The Journey Home, Part II

So, expensive plane ticket for Panama in hand, I went to the Managua airport for the last time in the foreseeable future.  I checked the two bags I had remaining to my name, and held on to my campesino saco as my carry-on, smelling conspicuously of sweat and the fungus that had taken long-term residence in my clothes.  Then the woman at the counter handed me my first class boarding ticket, and my pass to the VIP room.  I groaned internally as I assumed they had accidentally charged me for a business class ticket when I was sure (in my pinche way) I had bought coach.  I started to try to clarify and switch the ticket when another woman came over and said, "no, this is just Copa's way of thanking you for being such a good customer."

So, uh, thanks Copa.

I was suddenly giddy, ran to the VIP room where they checked my id two times, sat down on one of the many plush sofas, and realized I had suddenly entered some sort of live action game of "which one of these is not like the other?"  Spoiler alert: it was me.  There I was, sweaty, no makeup, with my rough woven saco that is most commonly seen as a means of transporting small livestock, sitting among Managua's finest.  Ladies with nary an eyelash out of place, and sky high heels gave me the side eye as the waiter came over to take my order.  Knowing that I had a few weeks of traveling ahead of me, and that this ticket had already pushed me over my budget, I asked as delicately as I could, "um, would it be possible to see a menu with some, um, prices?"  The poor man gave me the most sympathetic look he could while faced with my baseness, and explained slowly that the first drink in the VIP room was complementary.

I was liking the VIP room a lot at this point.

When I actually boarded the plan, I barely had time to enjoy the huge comfy chair, free meal, and warm towels they pass out to wash your hands before we had landed.  I did, however, have excessive time to embarrass myself with how excited I was with all of these luxuries.  For a girl who was just thrilled when she didn't have to wash her clothes in her shower, this was a big deal.  None of my neighbors seemed to be all that impressed though, and especially not with my occasional giggling fits.  Their loss.

An hour and a half later, I was on the ground in Panama City, with my taxi driver pointing out all of the sights.  The first thing that struck me was the amount of skyscrapers in the city's center, standing watch over a calm ocean front.  The second thing that struck me was what my driver then told me.

"I'm going to have to take a back route to your hostel, since the main street is blocked off for the free concert Daddy Yankee is giving tonight."

It turns out I arrived at the end of the presidential elections, and Navarro, one of the candidates, decided to invite Daddy Yankee to perform as a final play for votes.  Now, I'm not the biggest reggaeton or political fan, but I was not about to let this opportunity go.  I had enough time to check in, throw my bags on my bed, and peace out for the concert while the other guests still sat around talking about other hostels they've stayed at around the world.

The concert was awesome.  There were tons of people, especially families, dancing up a storm as Yankee free styled raps about Panamanian girls and Navarro, and his dancers were on point for the nearly hour and a half he performed.  It was great to be out late in the evening, seeing so many people simply enjoying the night, and feeling completely safe.  It was a definite change from Managua where the sun goes down, and you stay inside if you know what is good for you.  I strolled along the well-lit ocean front back to my hostel and thought that it was probably for the best that I didn't get on that TicaBus after all.

COS and Ringing the Bell

COS in Peace Corps speak is Close of Service, when you are done with your two (or three) years.  On the administrative side of Peace Corps, it mostly means completing a huge check-list of tasks, from turning in training books to talking to the Country Director.  In other countries, I'm told, you turn in your check-list to prove you've done everything, and then, welp, you're no longer a Peace Corps Volunteer.  In Nicaragua, we do things a little differently.  When a Volunteer becomes a Returned Volunteer, you ring a bell in the middle of the office, so that everyone who hears it can come out to applaud you in the best and most embarrassing way possible.

I'm very uncertain if I want to do this or not

 Luckily, I had some friends in the office when it came time for me to ring the bell, so it was even more special that I was able to celebrate with them...and cry just a little bit.  Because just like that, I am no longer a Peace Corps Volunteer, and I'm afraid my life will never be as challenging or interesting as it was then.

But then, maybe not.

The Journey Home, Part I

After three years in Nicaragua, you'd think I would have learned that planning something a certain way is by no means a guarantee that it will go that way.  Despite that, I had planned my trip home to go down like so:

Bus from Nicaragua to Panama
Fly from Panama to Ecuador
Fly from Ecuador to U.S.A

My flights were all booked, I only needed to buy my ticket for TicaBus.  It's website was down, and their number wasn't picking up, but I felt confident, hearing enough from other travelers, that I would get a ticket at the office in Managua a few days before I needed to go.  Two days before my travels, and the employees at the front desk told me that they were booked solid for three weeks.  I later learned from a fellow traveler that when he took TicaBus the very same day I meant to travel, he had a whole row to himself, so I have no idea what info they were going off of, but they refused to sell me a ticket to Panama.

"We can get you a ticket as far as Costa Rica, and then you can figure it out from there," the lady at the counter said.  "I just need to see your id."

I handed her my residency card, and she started processing my ticket.  It wasn't until her coworker, who leaned in far too close to her, instructed her on the finer points of checking identification that we ran into some problems.

"Now, see, did you check when her residency expires?"
"No, let's see-it expires in two days, on the day she wants to travel."
"Now, see, we can't sell her the ticket."
Wait, what?

"But my visa is good for another three months, and I'm leaving the day my residency expires, I don't understand why this is a problem," I protested.
"Now, see, we've had this problem before, we've sold tickets to people and we've gotten in trouble for it."
"How could you possibly get in trouble for it if I am leaving the country on the day that I am no longer a resident, and three months before my visa expires?"
"Now, see..." at which point I just stopped listening.

When I got back to the office and told the staff, they said they had never heard anything like that before, and if it were the case, no volunteer would have been able to leave the country at the end of their service.  Ever.  So I guess that made me special.  I sure didn't feel special when I had to shell over about four times as much cash I had intended to pay to book a last-minute flight to Panama...but the next few days were soon to change that.

Soup

This was my friend, Ili's, version of just a little bit of soup.  An entire river shrimp.

Bus Stop Concert

Waiting for the bus, just as riding on one, can be a very long process.  It is often made more tolerable by reading a good book, daydreaming, or - if you are waiting with a pair of musicians - listening to live music.

Puro Lodo

My first site, Los Chiles, consists almost entirely of dirt roads.  We paved one road this past year, and it was a huge deal.  It was quite the orchestration though, so the chances of paving the other dirt roads are very slim, which is a shame, because dirt roads mean dust in the dry season, and in the rainy season...

mud.  Lots of mud.  Mud everywhere.  Puro lodo.  And you would think that I would have learned to wear better shoes, but on the day when this photo was taken, I had rushed out the house in flip flops without thinking about the consequences.  Eventually, they got so caked in mud I couldn't walk in them anymore, and walked barefoot the rest of the way to my friend's house where she had a good laugh at me, and lent me her much more sensible shoes to wear for the day.

Accidental Videography

Back in November 2012 when my parent's first visited me, we actually started our travels in Costa Rica to see my uncle, aunt, and two cousins for Thanksgiving.  Afterwards we traveled north to my region of Nicaragua, all with my mom's new camera.  The thing about this camera was that we hadn't checked the settings on it, so it was set up to simultaneously take video as you took a photo.  What resulted was this patchwork video of our travels from Arenal, Costa Rica to Sabalos Lodge, Nicaragua.  Watch and see a monkey, lots of birds, pretty flowers, an absurd amount of iguanas, tourists, vehicles almost running over said tourists, a pineapple, the Rio Frio, my mom posing for photos, mud, the other Los Chiles, my butt, a tona, the Rio San Juan, San Carlos, my beloved (now defunct) pizza place, a river shrimp, my dad and me trying our best to smile for the camera, and a beautiful sunset over the river.  Not necessarily in that order.

El Zorro

My family said there was something eating abuela's chickens.  They said it only came at night.  Said it slunk around in the shadows.  My family called it zorro, a fox.  Said we would have to trap it and kill it one day to keep the chickens safe.  Finally one day, we caught it in a hollowed out log behind the latrines.  Finally we had it.

I looked, expecting to see an actual fox.  Instead I saw this thing.

A possum.  That is a possum, not a fox.  I tried not to feel cheated.

My host brother later tied it up to that tree, and we found a neighbor who had a pet boa he wanted to feed it to, so there was that.

The Barter System

In a place that doesn't have much money, and in a job where you don't take money from the community, people find their own way of repaying you for the work you do, or for helping them with their English homework, or what not.  More often than not, and especially in the campo, it is food.  I got a lot of food gifted to me over my three years.  Produce pulled from the ground or little napsacks, fresh eggs, baked goods, and almost a chicken once...that was when I had recently lost enough weight that someone was worried she might have to send me one, to which I said that no, really, I'm ok, please don't give me a chicken.  Please.  Some of my favorite were the sweet things people would give me, like these buñuelos.

They are sweet corn or yucca that has been deep fried and covered in a cinnamon sugar syrup.  They are incredibly unhealthy, and exceptionally delicious.  My neighbor in San Carlos, Carlos, gave them to me after tutoring him in some English, and it was a perfect little dessert.

Day at the Zoo

On a free day in Juigalpa, I decided to go to the zoo they have there.  Before I went, I was worried about what kind of conditions the animals would be in, but it exceeded my decidedly low expectations.

The puma was my favorite.  She had another section to the left that she could climb to.

While I was there, there were also about five staff wandering around with a thermos and lassos.  It didn't take me too long to figure out that two of them were vets, and they were vaccinating some of the animals.  I went to watch them as they entered the sheep section, lassoed them one by one, and vaccinated them.  When they left, one of the staff looked at me and asked if I would like to help with the goats.  After learning the basics of throwing a lasso (throw, then pull to tighten the loop) I went into the goat pin with the rest of the men, and started to be the good little cowgirl I knew I could always be.  Except, most of the time I would just get part of a horn or hoof, so they kept on getting away from me.  When I finally did manage to wrangle a catch, though, I got two at the same time.  Everyone cheered me and then laughed at my disappointment when they told me they had already vaccinated those two.

The vets marked every animal after vaccinating them.

So ended my failed career as a cowgirl.  It was a lot of fun, though.

Sunday Drunkday

The twins started dancing to the movistar's music, then the drunk guy in the background started at it too.  A perfect storm.

Mayoreo

Managua is not my favorite place in the world.  After it was devastated by an earthquake in 1972, it was rebuilt as a sprawling, unorganized mess of a city, and one of its least appealing spots is where I spent a good deal of time.

Mayoreo is a major bus station for Nicaragua; buses heading north to the mountains, and south to the Rio San Juan all leave from here, and because my buses were so infrequent and crowded, I would have to show up at least an hour and a half beforehand if I didn't want to stand the seven plus hours.  It is noisy, dirty, and hot, but it became a comforting place for me to be while waiting.  It is noisy because so many people are traveling to different corners of Nicaragua; it is dirty with all the travel and accumulated dust blowing around, but employees are always coming by to mop under your feet; and it is hot because it is Nicaragua, what else would you expect?  Mayoreo means you are going somewhere, either home or on an adventure, instead of staying still, which is something special.

Now if I can just get my face to agree with me...

Boat Travel

As I have previously written about, travel from the Rio San Juan to other parts of Nicaragua can be a bit of an ordeal.  Fortunately, there are other options besides the long haul on a bus.  One of them is the ferry that leaves San Carlos Tuesdays and Fridays at 2pm and 5pm, respectively, to arrive in Granada the following morning at 5am.

Bye San Carlos

You will also travel with a good amount of cargo.

What the trip lacks in efficiency, it makes up for in relative comfort.  Unlike on the bus where you are lucky to get one bathroom break, you can use the bathroom any time you choose, visit the itty bitty cafeteria, and if you are quick about it, hang up your personal hammock to hang out in for the trip.

Look how casual this selfie is.  I'm not at all straining to keep one side of the hammock down while also trying to get everything in frame, and keeping my face at a flattering angle.

Feet selfies are much easier.

If you dont' know how to hang up a hammock, there is bound to be someone willing to help you, which is better than trying it on your own, and then having your hammock slip and fall as I've seen happen.  It looks like it hurts.

Or just pick a spot on the floor.  There's also an air-conditioned section inside.

Now, something about this ferry, there are two levels, the upper being more spacious and expensive.  In the past, anyone was able to pick which level they wanted to go on, now only Nicaraguans are allowed on the bottom level, and foreigners are required to go on the upper one.  It costs about 200 cordovas, or $7.70.

The dock at San Miguelito

Before, the ferry would spot at two towns along the lake shore, San Miguelito and Morrito.  Now, they only stop there on Tuesdays, and on Fridays they head straight to the island of Ometepe.

People will crowd around to board, dock, sell snacks, or just watch the ferry.  After hanging out a few times here, I know that the ferry's arrival is one of the town's highlights.

These two drunk men really really wanted to make sure their friend got on the ferry.

The sun will set not long after leaving San Miguelito, and you will get a great view, right on the water.

Even though you will only arrive at your destination about 12 hours later, it is still a wonderfully scenic trip.

Maria

Maria didn't remember the date of her last period, and we don't have an ultrasound machine in Los Chiles to see how far along she was.  Even when she did travel the two hours to San Carlos to the hospital for her ultrasound, the doctors were indecisive, so she ended up staying more than two months at the Casa Materna.  She was a distant relative of my host family, so I would often see her at our house, and then later at the Casa Materna.

And then, sometimes when she sneaked out of the Casa Materna, like this time she took another panzona with her to the independence day celebration.

Another day, she decided to have a photo shoot at the Casa Materna.

The women doing their hair and makeup before the shoot.

There were wardrobe changes.

Different angles

They asked me to get in the photo as well.  Please note that I am 5'4" and wearing flats in this photo.

When I went back after my one month of homeleave last year, Maria was at abuela's with her son.

Whoa Boa

I was on my way to the health center one day when my friend Evelin called me over, and told me she had something in her backyard she had to show me.  I thought it would be her new guinea pig, or her neighbor's pet monkey.  I was wrong.

She had it hung up so that all the goo inside of it would fall into that pail she's holding, saying that it is an oil that cures a lot of illnesses.  So the goo is actual snake oil that Evelin will go on to sell.  This was a totally normal day.

Adventures in Upholstering

During the last hurrah with the fellow volunteers from my group, someone decided that we all needed nicknames.  Then, someone decided that mine would be sexy grandma.  The grandma was in reference to my love of crafting, and the sexy was probably to make me feel better about being called a grandma at age twenty-six...also, as numerous Nicaraguans have pointed out, I am nalgona.

Anyway, the love of crafting and diy is definitely true, and as I face a more domesticated life here in the states, I have been fixated on getting an ottoman.  Not sure why, I just really wanted one.  So when I found my old little seat stuffed in the back of a hall closet, I knew what I had to do.

I remember being a little girl, sitting on this vanity chair and making silly faces at myself in the mirror.  I thought the pink checkers were great back then, but I now wanted to give it an update.  Luckily, I was able to travel to Portland in May for a friend's wedding, and while I was there, my ever crafty friend took me to Bolt, where I found this fun fabric.

With my brother's staple gun in hand, and pinterest instructions on how to upholster (favorite tip: don't try to upholster something unless it is puffy and has ledges that scream, "staple gun me here!"), I began.

First, I had to remove all of the previous staples...this was not as easy as I had thought.

There were layer upon layer of staples, and all at difficult angles, so that I couldn't really get at them with the staple remover.  I had to use my tapestry needle to get up under them and pry them up.  It took me the length of an entire movie just to get the piping off.

And under that were more staples.  They were so close to the bottom that I couldn't fit anything under them to pry up, so at that point I just decided to leave the old fabric in place, figuring it would hold the stuffing in place anyway.

You won this round, pink fabric.

Finally, I was ready to staple the new fabric in place.

The corners were tricky, but I took the corner of the fabric and stapled that down first, then folded and stapled in the leftover edges.

It looks just passable.  I'm glad people won't be inspecting the bottom of this thing.

Now to trim off the excess fabric.

Except, just when I had the seat at an angle where I could cut, my parent's cat decided she wanted to be sitting on it.  Thanks, Charm.

Finally free of excess staples, fabric, and cat, here is the more modern little ottoman/vanity seat.

Sexy grandma indeed.

Repeat Please

This is my favorite photo of my friend, Edgar and me.  It was when we were judges for the Columbus Day celebration, or as many countries have renamed it, Dia de la raza.  One of the contestants for the "pretty indian" competition answered a straightforward question with a five minute long circumnavigation that involved peace, love, and solidarity.  These are our wtf faces.

Juguetes para el Desarrollo

In the spirit of this post I'm sharing another arts and crafts activity to do with your community.  This time, it's child development toys.  Again, it is in Spanish, but the photos make it fairly straightforward.  Stay tuned for more diy projects, this time in the states.  I originally saw these toys when a fellow volunteer, Sarah O, showed me how to make them.

I. Motivación

Los niños necesitan estimulación temprana para desarrollarse correctamente.   

Materiales:

Tela                                                                                                                                                            Cinta

Aguja de coser

Hilo

Chichíl

Tijeras

Marcadores

Pedazo de cartón, cortado en un círculo de 4”

II. Información

 Se dibuja en la tela alrededor del pedazo de cartón, haciendo un círculo. 

Se corta ese círculo.  Se repite pasos #1 y #2 hasta que tenga dos círculos idénticos.

Se dibuja una cara alegre en uno de los círculos.

Se cortan la cinta en pedazos de 1 ½ o 2 pulgadas, hasta que tengan 10-20 pedazos de cinta.

Se cosen los dos círculos juntos, pegando los pedazos de cinta, uno por uno, entre los círculos.

Se sigue así, cosiendo los dos círculos, y pegando los pedazos de cinta cada 2 centímetros, hasta que haya sólo 2 pulgadas del círculo que estén abiertas.  Se llena este espacio con el chingaste de la tela y 2 o 3 chichíles.  No se llena mucho, para dejar espacio para que suenan los chichíles.

Se sigue cosiendo, hasta que esté completamente cerrado el juguete.  Se hace un nudo al posterior del juguete.

III. Practica

• Esta manualidad debe de ir acompañada con una charla sobre el cuidado de los chiquitos.  Así que, es perfecta para presentar en la casa materna, o en un grupo de mujeres embarazadas.
• Siempre hay que refortalecer la importancia de ayudar a los niños desarrollarse las habilidades motores desde sus primeros días

IV. Aplicación

Que los padres de niños lo ocupen para ayudar en el desarrollo de sus hijos.

• A un mes que lo usen para que el bebé lo siga con sus ojos.
• A los dos meses que el bebé lo siga con la cabeza.
• A los tres meses que el bebé gatea al juguete.
• A los cuatro meses que el bebé intente a agarrarlo.
• A los seis meses que los padres lo use para animarlo que gire de boca abajo a boca arriba