Ancient caveman tool: “the rock,” proves useful

Local shop where I buy cheese and other good stuff.

Que Pasa?

Frogger: I have a frog that changes colors living outside in my washbasin…I just hope I don’t bleach him by mistake one day, because mistakes do happen.

Play that funky beat: I love when I walk into a business establishment, for example the local internet café or a local restaurant, the owner sees me enter and simultaneously disappears into a back room, and then moments later I hear the melodies of Elton John or Billy Joel being played through the overhead speakers…

“Polvo” (“Dust”)=Dirt=Extensive Cleaning: It is becoming increasingly dusty lately, as it heats up everything is turning brown and the dust is being kicked up. Not fun.

Low electrical lines: In front of my house there are electrical lines running everywhere, and they are hung rather low. A week ago, I witnessed a large truck drive up my street, recognize that the lines were hung low, but they preceded forward anyway…meanwhile the truck’s passenger, climbed out of the window and got on-top of the truck. As they approached the wires, he lifted them over the truck one at a time. How did he know they weren’t live wires? The answer: He didn’t, but he risked it anyway because who wants to go through the hassle of reversing a vehicle.

Eskimo: The ice cream vendor starts selling ice cream around 9am…should I really be eating an ice cream sandwich for breakfast?

My heart will go on…make it stop: A street vendor stopped by my front door, trying to get me to buy rat poison, which I didn’t need. I told him no thank you, but this didn’t squelch his spirit and he started serenading me in English…Celine Dion’s ever so popular, “My heart will go On.” I finally found out why this song is so popular…turns out that in English class, the kids “study” the song lyrics.

La gata “the cat”: Yet another nickname, because of my blue eyes people also call me “the cat”…because apparently cats have clear eyes…does this also mean that I have 9 lives? …eat mice? ...have hairballs?

Bike problems (the ongoing saga): My bike broke down yet again, and this time it was really really broken. I couldn’t even walk it back into town because everything was out of alignment, so I reached for a rock and banged and banged on my bike (no this was not an act of rage or frustration) I was repairing it…and guess what, it actually worked…wait to go caveman tool!

Food dishes that are scrumptiously delicious: I ate a “potato fried thing” yesterday that reminded me of McDonalds’ breakfast hash browns except for one difference, my hash brown was filled with beans and rice but no toy…top that McDonalds!

2.3 pounds of fabric please: I went to the fabric store to get a new table cloth and learned that instead of selling the fabric by the yard the store sold fabric by the pound…I just found this interesting…

Water and electricity out again: This past week I was without water and lights, but around midnight yesterday I was awakened by the drip drip drop of trickling water. I rushed outside to start filling up buckets. Then I started to rinse out dirty laundry that had been sitting in a soapy tub of water for over a week. I was soaking my undergarments in a bucket and decided to start cleaning the bathroom as well (because I thought there was a good chance that there might not be water again in the morning). Without thinking I dumped the bucket with my undergarments out into my wash tub, and filled the bucket up again to wash out the toilet (side note: my toilet doesn’t flush automatically and therefore I have to dump a bucket of water down it to flush it…or in this case to clean it). Well, I didn’t know it at the time, but I accidently left a pair of underwear in the bucket and then proceeded to dump the water in the toilet. Thus, washing away a clean pair of undies…but thank goodness not clogging the toilet…Whoops.

This restaurante makes home made yogurt and bread...what a treat...the only catch is I have to travel 3 hours by bus to get to it!

I took a quick trip up North to enjoy some cooler weather and stop by the bank (as my town is not equipped with a bank). On the bus ride home a woman in the front decided to “get her flirt on” with the bus driver. Here we all are going around tight curves in the road, while this woman gets right up in the driver’s face to make “kissy lips” at him. He is laughing, having a grand old time. I am on the verge of tears thinking that this is quite possibly the last bus ride I will ever take…because we are barreling down the road without an attentive driver. I did make it back in one piece, but not without having many close calls along the way almost hitting: a cow herd, an oncoming car, the side of a bridge, and a horse. I just wish people would save the googlely eyes for later…when perhaps the bus driver is not occupied with DRIVING!

While waiting for the bus, I was approached by a really friendly lady who told me she lives in Dario, Matagalpa, Nicaragua. Then she proceeded to talk about Ruben Dario, a Nicaraguan poet. I don’t know about other volunteers, but the first time I heard about this guys was when I stepped foot in Nicaragua. But he is a huge source of national pride and EVERYBODY knows his name and history. Some people can even recite a poem on the spot. This woman, from the town of Dario, knew a whole heck of a lot about the poet and she decided to impart her knowledge upon me. Waiting for the bus, I had no choice but to sit and listen. About 30 minutes later I spotted a bus speeding down the road, and I took this opportunity to jump up and run (not that it wasn’t interesting…but I have heard the “history” so many times…that I have heard enough!) Alas, the bus was not going to my town, and therefore I had to sit back down and listen to another hour of facts/poems/etc etc. about Ruben! This is what I learned from her (and I am not sure if this is actually historically accurate): He was a drunk who only studied 3 years then married a Spaniard and finally went on and to become a poetic genius.

Jiminy Cricket, was all cute and smiley in the classic Disney movie Pinocchio, whistling away as the unfortunate pathological liar of a puppet got himself into deeper and deeper trouble. However, I have found that the cricket whistle is not music to my ears, and I have never uttered the words “give a little whistle.” In fact just the opposite, I have been squashing a few here and there but it doesn’t even seem to make a dent in their population and infestation in my house. The bugs and their nonstop chirping have infiltrated and taken over my bedroom. They are in my roof between the tiles, under and on top of my bed, in my shoes, and well, it seems they are just about everywhere. On the bright side, the cockroach and mouse population has been drastically diminished. Also, my clothes are no longer moldy. In fact, they dry in 5 minutes flat after I put them on the barbed wire line.

The road that leads into and out of my town (this pic was taken while I was waiting for the 5am bus to roll in)

This week marked the first week of school, and what a headache. I went around begging and pleading for the principals to get the class started. I will briefly explain the craziness of school scheduling: Teachers gather in a big room and on the chalkboard there is a giant grid that includes all the days of the week and the different time sessions for school. Next, teachers start marking off what classes they are teaching, what grades, etc. etc. When all of this is finally worked out …they throw it away…and start anew…yes that’s right, they do it all again…this goes on for weeks and weeks. As if for not, the schedule is re-scheduled and all of this creates confusion and disorganization. Teachers don’t like it …but that’s just how it is.

I have been on a lot of crazy bus rides, and recently I went on another crazy ride. I loaded onto a microbus (aka a mini-van) and it started out that everyone had a seat (15 people total)…then we started driving towards our destination and picking up more people…20 people, 23 people, a family of 5 jumped on increasing the total to 28…30 people AHHHHHHH!! It got to the point that there were so many people in this thing that the sliding van door…WOULD NOT CLOSE…people were hanging out the side of a MINI-VAN going 50mph. Naturally, there were a lot of profanities floating through my head during this ride…

To my dismay, I hopped the “slow bus” yesterday, unknowingly, which turned the usual 45 minute ride into a 1 hour and 45 minute experience. The bus crept along at a snail’s pace all the way to my school. When I finally reached the school, I had 5 minutes to slam down my lunch and then teach class. I went into the classroom as the students were all standing in the quad receiving announcements from the principal. About 10 minutes later a rush of students bombarded my classroom. Like a school of salmon swimming upstream, the students pushed through the classroom door. More and more students continued to flow in and I looked around thinking…how can we possibly fit any more people in this room? Turns out we fit 90 students in a classroom built for 30. The desks were arranged side by side all the way up to the chalkboard. I was only able to walk in front of the class if I took steps sideways. Nobody could stand up because they were all trapped in their desks, yet class went on and in the end it went well (all things considered). There were some great ideas generated, but the classroom environment was not very conducive to active learning, but we all dealt with it because we had no choice.

Another shop that I purchase stuff at!

The school year is back in full swing, and I am teaching a full load. I bike ride everyday to get from school to school, and in this heat it’s a tough ride. I think the kids are glad to be back in school and I am happy to be working with them all again. So far, so good, things are getting done and school hasn’t been canceled too much (but only 3 weeks into the school year and I have already had some of my classes canceled). It’s rough when class is canceled because then the next class feels really rushed, we have a lot of material to cover and we have to get through it all…so I act a bit like a drill sergeant…to get things done. I really want all my kids to be able to compete in the competitions at the end of the school year, which means putting in a lot of work now (but the payoff in the end is worth it and it’s a huge motivator). The class is the same course I taught the previous year, a business course, where students learn about small business owners, stocks, market studies, business planning etc. and create their own products and businesses. At the end of the year they can enter their Business Plan and product in a total of 3 ascending competitions (with prizes) to compete against other Nicaraguan students all over the country. In the end, the most creative product takes the grand prize (the kids love competition…and so do all of my co-teachers).

So a few weeks ago an Evangelical church moved into the neighborhood. They started zapping everyone’s electricity because they were plugging in their ridiculously large speaker system and singing at the top of their lungs. Well, I am happy to report that they have been kicked out and moved to another location (where they will most likely be kicked out of as well). Everyone around me started to complain about the noise, which is a big deal because Nicaragua is a “load/noisy” country…so if my Nica neighbors are complaining about noise it must be bad. Also, everyone was upset by the fact that “se fue la luz” (“no lights/electricity”) whenever the church group plugged in the big speakers. Their celebrations would often last until 10 or 11 at night (and they started at a cool 4pm in the afternoon). Imagine, 6 to 7 hours of really loud annoying music.

I recently struck up a conversation on a bus with a 40 something year old musician that travels around Nicaragua playing at different venues. He was curious what I was doing in Nicaragua and I told him that I was a Peace Corps volunteer. He was familiar with the name of the organization and I explained to him that I worked in the schools teaching a business course. He then proceeded to tell me that he would like to travel to other countries to branch out his music career. And then he struck me with a question, “Can I drop my kids off at the Peace Corps office so that you guys can watch them until I get back, they are old enough anyway to be on their own.” I looked at him with a quizzical eye and responded, “Well, Peace Corps doesn’t really work that way.” He seemed confused, he restated his question and then added, “You guys are teachers and look after kids in school, so why not just watch my kids after school too.” I knew he would never quite grasp the Peace Corps mission and I resorted to changing the subject until I could disembark the bus (this tactic actually worked).

Speed 4: Blind Curves Up ahead with dangerous Sun Glare…it must be passing time! (Staring Keanu Reeves? nope, staring me and 149 Nicas

These are my new curtains...beautiful!

Que Pasa?

Tub of lard: I hadn’t seen one of my counterparts for a while, but yesterday we got together to do some lesson planning for the new school year. The first thing she says to me , “Gordita (translation=fatto) how much do you weigh now?” I laughed it off, don’t worry I take everything with a grain of salt. But she just couldn’t let it go, she kept insisting that I had to of gained weight, which I haven’t, but finally I gave in and just said “como, no” (of course).

Regalos Regalos (aka recent gifts): My neighbor made me curtains for my house; she picked out the fabric herself and sewed them together by hand. Now when the sun shines through my one and only window, my house lights up in an orange glow.

Why won’t that ship just stay sunk?: Titanic the movie AND soundtrack have been playing continuously, non-stop, there must not be a pause button on my neighbor’s DVD player, forget about Jack somebody save me, and who took the time to translate the song “My heart must go on” into Spanish…am I rambling?? I apologize, but after hearing Titanic playing for the umpteenth million time, I think I have finally lost it…

“The money is in the banana stand” - Arrested Development: In Nicaragua, a popular treat is a frozen banana dipped in chocolate. It is called: Chaco Banano. After months of gaining confianza (trust), I now have an in with the neighborhood chaco banano vendor, and I get them for free…delicious, delightful, delectable…I have built this treat up a little too much, it’s no Crème Brule, but it’s as close as I’m going to get.

Band Practice: First of all, I would just like to state that I am a propionate of band practice…because practice makes perfecto. Also, because my parents had to put up with my flute playing for years and years until I mastered my craft (their poor ears). However, I do not support the right to just blow away on any old instrument, without any regard for tone. That being said, my neighbor just got a new trumpet, and he feels it’s his right to just blow the heck out of that thing morning, noon and night. My only sugerencia (suggestion) is that the sound of an instrument should never be mistaken for the sound a dying animal makes. So this is my last plea to the little boy across the street, “Kido, you have tuned the C long enough, and guess what, it’s still flat…maybe you should take up a new hobby (something that doesn’t involve noise).”

I arose at 6am one morning, in anticipation of catching a big Expresso bus to Managua. I am standing on the side of the road peering into oncoming traffic, wishing the cars and buses would all just go a tad bit slower, as my retinas do not have time to register the destination clearly printed on top of each bus passing my way when they are cruising at a casual speed of 100kph. What’s the point of even printing the route on the bus, if one cannot read it unless their name is Superman? So to truncate my effort I flag down almost every bus…only to flag them away with a stern “no” headshake when I realize their final destination lands elsewhere other than Managua. Finally, a bus to Managua arrives and I jump on, only to find out that it is “standing room only” and I still have 2 hours to go…but I’ve learned to take what I can get…and so I board, no use in being picky. I wondered why the bus was called an Expresso, and I found out soon enough. Like a high speed Hollywood car chase scene, I was suddenly staring in my own version of Speed (of course minus the fabulously handsome and always comic Keanu Reeves). Hopefully, the fact that I enjoy a good Keanu Reeves flick doesn’t discredit my own character; judge me not by my movie selection. But I like Keanu, not only for his acting ability (or arguably his lack there of), but simply because he looks good doing whatever he is trying to do…no he’s not a classically trained actor, but if the part calls for someone to deliver a line in a monotonous fashion, then Keanu’s perfect for the part. Alright, enough about my Keanu crush…back to my real life version of Speed. However, if Keanu was on my bus he would of probably uttered the line. ”We can’t drop this bus below 40mph,” undoubtedly in a lifeless tone. The bus I was riding was abiding firmly by this rule; in fact it was going even faster than necessary. Not only did we not drop below 40mph (remember I am riding in a giant yellow school bus) but the big bus also felt the need to pass every car, truck, and big bus in sight. At one point, we were passing another yellow bus and the passengers on that bus were pointing at our bus …yelling…warning us not to pass…because quite clearly there was another micro bus headed our direction in the “passing lane” and we were bound on a collision course. Oh well, we went for it…and by “we” I really mean to say the idiot bus driver that 150 people had trusted their lives to…reckless…yes…exciting…not in the least. I have learned to look the other way and just hope the accelerator kicks in soon. We cleared the other big bus with seconds to spare…and I made it to Managua in remarkable time…and that’s why it’s called an Expresso.

Whenever/wherever (no I’m not talking about the Shakira song) I travel in Nicaragua I always bring along my best friend…Saco (pronounced “sack-o” and which translates directly to mean sack). Saco is compact, reliable, and the perfect accessory for any trip. When I went back to the States for Christmas, Saco came with me…I forgot that in the U.S.A. people don’t use Sacos and therefore my Saco elicited some stares…were they envious of my fashion forward style sense? Just maybe. Saco, used to be a flour bag in a previous life, but now it has been converted into an over the shoulder satchel. I like saco for another reason, it blends in. I haven’t had anything stolen yet (knock on wood). If I stored my belongings in an incongruous sack, I might be setting myself up for theft so instead I opt for the reliable and dependable saco. That way, it doesn’t stick out from the rest of the bus cargo. Also, saco only costs 5 cordobas…cheeeeap! Saco only has one shortcoming…sometimes saco unravels in very inconvenient places. I have overcome this defect by simply doubling up on sacos…problem solved…however it took me one very unpleasant unraveling experience to learn that I should double up. There I was on the streets of Managua caring hoards of books in my saco (yes I readily admit that I packed saco too full…my mistake). Suddenly, I heard a funny crinkle sound (later I realized it was the sound of plastic threads unraveling) and then snap…the handle broke. I was 5 minutes away from the bus stop and so I sucked it up, instead of heading somewhere to buy another saco, I just forged ahead. In my two arms I was carrying a heavy load (this experience also reawakened my weight training routine). I boar the heavy load all the way back to my house (3 hours and 30 minutes away, most of which was on a bus therefore I wasn’t carrying saco in my arms this entire time). Since this experience, I have started weightlifting my gatoraid bottles filled with rocks (approxamility 5lbs. each) and I have purchased another saco!

Once in a while I need to get away from the constant stares and just escape from my town. Everyone means well, but I have little privacy and that can be wearing, at times. When I want to get away, I usually ride my bike out around the farms that surround my town. It’s just an hour circle around town but it’s enough to escape! Yesterday, I put my headphones on and blasted some Justin Timberlake “Sexyback”, and was looking forward to my peaceful ride. I was 10 minutes outside of town when I was approached by several other bike riders…going my way. Not wanting to be rude, I took off my headphones (paused “Sexyback”) and started up a quick casual conversation, meanwhile I was focused on passing this group and riding ahead at a faster pace. I said my hellos and goodbyes, then attempted to ride off fast…but it was to no avail…they all followed me…wanting to participate in my daily ritual called ejercio (exercise). So now, I permanently removed my headphones and was thus bombarded by questions from the group of kids as they struggled to keep pace with me. They continually asked if I was getting tired yet, to which I replied, “Not yet.” They all followed me on my route and then asked when I would be back. The end of this story is that now I have a bicycle exercise group…and I have NO where to escape when the attention becomes too much!

In the past, I have ridden the bus in some pretty uncomfortable positions, but nothing beats the last bus ride I had going to and from my town. I boarded the big bus at half past 4, which meant that we would not be departing for at least another 30 minutes. They only seat available was the “wheel seat,” the one I always try to avoid with a passion. For those who have never ridden on a yellow school bus, the wheel seat, is a dreaded seat because there is absolutely no leg room…why? Because a giant hump takes up all conceivable leg room, thus allowing the bus wheels to turn and the bus to more in a forward motion. I do not object to the idea of the wheel seat, because without it, the bus wouldn’t be going anywhere very quickly, or it would be extremely off balance, like one of those giant monster-truck vehicles that insist on running over other vehicles for the sake of entertainment. As I have yet to attend a monster truck rally, and do not have the need to participate in one, I prefer that the wheel seat stays put. But sometimes, there is not choice and reluctantly I sat in the “wheel seat” right up against the window. Next to me sat a women with a tub of chote on her lap, a big burlap saco filled with stuff (thankfully she didn’t have a live chicken). So there I was smashed up against the window, knees to chest, and my own backpack resting somewhere between my lap and chin. The bus was heating up as well, we still had 30 minutes till takeoff and the body heat combined with the sweltering sun, and the fact that all windows were rolled up, made the bus feel like a sauna. Finally, we rolled forward and I was forced to sit in the fetal position for 1 whole hour, until we finally rolled into my bus depot. As I shakily stood up to depart I realized that both of my feet were asleep along with the entire right side of my body. This made for an awkward exit, as I looked strickenly like the hunchback of Notre dame, hunched over and hobbling. Good news is my body quickly gained feeling again and I have sworn off the “wheel seat” permanently, I would rather stand, and in fact, next time I will stand.

My name has morphed into its own, I have been called Brik, Bris, BRI, La Gringa, Chela, Chica, Muchacha, and now I am most commonly called “La Brie.” I have officially become an object, no longer a person, or a gringa, I am a thing…gladly I am still a noun (I could easily be an adjective, for example my neighbors call each other “fea,” ugly, all in jest). I must admit I have grown rather accustomed to hearing “La Brie” that dare I say I like it? It has a certain ring to it, and like I said I could always be called worse!

After all this time in-country my Spanish has made leaps and bounds…but it’s still not fluent…and I still make mistakes…and most of this mistakes result in embarrassment. This week seems to be that kind of a week, I haven’t fumbled up lately, and therefore it was bound to happen sooner or later (more likely sooner). On to my story, my friend came over to my house and asked me if she could borrow my “grabadora” (CD player). I was unfamiliar with this vocab word, but I was familiar with another vocab word that is very similar: “grapadora” (stapler). Therefore, when she said grabadora, I heard grapadora…and was immediately confused…why did she need a stapler? I told her I didn’t have a stapler, because I don’t, but then she insisted that I did have one. This friendly argument went on for a bit and finally I asked why she even needed the “stapler.” She said she wanted to play music. I asked how she could play music with a stapler. She was no thurooly confused as well. She was about to give up and then she made a final point towards my mini-speaker system (used for playing music). Then it clicked, I ran to my trusty dictionary and looked up “grabadora,” it wisely revealed to my dense mind that a grabadora is a CD player. I lent my friend my CD player. Then the next day, I was on the bus with one of my friends and they referred to the grabadora…once again my mind thought of a stapler, before I was kindly reminded that a grabadora plays music and is not used to bind together paper. I think I finally got it!