Falling face first into a pile of dung **Note to Reader: regrettably (for me), this title is not being employed as a metaphor

¿Que Pasa?

Minor injury: I lost my thumb nail, which presents a slight problem when washing clothes and dishes. Quite frankly, I am just glad it is growing back… slowly but surely. Not sure how I lost it in the first place, but I suspect one of my many bike crashes to be the culprit.

Mop up that mess: I came home from a weekend away and the minute I opened the double door to my house (reader beware random tangent coming: in reality, I fumbled for my keys that are attached to a rusty-red chili shaped key ring, which people often mistake for a real chili pepper and frequently question why I have decided to attach keys to it instead of eating it...this happens at least once weekly, let me just say on their behalf that it is a very realistic looking wooden chili…kudos to the artist. So I began to unlock the first door into my house, a clad iron door that I am forced to squeeze my hands through while twisting an upside down padlock right-side-up in order to unlock it with one of my 4 keys…sometimes the lock rusts shut and I am unable to open it on my first try…and yes, it is a brand new padlock… next, I unlock the wooden double doors that lead directly into my house…both doors are secured with giant padlocks, which take me way too long to open…and it is at that moment of frustration… when the pain being issued from my contorted right hand currently struggling with the lock conjures up a distant memory …my electric garage door opener…just one click, I am shedding tiny tears just remembering this modern convenience and the fact that with just one click access is granted). Sorry, I had to get that off my chest. Anyhow, the minute I opened my door, my neighbor showed up right behind me, causing me to startle, with a mop in hand. She said she wanted to help me clean, since it is now summer the dust is starting to consume my house. Anytime someone offers to help me clean I gladly accept, and this is just another example of my helpful Nica neighbors!

School is in session (almost): The new school year is about to start in Nicaragua on Feb. 4^th and I cannot wait to work again with my forth year students (who I worked with last year when they were in third year). I am ready to get going again; however, I am not ready to ride my bike in the summer heat. Although, I did have a water bottle holder recently installed on my bike, which will prevent me from foaming at the mouth while the afternoon sun looms overhead threatening to dehydrate me further.

Current side project: Since school has been out, I have been working with the local library in my town with kids ranging in age from 6 to 12, it has been amusing. They especially love to play games with me. I tend to lose the games and suffer the punishment (aka ridicule). As punishment, for losing, I am expected to sing or dance…if I sing, I sing in English (which the kids LOVE), but I have found that, oddly enough, I also enjoy singing in front of this hyper active bunch. Por que? (why?) Because I am horrible at remembering lyrics, but when I sing an English song in front of kids that only speak Spanish it doesn’t matter what I say…so there is no pressure. So I belt out songs (such as: We All Live in a Yellow Submarine, Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head, Bye Bye Miss American Pie and the occasional Irish lullaby) that are littered with lyrical mistakes …so I just sing my heart out…who knows maybe Broadway awaits? After singing I like to mix in a little dance such as the “the robot” or “sprinkler” or the ever popular “disco”…have I found my true calling? I sure hope not.

Popular fresco of the week: Piña con arroz (pineapple with rice)…still not sure if I like this one…enough said.

Funny (at times ironic) T-shirt phrases: 8 year old girl wearing a t-shirt adorned with the English phrase “I drink until he looks good” (She didn’t know what it said but still YIKES). Also spotted, a teenage boy wearing a “Sorority Sisters for Life” t-shirt…I will keep my eyes peeled for more.

The World Map Project, hopefully coming to my town soon...this is a map another volunteer painted in their community (with the help of local community members). I hope to paint the map in my local town´s library.

Today I participated in a four hour bus ride. I was crammed in the second to last seat located in a tiny, microbus that insisted on passing cars on blind turns while the noon sun blinded the driver’s vision. I knew the bus driver was “blinded by the light” (thanks Manfred Mann) because he wasn’t using a sonar radar navigational system…like that of other mammals such as whales and bats. Alas, and sadly for all bus passengers involved, my driver was unmistakably marsupial and therefore had no sonar radar navigation capabilities. But anyways, I am getting off track already and so early on in my Blog, all the windows were rolled up so that hairdos remained motionless but sweat dripped freely on the foreheads of everyone inside the “moving oven of fun” (nope this is not a new amusement park ride…it’s just the bus). Unlike my fellow passengers, I worked up an “afternoon glisten,” because I don’t sweat I only glisten. I made it back to my town (glistening) only to find that my street was sin luz (without light). “Why, is only our street without lights?” I questioned my neighbors. And their reply was plain and simple…the evangelicals. Now I was a bit confused at first by their response…were the evangelicals masterminding a plan to put the Catholics in the dark (until they converted?). Or maybe the evangelicals were just sick of watching all of the Catholics drinking and dancing freely (since evangelicals are not allowed to participate in either) and they decided to smite the Catholics…finally, sweet revenge? Well, while all of these scenarios seem very possible in my mind…the truth is that the power went out simply because the electrical wiring was overloaded when the Evangelicals decided to have a giant church gathering on my street. They made the mistake of plugging in 1 too many giant speakers and microphones …the result being a power surge…and boom, the electricity went out for the entire block. Anyway, all of the “power overloading” explanations were revealed to me at a later time. Because when I came home all I knew was that I had no electricity. I didn’t know there was an evangelical gathering 3 houses away getting ready to sing religious music so loudly that I would be forced to stuff cotton in my ears just to get to sleep later that night (but like I said, this was all revealed at a later time). So fortunately (which later turned out to be unfortunately), 10 minutes later, the lights were back on when someone switched the circuit breaker. However, I quickly realized that there was a diabolical plan working against me, I would not get to rest peacefully that night or subsequently for three nights following this fateful day. Because the second the electricity came back on, it brought with it…the Evangelical’s worship service. The worship service involves the “worshipers” sitting as close as possible to giant 5-foot wide speakers as someone “sings” (subject to opinion) music into a scratchy microphone. Then I realized…in a moment of weakness I wished the lights back on giving the Evangelical gathering, a mere 3 houses down, “the power” to blast music and sing off key into a static filled microphone. As I went in search of food later that night with my neighbor, we both walked by the gathering and looked into each other’s faces and without saying a single word I knew what we were both thinking, “I wish the electricity would go out again.”

Growing up I always had dogs, there was Zach my Scottish terrier, Oliver the Wheaten Terrier and Zoie my Golden Retriever. Needless to say, I like dogs, always have. Therefore, yesterday when I saw a small puppy wondering dangerously close to a busy highway road, my instinct took over and I reached out for the puppy, no bigger than my hand, to “save it.” I cradled and cooed my way to friend’s house where I thought I could drop off the puppy for safe keeping. A meager 10 minutes passed, of puppy cuteness, and I realized and commented shortly thereafter to my friend, “This was a mistake.” I can remember Zach, Oliver and Zoie all being irresistibly cute when they were puppies but I have obviously repressed all of the negative memories such as, their nonstop noisiness and whimpering. Not to mention, it is a big responsibility caring for a dog/animal. So after unwittingly rescuing the puppy from the side of the road and bringing it into my friend’s house, I knew I couldn’t handle the responsibility of owning a dog in Nicaragua, although many volunteers can and do. I knew I traveled too frequently to ever be home for the puppy. Therefore, there was a decision to be made…what to do with the dog? I didn’t want to put the poor thing back out on the street, and I came up with only one possible solution…and I fully admit that it’s a bit (ok extremely) childish but in my defense, it was late at night and I didn’t know what else to do…so….gulp…I took the puppy and dropped him off at the richest house in town. Yep, I gave the puppy to the rich people in town (childishly thinking that they would properly care for the dog). In defense of this decision, at least the dog isn’t wondering the streets where it was highly likely to get struck by a car.

I tend to always be on my guard while walking in the more urban areas of Nicaragua, due to the fact that there are uncovered manholes everywhere (which I have thoroughly written about in a previous blog entry). Today I am unhappy to report that like a ignoramus, I fell into a manhole (only my right leg, and thank goodness it wasn’t that deep of a hole, only 1 foot deep). Still, there I was walking along, saying adios to someone and BOOM; I instantly shrunk a foot in height as my foot sank into the uncovered hole. I nervously looked around to see if anyone else saw my blunder. Of course, I picked that day to wear flip-flops as well. I didn’t think anyone saw but just in case I thought I would try to “play it off” as natural (I know, this is ridiculous, but it was an unconscious reaction to cover up my mistake). I am happy to report that I did not fall over; I just pulled out my uninjured foot and gave a slight chuckle while shaking off dirty stagnate water(to demonstrate to anyone watching that…hey, look, I can laugh at myself) and then I quickened my pace into an awkward jump/jog…as if to further show anyone watching that, yep I meant to fall into that hole, in fact I purposely fall into manholes as often as possible to increase the difficulty-level of my cardio workouts?? I know, I know, who would buy that excuse. Word to the wise, watch out for manholes because they are just lurking, watching and waiting to grab onto a foot and suck it into the dark abyss.

A week ago, I joined my neighbors to watch soap operas in their impeccably clean living room (mopping 5 times a day would have that affect, unlike my house that gets mopped 1 time per week). Everyone was staring into the television waiting for the big plot twist to be revealed (that the two lovers are in fact brother and sister…or maybe just distant cousins…I don’t quite remember the details…I only remember that there was incest involved…channeling Oedipus). After 2 hours worth of nonsensical soap operas, the news was scheduled to come on, finally, what I was waiting for ACTUAL NEWS! The soap operas all ended with enough of a cliff hanger to get the audience to tune in again next week… and then the news was about to start…here it comes…I held my breath as the first story was about to be revealed to my intent ears…but then, the screen turned black, just like that…nope, it wasn’t a power outage, not this time, my neighbors apparently aren’t the “news watching type.” I put in 2 solid hours worth of soap opera viewing with the intention of watching the news at the end… 2 HOURS and THE MINUTE the news appeared on the T.V. it was turned off… NOOOOOO….I was really looking forward to an update on world, local, and statewide events…but all my wishing was to no avail. My neighbors ushered me into another small room, which contains a computer (by the way, very few people actually own computers and those who do cannot afford an internet connection). Anyway, they started up the computer, because they had some things they really wanted to show me. I waited, not sure what to expect, and then there it was: On their computer was a “My Documents” folder containing hundreds of email forwards, which they saved onto a floppy disk at the local internet café and transferred onto their home computer. Hundreds and hundreds of cheesy email forwards promising things such as “eternal happiness if this email is forwarded onto 10 other virtual friends” and of course if the recipient decided not to forward these messages…they will have bad luck for 20 years. At the end of the night, my neighbors requested my email address (and I told them I didn’t have one) because I didn’t want my inbox to be bombarded with the dreaded junk mail that they seem to love.

Riding along on my bike one day, fancy free, I turned the corner of the dirt road that stretched out before me and found myself in a slight predicament. An ox cart lay 20 feet in front of me blocking the road. I looked to my right and then to my left, there was no way out, surrounded by trees and farms the only way through was bypassing the ox chart. The driver heard me approaching and turned, looked me in the eyes and acknowledged the predicament. I’m sure he was thinking…what the heck is the gringa doing way out here on her bike. As my bike came to a grinding halt, the ox cart driver attempted to maneuver the giant animal to the side of the path, in order to make room for me to pass. After a few attempts, the ox complied and I was able to safely slip past waving goodbye to the driver and thanking him repeatedly. Just as I thought my worriers were over I was hit with a whole new obstacle…mud…and lots of it. I quickly analyzed the situation because I knew I didn’t have a whole lot of time (as the ox cart was approaching behind me and I didn’t want to be stuck behind it again). So I made a split second decision, which turned out to be poor judgment on my behalf, I backed my bike up 10 feet to get a running start…and I charged through the mud on my bike, peddling at full speed. Regrettably, my bike toppled over and brought me with it…there I was face first in mud/cow dung. I was unhurt (except for my ego, which was badly bruised). My face, hands, legs and side were covered in mud. I didn’t expect to be receiving a spa treatment that day and forgot to pack my fuzzy slippers and Egyptian cotton spa robe. I contemplated sitting in the mud for a bit with the intension of taking advantage of the mud’s mystical healing properties (does cow dung have healing properties too? …doubtful). I decided to haul myself out of the mud, I threw some water on my face and hands to wash off (meanwhile my clothes, arms, legs and shoes remained covered) but I didn’t have time…the ox cart was coming! I hopped back on my bike and rode home a muddy/smelly mess. Only to immediately jump into a cold shower and wash off the mud. As I watched my hubris being washed down the drain, I knew I learned another important lesson: when faced with a giant mud pit, and the possibility of being stuck behind a slow ox, ALWAYS pick the ox…and remember patience is a virtue.