Apparently Even Jesus had Bad Hair Days

¿Que Pasa?

Scooby dobby doo where are you? Everyone loves that goofy dog (not to be confused with Goofy that other lovable cartoon dog…who to my knowledge does not fight ghosts, which is what distinctly differentiates the two characters). I have a plethora of Scooby Doo stickers, depicting Scooby fighting all sorts of ghouls and ghosts. When I grade papers, the best papers get a Scooby sticker and then those chosen students also get to read their papers in front of the class. It actually works pretty well because the sticker gives them a confidence boost…go Scooby!

The perils of cow patties: Following directly behind a cow herd is dangerous business, word to the wise: look down, not up! Cow paddies are not fun to step in…that is the last time I forget to watch where I walk.

Just buy a tire gage: This has happened numerous times to me…I board a micro bus and the driver gets out of the front of the vehicle to walk 360˚ degrees around the car…kicking each tire as he passes by…what is he doing? Well, he is checking the tire pressure before he sets off onto the road with 30 lives.

A reoccurring problem: When I walk around town, ride my bike around town, or if am just plain out in public chances are I will always be passed by a man on a motorcycle. Now this isn’t such a big deal, except in a machismo society the men always have to shout something in my direction, whether it’s a whistle, or a long drawn out Cheeeeeeelita…doesn’t matter…the fact is they cannot let me pass without commenting. But motorcycle men seem to have a little trouble multi-tasking because 6 out of 10 times, they will be yelling something in my direction and forget that they are driving…and then they stall out! One minute they are yelling at me and the next minute they are stuck in the middle of the street going nowhere because they stalled their vehicle!

Another saint being carried through the streets

Jesus having a bad hair day. When I have a bad hair day I wear a hat...just a suggestion, Jesus.

1 kilometro (most aptly named for reasons which I will elaborate on): I attended yet another wake. This time, however, I did know it was a wake. Therefore, I ask an essential question: How long are we going to be at the wake? The response: “Only a few hours.” Ok, I thought I could deal with a few hours, no big deal, right? Wrong. Well, I neglected to ask another important question: How far away/where is the wake located? If I had asked this question ahead of time, I most defiantly would not have attended but because I forgot to ask this question I got sucked into one wild ride. I got into a small, low ridding compact car (this time I didn’t have to sit on anyone’s lap, which was a plus). We started driving down the highway, so far so good, and then I realized that the driver and all the passengers did not know where the wake was located. So we pulled over, but everyone was too shy to ask for directions. Then they decided to call a relative of the dearly departed, to ask for directions, well this proved futile as well because the person they called was too distraught to accurately explain where the house was located. So we proceeded forward based on an assumption that the house was located by a “bridge.” Now, I suppose this wouldn’t be too bad if there weren’t about a half a dozen bridges located along the highway. So like the ball in a pinball machine, we bounced back and forth between two bridges, we would reach 1 bridge, look around for some kind of “turn-off” and then pull a u-turn on the highway to proceed to the previous bridge (that we had already visited). This went on for the good part of an hour, back and forth, another u-turn, another u-turn, back and forth. By this time, I knew that I should never have agreed to come, and that it was going to be a loooooonnnnnnnnggggggggg night (not to mention I had to bike about 30k at 7am the next morning). FINALLY, we found the turn off, only to realize that the vehicle we were in was not going to be able to off-road the bumpy, rocky road. “But don’t worry Brie,” that’s what the family told me followed by,” It’s only 1 kilometro”…so the car can make it…right? Wrong again. We started off on the “side road” bottoming out the car over and over again (my face cringing at the sound of metal coming into contact with hard stone). About 30 minutes into this off road’in experience everyone realized that it is a lot further then 1 kilometro. So the driver parked the car at a finca (farm), and we all started to walk, because they didn’t want to damage the car further. After a 20 minute walk, we arrived just in time to hear the screams of a pig being killed and mangos falling from a massive tree onto the unsuspecting heads of mourners below. “Is this some kind of sign?...Maybe I shouldn’t be here,” I thought. But the fact was, I had finally arrived and I wasn’t going to be able to leave for at least a few hours. So we un-stacked our white plastic chairs, took a cup of instant coffee that is a customary offering at wakes, along with a piece of white bread (also customary). And we sat down to join the other 70 mourners, who were all gossiping, laughing, crying, and hitting upon every emotion in-between. Fast forward 30 minutes and all of a sudden a person walked by me holding a pig’s head, about four inches from my right arm. My stomach turned, I shouldn’t have had that instant coffee. But it was too late, and I had to avert my eyes away quickly. Luckily, on the other side of me a bucket full of pig parts was passing by…I was surrounded. Around midnight we made that trek back to the car, it was now pitch black, the blackness encompassed us, and the stars shone bright overhead. We had one flash light and we walked carefully down the steep path…I was in front of the group trying to pick up the pace (keep going everyone!). Then my friend, who I was walking with elbow to elbow, lets out a shriek, she saw something out of the corner of her eye. I shone the flashlight in the direction of the movement, and there was a poor little iguana (more frightened of us I am sure) and I think to myself, RUN little guy or you will most surely be caught and eaten in a soup. My friend started screaming even louder, and as I tried to quite her down the iguana escaped into the trees. We found the car where we left it, got back in, bottomed out a few more times, made it onto the highway, and drove home.

Another sawdust painting in the streets

Quick bike story: I was out exercising on my bike, when the chain fell off…no problem….I have a lot of practice fixing my bike, so I flipped that puppy over and started to fix’er up. Well, a group of people on bikes came along and saw me…and took pity. They asked if I need helped, and I said nope, I am just fine. Well, they didn’t believe me…sadly. Because the next thing I know, the leader of the group had taken out his machete and asked me to move aside (I complied immediately…I don’t mess with machetes). The man started to machete my bike chain. In my head I was screaming: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! NO NO NO NO…don’t take a machete to my bike it has been through enough trauma. But he kept going (I felt like crying but the tears just weren’t coming). He “fixed” my bike aka did a lot more harm than good…but his intentions were good. Then the group insisted I ride back into town because they didn’t trust that my bike would stay “fixed” (and I thought it would probably completely fall apart at any minute due to the machete incident). So there I was riding up hills and pedaling on flat road in the easiest gear (my legs spinning out of control) riding back into town. I guess in the end I did get my exercise, but now my poor bike is really bent out of shape.

El Flaco translates into: thin, skinny, scrawny...Hog Dot translates into: ??

Don´t worry, I didn´t purchase a Hog Dot

I attended Semana Santa (Holy Week) this past week…and well here is a brief synopsis (followed by some pictures): On Good Friday, I went to a barrio in la cuidad de León (the city of Leon) where people assembled sawdust paintings in the street (all depicting various religious scenes). There were food vendors lining the streets selling chicken tacos, carne, and fresco. The paintings were brilliant colors and stood out strongly against the blacktop background. Everyone assembled into two lines and walked nearby the edges of the different paintings, taking photos and observing the various scenes. The paintings stretched for blocks and blocks. After everyone had viewed the painting they were stomped out by a precession holding candles and life-size saint statues. Mixed in with the saint statues was none other than Jesus, who had a day glow shine to his face and a women’s brown curly wig adorning is head. I observed that the saints and Jesus were being slowly rocked or swayed back and forth by the groups of teenagers carrying each statue. I thought this was strange and concluded that the statues must be rather heavy and this smooth motion made it easier for carrying the statues. However, this theory was stomped out when I heard a strange sound emanating from the back of the procession. It was a roaring sound, like a motor of a car. I looked over the heads of the montón de gente (a lot of people) and realized that coming up in the rear was a generator. I proceeded to look a little more closely at Jesus and his companions, and realized that underneath their separate pedestals ran meters and meters of extension cords, which all eventually ran into the generator. Therefore, the swaying motion was also an effort to keep the wires securely attached…to give the saints their saintly glow. As for Jesus’ wig, I would recommend they put a hat on him for next year’s parade.

Yes, those are actual children and not mechanical dolls

Sawdust painting that I felt was very whimsical

Wakes: Not fun on any end (either you’re dead or you’re dying to leave)

¿Que Pasa?

SShhhhhhhhhhh: Lately, I find myself in hiding from unwanted visitors aka creepy guys. They will yell into my house “Americana, Americana, Americana” and I will remain silent.

El dia de la mujer: I was awakened at 4am this morning to celebrate “Day of the Woman.” Now, if they really wanted to pay homage to the mujer (woman), they should let her sleep-in instead of waking her up at 4 with an annoying message of: “Attention, Attention, Much Attention: Happy Day of the Woman.” This is the message I heard blasting out of 4 large stereo speakers piled high in the back of a pickup truck that was playing and replaying the message up and down the streets (and I must reiterate at 4 IN THE MORNING).

More pancakes please: People just love pancakes! I had a pancake party last weekend and another one this morning. My neighbors are even talking about potentially selling pancakes in the central market (don’t worry, it won’t really happen).
The power of the cell phone: I see a lot of expensive cell phones around town, which always surprises me. Anyway, people own the MP3-player-cell-phone-combo, and insist on playing their music out of their cell phones so that everyone can hear. I question, why make everyone on the bus listen to music from really bad cell phone speakers…just buy some headphones…please!

My bike is the source of joy and pain: Because, while it enables me to get around town quickly it also breaks down a whole heck of a lot. And of course, last Wednesday was no different. My bike broke in the middle of no-man’s-land and I was forced to walk at high noon. I felt like Laurence, from Laurence of Arabia, walking through the desert wasteland (of course, minus the make-up that he wears in the movie…and why is he wearing mascara in the desert anyway?). The sun beat down hard and the air was thick with heat. I went through 2 nalgene bottles worth of water within an hour’s time. I finally arrived at a village where a kid named Nelson helped me repair my bike. Then I road on and taught class.

Making a quick getaway: I went out for a bike ride to get some exercise/escape, and was joined by a group of people. They were asking me all sorts of questions about American baseball teams (and I don’t know anything about baseball). So the conversation went like this, “Do you know where the “insert baseball team name here” are from?” My reply, “Nope.” This conversation went on for about 12k or mas o menos una hora (or more or less 1 hour).

Mini conversation excerpt: “My name is Carlos, you know that is Charlie in English” “Hey what is your name in Spanish?” “What do you mean; Brie doesn’t have a Spanish equivalent?” “My sister’s name is Darling, what is that in English” “Hey speak some English”…….My response (in English) “Hey”

In search of Brigs Jhonson (even the spell checker on my computer recognizes this spelling of my name as incorrect and therefore has accordingly underlined it in red squiggly line): I believe it was Shakespeare that said “that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” But I feel it’s rather apparent that Shakespeare never tried to assimilate into a new culture, learn a new language and simultaneously live with the pseudo name Brigs. What’s in a name? A lot. Maybe I could suggest that the local folk start calling me Lolita (but this opens a whole other Pandora ’s Box). So for now, and for the remainder of my service, I will be known as Brigs.

Running down the side of cerro negro

Well I guess there is a first time for everything, and I should have seen this one coming, but I didn’t. So what happened exactly? I went on a date, not knowing it was a “date.” In fact, I thought I was going dancing with a big group of people, but it seems like they had something else in mind. I ended up, awkwardly, going to a local restaurant with only 1 other person…”my date?” Of course, my students work at this local restaurant, and therefore within 2 minutes it was all around town…that I was out with this guy who lives down the street from my house. Now, 10 minutes into the impromptu date, the guy asked if I would be his girlfriend…this is a guy I JUST met…heck, I don’t even know his last 4 names yet . Then I quickly learned that he had been stalking me. That’s right, he starts talking about the time when I was riding on my bike with this person or that person…it seemed like he had been watching me for some time (from afar)…which I suppose isn’t that hard to do because I do stick out. Well, I put up with his questions …then…we went to the local dance club (aka outdoor cement covered courtyard and pronounced “CLOOB,” also rhymes with boob). Finally, we met up with the rest of the group (the same group that ditched me earlier). We danced the night away and of course I was caught on camera doing some kind of gawky robot/trance dance. The disco was then shut down early due to “lena” or fighting (turns out some guy was caught looking at someone else’s girlfriend and so that guy had to punch the first guy to defend his girlfriends honor…or something like that). Oh yeah, I told the guy I couldn’t be his girlfriend because I don’t know him well enough…but I am thinking it’s about time the American “boyfriend” comes back into the picture…otherwise things just seem to get too hectic.

Ever stand in line at the ATM for 1 hour and 30 minutes? I have. It’s not too fun. What causes such a line at the ATM…well, it’s a combo of things: first, people don’t know how to use an ATM quickly (because they are not familiar with the technology), also the ATMs run out of money, which forces everyone to wait for a money refill. I was on my last 10 cords…aka 50 cents…so I needed some cash fast, and therefore I was forced to wait in an insanely long line.

On the bus again (the story of my life), some guy sat next to me and insisted on reading over my shoulder. I had my book out and was enjoying passing the time reading until the man next to me started reading random English words that were printed on the page. He said such things as, “Fish, Man, Mountain, Dog.” He couldn’t read a complete sentence but had no problem reading single words. I tried to reposition my book, so that he couldn’t read out loud from it, but I finally just gave up and decided to take a nap instead. That didn’t detour him at all because the “Hot Stuff” song came on and in a high off pitched tenor…he decided to sing to me…and all I thought was: GET ME OFF THIS BUS!

Proof that my students call me Brigs...

Last night I learned a valuable lesson…always ask “how long is this going to last” (and always remember Nicaragua has different traditions and customs). I got myself roped into a commitment. The commitment in question: I agreed to go pay my respects to the dearly departed grandmother of one of my friends. We (my neighbors and I) were all going to leave around 7pm as a group. I didn’t question how long we were going to be, because I thought that might be rude (Mistake numbero uno, I should have asked). I was sitting in the back of a low riding Toyota pick-up, dust kicked up all around us, rolling through mud, over rocks, through rivers…and finally we arrived. That’s when I realized something was amiss; because people were all seated in white plastic chairs outside of the departed’s house…it was a wake. A WAKE! That meant we weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. These people had been sitting in their chairs for hours and I was soon to join them. I walk into a small room jammed with chairs and people sipping coffee (coffee at 8pm…that was another sign I was going to be hanging out for a while). Then in a corner, I spot grandma, she is laid out in a coffin, and our group decides to sit 3 feet away. What, I would think, should be a solemn moment of commemoration turned into an all out gossip fest…here are a few excerpts from the conversation throughout the night:

“Brie has really nice fingernails, it’s because she wears gloves when she cleans her plates or does her laundry”

“There should be more food here, I’m hungry”

“Brie is very tall, much taller than the last volunteer we had”

“I could really go for some fried chicken right now”

“Brie’s hair is naturally that color, she doesn’t dye it”

“Let’s go look for food” -by this time it’s about 11pm

“Brie isn’t wearing any makeup and look at how blue her eyes are”

“I could really go for some fried plantains”

Six hours later, we finally left. I was exhausted (by the conversation and the sitting). My conclusion, wakes aren’t fun (and yes, I realize they probably shouldn’t be “fun”), but sitting and waiting for hours and hours while the deceased person is in a coffin only several feet while we converse about fashion, food, and pretty much every topic imaginable except for the deceased. It was tiring (the person being remembered should be glad that they’ve passed on and don’t have to sit and be bored).

Way out in the middle of nowhere, I was riding home from a long day of teaching, with my music blasting, I was riding determinedly towards home. I heard some guys shouting at me, which is normal, and I was resolute to ignoring them, but for some reason I looked up and made eye contact. And who did I see, it was non-other than my neighbor with 4 of his chavalo friends and they were all hanging out of trees, just like monkeys. I skidded my bike to a halt, out of surprise and curiosity. What were these guys doing way out here? Well, they were ahuntin’ iguana. They were hunting with rocks, that were thrown at the poor helpless animals and knocking them out of their trees onto the ground (about 30 feet below). The boys (all in their 20’s) were hanging out of trees, that were twisting and turning every which way, and to my keen eye did not look very sturdy or steady. No matter, because the boys wanted to make iguana soup. They killed 2 large iguanas (1 luckily escaped). I almost got hit in the head by one of the rocks that the boys were throwing haphazardly into the trees at their targets, the iguanas. Later we were all picked up in a truck, which was the only reason I decided to stay with the boys…a ride home (it was really hot that day)! The boys told me the iguanas have all sorts of vitamins in them, but when I asked what kind of vitamins they replied “Quién sabe” (who knows). Apparently, iguana is really good for kids too. The next day, the boys were cooking up their iguana soup and asked if I wanted a taste…I replied NO WAY! End of story.

What to pack for the journey, a few suggestions for future Peace Corps volunteers:

I remember packing for Peace Corps and being freaked out that I was packing too much, I wondered if other volunteers would be bringing as much stuff as me? Would I even be able to carry everything? Luckily, my fears were quelled the moment I arrived in D.C. and saw other volunteers struggling with all of their bags…I fit right in (In the end I brought 3 bags total: 1 hiking backpack that can hold up to 50lbs, 1 backpack and a duffle bag on wheels!). Also, I would suggest future volunteers to email current volunteers with any of their questions or concerns (I know I love getting email!) Ok, on to the list of stuff I brought:
1. Laptop (filled full with my favorite movies, tv shows, music, yoga-video podcasts and Spanish podcasts). What I use it for now: I enjoy typing emails ahead of time on my laptop and completing my work reports on my laptop (due every 4 months) in the comfort of my house (instead of at the internet café). My suggestion, if you own a laptop you might as well bring it! Finally, make sure you have a good anti-virus program on your computer, because you will be transferring viruses onto your computer if you use your flash drive at the internet café and then later plug it into your personal computer.
2. Laptop cooling fan pad and laptop sleeve/cover (Many volunteers don’t have a cooling fan, but I have found that in the heat it just helps. The sleeve/cover is great to keep the dust off of your computer during the hot season).
3. Surge protector /power strip (also, there is no need to bring any kind of power converter because the electricity wattage in Nicaragua is equal to the wattage used in the U.S.)
4. Flash drive (2g or larger)
5. I-pod/mp3 player
6. Mini Speakers to connect to laptop and/or ipod
7. 1 book vs. numerous books (the Peace Corps has a library filled of fiction/non-fiction books from current and past volunteers. Also, the Peace Corps provides volunteers with a great Spanish dictionary, verb conjugation book and grammar book. Plus, during training (the first 3 months) you won’t have a lot of time to read! Remember, your favorite books can always be mailed to you, and generally speaking packages make it through in 2 weeks.
8. Regular backpack (for weekend trips)
9. Old cell phone that is unlocked (new cell phones can be purchased in country for as cheap as $15, but if you have an unlocked old cell phone that you like… it can save you some money because you can just purchase a new “chip” for the phone that will run about $5). The cell phone system in Nicaragua is pay as you go (in other words, you purchase your minutes ahead of time).
10. Minimum clothing and shampoo/conditioner/soap/bath products (as used American clothing can be purchased in country as well as American brand shampoo/soap etc. or these things can be shipped through at a later time). However, you might not have time during training to go out and purchase these items…if you have a higher Spanish level, you will have extra time on your hands…otherwise bring what you think you’ll need for 3 months!
11. Headlamp (used for night reading and cooking dinner or even bathing when there is no electricity…replacement batteries can be purchased in country).
12. Shoes! I brought along 1 pair of running shoes, 1 pair of flip flops, 2 pairs of closed toe flats (which were easy to pack, 1 pair in beige and the other pair in black). Flip flops can be purchased in country for 30 cords ($1.50ish) but I have had a hard time “quality” shoes…so I would recommend bringing what you think you’ll wear for 2 years (I have purchased used American clothing to replace clothing that has worn out, but I have not purchased any new shoes…nor will I…because the quality is just not there…aka cheap material=blisters)
13. 1 towel and 1 wash cloth (towels can also be purchased in country but they are super thin towels…so if you want something “fluffy” bring it from the USA).
14. My definition of business casual= I wear either a dress or a nice pair of jeans (aka no holes) with a (thin cotton) short sleeved shirt
15. Sunglasses and a hat…it’s hot and sunny…when traveling via bus I always like to keep my face covered from the rays!
16. Meds: Peace Corps gives you a “med kit” filled with aspirin, Band-Aids, suntan lotion, bug spray, etc. etc. (so there is no need to pack that kind of stuff)
17. Sheets and pillows will be provided to you during training (by your host family) and after training you can purchase these things in country (I found used American sheets for C$150 cords total or Nica sheets (aka 150 thread count) sell for C$ 250 cords). Pillows go for around C$100 cords.
18. Cooking stuff such as a non-stick pan, measuring cups, garlic crusher etc. etc. can also be found in country…just be prepared to pay American prices for these items!