Corn Islands
I had a fabulous week in San Juan del Sur. I ended up moving to another family after I started classes because the instructor asked me how the family was and I was honest about my experience so he really encouraged me to switch because the family experience should be an opportunity to practice speaking more. It was really awkward, I left when the Senora was not even there and her daughter did not seem pleased. They told her that I wanted to live with friends. But, again, getting my needs met… The new family was great and again, I got to watch telenovellas, so all was good. ;) There were three generations living here as well, but only two children – Katie age 9 and William age 4 – who were sweet and cute and liked to talk as well. And unlike the other grandma, she actually liked her grandson and always told him how cute he is. The room was still a step up from the hotels in Omepete. Everyone was friendly and I felt much better received here than at the other home. It was nice to be in a home with other people from school, as it was nice to have someone to go out with as well.
I really liked this school way better than the last. They actually tested me to find out my skill level – what a novel idea – and I’m intermediate, which is same as usual. I have the only male teacher and he doesn’t make me want to punch him or fight with him unlike the others I had before. ☺ They have daily activities – walks up to the vista, trips to other beaches, boat rides. They also gave me a certificate and recommendations of things that might help me. Totally legit.
I left this morning and was really quite sad. I should have stayed 2 weeks there and only one week in Granada – better school, better weather, lots of beach time, met lots of great people around my age even. But anyway, on my bus ride to Managua, a man got on at some point and sat next to me. He tried to talk to me but there was something off about him and I just didn’t get a good feeling from him so I avoided conversation with him when usually I will entertain a conversation with a stranger on the bus. When we were minutes from getting off the bus in Managua, I caught the guy trying to unzip a pocket on my backpack! I had it on my lap but he had reached over and tried to use his bag to cover his hand so I couldn’t see him. I slapped his arm really quickly, called him a name, and he went to get off the bus shaking his head at me. I wish I would have slapped him across the face but I was so taken off-guard. The man sitting behind me saw me slap him and was concerned and told me many times to be careful and got me a taxi who ended up being a very sweet grandfatherly man. We talked the whole 20 minutes to the airport and he told me how fast our ride went because we had such a nice conversation. I have to remember those are the majority of encounters I’ve had and I can’t let a single negative one taint those.
I then rode a 40-passenger plane to get to the Big Corn Island. It started raining heavily and the wind shook the plane like a teeter-totter before we took off. I’m not typically scared of riding plans but I was this time. Luckily I am gifted at sleeping and I was also so dead tired from celebrating too late my last night that I fell asleep most of the ride, waking only from time to time when the turbulence got bad. You know that kind of turbulence that makes your stomach drop when the plane dips down. We don’t fly as high as you would need air compression because I was sitting by a door and I was getting wet from water that was coming through the crack. I met some people who were on their way over and they didn’t get their bags. I guess depending on the weight of the passengers and luggage, sometimes they decide to leave some luggage behind to go on the next flight (there are only 2 a day) in favor of taking all the passengers. Not so legit. However, the nice part is that I guess they are pretty good at delivering them to wherever you are, even if you go over to the Little Island. We then took a boat over to the Little Corn Island. This has probably been the most excitement I’ve had this summer. I t would rival a James Bond high-speed boat chase.
Little Corn Island is a bit desolate. There are no cars, motorcycles, or roads even. There is a single paved path down part of the main side of the island, little dirt paths that lead to the other side of the island with more of the beaches. You can probably walk the entire island in a little over an hour. When I arrived and my feet were so happily planted on solid ground, I learned that power was out on the entire island. Some places have their own generators but this was in limited hours as well. I opted to live on the slightly more luxurious end and have a room with AC and a TV rather than the beachfront “cabana”, aka 6x6 shack, for a few reasons – there is not much to do on the island other than sit at the beach and eat and the places to eat are located on the opposite side of the island than the beach cabanas, I wanted my own bathroom, I didn’t bring any light source to maneuver through the wilderness at night AND the whole limited electricity thing and being alone seems slightly boring. If I were with someone, I think I’d manage to think of things to do. But I just finished my book, I’ve got a cold (in the tropics of all places! Which means that I cannot try scuba diving unfortunately) and I feel slightly miserable, and to be honest, it’s the end of my trip and I am in need of a little taste of home. Water at my hotel was on the back up tank because it was also contingent on the broken generator so therefore there was no water pressure or ability to shower for the first two days. Internet has been out for the one place on the island that has it. And cell phone reception is iffy. Despite my vigilant efforts to use my bug repellent, it hasn’t stopped the mosquitoes here that seem to have a lot more power in their bites that stay red and enflamed and leave me itching for longer. Rainstorms come out of nowhere, usually once or twice a day. And these rainstorms are intense downpours, only lasting for about 20-30 minutes. Thus leaving everything wet and muddy. The sand at the beaches is slightly damp. Welcome to island life they keep saying. Which has led me to believe I am not an island person. ☺
I walked the entire island today, for the whole of an hour or so, and had a cute experience of some kids who, after seeing me, ran in to their house and came out with two little pineapples. Then they helped me find my way since I was wandering and a little lost. Little Corn island is not as pristine as one would hope for being still so untouched. There is a lot of trash on the island, washed up from the water, not from the residents. There’s tons of seaweed and little beach area. I decided I might go a little stir crazy so I came over to Big Corn to spend an extra day. I’ve come to the conclusion that there are definitely a few things in life that are better shared with another person than done alone. And being on a desolate island in the Caribbean is definitely one of them. Luckily I’ve run into a couple that did language school with me in Granada who I have been able to hang out with and eat meals with the past few nights. They leave tomorrow. And I leave the next! Crazy.
I plan to do a synopsis of my summer in my final report (for anyone who cares to read it) while I waste a few hours in the airport at Managua between flights. It’s been a great time and learning experience. But I’m happy to be coming home soon.
San Juan del Sur aka Paradise
Only a few hours away from Granada is the paradise of San Juan del Sur which provides a horseshoe shaped beach along dramatic cliffs. I arrived mid-afternoon to this small town, that really is only a few dozen blocks and found my way to the school without the address – just knowing it was on the beach so there were only a few blocks to walk. There is a strip of restaurant/bars catering to the tourist crowd here – which is definitely big. We then walked to my host family where I experienced a rather large upgrade, in terms of living. The house here is large and my room is large enough to fit a queen (with not the comfiest mattress and freaky pillows that feel like they are stuffed with the Styrofoam peanuts you use for packaging) AND a twin bed. I have my own, very nice bathroom as well. This is nicer than the hotel I paid $20 for in Ometepe. However, I miss having a cross hanging from my wall and saint so in so on my night stand and the quaintness of my last family. Plus, this is weird - I eat my meals and the Senora sits with me, which in and of itself is not weird. The thing is, she literally just sits there. I try to make conversation with her and she gives me simple responses but she hasn’t ask me a SINGLE thing back. Can you say awkward? Most of the meals we sit in silence as she watches me eat. Feels like some dates I’ve been on. Haha. Anyway, I think I’d rather eat alone but how do I say that? I must say after 2 days here, I really DO NOT care for this family. The senora of the house acts sooo syrupy nice to me from moment to moment, and I hear her screaming bloody murder at her grandkids. This morning, I heard one of the kids screaming for his mother running away from someone (I presume it was her) who chased after him and just whacked him a few times. The kid was screaming and crying for the next 20 minutes. Then, she has this bratty child, probably 6 or so with a teenager’s attitude, who thinks it is funny to just call me “gringa” which I don’t really care about BUT she is nasty/snotty, screams a lot, and she has even been mocking towards me. Well, when the power went out tonight and she was all scared, it took all of my willpower not to reach out and scare this bratty child. I know, I have a jacked up sense of humor. But I did proceed to give her some unfriendly looks over candlelight – glares one might call them. It is really awkward and I am already counting down the number of meals I have left here. Whenever there are kids around, I just hear her yelling and kids always end up crying. I just leave as often as I can and when I am here, I just stay in my room. Thank goodness I am 3 blocks from the beach.
I spent my first afternoon at the beach where the sand is so fine and soft, you don’t really mind it getting all over you, watching palm fronds sashaying in the wind with the backdrop of blue skies speckled with white cotton candy clouds. This place inspires me to enjoy an ice-cold beer (really, the beer is freakishly cold here) at the restaurant/bars in the afternoons/evenings. Right before I left yesterday, it started to POUR down rain – ah, the tropics – and I was forced to stay a little longer. Which allowed me to meet 3 Aussies (they are grown-ups with real jobs on vacation, not just your 20-sumthin that is wandering aimlessly – wait, do I fall somewhere in between those two?) who invited me to sit with them and invited me out last night. So I went out to socialize last night. Since the Aussies were not there yet and I was at the bar by myself, I went up and introduced myself to two Canadians who I proceeded to hang out with. As it got later, though, the scene turned to a nightclub/Tijuana scene and while it was fun to play wingman for an incredibly drunk 19 year-old friend of theirs, I couldn’t take too much of it. Everyone was getting really intoxicated and when people get too drunk, they start to say silly things and it makes me feel old even when I am not any older than some of them are – you all know I am just not the biggest partier. Everyone has a little more liquid courage and expresses probably more than they should. The humorous part is seeing which couples from the night before make it the next day sans alcohol.
I figure this is a summer of firsts, so I went way out of my comfort zone and tried surfing this morning with the two Canadians today at an immaculate beach about 25 minutes north. It was such a blast but, man, it is tiring. We got a 1½ hour lesson where our teacher helped us and I definitely, after multiple crashes, stood and even rode it all the way. The waves we are riding are, of course not that huge. I went back out for a little on my own and I was able to successfully catch a few more waves on my own too!
I have never been a huge beach person but it is easy for me to see why people like this lifestyle and why there are so many ex-pats down here. I think it was a very wise choice to come down here instead of the third week in Granada. Besides that the weather is a little cooler. I see in my forecast the following schedule – breakfast, my Spanish class, lunch, beach, online classes, dinner, ending the night perhaps with a beer. But also a bike rental is in my future to go down to see some turtles and possibly a hike to the top of the hill to get a good pic of the area. It is a difficult lesson for me to spend so much time “relaxing” cause I usually keep myself super busy with the next project to do, checking off all the tasks I’ve done, always finding something to improve/work on (like I’m already trying to think of how to do all the last minute things I want to do to my patio before I have people over). Anyway, I’m really looking forward to having the time I’m forced to do nothing. Even then, nothing being still 4 hours of Spanish and my two online classes! I think I’m gonna learn to enjoy myself doing nothing.
OH! And it only took 2 weeks but I FINALLY bought repellente when I got here and had my first bite-free evening!!!
Ciao Granada
The time has come to bid farewell to Granada, the place I’ve been fortunate to call home the past two weeks.
I will remember fondly the very tranquilo vibe here. No one seems in a hurry. Well by no one, I mean except anyone driving a motorized vehicle. People sit in the parks drinking their juices out of bags, walk slowly on the shady side of the street, and have tireless patience. Although I’m not saying goodbye to this tranquility as I believe things will only be getting progressively moreso in the upcoming weeks as I move to the beach and then to the islands…
I will miss the beauty of the colors and the old weathered, paint-chipped colonial buildings. I will miss the butterflies capturing my attention as I follow it fluttering down the street. I will miss the rawness of the market where you see tons of exotic fruits alongside fish guts flying through the air.
I won’t miss the men making their noises/comments or staring blatantly (which, honestly, hasn’t felt as bad as I’ve experienced in other Latin countries) but I might miss the security guard I pass every morning who says hello and everyday tries to make a little more conversation than the last, the 75 year old man, Jesse, who sits at the café and tells me I am “bu-ti-fol” from the inside and yet I look like Angelina Jolie from the outside (really?!?! That’s a first! I know, I know, he’s 75 and likely legally blind!), and possibly even the crazy guy who wanders down the street of the school sitting on various doorsteps falling asleep and varies between delighted giddiness and staring menacingly at people walking by through his drunken stupor.
Speaking of school, I will miss my conversations with Helen on the Nica way of life, her independent nature and learning the modismos of Nicaragua. I definitely won’t miss my dreadful hour with Gladys as she stared at her nails as she barely listened to my reading of obscure, unhelpful, way too advanced vocabulary and ignored my telling her that I was bored and wanted to do something more helpful other than make random guesses (I have been impressed with my intuition by the way). I might miss my time with Alejo, other than his attempts to distract with flirtatious conversation rather than grammar, but not as much as the arguments I got in with the machista Michael about Latino men, the fact that not all extranjeros are looking for Latin lovers, and that perhaps fidelity is a more important character trait than being a passionate lover. I was feisty to the point he asked if I was “una feminista” because of all the examples I liked to give about gender role reversals or putting men down (that I don’t really believe) but just to spite him. I even went so far to defend el Capitan in the Nicaraguan legend that was cursed for not helping rescue a sick family on a deserted island who was then cursed because of it. Yeah, like that’s me??? I can’t think of anyone more deserving to wander aimlessly to his death never to encounter land again – and yet I argued to the contrary. I think I need to investigate this side of myself a little more because this sassiness and argumentative nature comes just a little too easily and even gratifyingly– like I’m going to put him in his place?? Actually, after I pointed out the crude comment he made about some women who walked by that he didn’t know I had heard, he came to me the next day and said I had taught him something – that he needs to think before he speaks! So, perhaps I converted one sexist Latin man… ah, but not likely.
I finally had to have the conversation with Mabel about the amount of food she was feeding me. It got to the point that at every meal, I’d ask for “un poquito”, especially when I was not feeling well. And she would return with a plate mounded to capacity. I asked her after this happened one too many times “if this is ‘un poquito’, what is normal or even a lot?” (in Spanish, of course). I think she found it humorous and now has moved to a smaller plate because I think it is just unnatural for her to not fill the plate up. For this, I take with me my engorged stomach. And to stay on my current physical state, I also take with me about 60 mosquito bites and my once P90X’ed but now deflated muscles! Sounds like I’m going to be a mess when I get home, huh? So sad.
Ah, silly me, this sounds like termination and I’m only a little more than ½ way through! More adventures to come from the Pacific and Atlantic sides of the country! They call it the Atlantic Coast, even though it is the Carribean Sea – does that really count??
Isla Ometepe
I am posting two different journals on the same day because I lagged on uploading the last one. I meant to post the last one before the weekend because I knew I’d have more to share after a weekend trip to Isla Ometepe. This is an island of two volcanoes that formed together with their lava flow, one of the only in the world, I’ve been told. I left Friday right after class and went via bus to Rivas, via collectivo to San Jorge, via ferry to Moyogolpa, and finally via bus to Santo Domingo. I’m getting better at this no planning thing – so unlike my usual Virgo tendencies. I show up, I walk around, ask for a room and it all works out. I still have to do a little research before I go – I’m not THAT free-spirited like some people I meet. I met a French guy in Houston headed to Nicaragua who when I asked him where he was going, he responded, “I don’t like to have plans – it’s the only way I can feel free.” Um, yeah, I know I won’t ever get to that place but I sure do admire those of you out there who can… However, I was being flexible enough to possibly give up my seat for a $400 voucher, which unfortunately did not happen. If there’s an incentive, especially monetary (…or food), I can be as flexible as you need me to be. ;)
Well, Santo Domingo is supposed to be the nicest beach area on the island. It was crazy windy that evening but I enjoyed the sunset and a lightening storm in the distance over my fish al vapor con salsa. I haven’t spent much time dissecting whole fish put before me, eyeballs and all, but it’s always an adventure. The next morning, I had some decisions to make about how to spend the day. Transportation on the island is a bit of a rarity, so to get between places can be difficult and needs to be well timed. The owner of the hostel tried his darndest to get me to stay another night but I made plans to go with a guide on a short hike on Volcan Maderas (the smaller of the two) and see some petroglyphs. We jumped on a bus and started out on a rather crappy day that turned crappier as it went along. To think I was going to spend time hanging out on the beach on an island in the tropics in the midst of their rainy season was not wise thinking. We started out (meanwhile, I am carrying all my stuff for the weekend in a small backpack) and it starts to pour down rain. We are hiking in mud and it is pretty miserable. I almost fall multiple times. Great times. Well, we head back down, not even reaching el mirador where we couldn’t have seen anything but grey anyway. We missed the bus and rather than wait, we start walking the rest of the way back. I’m annoyed by my guide, who keeps asking me why I’m sad despite the fact that I keep telling him I’m NOT sad. I hate when people ask you that. Do I need to have a perma-grin and be bubbly all the time so you don’t think I’m sad? Ugh. Then he asks me why women cut their hair because “con todo respecto” he thinks women should have long hair because women are more attractive with it. Well, as my friend Krista who went to Peru with me knows, when I get upset, my Spanish will improve dramatically to make a point. I will put a Latino man in his place if he needs it so that I did. Of course, con todo respecto. ☺
The guide offered to travel with me to my next destination El Ojo de Agua, a natural mineral springs a few kilometers away and I politely declined, much preferring my own company. I started on the walk, which now is about a total of 6 or 7 kilometers maybe. Not far, I know, but in poor conditions, feels like an eternity. FINALLY, a nice guy offered me a lift on the back of his motorcycle. It was such a relief. At Ojo de Agua, I was able to rest myself in the cool springs. The waiter, in the first 3 minutes of conversation, pulls out a sheet of paper and tells me, he’s a writer - but not much of one in English yet. I read his lovely love poem that starts out “You are like flowers, you are like sun…” and ends with the line “you are like orange juice.” *Sigh* Can’t wait for the day that someone finally tells me I am like Orange Juice and really means it. ;)
I ended up catching a collectivo back to Moyolgolpa and getting the last room at the hotel I was hoping to stay at. I had heard there would be a celebration that day/night to celebrate Santa Ana so not long after arriving, a procession started up the four or five blocks to the church but took the next 2-3 hours. All the women were wearing lovely dresses that they swished back and forth as they would walk towards and away from Santa Ana that was being carried at less than a snail’s pace. I didn’t realize that Nicaraguans are big into cowboys too. They have many celebrations with cowboys and rodeos. Who knew? The young poet waiter also told me he always wanted to be a cowboy when he was young.
I couldn’t withdraw money from these banks so I was running short on cash and decided to head back on Sunday rather than Monday morning. My time in Granada is running short and all my stuff was soaking wet and everything closes on Sunday anyway. Of course it did happen to be a much more appropriate day for the beach but I was far from one that was desirable. I caught a boat, rather than a ferry, which was not as enjoyable but I survived. Shared a taxi where a kind man took me under his wing, knowing I was en route to Granada as he was as well. He made sure I knew which bus to catch and saved me a seat when it did come. And seats are hot commodities for those of you who know transportation in Latin America. There is no maximum capacity on buses in Latin America, along with no distinct bus stops but rather somewhere along the side of the road. An actual complete stop can be somewhat of a luxury as well.
Walking home today, I was given a flower by a sweet young boy, probably 7 years old, named Justin. Very sweet. He gave it to me, lasted long enough to answer me his name and proceeded to run off. Turns out he lives across the street so now I have a new friend. They start their womanizing young…
And a word to the wise about an “American” breakfast in Latin America – don’t fall for it. There’s nothing American about bread and an obscenely artificially yellow butter, sausage that is really some rendition of a cut-up hot dog, and eggs. Why don’t they have bacon here??? Really, it is criminal.
Week 1
OK, I lied. I totally had everyone’s name, minus Christopher’s, wrong. Can you blame me for Mabel (not Mirabel)? And has anyone ever heard the name Eber (not Evan)? I still don’t think I’m convinced of that one being correct. The family is great and Mabel and I watch telen-ovellas some nights together. I was just introduced to “Sin Senas, No Hay Parioso” which translates to “Without Breasts (or breasts implants?), There is no Paradise”. It’s about the Colombian drug cartel, undercover police women infiltrating the drug lords as escorts, scantily-clad woman working in the drug production and the dominatrix guard who wears fishnets and carries a whip, and prostitutes trying to make money so they can get breast augmentations and use their womanly ways to woo the airport drug enforcement while they transport drugs. Or something like that. All this and your usual affairs, incestuous relationships, thievery, murder, dramatic confessions with ensuing fighting, and even more dramatic reconciliations. No joke, this s*@t needs to come to the US! ;)
Classes are going OK. I haven’t been wowed by my experience, as I haven’t found it too individualized to my needs, despite being 1-on-1. I’m not dissatisfied but I think I need to be a little more proactive in expressing my needs – welcome to my lifelong lesson! I have to tell them when I’ve had enough of an exercise because I get it already, or que quiero aprender el subjuntivo! But during class if I daydream, I get to look out to one of my favorite houses – painted teal, yellow, and hot pink – and get to watch butterflies go by, which I think is one of my most favorite parts of this place. I know, not exactly the point of my being here. Don’t worry, I’m learning too.
The school took a trip Laguna de Apoyo, a beautiful crater lake not far from Granada where you can swim in clear and tepid water. It was quite refreshing and a nice break from the heat. However I accidentally swallowed some water, which proceeded to kind of freak me out. So to calm my nerves, I read in someone’s guidebook about all the various diseases one could contract while here and about how the people sometimes bring their cattle there to water. Since then, I haven’t been feeling all too well, and I’m not sure if I just am freaking myself out because I rarely get sick when I travel. Pero mi estomago me duele mucho. I’ve lost my appetite too. I also read that the mosquitoes that bite you in the evenings are the disease-carrying ones so if I didn’t have anything before, I’m increasing my likelihood of contracting some kind of the varying mosquito-carrying diseases on a daily basis. They love me. Typically, it will just be one sucker who will just bite all down my leg and suddenly I’ll have 4 large, itchy welts and I never even saw the guy! Like I said before, total stealth. Time to invest in some repellente… Of all the things I was nervous about before leaving, none of these had even entered my mind. To think of all the worries I could have had if I had been better prepared! ;)
I had one of my most slightly unnerving travel experiences the other day in the streets, with of all things, a dog. I was walking back home carrying the rest of the treat I had purchased when a stray dog was attracted to the scent and proceeded to approach me, not entirely with aggression but definitely assertion. It tried to jump up on me and despite all my efforts to scare it away (I know I can be pretty intimidating…), it proceeded to follow me, making attempts at leaping on me. I was waiting for him to savagely attack me (after reading about rabies, of course) because these poor animals are desperate and starving – my heart goes out to them. But of course, those of you who know me well know I wasn’t about to give up the dessert (which continues to lie wrapped up on the table as I haven’t been feeling well – see, I MUST not feel well). This continued for a few blocks, I’m sure to the amusement of those around me before he finally ran away.
I’m enjoying, even sometimes loving, being on my own, by the way. I was worried and started to put all this pressure on myself about whether or not I’d be able to step out of the shyness I experience in unfamiliar situations to meet new people but I’m totally over that! I chat here and there with locals (well, I try) but I don’t really care to meet any foreigners. I’m really, really enjoying my solitude. I am being so good to myself by not putting pressure on myself to feel like I should be a certain way or do certain things and it has made the process so much more enjoyable. I feel for one of the first times, liberated from my own self-critic and it’s been a huge relief. Damn, I’m starting to feel like a fine wine… Haha ☺ Speaking of aging, why is that the most important question for everyone? I get asked my age on a daily basis, once 4 times in one day – from locals to foreigners. Thankfully it is always followed by “Si? No te parece! Parece a 25 anos mas o menos.” I think you all can translate that one.
The last thing I’ve decided is that since I can’t change when my summers happen and when I get to vacation, I do need to find some kind of medium between the winter of South America and the humidity of Central America but where they speak Spanish. I’m over the heat and humidity. Any ideas? Como esta Mexico durante el verano?
Granada
I’ve arrived safely. Despite having to dodge the three-legged strays wandering the streets. My ride from the airport left me feeling kind of panicked (and for once NOT because of the driving!). Between my driver’s heavy accent and his switching back and forth to English in his attempt to “help”, conversation was very difficult, if not impossible and left me feeling discouraged by how far I need to come to achieve any level of “fluency”. I’m really wishing I took the opportunity to live internationally earlier and am wondering if it is too late. If I get laid off next year… Or maybe after I see my students through their senior year I can take a year off and get Mike to retire when I get back…
I had a chance to wander the streets of Granada yesterday and I quickly remembered, thankfully without any close calls, rule #1 in foreign countries – pedestrians do NOT have the right of way! I can easily see falling in love with this place. It has the same feel of Antigua (it is nicknamed it’s “sister city”) with the bright colored colonial buildings, the wrought iron, large wooden doors, and beautiful garden courtyards. The central parque is shady and full of mango trees and people hanging out selling juices and fruits. There’s a whole street lined with restaurants with outdoor seating. It feels less touristy than Antigua and there are less people pushing their handicrafts on you. I love seeing the men ride their ladies and children around on their bicycles – anyone want to help me get that trend going in the Bay Area? I think sometime in my time here, I’m gonna have to go to the Pretty Letty beauty school to get a pedicure or highlights because I think the name is genius. The Nicaraguan people seem very friendly. They are beautiful too, especially the children – they go from fair skinned, light-hair and eyes to rich chocolate skin and deeply penetrating black eyes. And my friend Cara was right – I have done many double-takes as I see renditions of an ex-boyfriend who was half-Nicaraguan.
The humidity is not as stifling as my visit to Panama or, really, even a summer in Boston! It is definitely hot but there tends to be a steady breeze. The breeze doesn’t matter as I have such healthy sweat glands that like to remind me they are there and working. The mosquitoes are not so bad that it is distracting but there are the stealth attacks that leave me with terrible welts and I’m acquiring more and more each day. The latest is on my forehead giving me a slightly unicorn-esque effect – totally hot. Thank goodness malaria is fairly uncommon in the area considering I didn’t even think about it prior to coming. Hopefully that is the case throughout. Realize I probably should have updated my typhoid as well… Really, details! I'm such a terrible Virgo!
The family I’m staying with is young and sweet. The mom, Mirabel is absolutely beautiful and cooks some great food. She’ll hand me a plate and I’ll think, wow, I can’t eat all this - but yet, somehow manage to. And who can turn down fried plantains and fresh fruit? Not I. No P90X down here either with this heat but I think I’ll manage to get enough walking in. She has two boys, Christopher age 4 and Evan Jr. age 1. They are really mellow and well-behaved. I’ve figured it is due to the heat. How can kids be hyper in this heat? You look around and most adults are laying around in hammocks too. I even managed to knock out for a nap today – I know, big surprise. There’s an older man, Nathan, from Virginia staying here as well. We got to all go to a baby shower yesterday evening in Masaya for Evan Sr.’s cousin. Let me tell you, I have not been to many showers but am thankful I went to my student’s baby shower to prepare me. The games are outrageous and when you get a group of 30+ Latina women in a room, whew!
I’ve found the perfect place to do my online classes – called the “Garden Café”. I’m sitting among lush plants in a courtyard drinking an iced mocha. It might actually make my classes bearable!
Today, Nathan and I went to the Volcan Mombacho where we did the “canopy tour” which was great fun and wandered through the cloud forest at the top of the volcano. It was fascinating to see the plant life and offered a great refuge from the heat. Unfortunately, the best “view spot” where you can see Granada and the Islas of Lago Nicaragua was merely a view of the clouds.
Classes will start tomorrow. They are 1-on-1, which I should have picked up from the name of the school “One-on-one Tutoring”. We rotate teachers though and each one focuses on something different – vocab, grammar, conversation and something else? I think I’ve had a change of plans and will do 2 weeks here and then do a week at San Juan del Sur with a woman’s coop I’ve found. Because I’m thinking a week and a half on the beach wouldn’t be a bad idea before heading home and jumping back into work.
The final leg….
Much has happened since Glacier. First, we finally left the red states, which was apparent with less humongous Ford trucks and more Japanese-built vehicles. We headed through Washington, via the North Cascades Highway, to see other relatives in Spokane before heading to our former home on Whitbey Island. My parents really wanted to visit and reminisce at their old stomping grounds from 28 years ago, where at the age of 32 (my current age), my mother had 4 children under the age of 6. Whew – I can’t imagine! Whitbey also provided the other main event, other than Glacier – to see the place of Karena’s childhood abandonment. I’m not kidding either, my mother has been talking about being excited to bring me back here since I first agreed to go and then again in the 20 minutes into our trip. And if you’re thinking now that things in my life make more sense, you’re probably right. The house is still standing and my parents insisted I have a photo of where I was found as a little 2 year-old (the debate continued though about where exactly I was found long after we got back into the car), hopefully bringing full circle any abandonment issues I may have suffered from this likely traumatic experience! ☺ Whitby Island is beautiful and we managed a day trip to Seattle, which is a really neat city. Though I was overwhelmed and claustrophobic after being in desolation for so long by the massive amounts of people at the Public Market. We then headed down the coast, passing many little towns that were starting to look the same, and I was becoming barely able to get out of the car to take pictures of more cliffs and ocean. The Pacific Coast looks the same in Washington as it does in Oregon as it does in California. Look at me – complaining about the dramatic cliffs and gorgeous Pacific coastline because it is all starting to look the same. I’m such a brat. I just think I’m just tired of being in the car. The trip to Crater Lake was awesome and I was happy to be off of the 101. Have people been here??? It is gorgeous. The steep, rocky cliffs and deep greens of the trees dramatically contrast the blues of this lake. Definitely recommend that people visit this place.
We’re home now, after a trip to Redwood National Park. It’s been a great 2 ½ weeks, one I’m sure I will be grateful that I did looking back. Gun-shooting, white-water rafting, and helicopter-riding sprinkled in with driving over 4000 miles over 9 states and seeing a massive amount of landscapes, from cornfields to flatlands to mountains to beaches to sand dunes to craters to coastlines to Redwoods. Hope you enjoyed my little journey. In about a week, I’ll be off to Nicaragua for almost a month to practice the language, volunteer, travel to the beaches, volcanoes and islands! And take my online classes – the bane of my existence. ☹ I’m sure I’ll have many more stories – hopefully a bit more adventurous and maybe foreign(?). Although the Midwest does feel foreign in some ways. Maybe I’ll be writing them in Spanish by the end! More to come...
Glacier
Glacier
After leaving South Dakota, we made a small gaunt over to Wyoming to see Devil’s Tower, which is an amazing environmental phenomenon one (not me) may remember from the movie “Close Encounters of the Third Encounter”, then headed to Montana via North Dakota (so mom could check that one off her list). Up to this point, the scenery had been fairly flat, minus the Black Hills in South Dakota, so I was quite relieved that we had finally entered into more shapely and beautiful landscape. Don’t get me wrong, seeing land as far as the eye could see in varying shades of yellow and green along with 180 degrees of blue sky - not a bad sight to see. But it gets old. Especially when you are driving it endlessly. Enter Montana and finally Glacier, the featured attraction of this trip. The two best M-words I can come up with to describe Glacier National Park – majestic and magnificent.
The first day, we were fortunate to arrive with enough time to drive the “Going to the Sun” Road. When you first catch a glimpse of this road from the bottom of the mountain, you think “Is that a road? There is NO WAY that is the road”. When you find yourself thousands of miles high on this mere 30-mile ascent of a road, you are shaken to your senses by the experience. Not only is there no railing on a good portion of the road, the narrow two-lanes are barely enough to squeeze through comfortably. When you get to Logan Pass, which also happens to be where the Continental Divide passes through, you breathe a sigh of relief for making it. Until you realize you have to go down now!
On a side note, it took the entire drive up and down Sun Road and thousands of miles at this point for my dad to get pulled over though. And I’m gonna send a shout-out to Officer Justin Fey for only giving my dad a warning for going 16 miles(!) over the limit in the National Park – Thanks big-J. When he pulled us over, he mentioned “We have lots of wildlife around here.” That has been the joke between us, and my mother’s biggest disappointment, as we’ve hardly seen a thing that has been wild (besides my father’s driving - haha). Whenever we’ve seen groups crowded around pointing upwards towards the mountains, staring at a tiny speck of something they say is moving, I’m underwhelmed. I’m probably a wildlife snob anyways at this point because after Alaska and Africa, it takes a lot to phase me. I’m still taking the occasional buffalo or mountain goat shot to indulge my mother though.
The next day, I was eager to do a hike that starts at Logan Pass up to what is called “Hidden Lake”. Which did mean the Sun Road (again) but I got to drive this time. Don’t worry everyone, I was good. We started the hike ,which we already had been forewarned was still snow-covered. We hiked the 1.5 miles in the snow which was a fun feat and passed the two mountain goats chilling on the side of the trail, and are graced with beautiful views of a still-frozen over lake. It was still beautiful, frozen and all. We did the hike back and we are tired from only 3-miles but attributed it to the strain of hiking in snow. We took an additional 4-mile hike to see various falls at a lower altitude along Saint Mary’s Lake. Again, all gloriously beautiful.
The next day, I decided to brave some whitewater rafting on my own while my mom dragged my father out to the other side of the Park to see the last bit of drivable Glacier. I’m excited but nervous – I think I went once when I was maybe 12 years old. They said it is mostly class II with one class III. Well, needless to say, I survived, slightly disappointed that it was not more thrilling than, say the drive on Sun Road. Because I didn’t feel like I’d really come close enough to risking my life that day, I decided (and convinced) my mother to go on a helicopter ride with me. This I’ve never done and have been wanting to so what better place than in one of the most awesomest of places?!?! It was AH-MAZING. Wow. Frightening at times with the way that wind whips up, but wow. So glad I did it.
Reflecting on the past three days here in Glacier, I’ve been struck by the beauty I’ve been so fortunate to see. Not to get all overly-sentimental but it hit me that I’m here experiencing this at only 31 years young and I’m still yet to go to Nicaragua for a month! I’ve done so many amazing things, been to incredible places, been fortunate to have so many wonderful people, and great opportunities come my way. I truly am a blessed woman.
On another side note, the days have been so long here that even the most productive of people feels underachieved when coming in at 9pm (still light) and waking by 7:30am (light for at least 3 hours) most days knowing they’ve still missed so much daylight. Thank goodness I’ve had my online classes (sarcasm) and this journal to keep me up late to accomplish feeling “productive”.
All in all, I’m determined to return to Glacier in the near future. But next time I’m coming on a Harley Davidson (I swear they must congregate up here). And I’m going to go backpacking. OK, I’m exaggerating – I’ll skip the backpacking. ;)
Welcome to Grand Island, NE – the meth capital of the nation?
From that introduction, I guess that small towns just aren’t what they used to be. My dad’s cousin talks about all the ways Grand Island has changed from the Podunk town they grew up and raised hell in. Some of the small town charm still exists. I mean, it only happens in small towns that you can get your tackle while you shop for antiques or pick up your night-crawlers in the mini-fridge at the convenience store. It only happens in small towns that when you go to the Texas T-bone restaurant and run into your best friend from childhood 40 years later with all his siblings and find out in the 7 minute conversation that he’s no longer the town bookie. Everywhere you go, you run into someone you know and every block has a story that you can reminisce about. That kind of stuff only happens in small towns. Kind of cute, right? There’s even something magical about the fireflies lighting up at night, coupled with the equally intoxicating smell of manure.
There are the frustrating parts about small towns where you go the four blocks between the only two bookstores in town, and find that neither has the college guidebook needed for my online class. Oh well, I hate these classes anyway – a great excuse to put off the assignment. The few coffee options range between Starbucks, the local diner and Caribou Coffee that offers moderate to bad coffee and I want to jump back and show the barista a thing or two.
Then there are the fun parts of small towns where you can shoot off 20-guage shotguns in your backyard before dinner. Much more satisfying than playing shooting games on wii. Or ride ATV’s next to a herd of cows on 50 acres. I have to shake off the California in me that wonders, “Should we be wearing helmets?” as I’m catching some air jumping over the small hill. And remember “I’m in Nebraska now!” Ah yes, I’m getting in touch with my inner red-neck…
Then there’s the cool thing about small towns where it seems that everyone has either built their own home or completely renovated it on their own, everyone has their workshop with their table saws and other fun tools either in their garage – or barn. Or at least it appears that all my relatives do – and I’ve got major tool-envy.
We’ve moved on though now, and have reached South Dakota. The landscape has changed from flat cornfields to some rolling hills of pastures for cows. We made it up to see the Crazy Horse Memorial. Driving up, we were full of wisecracks – this is it? How long is it going to take to finish this baby? Until we watch the video and realize what an amazing endeavor it actually is. When we get to Rushmore, it is dwarfed in comparison. But still impressive. We’re staying tonight in a bed and breakfast above the antique store. It is very interesting and unique but also the stuff that horror stories are made of. The mannequins outside are creepy and even though we are the only people staying here, we are sure to deadbolt the door.
North Dakota’s up next and the main event – Glacier National Park. More to come.
How I pimped myself out to craigslist - a story of lasers, nasal sprays and infomercials...
6/13/09
In an effort to make my summer possible, it would be appropriate to say that I pimped myself out to craigslist. What began as an innocent perusal of the etc listings grew into a spring full of nasal sprays, lasers and infomercials.
Going to my parent's for spring break wanting to escape the current feelings of stress and void in my professional and social life and, more importantly, avoid my on-line classwork, I started to dream of escape, in particular, summer adventures to distant lands. I started surfing all the usual travel and ticket websites to price opportunities. I was all set to realize my previous summer’s dream of an Oaxacan adventure when the swine flu hit and made me think otherwise. While I wasn’t going to let any over-sensationalized virus ruin my summer, it did get me looking around to other options. When I came across the school in Granada, a quaint colonial city on Lake Nicaragua, I was intrigued. Finding the $300 ticket was what finally sold me. I remembered though that the reason I never made it down to Oaxaca in the first place was that I was now a home owner! Duh. That mortgage was really putting a cramp in my lifestyle! Why else do I have summers off if not to travel? Having spent the first year of home-ownership struggling living paycheck to paycheck, I knew I would have to come up with an alternate plan to fund my trip and quick. The 31 year-old babysitter gig was not going to be enough. I never would have imagined the world that lay ahead of me via craigslist.
It started with the focus groups. They came fast and furious, at first. What is my dream cell phone like? What adjectives do I associate with Orange Juice? Why do I like coffee? Are you kidding me? They’re going to pay me for giving my opinion? There was the awkward cleaning supplies focus group that was a little harder to fudge than the last ones but, hey, once you’re there, you’re there - and you get paid. The hardest part was qualifying for the studies in the first place, which meant getting creative in my answers. I lied my way through my entire Orange Juice questionnaire to be told afterwards that I fit exactly what they were looking for. I was getting good at this. $100 here, $135 there, in the first few weeks, I thought I was sitting pretty. Then I got my car towed which shrunk my earnings considerably and I realized more drastic methods were going to have to be employed. I remembered my years as a Jesuit Volunteer and recognized my need to get thrifty - or possibly sell my body to science... Luckily I was able to bring this to fruition, with a slight twist. Some call this desperate, while others might call it “resourceful” (thanks Jaime for re-framing!).
I ended up spending the worst allergy season I’ve had in a long while as a participant in a study for a new allergy nasal spray that was awaiting FDA approval. 4 visits, most lasting 30 minutes plus the one that lasted 5 hours and I forced to do my online courses out of a lack of anything else to do and suffering through 3 weeks of allergies (I think I must have gotten the placebo) and I walked out with $300 and a goodie bag of allergy drug samples.
But I had to go further out of the box to get to my $1000 benchmark. When the laser hair removal study came up, I thought it too good to be true. Wait, you’re going to laser remove my armpit hair AND pay me $50 a visit plus $200 at the end if I complete this?? Hmmm… let me think about that one. But of course, there are always pitfalls. Like not being able to shave for 2 weeks prior to each photo shoot each month. And only having one armpit to shave from now on out because they are only treating one…. But, really, details, right? Thankfully, I’ve convinced my co-worker to purchase the at-home laser hair removal system and we’re already working out a way for me to do the other armpit in the fall - so Duane, you won't have to cringe anymore worried about seeing my armpits (is that a satisfactory shout-out?).
Most interesting to date was my realizing how far I would, in fact, go for a little extra cash. When you start to become a craigslist "etc." cruiser, you come across many other interesting opportunities. Not that I would actually sell my eggs, it depressed me nonetheless to realize I was too old to do it. Surrogacy would be difficult with my summer plans. A free workout video though with the only strings attached being giving some feedback and POSSIBLY doing an interview? It didn’t contribute to the money-making plan but I was going to need to get into a bikini this summer, so why not, right? I got my free video along the same time that I got the P90X series illegally downloaded by my co-worker so I focused my energy on the P90X routines (it is, after all, a 90 day challenge - nevermind that I was only going to be here another 40 days). I initially watched the free video once, from the couch. Then I did it once too, skipping through the more difficult routines. A few weeks later, I got the follow-up survey. Mind you, I was led to believe there were 60 or so participants in this, so I figured I could exaggerate a little and manage to get by. I wanted them to have some decent results afterall. 2-3 times a week, I’ve had been doing the video I told them and I’m really enjoying it. I’m getting to be a great white liar, I realize. The next week I got the follow up email requesting the interview that will take an hour of my time – 30 minutes for hair and make-up and 30 minutes for the interview. Hair and make-up?!?! Ok, I may have gone too far. Did I really want to be on some infomercial? Think fast. I try to tell them my car’s broken down, so could I take public transportations (knowing the answer because it’s located in Marin)? They offered a pick-up. Darn, they were making this hard. I offered to see if I could find a car to borrow, still thinking I could get out of it. Then they offered me $50 for my trouble. And magically, a car (my car) appeared.
I showed up for my shoot. They did my make-up, they built me up with compliments, and gosh darn it, by the end, I’m selling that workout video. They told me they love my responses and "I’m natural". Let’s just say, when I return from my summer adventures, there may be some applications to the Amazing Race or The Bachelorette in my future.
All in all, I’ve almost reached my goal. When my focus group well ran dry, I was able to find new and interesting ways to make the money anyway. In the end, I’ll have a single hairless armpit, possibly my other 10 minutes of fame, and hopefully an amazing summer more memorable than the steps leading up to it.
More to come when I am finally on my way….