¿Qué Paso?
Who is Betty Crocker: It’s my nickname around the volunteer crowd (add it to the list behind: Brits, Brik, Chela, Gringa, etc etc). Why? because I like to bake in a pot on my stove and often bring my baked goods to be sampled by other volunteers.
Regional Competition: I had one of my groups win the regional competition (they make candles) and here is a link to an article that was featured in the national paper, “La Prensa” about the competition: http://www.laprensa.com.ni/archivo/2008/octubre/24/noticias/regionales/290947.shtml
Surviving a computer and ipod crash: I just haven’t had very good luck lately, because within a week of each other my computer and ipod both crashed. I wasn’t able to recover any of my music or documents, but my computer is backup and running. My ipod on the other hand is pretty dead. I’ve discovered that life without my favorite music is a bit depressing. Thank goodness (sarcasm to the extreme) my neighbors continuously play a CD entitled “Nigga” (that’s the artist’s name, and I have no comment because I don’t know where I would begin).
Don’t pull a “Lenny” on me: I went to get my hair cut for the first time in my town (normally I cut it myself). However, I was getting tired of ending up with uneven hair and so I decided to stop being so “cheap” and pay, what is the equivalent to $1.25, to get a trim. I arrived at the “hair salon or Salon de Belleza” in other words “someone’s house” and found that the inside of the house was decorated to be a mini-salon, while the outside was decorated to be a bar. I sat down in the styling chair and began to describe what kind of cut I wanted. Then the hairdresser started to pin up some of my hair to get started. The moment she touched my hair she said, “So soft” and began petting my head. My head was being treated like a Chia Pet. It should be stated that I use conditioner on a daily basis to get my unbelievably super “soft” and shiny hair. I also occasionally pour a bottle of beer on my head (while taking a sip on the side). It’s like beer battered chicken for your head. While my hair is getting deeply conditioned by the beer I am also simultaneously able to build a reputation as a “bola” or drunk. Once again I am joking about the beer. In all sincerity, I have never tried the “beer rinse” method, but I have heard from my students as well as reputable beauty sources that it builds “shine.” So apparently, I have bunny soft hair (that’s what I get for using conditioner). I am happy to report that I walked out of the salon without be choked to death unlike that poor bunny (Of Mice and Men reference) that never escaped Lenny’s hands.
A little white fluffy dog: I just was “regalar’ed” (in English “gifted”) a little puppy for my birthday. Last year, I received a chicken, which I ate in soup. This year I received a dog, which I began to prepare to put in soup until I was informed that she was, “not the eatin’ type” and would be too tough to be put into soup. I kid, I kid, she was clearly never meant to be put into soup, and don’t worry dogs are not eaten in soup anyway. However, if you happen to be a giant lizard thing (called a Garrobo here in Nicaragua) you are SOL “sorry out of luck” because giant lizard things or anything that resembles a lizard will get turned into soup, also included in the soup are lizard eggs. The soup is quite clearly a “fertility soup” and is consumed by men and children. Fact: “the Garrobo contains every vitamin known to mankind, vitamins A-Z are all contained within the body of this small but miraculous lizard,” direct quote from my neighbor. Anyway, back to my dog, her name is Alteza or translation: Highness. It’s like princess, but I don’t like the name princess because it’s too stuck-up. Plus, my dog is clearly the “Queen” of all dogs and bows down to no one. She wakes me up at 5:20 on the spot to play; even though, I would prefer to wake up around 5:45 or 6. She is full of energy in the morning and at night. All of my school kids love her, I have been warned numerous times to be careful because someone might rob her (this is an actual worry of mine…because it happens a lot to dogs that are fed). However, I tell everyone that she is “Brava,” just like me, which means wild and will attack on command!
Two black eyes: My neighbor was beat up a few days ago because he was wandering through the streets intoxicated. He came out of the fight with a few cuts and two black eyes. The guys who beat him up were also drunk. Fights seem to breakout quite often, and people just hope that there isn’t a machete involved. Then I was asked, “Briks, could you write me a prescription?” To which I answered, “No.” Turns out my neighbor wanted to get refunded for his black eyes. He thought if he could get a receipt (the prescription slip written by a doctor) for his medical costs, he could press charges and get refunded for his condition. In reality, he didn’t go to the doctor and didn’t take any medication. Later on, I had a change of heart, and proceeded to write him a counterfeit prescription receipt. I made the prescription receipt out of 12 x 6 foam paper, complete with glitter stickers and my signature in sky blue Crayola crayon that stated “Doctora “#1 PHD in the World” Briks Jonson” followed by the date (to make it look official) and finally addressed: “Clinic location, from the big tree go 4 blocks east, in front of the house with the dog tied to the tree that yelps really loudly.” Two weeks later, my neighbor won his small claims court case and was awarded $200. To that he thanked me by saying, “Gracias Doctora “#1 PHD in the World” Briks, I will love you foureber an eber.”
It’s not over till I say it’s over: We just held a local competition for the business class I am teaching and we picked 5 winners who will go on to compete at the next level. However, that leaves me with about 300 kids who will not be going to another competition. The school year is not over yet (I have until November) and kids are no longer motivated to participate in the class. Therefore, I have set aside all modesty and have resorted to some desperate measures. Those measures involve: singing songs in English in front of my class (such classics as “Row Row Row Your Boat” and “London Bridge”), adding a round of applause after kids answer questions correctly, incorporating more dynamic games that involve me doing something really dorky like dancing and singing. I have pulled out all stops and do almost anything now to keep them interested and participating in the class. Thank goodness no one is recording my performances on video camera; however, some of my students have camera phones and I do believe my image shows up quite frequently on their cells. Every teacher has got to have a gimmick and my gimmick comes easy because I am a gringa, and therefore inherently crazy and kooky.
September 14th marks a national holiday here in Nicaragua. It is the day of Independence. Therefore, the two months leading up to September are normally filled with preparations in anticipation of the holiday. The high school students have band practice and marching practice to prepare for the big day. However, this year the public high school in my town was short on funds, and therefore could not afford to have their drums, and other various instruments repaired. Thus, band practice became obsolete, because they had no instruments to practice. My students were sad, but I soon found out that although we were without instruments we would not be without band practice. For the past 2 months my kids have had “imaginary band practice,” pretending to play (but with nothing to practice or play with). This might sound like a sad situation, but it truly was a blessing in disguise. I recall last year’s drooling band practice, 7am to 8pm all day long banging drums and I instruments off beat and out of tune. Plus, even though they practiced for two whole months they never seemed to improve. The noise was unbearable. This year was much quieter. Since we had imaginary band practice kids would still get out of a large number of classes to “practice,” which is a bit of an annoyance when teachers are trying to teach and cover material. The other good news was that last year band practice was held during normal class hours. The drums would be banging at full volume, while I tried to strain my voice an octave higher to be heard by my students. It was frustrating. This year I didn’t have that problem! There is a happy ending to this story, because at the very last minute (4 days ahead of time) the parents were able to wrangle up enough money to fix the school’s broken instruments. In the end, all my students were able to have a band (and the sounded pretty decent the day of their performance) and I didn’t have to suffer through months of grueling practice.
Catedral de León
A few months ago I decided that I wanted some fresh cooked beans for my lunch. Now, I suppose I should first state the facts leading up to this story. I used to buy cooked beans from a woman who lives two blocks from my house. She was also very friendly and made a great batch of beans. I started to become a little too overly dependent on her delicious cooking and found myself going to buy beans nearly every other day. Then, her husband started hanging around the house more often. At first he was friendly, but that’s usually how it starts. Then he became a little too friendly, and he turned into outright obnoxious. Then one day his comments were too much, and I had to make a sacrifice: beans or no beans that was the question. If I wanted delicious home cooked beans that was the place to get them, but I decided that I didn’t want to be harassed by the bean lady’s husband every time I bought beans, and therefore I just had to find a new bean vendor. I asked my friends and neighbors, but most of them cook their own beans, and therefore do not need to buy beans from a bean vendor. Finally, one of my friends suggested a new bean lady. She lived a little further on the outside of town, but she didn’t have a creepy husband hanging around the house (like my previous bean lady). So I thought to myself, “why not? I can handle change.” The next day I went and bought some cooked beans to make a bean casserole (aka beans with tortilla, not really much of a casserole but I like to delude myself). Anyway, I was about 6 bites into my bean dish when something went CRUUUUNCH in my mouth. It was a rock. There was A ROCK in my beans. NOOOO!! Because not only had I bitten down hard on a rock but I had managed to bite down hard with one of my back molars and the consequence of this action was a broken tooth. So much for change. My new bean lady obviously didn’t wash the beans before cooking them, hence a rock being in my cooked beans. Due to transportation strikes at the time I was unable to go to a dentist for 1 month. Luckily, my tooth root had not been exposed; however, I did find myself missing half of my molar and unable to eat on the left side of my mouth. When I finally got to go into the dentist, she asked me what had happened. I recounted the rock in my beans story, and she seemed to sympathize with me before stating the obvious: “Why don’t you just cook your own beans from now on.” Since my tooth incident I have found myself eating less beans and rice, and I still have not resorted to cooking my own beans…yet.
My dog Alteza
