Traveling down the road from Managua to Ocotal is always a thrill. As we are pulling out of the station and building up some speed, someone is beating on the side of the bus. Slowly I hear their shouts fade away. Guess he was too late. We pass various shops. One is selling statues... and thank goodness, because I was starting the wonder where I could by a 20ft. plastic cow. By the way, if you were wondering, yes skunks exist in Nicaragua.
Well, I'm about 2 hours from Ocotal and I have to admit, it might be a bit of a shock. I haven't been there since before New Year's Eve when I house sat for my sitemate. (By the way their names are Nikki and Jessi) I woke up when I wanted, cooked, read "Sundays at Tiffany's" (a romantic book) and watched a whole season of Friends. I have missed the feeling of independence and freedom. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy my host family, but just like with anyone, sometimes you just need some silence and to recharge your batteries.
Well, I've never been to Africa, but I would say that Nicaragua could look a bit like it. Near Managua it is flat with mountains in the distance. Cows line the sides of the road protected by fences made of barbed wire and sticks. There are fields on both sides and I would love to tell you what grows there, but I haven't a clue. Ever once in a while you see a small shack made of scrap metal with dirt floors and no windows. Trash litters the gutters near the road, and sometimes someone is burning it, other times it is floating in stagnant water. Thank goodness it is a windy month or the mosquitoes would be everywhere. A volcano just came into view and it looks huge even from way back here.
Now we are getting into the mountains a bit and they are very different from those in the States. They resemble more those in Puerto Rico or Spain. They are covered with grass and have some trees, but it is nothing like the forrested hills back home. These mountains are rugged... like they just ripped themselves from the ground. Closer to the mountains, we drive through a town. The buildings are made of cement, painted neautral colors, and have red clay tile roofs. A few baseball games are being played in the streets.
This time I'm taking a nice express but where I have a seat. On the way down from Ocotal however, I had a completely different experience. I was insistent on taking the same bus as Steve so we could take a taxi together (which we ended up not needing anyway) and because I wanted to be in Managua early for a meeting. Because of this, I stuffed myself into an old US school bus overflowing with at least 200 people for the 5 1/2 hour trip. For the first hour I was standing right next to the driver who had to carefully maneuver the gear shift so as not to hit me. I was balancing in the center of 7 people and trying to touch the ceiling for support. It is no wonder so man people get robbed on the bus: I couldn't tell where my body stopped and the next person's began. Good thing I carry my money in my bra or my shoes. I figure not too many people are going for those two areas. One thing I have to say for sure is I wasn't missing personal touch after that ride. Throughout the less than ideal circumstances I couldn't help laughing at myself and the situation, especially when we got a flat tire.
The bus system here in general is something that you have to stay good humored about. When people push and shove to get on or off the bus, or when people in the aisle are standing so close to you that you can identify instantly by their breath what they ate for lunch... you have to remember that this is a very close culture. When the man beside you carrying a live chicken or the woman in the next seat is sloppily eating something that smells like a foot with gangrene, you have to realize they have a different concept of fast food.
One of my favorite occurances on a public bus is when someone is talking of shall I say shouting into their phone. After months of thinking about this behavior, I finally received a call on a bus. It is IMPOSSIBLE to hear the other person. No wonder they talk as if they are speaking into a can with a string!
Man, I'm thirsty! Since this is an express bus, there aren't any vendors coming onto the bus. Which is a shame because I could really go for some chocolate milk in a bag. Most of the drinks sold on buses or drinks to-go in a restaurant are served that way. Think of a plastic bag thinner than a ziploc and with no zipper. The drink is poured into it and then the top is tied. To drink the chocolate milk, juice, soda, etc. you bite one of the bottom corners and suck the liquid out. It is actually really easy, just be careful when you set it down.
I just woke up to see another landscape change. We are in a bigger town, but only some of the roads are paved. Men riding horses fill the same streets that women dressed in tight jeans and stilettos walk down.
It was nice to take a little nap. After a week long summer camp I was a little tired, but it was so worth it! This camp completely changed my outlook on my service in Nicaragua. Before time was moving by so slowly, it seemed like it was taking forever to integrate, and I felt like I would never integrate, and never have any Nica friends. In this camp, I got to meet so many amazing Nica, American, and German people. Finally I got to show my bubbling personality and be the social butterfly that I am My stomach and face muscles hurt from laughing so hard during the week. Nicaraguans are FUNNY and they love to joke around. They taught me new card games and (away from the coordinator) naughty phrases in Spanish. I made plans to visit many of them soon and as we all said goodbye there were many hugs and kisses.
Well, I'm about 2 hours from Ocotal and I have to admit, it might be a bit of a shock. I haven't been there since before New Year's Eve when I house sat for my sitemate. (By the way their names are Nikki and Jessi) I woke up when I wanted, cooked, read "Sundays at Tiffany's" (a romantic book) and watched a whole season of Friends. I have missed the feeling of independence and freedom. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy my host family, but just like with anyone, sometimes you just need some silence and to recharge your batteries.After I house sat and before the Summer Camp, I spent a few nights in Masaya with Alex, Claire and Donna. For New Year's we all went to a laguna at Catarina. The 10 of us went swimming and played water volleyball. We were only slightly phased by the rescue boats looking for a couple that went missing over Christmas. The water didn't have much of a current, but it had waves and was clear enough to see your toes, warm and not salty. It was just about perfect for me!
Shamus- the owner of Apoyo Camp where we stayed- treated us like royalty. We all shared a big room with cots, but when you walk down the stairs the bar/kitchen is on the right and the water straight ahead. We made brick oven pizza, drank beer and rang in the New Year by watching fireworks over the laguna. It was great to chill with everyone, listening to music, playing war and Apples to Apples. Even when Stephanie had an allergic reaction to the ant hill she sat on, we had fun taking pictures of her swollen face!
The next day we had a banana pancake breakfast, took one last dip in the water... and hung out until dark, when I finally took my first mototaxi. Alex, Donna, and I took the slowest mototaxi known to mankind and then we spent the first night in Alex's new house. All I can say is what a sweet house! Two rooms with two bathrooms, living room, kitchen and dining room and a small garden. Que fachenta!
I'm less than an hour from Ocotal and the scenery has changed again. Now it really looks like east TN. The mountains have more vegetation, although they are still rugged, and the weather is cooler. This country is truly gorgeous!
Ooh... the bus driver just put on the Dirty Dancing soundtrack. SCORE!
You never know what to expect here in Nicaragua. Just like this Christmas... it was completely different than any other Christmas I've ever had, but pleasant. Francisco and Isolina were very welcoming and excited when I arrived on the 22nd. Of course, food was ready for me to eat and then I went around to say hi to everyone. The next day all the volunteers that came back to the training towns got together for the traditional lunch at Pizza To Go in Jinotepe. That night Alex, Meg, Liz and I played a game of Boggle for old time sake. Of course I lost, but it was nice to have Alex join us so I wasn't dead last.
The 24th started out with a trip to the meat market where I followed Isolina around, slipping on animal fat, looking for the beef. To check freshness, she stuck her finger in each cut of meat and smelled it I'm not sure how she could tell anything by this because my nostrils were full of smells of the blood, guts, and pigs' heads laying around everywhere. Once we finally escaped the dungeon of death, we went back to the house where a hen was waiting to be plucked and butchered. I did the plucking, but had to stand back in awe as Isoline expertly sliced and diced. The thing really looked just like a plastic chicken!
It was weird to feel a dead, warm animal in my hands. It was my first time handling a dead animal (Tom and Jerry don't count because I fished them out of the pool with a net) and I have to admit, I'm not running back for more. This country laughs in the face of vegetarians, but as you can imagine, many more tofu eaters leave here than come.
So I thought that I was getting whitter as my body's natural rebellion of how Nica I'm becoming. But apparently that's not it at all. When I went to the dermatologist they told me I have an "hongo" (Oh no! I have a mushroom!), which loosely translated means a fungus. The treatment, you may be asking yourself? Besides using a topical cream, I must dry y towel on the clothes line in the sun and boil it once a week. Furthermore, I have to stop taking shortcuts and wash my clothes after EVERY use. Guess I'll be doing my laundry much more frequently. If I come back in March with huge arm muscles you'll know why.
