would be injuries.
Yet again we returned to Casa del Niño soaked. I thought we definitely weren´t going to Finca La Hermandad since it was raining so hard, but Theresita said that we should all return at 2 pm (it was 12pm at the time) so we÷re energetic for the hike. I went back home and ate lunch, and during this time it began pouring even harder than before. I was just happy I was inside, but I was beginning to hate the rain. It knocked down our clothesline and launched all my newly-washed clothes into the dirt.
So we went to Finca La Hermandad, equipped with boots, and hiked through the rainforest in the rain.
A view of the coffee plantation at Finca La Hermandad.I am pretty darn sore from the past two days, and am relishing in not being wet right now as I was either soaking or walking with mini-lakes in my sneakers for around 6 hours yesterday and 6 hours today.
The coolest part is that this was for my job!
Masaya, tortillas, more on mosquitos, and pregnancy
Lots of updates. Masaya was great – I spent nearly the entire time shopping. Before I talk about Masaya though, I have to talk about the bus system here. Or mainly the bus stops.
At the more popular bus stops, people standing at the stop will accost the bus, wielding an assortment of food products and shouting about them. They’ll take advantage of any window spaces and shove their products up to the windows to catch the attention of the people in the bus. The people will either walk around with their arms almost completely vertical to have their food be eye-level with the passengers, or they’ll have bowls with their goods and rest them on their heads. (This is a really popular means of carrying things – I see people carrying stacks of wood on their head in San Ramón all the time.) “Onions, onions onions onions,” “Chancho con yuca chancho con yuca chancho con yuca,” (pork and yuca, tradicional Nicaraguan food)“agua helada agua helada agua helada.” The food will range from bagged produce (like onions, garlic, tomatoes) to prepared cooked meals and desserts. The first time this happened on the way to Masaya, I was in awe – one guy selling produce climbed on one of the tires of the bus to better grab the attention of the passengers. A bus employee tried to swat him off the tire but the guy didn’t get down until the employee pushed him off.
Some will enter the bus at these stops and then walk down the aisle selling their goods. Often they’ll ride the bus and sell their products for some amount of time and then get off at a random stop, whenever people stop buying their food.
I’m sure there’s other stuff to do there but I didn’t know of anything else, so after I found myself a hostel I went to back to the market, which I had discovered initially when I first got off the bus. The bus station is located directly behind it, so you’re forced to enter the market, which consists of corrugated tin and plastic bag ceilings and wet/muddy ground. I bought 10 pairs of shoes in this market, which is pretty ridiculous considering I was only traveling with my school backpack, so I had to shove all of them in there.
A 12-year old boy from a “gang” (okay, a group of about 6 younger boys) stole fruit from me on Saturday afternoon. I was walking back from shopping and had bags in one hand and then this weird fruit that looks like something from a Dr. Suess book. (The fruits are green and look like limes but have soft pink insides, and grow on branches. They’re sold in bunches so it looks like a bouquet of pom-poms on sticks.) This guy approached me and said, “Can I have a branch?” Before I could respond, he said, “Or the whole thing?” and attempted to grab them all from my hand. I immediately recoiled and grabbed the majority of the fruit back from him, but he was left with one branch. This was the first time I’d ever been “mugged”, and I had some alien fruit taken from me. This actually scared me, too! I would have given them the fruit (and I eventually did), but to have it forcefully taken from me offended my sense of self. This shock at being affronted quickly mixed with a sense of guilt – these boys likely lived on the street (which was confirmed when I left my hostel the next morning) and when anyone resorts to stealing food, it probably means they’re having some bad times. I didn’t even want the fruit. When I left the next morning I saw them sleeping on the stoop of the building next door, using cardboard as blankets. I dropped the fruit by the head of one of the boys, likely the one that had approached me the day before.
Going back in time, on Saturday night I wandered around until I saw a restaurant with a neon-light sign as I figured this was a sign of establishment. I wanted to live it up, be waited on, and not have people attempt to talk to me at dinner. It’s rather ironic because I ended up eating dinner at this Mexican restaurant with a fellow solo English-speaking traveler, who was using the money saved from graduating college a year early to backpack from Guatemala to Panama.
On Sunday, I went shopping and then left at around 9 am because I wasn’t sure what time the buses stopped running.
I got back at around 2 pm to find my host-mom sitting at the kitchen table with Chago, my host-brother who lives across the street, and a piñata. Or rather, the two of them were making a piñata of a traditionally-dressed Nica girl, except Marfa decided to make her a “chela”, with blonde hair and green eyes.
All of Friday night I helped my host sister, who’s a lawyer that works in property rights and workers’ advocacy, with a Power point presentation for a talk on Saturday about the benefits of unionizing, so I asked Marfa how it went and she said that no one showed up. Apparently this was one of the few jobs that my sister had received that gave her a paycheck, and because no one showed up she doesn’t get paid. This morning at breakfast I found out that her primary job, working as a land and employment lawyer for a farmers’ cooperative, is all volunteer. Apparently she couldn’t get to work yesterday because she didn’t have enough money to pay for transportation, which costs about $0.50.
Last night, I crawled under my mosquito net and discovered a mosquito waiting for me inside. I spent about 5 minutes attempting to kill it – it’s really hard once the net is set up because you only have soft vertical services to smoosh them against, and they usually fly away before your hand can even get to them. So once I couldn’t see it anymore I gave up trying to search for it. I quickly discovered I had bigger fish to fry –a beetley-pill-bug type thing clung to the inner walls of my mosquito net. I stared at it for a while and it didn’t look like it had wings so I tried to grab it to put it outside my net. It didn’t have wings but it jumped, and it jumped right at my head. I tried to smack it but instead I hit my face and quickly discovered I had given myself a bloody nose. All sorts of things happen out here.
The mom of a friend of mine makes and sells tortillas. Many women have microbusinesses in which they sell food here; they’ll make cuajada (a really popular cheese that from my experiences so far, you only eat with tortillas; my host-brother’s wife makes cuajada, and it seems like almost every other house sells it, too), tortillas (my next door neighbor makes tortillas, so every morning I hear her pounding out the dough), fast-food at night-time, etc. I found this out when I was working with another friend to create a new tour and she was telling me that the tour of San Ramón stopped at my friend’s house so that people could learn how to make tortillas. So yesterday we were supposed to do a run-through of one of the new tours that we had made but of 13 guides, only 2 people showed up so we ended up not going, but instead I went to my friend’s house and made a tortilla, which was pretty sweet. I don’t understand how they can work in that environment all day though – they use a wood-fired stove, which creates TONS of smoke. I could barely stand outside of the building because the air was so dirty, let alone in it. Her mom then fed me lunch, which consisted of a glass of Coke and two tortillas with cuajada.
We haven’t had water for the past week, which, for us, means that our hose doesn’t work. The ironic part is that we run out of water when it starts pouring –we lose water when water comes. The rain either moves around the tubes in the water purification center or the center has to shut off the pipes to reclean the new water. Either way, when we get a lot of rain, we don’t have any water. And I feel like most of the time, we don’t have water. The water that we currently have in the bathroom exists as a thin film on the bottom of the big green bathing bucket, which I have come to be sketched out by as I spotted little worms in there yesterday. I asked Marfa about the “little snakes” (I didn’t know how the word for worm) in the bucket and she nodded and said that they must be mosquito larvae, and nonchalantly said that she should empty that out. I think they’re still there. I’ve also made allies with a spider, who I am hoping will help me in my quest to kill the mosquitos in my room. In mosquito-related news, today was the second time I’ve seen a fumigation car go by. It’s this white truck with a giant motor in the back that spews out this gas to kill mosquitos. It’s really loud, but the sound of the truck is the only warning you have that they’re fumigating. I didn’t even know what it was the first time I saw it and Marfa essentially dragged me inside, telling me that it was dangerous to breathe the fumes. I wonder if everyone else outside knew that.
It seems like pregnancy is an entirely different thing out here. My host brother came over and was looking at pictures that I had stuck on my mirror, and there was one of me wearing a dress that came in above the hips (an empire dress?), standing with my family. He told me, “You look really pretty here – you look a little pregnant,” as if looking pregnant was a part of my looking pretty. I’ll blame the pregnant-looking part on the style of dress since it doesn’t curve into the waist. I thought it was interesting though, that in the US it’d be an insult for someone to say “You look pregnant in this picture,” whereas here it’s either a comment or a compliment. My host-mom was looking at pictures that I had and asked me if someone was pregnant in one of them. I laughed and was surprised that she had asked that since in the US, if the person isn’t pregnant someone could take offense at the thought. Yesterday I was wearing a shirt that was the same style as the dress, where flows below the chest. I was standing next to my friend Delenia (whose mom makes tortillas), who was sitting down, and she put her arm around my waist, rested her head on my stomach, and rubbed my belly with her other hand. I think I laughed and then she said that she heard the baby kicking, and pretended that I was two months pregnant. I had no idea what that even meant – I was learning about pregnancy from a fifteen-year old. I’ve realized that pregnancy is somewhat a taboo subject in the US, from my experiences here. It seems like almost everyone past the age of 18 either has a kid or is pregnant – I’ve started asking new friends that I make if they have any kids, since it’s so common.
At the more popular bus stops, people standing at the stop will accost the bus, wielding an assortment of food products and shouting about them. They’ll take advantage of any window spaces and shove their products up to the windows to catch the attention of the people in the bus. The people will either walk around with their arms almost completely vertical to have their food be eye-level with the passengers, or they’ll have bowls with their goods and rest them on their heads. (This is a really popular means of carrying things – I see people carrying stacks of wood on their head in San Ramón all the time.) “Onions, onions onions onions,” “Chancho con yuca chancho con yuca chancho con yuca,” (pork and yuca, tradicional Nicaraguan food)“agua helada agua helada agua helada.” The food will range from bagged produce (like onions, garlic, tomatoes) to prepared cooked meals and desserts. The first time this happened on the way to Masaya, I was in awe – one guy selling produce climbed on one of the tires of the bus to better grab the attention of the passengers. A bus employee tried to swat him off the tire but the guy didn’t get down until the employee pushed him off.
Some will enter the bus at these stops and then walk down the aisle selling their goods. Often they’ll ride the bus and sell their products for some amount of time and then get off at a random stop, whenever people stop buying their food.
I’m sure there’s other stuff to do there but I didn’t know of anything else, so after I found myself a hostel I went to back to the market, which I had discovered initially when I first got off the bus. The bus station is located directly behind it, so you’re forced to enter the market, which consists of corrugated tin and plastic bag ceilings and wet/muddy ground. I bought 10 pairs of shoes in this market, which is pretty ridiculous considering I was only traveling with my school backpack, so I had to shove all of them in there.
A 12-year old boy from a “gang” (okay, a group of about 6 younger boys) stole fruit from me on Saturday afternoon. I was walking back from shopping and had bags in one hand and then this weird fruit that looks like something from a Dr. Suess book. (The fruits are green and look like limes but have soft pink insides, and grow on branches. They’re sold in bunches so it looks like a bouquet of pom-poms on sticks.) This guy approached me and said, “Can I have a branch?” Before I could respond, he said, “Or the whole thing?” and attempted to grab them all from my hand. I immediately recoiled and grabbed the majority of the fruit back from him, but he was left with one branch. This was the first time I’d ever been “mugged”, and I had some alien fruit taken from me. This actually scared me, too! I would have given them the fruit (and I eventually did), but to have it forcefully taken from me offended my sense of self. This shock at being affronted quickly mixed with a sense of guilt – these boys likely lived on the street (which was confirmed when I left my hostel the next morning) and when anyone resorts to stealing food, it probably means they’re having some bad times. I didn’t even want the fruit. When I left the next morning I saw them sleeping on the stoop of the building next door, using cardboard as blankets. I dropped the fruit by the head of one of the boys, likely the one that had approached me the day before.
Going back in time, on Saturday night I wandered around until I saw a restaurant with a neon-light sign as I figured this was a sign of establishment. I wanted to live it up, be waited on, and not have people attempt to talk to me at dinner. It’s rather ironic because I ended up eating dinner at this Mexican restaurant with a fellow solo English-speaking traveler, who was using the money saved from graduating college a year early to backpack from Guatemala to Panama.
On Sunday, I went shopping and then left at around 9 am because I wasn’t sure what time the buses stopped running.
I got back at around 2 pm to find my host-mom sitting at the kitchen table with Chago, my host-brother who lives across the street, and a piñata. Or rather, the two of them were making a piñata of a traditionally-dressed Nica girl, except Marfa decided to make her a “chela”, with blonde hair and green eyes.
All of Friday night I helped my host sister, who’s a lawyer that works in property rights and workers’ advocacy, with a Power point presentation for a talk on Saturday about the benefits of unionizing, so I asked Marfa how it went and she said that no one showed up. Apparently this was one of the few jobs that my sister had received that gave her a paycheck, and because no one showed up she doesn’t get paid. This morning at breakfast I found out that her primary job, working as a land and employment lawyer for a farmers’ cooperative, is all volunteer. Apparently she couldn’t get to work yesterday because she didn’t have enough money to pay for transportation, which costs about $0.50.
Last night, I crawled under my mosquito net and discovered a mosquito waiting for me inside. I spent about 5 minutes attempting to kill it – it’s really hard once the net is set up because you only have soft vertical services to smoosh them against, and they usually fly away before your hand can even get to them. So once I couldn’t see it anymore I gave up trying to search for it. I quickly discovered I had bigger fish to fry –a beetley-pill-bug type thing clung to the inner walls of my mosquito net. I stared at it for a while and it didn’t look like it had wings so I tried to grab it to put it outside my net. It didn’t have wings but it jumped, and it jumped right at my head. I tried to smack it but instead I hit my face and quickly discovered I had given myself a bloody nose. All sorts of things happen out here.
The mom of a friend of mine makes and sells tortillas. Many women have microbusinesses in which they sell food here; they’ll make cuajada (a really popular cheese that from my experiences so far, you only eat with tortillas; my host-brother’s wife makes cuajada, and it seems like almost every other house sells it, too), tortillas (my next door neighbor makes tortillas, so every morning I hear her pounding out the dough), fast-food at night-time, etc. I found this out when I was working with another friend to create a new tour and she was telling me that the tour of San Ramón stopped at my friend’s house so that people could learn how to make tortillas. So yesterday we were supposed to do a run-through of one of the new tours that we had made but of 13 guides, only 2 people showed up so we ended up not going, but instead I went to my friend’s house and made a tortilla, which was pretty sweet. I don’t understand how they can work in that environment all day though – they use a wood-fired stove, which creates TONS of smoke. I could barely stand outside of the building because the air was so dirty, let alone in it. Her mom then fed me lunch, which consisted of a glass of Coke and two tortillas with cuajada.
We haven’t had water for the past week, which, for us, means that our hose doesn’t work. The ironic part is that we run out of water when it starts pouring –we lose water when water comes. The rain either moves around the tubes in the water purification center or the center has to shut off the pipes to reclean the new water. Either way, when we get a lot of rain, we don’t have any water. And I feel like most of the time, we don’t have water. The water that we currently have in the bathroom exists as a thin film on the bottom of the big green bathing bucket, which I have come to be sketched out by as I spotted little worms in there yesterday. I asked Marfa about the “little snakes” (I didn’t know how the word for worm) in the bucket and she nodded and said that they must be mosquito larvae, and nonchalantly said that she should empty that out. I think they’re still there. I’ve also made allies with a spider, who I am hoping will help me in my quest to kill the mosquitos in my room. In mosquito-related news, today was the second time I’ve seen a fumigation car go by. It’s this white truck with a giant motor in the back that spews out this gas to kill mosquitos. It’s really loud, but the sound of the truck is the only warning you have that they’re fumigating. I didn’t even know what it was the first time I saw it and Marfa essentially dragged me inside, telling me that it was dangerous to breathe the fumes. I wonder if everyone else outside knew that.
It seems like pregnancy is an entirely different thing out here. My host brother came over and was looking at pictures that I had stuck on my mirror, and there was one of me wearing a dress that came in above the hips (an empire dress?), standing with my family. He told me, “You look really pretty here – you look a little pregnant,” as if looking pregnant was a part of my looking pretty. I’ll blame the pregnant-looking part on the style of dress since it doesn’t curve into the waist. I thought it was interesting though, that in the US it’d be an insult for someone to say “You look pregnant in this picture,” whereas here it’s either a comment or a compliment. My host-mom was looking at pictures that I had and asked me if someone was pregnant in one of them. I laughed and was surprised that she had asked that since in the US, if the person isn’t pregnant someone could take offense at the thought. Yesterday I was wearing a shirt that was the same style as the dress, where flows below the chest. I was standing next to my friend Delenia (whose mom makes tortillas), who was sitting down, and she put her arm around my waist, rested her head on my stomach, and rubbed my belly with her other hand. I think I laughed and then she said that she heard the baby kicking, and pretended that I was two months pregnant. I had no idea what that even meant – I was learning about pregnancy from a fifteen-year old. I’ve realized that pregnancy is somewhat a taboo subject in the US, from my experiences here. It seems like almost everyone past the age of 18 either has a kid or is pregnant – I’ve started asking new friends that I make if they have any kids, since it’s so common.
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