Mis Pensamientos y la Costa

Tomorrow we travel to the Caribbean Coast of Nicaragua which entails a 6 hour bus ride with a *potential* stop mid-journey, if the driver feels like it, and then a 2 1/2 hour speedboat ride to get to Bluefields. We're leaving at 5 AM to make sure we get seats on the 6 AM bus, because standing on long bus rides is a thing here, people will stand for that discomfort, literally.

Given that this impending travel day is entirely out of my control, I have already begun the dehydration process because I tend to pee every hour on the hour. I plan to use the many hours in which I have to distract myself from the inevitable physical discomfort making a list of things that are realer than "the joy is in the journey." Off the top of my head, the dangers of standing in front of a microwave and the existence of Nessi, your friendly neighborhood Loch Ness Monster, come to mind.

We'll be spending a week there (2 days in Bluefields, 3 days in Orinoco, and a day in Pearl Lagoon) and I probably won't have wifi so if I miss something important on social media during my time off the grid, like #nationalsecondcousinsday or similar, please, please inform me upon my return.


When I'm back in Managua, I plan to write a strongly-worded rant on the "piropos" or catcalls that are a daily part of the reality of all women here. I can't start now because you should never go to bed angry and it pisses me off to no end, so more of a morning activity.

I'll probably write it after I go for my morning run and all my endorphins and good vibes are diluted with each "Chela"  (pale girl) or *gross pursed lip noise* sent my way courtesy of men who probably love their mothers. And what drains me most is that I'll leave here in a few months and go back to my daily life, and maybe I'll carry the feelings that come with always being gawked at and objectified with me and maybe I'll forget, but my little sister here, who turns seven in sixteen days (the countdown has lasted over a month), will grow up with this constant harassment. And she'll think it's normal.

It's not normal. And I don't think the less overt sexism women face in the U.S. is any more excusable by any means, but the constant piropos here have got me feeling some kind of way. Man, I feel like a woman.

When your Grandma sells fruit, life is always sweet 

On a much lighter note, my goal was to journal everyday while here, which was ambitious. I have not achieved this goal due to my value of sleep over everything, but I'm relatively caught up now and if you're wondering where my head's at, here are some thoughts I felt worthy of writing down- which upon rereading, some of them seem questionable but who am I to judge Past Graciela?


Tuesday September 8 (Day 13) Managua
I knocked over a thing of bananas at the market.  I didn't actually touch it, but it looked like I did and that's all that really matters because when I tried to pass the blame along, I did so in English and no one understood.

Also- confused sopa (soup) and jabón (soap), both of which I needed to buy for the Campo, but Kenny my conversation partner at the UCA helped a lot/basically did everything for me after that.

Wednesday September 9 (Day 14) Managua
Tomorrow we leave for the campo and I have enough granola bars to sustain me. It's a shame I can't live tweet all that goes down, but I'm going in rogue/without wifi.


Thursday September 10 (Day 15)- Tuesday September 15 (Day 20) El Campo- Rural Nicaragua
There's a mosquito in my mosquitero (mosquito net). I've literally put myself in a cage with a mosquito.

I took my sleeping pill two hours too early; thought we went to bed at sundown...

Friday (Day 16) 
(some of these written in a feverish haze)
Thought I was going to vomit so took breakfast off. Hopefully I can eat something or I'll waste away and become beautiful in America's unrealistic standards.

Going to check to see if I have a fever cuz chickengunya.

My fingers are swollen and sticky and clay-covered but I've done 0 sculpting, even after I wash them. What does this mean?

Is that a lizard, mouse, or cucuracha? Oh thank God it's just a lizard. Wassup, lizard.

If I have chikengunya, Imma buy myself a tub of Ben & Jerry's at all costs.

My Spanish would get really good here if I weren't so in my head or in my bed.

Saturday (Day 17)
I bathed publicly. Children stared at me like an alien until my host mom shooed them away. I think it's natural to be curious what the pale lady who came bearing gifts of jolly ranchers and Chicago memorabilia looks like under the oversized t-shirts, but it's just as natural to want privacy when showering, even when bucket showering.

Sunday (Day 18)
While making small talk, which in English I speak fluently, I said "I can hear the sharks over the mountains!" intending to comment on the drums I actually heard, pounding away for Independence Day.

Monday (Day 19)
Tomorrow I leave and wouldn't you know it, I grew attached. These people rock.

Bathed in a waterfall and deliberately nature peed over using la latrina. I am woman, hear me roar.


Wednesday 9/16 day 21
So good to be home in Managua with my family and my own bathroom that does not have killer bees or similar building a hive in it like that latrine seemed to.

Thursday 9/17 day 22 Managua
My family in Lisle has a new "brother" from Managua, which is very full-circle and small worldy and pretty trippy if you think about it a lot.

Also, Alvaro got a new pitbull puppy who definitely will change some long-held stereotypes about the breed and he showed me a new park so I can run once more!

Family Concert  @ El Teatro Reuben Dario last Friday

Carlos Mejía Godoy- he's still got it (seriously, give him a listen)

into the decor in San Juan del Sur (the place to be if you are a surfer or pretend to be)

The Joy is In the Destination

Buenas Noches, Luna.

Friday 9/18 day 23 Managua
A man in the replacement park (Parque Japones is closed for 4-7 months so I've kissed it goodbye) interrupted me mid-plank (the exercise kind, not the internet trend of the late 2000s) to talk to me and then asked me in English how I say goodbye, and I responded "Adios" because I knew that one fairly confidently.

But then he asked for a "besito", (little kiss) and I just said "Estoy sudando" or "I'm sweating", which was pretty clear to everyone present so not really sure if people are into this look now, or what.

Then I put my headphones back in and he came back AGAIN to talk about gambling, was my understanding of it, and show me his iPhone, perhaps? I literally could not have been less approachable throughout all of this because I'm no longer gullible or foolish, and I'm also fed up with machismo in general, so hoping he got the hint.

ALSO, we went to a karaoke bar which was everything I hoped it would be -aka air conditioning and running water at all hours- and more because the crowd was great, I think my rendition really changed some lives, and bottle service for $7.50 in American moola.

Saturday 9/19 day 24 Managua 
I started crying while watching Toy Story 3 with my family because when Andy says goodbye to his mom it hurts my soul. Why do we ever leave our moms and who started this horrible trend?

Tried to pretend I wasn't crying, because generally sweaty enough at any given moment to blame it on that, but I'm an ugly crier and a loud crier, the perfect storm, so there was no hiding it. All present were uncomfortable.

Sunday 9/20 day 25 Managua 
My mom here woke me up with Las Mañanitas, the catchiest of tunes, and that's exactly the sort of thing my U.S. mom would do so it felt like home. I Skyped my biological fam while they sang to me and our new Nicaraguan brother, Kevin, because not only are we in each other's hometowns, we also have the same birthday.

He ate cake with my grandparents and I watched via the internet and it was like a really weird dream that you have to journal about right when you wake up so you don't forget it, and you're not sure what it means but it's probably good.

Gram, Kevin, Papa 

Later I showed my Managua family the video Alana and Evan made me, which is Sundance worthy, and I realized my extended family understands more English than they'd led me to believe. For example, a memorable line,  "Turn the f*** up, bi**h!"

My cousin showin me the ropes.

My parents in the U.S. with my Nica mom and aunt

my birthday rash! twenty-fun!

all the corn husks we used to make Atol, a beverage 10/10 would try again

my bath my last day cuz cleanliness is Godliness

It was the best birthday I could have ever asked for, except for one minor hiccup in which I applied a lot of a new organic bugspray before my party, developed an alarming rash, and had to change into something more modest so as not to scare the guests.


Monday 9/21 day 26 Managua
Park Man was waiting for me this morning, which was unpleasant and classic Monday, honestly.

Not dwelling on it, though, because Anita brought apples to celebrate my birth some more and it tasted like home.

Tuesday 9/22 day 27 Managua
Park Man's back back back, back again. Told him I don't come to the park to talk, I come to run. He said, "Me too," so glad we're in agreement.

Harry Potter was on TV again so I got to explain everything to the fam and honestly my Spanish is better when I'm talking about my boy, HP. "Los Horcruxes son partes de la alma de Voldemort y él escogió objetos para esconder los partes." And you should see me explain dementors; it's moving.


So, I'm going to sleep now so that I'll only be mildly unpleasant to travel with tomorrow. My malaria meds are packed, I'm open to the possible side effects of crazy dreams, and if the opportunity to have my hair braided comes up in these next few days en La Costa, which I've heard it might, rest assured I will take it.


xoxo,
Gossip Graciela (considering legally changing my name or just changing it on FB- thoughts?)

I'm a Poet & I Want You to Know It (a tale of redemption and a serious case of self-diagnosis)

I returned from el campo, or rural Nicaragua, a week ago today and I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about my experiences there, as I tend to have, so stay tuned for that. While there, we had several assignments (experiential learning, jah feel), one of which was to write a little poesía, a huge part of Nicaraguan culture.

"Every Nicaraguan born is a poet until he or she demonstrates the contrary." - Jose Coronel Urtecho

I was not born here, (as you probably have gathered from my extensive knowledge of American pop culture and/or my inability to conjugate Spanish verbs under pressure), and I've never claimed to be  Ruben Dario, though I've claimed to be a lot of things in my day.

I wrote these poems when I was in a very dark place, both literally, because my headlamp could only illuminate so much, and figuratively, because I thought I was dying (more on this later- I am alive).

"Worry is a misuse of your imagination."

Short story long, I suspiciously had all the symptoms of chikungunya, a mosquito-borne illness that starts with a fever and muscular aches and then can progress to symptoms of arthritis for several months or worse.

The view from their parcela. The first time they brought me here there was a rainbow and they told me to take a picture, after the 40 minute ascent, but in my effort to be low-maintenance I had left my iPhone intentionally back at the house. So then, my brother had to take me back AGAIN the next day, even though I'd already proven I was more of a liability than an asset when it comes to working the fields and it was his day off, so the moral is I'm an unintentional diva and this view is amazing.

Some of the flowers are used to decorate the really beautiful envelopes and notebooks my mom and 3 other women make and sell from recycled paper and plants.

One day I slept in until 5:55 AM and felt pretty scummy about it.

Grinding the corn to make atol, a delightful beverage kind of like rice pudding but born from corn. The bucket is for the corn milk, not my sweat.

My first question was "What are the chickens' names?" There are no stupid questions, but this might be an exception to that rule. Luckily, I explained that I'm a vegetarian before any became my welcome dinner.

Corn does not have to grow on flat ground, it can grow on mountains. And I had a helluva time getting to the top.

The thermometer I had in my possession gave me my temperature in Celcius, a useless scale unless you're from any country besides the U.S., and so I did some admirable attempts at conversion, and initially got a temperature of 67 degrees F and later 107 degrees F, both of which led me to believe I was in fact at death's door. Instead of my life flashing before my eyes, I instead saw the disappointed faces of past math teachers, particularly Mrs. Svitak, my 8th grade teacher who definitely taught us this and taught it well, dammit.

I tried to text my Academic Director but my Nicaraguan phone had run out of "recarga", which is the money you add to your phone every so often so you can send texts and make calls or if you really want to splurge, subscribe to daily horoscopes. I had literally sent 4 texts in the 2 weeks prior and did not buy the horoscope package, so we may never know how I used all my minutes, but in my time of utter need, they were gone.

I asked my new host family, who I'd known about half a day at this point -so we were close- to feel my clammy face to see just how dire the situation was. They were concerned, probably because already that morning I'd had an adorable case of "Estómago Gringo", which left me unable to eat the breakfast and very familiar with la latrina, the latrine/outhouse a stone's throw away from the house, (which I rarely saw anyone else use so it's possible I should look into my bladder issues and seek medical attention). It was very clear to everyone that I was weak; no doubt with bones made of glass, as well, and this fever was not something to be taken lightly.

Like many a youth of my generation, in this, my darkest hour, I turned to my iPhone. It may very well have cost my U.S. family a small fortune, but I was able to send a text and get my correct temperature, which was a ripe 100 F.

Before I was blessed with this accurate information, I went outside to brush my teeth and look at the stars, for perhaps the last time. It was very beautiful, very minty-fresh, and in retrospect, absurdly melodramatic. I feel very sorry for whoever is with me whenever I am actually dying because I can't even imagine the scene I will inevitably cause.

It was from the interior of my mosquito net, facing all this adversity and illness with a mind that just won't quit, that I wrote most of these poems. It was also in this setting, that my mom for these 5 days, (quite possibly a literal angel among men/women) prayed over me and asked Señor to heal me, which He did! I feel awesome, currently. This prayer was possibly the most sincere and beautiful thing I've ever experienced and obviously I cried, I'm not a robot, and I'll never be able to repay her kindness and genuine hospitality and goodness and that is something I will always carry with me.

So, with that, when you analyze this poetry and maybe it haunts you at night, please picture me writing it during my first day in this completely new environment (which 4 days later I cried when I had to leave), clad in long underwear and copious amounts of DEET, with the intention of finishing the assignment before I got the hell out of there, to the comforts of some hospital, no doubt.



La Mente Poderosa
Me duele la cabeza
La culpa no es de la cerveza

Me parece como resaca
En mi corazón, yo sé no es nada.

Pero en mi mente, el dolor
es chikungunya, ¡que horror!

Pero, si voy a morir aquí
En mi tumba, pongan "tuani".

Translation:

The Powerful Mind
My head hurts
But it's not because of beer

It feels like a hangover
But in my heart, I know it's nothing.

But in my mind, the pain
is chikunguyna, how horrible

But, if I'm going to die here
On my tombstone, put "Cool/Chill." (Even in death, I think highly of myself)

Just Say Sí

(this poem is most heartfelt when sung)

When I find myself in times of trouble

And I can’t think clearly

Lacking words or wisdom, just say “si”.

And in my hour of darkness

Doña Rosalia prayed over me

Asked Señor for healing, just say “si”

Just say “sí”, just say “sí”

Just say “sí”, just say “sí”

Lacking words or wisdom

Just say “sí”.

And all the broken-Spanish speakers

Living in the world agree

Sometimes it’s the right answer, just say “sí”.

For though the question asked

May require much more clarity

It is still an answer, just say “sí”.

Just say “sí”, just say “sí”

Just say “sí”, just say “sí”

Yeah, it’s at least an answer

Just say “sí”.

Just say “sí”, just say “sí”

Just say “sí”, just say “sí”

Lacking words or wisdom

Just say “sí”.

Just say “sí”, just say “sí”

Just say “sí”, just say “sí”

If you don’t know the answer

Just say “sí”.

And when your mind is cloudy

And there’s somewhere else you’d rather be

Shine on until tomorrow, just say “sí”.

I woke up to the sound of roosters

And my new host family

Lacking words and wisdom, I said “sí”.

Yeah, just say “sí”, just say “sí”

Just say “sí”, just say “sí”

You might not get the question,

Just say “sí”.

Just say “sí”, just say “sí”

Just say “sí”, just say “sí”

Lacking words or wisdom
Just say “sí”.

Una Persona de La Mañana (A Haiku)
¡Callate, gallo!
Espera hasta el sol.
Quiero dormir.

A Morning Person (A Haiku only in Spanish, the translation is a short poem- just enjoy it)
Shut up, rooster!
Wait until the sun.
I want to sleep.

Quiero Tu Compasión (A Haiku)
Zancudo mordió
Picaduras, tengo muchas
Mi pobre culo

I Want Your Compassion/Pity
Mosquito bit
Mosquito bites, I have many 
My poor ass


These poems I wrote after in a much better place mentally and was able to recognize that this was a really beautiful place, physically.

La Franqueza de Una Bebe

La bebe se orinó

En la hamaca.

No te preocupes.

El piso es de tierra,

Se secará.

La bebe toma café

En su biberón

No por la cafeína,

Tenemos el café

y lo tomamos.

La bebe grita

Cada hora

A veces sin razón,

Ella aprendió

De los gallos.

La bebe come mucho;

Tenemos mucho comida.

Sembraron maíz

Trabajaron

Cada día.

La bebe juega con gallinas

Y corre en las colinas

Para decir "Adiós"

A su abuelo y tío.

Se van a la parcela.

La bebe no habla

Pero puede entender

Que la vida sencilla

Es una vida con amor.

Más Que Suficiente.

The Candor of a Baby

The baby peed herself

In the hammock

Do not worry

The floor is made of earth

It will dry itself

The baby drinks coffee

In her baby bottle

Not for the caffeine

We have the coffee

and we drink it.

The baby yells

Every hour

Sometimes without reason

She learned

From the roosters

The baby eats a lot

We have a lot of food

They grew corn

They worked

Every day

The baby plays with chickens

And runs in the hills

To say goodbye

To her grandpa and uncle.

They go to the parcel of land.

The baby does not talk

But she can understand

That the simple life

Is a life with love.

More Than Sufficient.

La Independencia (a Haiku)
Come tu maíz
Cocina tus frijoles
Propio jefe

The Independence
Eat your corn,
Cook your beans.
Your own boss.


In conclusion, having recently conquered death or at least having convinced myself I was there and then shortly after succumbed to logic, I would like to remind you all that each day is a gift, mosquitos are the literal worst, and when life gives you troubling symptoms, write some poetry- preferably not in your first language.

Also, I would like to give a shout-out to the family I lived with, though they will probably never read this blog and though our paths may never cross again. They gave me more patience than I deserved, exactly the amount of comfort food (tamales) I craved, and welcomed me into their home despite the fact that every attempt at "helping", resulted in twice as much time and effort on their part. I undoubtably would have lost it without them and this blog would have ended rather abruptly with that ship post.

xoxo,
Gossip Graciela

I'm The Ship

"A ship is always safe at shore, but that is not what it's built for." - Einstein

Given that my comfort zone extends only the dimensions of my bedroom in Lisle, Illinois, it may come as a surprise to some of you that I am writing this from the SIT study center in Colonia Maximo Jerez in Managua, Nicaragua. I'm just as shocked as you are, in fact, I often wake up not quite sure where I am and then I remember and I sort of chuckle at past Grace's expense for thinking she could handle an experience like this one with ease. 

Then, I deftly maneuver out of my mosquito net to the bathroom, where in our neighborhood the water only runs from about 2 am to 8 am. If it is not within these precious hours, I use the water from my bucket to flush and wash my hands, admire my sweaty reflection, and reposition the net around me- the princess canopy I always wanted as a youth.  The homes here are very open to circulate the air flow and such so on any given day there are a few ants in my room and we just choose to ignore each another, and a spider or two, with whom I admire greatly for eating the mosquitos and really doing me a solid/saving me from chikungunya, dengue, malaria, or just an unattractive mosquito bite blemish. One day there was a lizard of sorts but I didn't know how to ask my family how to handle that and was really too tired to bother much with it, though I did consider the iconic Parent Trap scene as I fell asleep that night. Exhaustion can really make a gal apathetic. 

the lizard looked eerily similar, maybe worked as a stunt double

took over Vince's room to pack, which was also outside my comfort zone/against every rule I've ever known

Buenas Noches Luna and La Bella y La Bestia have been huge hits with the fam, so I'm very pleased.

Was/am worried about missing the USC social scene but luckily I'm there in spirit and also in the form of my timeless 5th grade yearbook photo

If you've seen the Wild movie, that struggle of Reese putting on her backpack is what I look like every time. You would've felt very sorry for me watching me maneuver Customs when I landed and I would have graciously accepted your pity.

First breakfast together at Casa San Juan for Orientation. "I'll take a picture in case we grow attached!"- me

Toma Mi Teta was one of the most interesting tales and also sculptures in the Museum of Legends in León. My understanding of it, which is probably wrong, given I thought I was about to pass out due to the heat and Nicaraguan Spanish has it's own unique characteristics I'm adjusting to, is that she was never truly loved and men only wanted her for her huge boobs so when they harassed her  and objectified her and such, she killed the creeps by smothering them with her breasts. Kind of a woman warrior-  let this be a lesson to us all!

Here's a quick recap of the past 12 days from my journal:

Day 1/Wednesday- on the plane : I filled out a customs form with a purple marker and I can't cry because the ink will bleed.

Day 2/Thursday (Orientation)- The people are cool. I feel comfortable discussing shit with them, literally. 
I'm *cautiously* optimistic and not opening my mouth in the shower, like Charlotte in Mexico. 

Day 3/Friday (Orientation) - I like seeing what I'm made of, which it turns out is more sweat than I thought humanly possible. The man who gave us the tour of the Leyendas museum wiped a droplet off my lip and it might've been cute if it wasn't super creepy.

Day 4/Saturday (Orientation)- Guillermo read our auras at the dinner party at Aynn's house (for homestay placement purposes) and I felt like he was also reading my thoughts, which worried me. Of all the things I can control, I can't even control my own mind.

Day 5/Sunday (Homestay Move-in) - I have my own bathroom! But I don't have any idea how to get the damn toilet to flush.

Day 6/Monday (First day of School) - We are a long line of gringo ducklings toting water bottles and wearing less clothes than everyone because we can't hang. Every kid at the UCA (University of Central America) is in jeans, some in boots, none sweaty, and all beautiful.

I used plastic bags stretched out, hair ties, and an Iverson rope to assemble my mosquito net so maybe I am relatively resilient like the playlist I made for when I feel less so suggests.

Day 7/Tuesday- My family invited me to Granada this weekend, where there are freshwater sharks which is BS because sharks are for oceans, and I get to ride in the back part of the truck and maybe even bring a friend!

Day 8/Wednesday- Found my way to the parque solo aka I'm an independent woman who can run wherever I want even if men shout at me along the way. Fuck piropos. (catcalls)

Day 9/Thursday- We played soccer in the park (Gringos vs Maximo Jerez kids) and we lost but probably saw that coming. I scored two goals and showboated a lot, a real Cinderella story but way less humble.

Day 10/Friday- Went to Chaman, a discoteca, looking exceptionally mom-like because I was literally wearing my mom's dress and sensible shoes. Some dress to impress, I dress for child-rearing. Also noteworthy, wore bugspray (DEET is my signature scent) and had a flashlight in my pocket all the while. I'm awesome.

Day 11/Saturday- The family road trip to Granada in the tina (back part) of the truck was thrilling, as was our boat trip around the islands, all owned by rich people except for one owned by 5 wild monkeys who eat copious amounts of mangos and enforce their private property rights if you try to cross them. 

Jose Angel is still warming up to me.

Our soup brings all the boys and gals to the yard

Day 12/Sunday- The Mormons who live next door to the study center invited me to church after I explained that I've never met a Mormon I didn't love, but I respectfully declined because on Sundays vendemos comida.  Our house/restaurant was poppin', the soup is very highly regarded (but meat-based so can't confirm or deny its quality) and we also have music to set the mood. Blank Space played at one point and it was really a lot to take in.

You can't flush the toilet paper here, there's a garbage can you put it in instead. Ask me how many times I've forgotten this and I will pretend I didn't hear you.

My hermanita, a wonderful 6 year old, made me this work of art. Stay tuned for pictures of the artist herself and my other siblings once I ask our mom if that's okay to post on this ~highly popular~ blog.

Having been here 12 days now, (I'm basically a local), I can truly say the hardest part was the preparation and anticipation. I spent copious amounts of time packing and unpacking (estimating a 3 month supply of bugspray and sunscreen is taxing) and basically felt like I was on the horrible part of a roller coaster where you're slowly chugging along towards the tipping point and wondering if you can get out unscathed or stop the ride with your dignity in tact while simultaneously I felt like I was also slowly and painfully removing a bandaid stuck deeply in my arm hair. 

I had these pleasant feelings for the full two weeks prior to my departure and talked them out thoroughly with my therapist, who suggested at first maybe postponing, which of course made me want to go and do the damn thing that much more. I sought treatment for my anxiety, which apparently I've had for some time (I just thought everyone thinks and feels like this- s/o to the lucky bastards that don't), just 15 days before I hopped on a plane. This was insufficient time to get any medication doses correct, so your girl's going in rogue!

I find the whole thing a little hilarious, because almost anything is funny if you think about it. (Plus if it's okay to make fun of myself for my asthma but not for my anxiety, what sort of precedent are we setting here?) For the next three and a half months, I'm just focusing on living in the moment, learning everything I can, and befriending everybody and their brother if they'll let me. After all, with a mind like mine, who needs enemies?

On Thursday we leave for the Campo, where it's about to get real and also rural. I won't have wifi or things of that sort until after but you best believe my character is going to get built. Until then, my goal this week is to find a new park to run in here in Managua, because the beautiful Parque Japones is closed for 4-5 months according to security guards, despite my fervent suggestions that this is not a good idea and it's perfect the way it is.

To close this wordy post, I would like to quote my dear friend Alexi, who is abroad himself at the moment, and his parting words to me in regards to this journey:

"You're going to have a lot of diarrhea but you're going to learn a lot."

This is our bird eating some Papaya. Her name is Lola, she was a show girl, with green feathers in her hair and a dress cut down to there.

Airing out my dirty laundry is a foolish expression because this is clean.

Vamos a Managua

(Una canción relevante)

Mi primer impresión de Managua fue que hace demasiado calor; a veces, pienso que voy a morir. Estoy sudando desde el amanecer hasta la noche, pero me siento más cómoda ahora viviendo en mi propio sudor, sin vergüenza. Me parece raro que los nicaragüenses lleven jeans y botas, y que ellos no suden nada, especialmente con la humedad de un país tropical.

~Soy una gringa en la ciudad~

La primer noche, recibimos nuestros "stipend" por almuerzo, hay 27 córdobas en cada dollar 

Aunque me encanta Nicaragua, la verdad es que la vida aquí no es fácil. Antes de venir, leímos el libro de Roger Lancaster, Vida es Difícil, sobre el barrio Máximo Jerez, donde vivimos, y él no estaba mintiendo.  Las regulaciones de agua, solo la tenemos en casa de las dos de la mañana a las ocho.  

un cubo para limpiar el inodoro y para lavarse las manos

También, está presente la cultura del machismo. Para mí, correr es como terapia, y aquí siempre estoy estresada cuando corro porque los hombres en carro o peor, los hombres en las calles, me gritan piropos. Es horrible que las mujeres aquí vivan cada día con este tipo de acoso sexual. Es parte de la cultura y probablemente, estos hombres aprendieron de sus padres, pero no es aceptable y hay mujeres y hombres nicaragüenses, especialmente hombres educados, que están de acuerdo.

mis amigos, Mamita, y La Hermana

Estaba sudando en León, como siempre

Me encantan todos los nicaragüenses que he conocido, solo tengo problemas con los extraños. Mi familia aquí es muy bonita y cada persona es muy amistosa. También, mi compañero de conversación, un estudiante de la U.C.A. es muy inteligente y servicial. Me siento bienvenido en casa, en la universidad, y con todas las maestras y las personas que se dedican a colaborar con el programa SIT.

un mural donde tenemos clases, CIES

Gallo Pinto, que rico!

Solo he estado en Nicaragua por una semana, pero ya puedo entender la atracción de este país hermoso, con gente fuerte e ingeniosa. Me encantan los dichos, son muy “tuani”, los colores en los murales y las casas, y por supuesto, la abundancia de las frutas deliciosas.

estoy de acuerdo con Sandino

en la iglesia Maria de Los Angeles en el Barrio Riguero