How do I really feel about my time here in Nicaragua?

Well, are you asking me on a good day or a bad one? On bad days I think how it has been frustrating, boring, uncomfortable, and extremely lonely. I have thought about returning home on several occasions. I think about what I have left behind in Tennessee and wonder why on Earth did I signed up for this craziness. I think of my cute little apartment, comfy lifestyle of coffee shops and good books, friends to hang out with, and family to visit. My wonderful job and amazing students come to mind and I want to pick up the phone to see if I can have my old job back. I hear about what everyone is doing in the States and my eyes burn with tears and my feet itch to catch the first plane home. I hear that all my family is coming for the holiday and conflicting pangs of happiness and jealousy rip at my heart.


I miss the convenience of everything- like baking brownies. I would have to take the 4 hour bus ride to Managua, get a taxi to the supermarket, buy the brownies and come back to Ocotal. Once here, I could mix up the batch, and then take it down to the bakery to bake since we don't have an oven! IS IT REALLY WORTH IT?


I miss walking around without having to make a thousand decisions... however small they are. I honestly have to decide who to greet (men between 11-60 are no-nos. You think they would respond normally, but they don't. They cat call you, they call you affectionate names or make grotesque noises with their mouth.) and what side of the street to walk on (to avoid above mentioned people or the sun- it's hot here!). I hate that I'm afraid of dogs here. In the States, it's a preference, but here, I don't want to get bitten or chased.


I miss feeling normal. I don't fit in here. My clothes either aren't tight enough to be fashionable or are too fancy to be worn on a daily basis. My shoes will never match what everyone else is wearing. They all wear 3-4 inch heels, just to buy tortillas down the block! No one has acne here, but me. No one understands why the white girl has bumps on her face. Can someone please tell everyone here that staring is NOT nice. I would love to walk around without everyone holding their hand out for money. (I went to the market the other day and bought bananas. I gave them out instead of money. The other day I splurged and went out and ate some soup. A homeless woman came up and I let her finish it. I don't mind doing these things... but it never happens to a Nica. I just want equality.)


Can people please stop calling me little fatty! I know it is supposed to be an affectionate term, but really! Back off or I'll hit you with my big butt!


I want my host family to understand what I'm going through. They ask questions like "are you sad?", "why don't you go out?", "do you miss the U.S?", or comments like "you just have to go out and meet people", "it's really not that hard to become part of the community", and "you just need to try harder". I finally made them understand a bit when I phrased it this way: Imagine that you have just left all your family and friends, your home and everything that is known and comfortable in your life to be dropped off in the middle of a foreign land. You don't know anyone, you have no job, not much money, and you don't know where anything is located. On top of that, sometimes you understand what people are saying, and sometimes you don't. How do you feel? What do you do?


So on a good day it is a bit different. I wake up and know that I'm not where I once was. I'm learning, I'm adjusting. It amazes me that it now feels normal to boil my water on the stove to wash my face, to take a bucket bath, to say "adios" to everyone that passes me by on the street. It feels normal now to NOT flush the toilet paper and to give directions in numbers of blocks and cardinal directions. I'm finding my way around pretty well and starting to meet people. I make sure that I leave the house at least once a day and put some activity on my calendar even if it is just watching a good movie.


I know that I am making advances in my Spanish when I can sit down with a stranger and have an hour long conversation about random things without confusion. I can read in Spanish and can speak (if people will let me).


I look for opportunities in the community to stay busy, and I have found some really cool things to get involved in and places to go. There's a cute little coffee shop (it doesn't serve coffee, but they have good chocolate milk) and good restaurant for tacos and grilled beef (which I refuse to cook here). Many types of classes are offered: crafts, dance, cooking, sewing. I'm trying to get involved in some that I can afford. There's also a promising gym right down the block, and some women work out at night, so if I get up enough courage, maybe I can join their group.


I watch the people interact here and see that they are happy. There are good relationships and I hope that one day, I will be the person standing on the corner chatting with a friend or hugging in the park, or walking hand in hand (common between two females). I have hope that I will receive invitations for outings, or even to stay in and have dinner and play cards. Maybe one day I will have a friend that is not white, but rather we are friends because we connect on a personal level and enjoy each other's company not just because we can speak English.


It gives me hope when my Mom tells me how proud she is of me. When my Dad tells me how brave I am, that he could never do what I have set out to do; it gives me goosebumps. I look at my life here and think that it isn't too bad, that things are coming together after two weeks, just imagine after two years!


I know that I miss my family and friends, but I talk with them on skype. My Spring visit isn't that far off. I just have to give it time... I will not give up on the bad days. There are more good times than bad. I can do this. I WANT to do this. This is just as much for me as it is for the people I help here. I want to know that I had a choice to stay in my comfortable life where I led a fortunate life, but I DECIDED to sacrifice these two years. And hopefully, when I look back at it, it won't be a sacrifice. It will have been an adventure, a time when I learned about myself and learned about something bigger than myself. I learned to get out of my own head, and live in the real world, where people suffer everyday as they try to do nothing else but survive. When I return, I know that my view of everything will be different, but I can't help to think that it will be such a good change and my life will only be richer for it.


I hope that I can be strong enough to complete my two years here. More than that though, I hope that I let myself live during those two years and experience Nicaragua and all it's potential.