Papagayo (Parrot) tastes just like chicken

Venture to Ticolandia (known to the layman as Costa Rica): So I crossed over the border, just a hop skip and a 6 hour bus ride away from my home in Nicaragua, and went to the Northern part of Costa Rica! It is the land of milk and honey, land of crocodillos y perezosos (crocodiles and sloths), land of rest and relaxation,land of 1850 Nicaragua/Costa Rica border dispute? Brief history lesson: The land dispute centered on the possible location of a “canal” at the Rio San Juan that is located in Nicaragua, and ownership rights of what in now Guanacaste the Northern part of Costa Rica. The canal would link the Atlantic with the Pacific; of course, ultimately the canal was not located at this site (it is now known as the Panama Canal). However, throughout my vacation, whenever mention of Guanacaste was made (which was frequently) my nica friend reminded the ticos (Costa Ricans) that “era de Nicaragua,” translation “this land was Nicaraguan”…whatever happened in the past, I say, let bygones be bygones and let’s not dwell. I will now start at the beginning. The trip kicked off at about 3:30am because my friend and I were awoken my church bells that refused to cease and desist, they rang from 3:30am till 5:00am (the official hour of our bus departure). We loaded onto a giant “Grey Hound” like bus called the “Nica Expresso.” The bus was packed, but we had our own seats, after a 5 hour ride we came to the frontera (border) between Nicaragua and Costa Rica. It was packed full of backpackers, importers, exporters, and people from every walk of life. We remained on the border for around 2 hours, waiting for all of our passports to be cleared etc. Finally, we were able to get the trip going again and arrived at our final destination, Costa Rica, an hour after crossing the border. In Costa Rica, we took full advantage of the sights and sounds. We went to Palo Verde (which looked like a scene right out of Indian Jones because the river was filled full of giant crocodiles), crossed the continental divide to Volcan Tenorio, walked through a rainforest and saw a sloth, crossed bridges hanging 35 meters off the ground and connected to 300 year old trees, hopped into Santa Cruz to watch bull fights and dance some salsa, sighted U.S. movie stars in the area, relaxed poolside, biked to surrounding beaches, learned that everyone uses the phrase “Pura Vida Mae” (which should never be used in Nicaragua…we are all about the tuani here), zipped upside-down attached to a cable through a canopy that was filled with howler monkeys (note, howler monkeys like to throw objects), and finished off the trip on the beach watching the stars in a moonless sky.

Earthquake threatens to bring down my house: My neighbors recently purchased a new sound system. The system apparently came with sub-woofers, and my neighbors have decided to turn down the treble and opt for more base. Therefore, my house trembles with the extreme base sound that is emitting from their speakers. An added bonus is the fact that they own the songs from the “Kill Bill Soundtrack” (songs that sound like this “RRRRoooooRRRROOOO, more or less a siren effect). As my house is shaking, dishes rattling, floor vibrating, the siren noise makes my heart race and I looked around anxiously waiting to be attacked by sword yielding master ninjas.

What in the world is Papagayo? “a delicious salsa” or “ a parrot”: Hopefully, you picked parrot, because it is most definitely not a salsa. It should not be eaten at all for that matter. However, my mother did not know what Papagayo meant in Spanish (the location we stayed in Costa Rica was called Papagayo), and therefore she proceeded to say that she would like a “salsa de papagayo.” For the record, papagayo tastes just like chicken (just kidding, no papagayos were harmed or eaten during our stay in Costa Rica…but it’s a warning to all to always use a dictionary before blurting out “salsa de…”

One of the many crocodiles we saw in the river



Party in the back of the bus: I took a trip to Estelí, the mountainous cooler part of Nicaragua to help a friend register for college classes. The trip should have been quick, but I have learned to always expect the unexpected. We arrived at the university in Estelí to learn that they were not registering students at the school but instead registration was occurring outside of the town 30 minutes down the road at another office. This meant we had to wait for another bus to come by to bring us to the correct location. After 1 hour or so we arrived at the correct registration location and my friend registered, only to find out that classes started at 7am, and the earliest bus out of our town arrives at 8:30am, in other words 1 hour and 30 minutes too late. Therefore, she will have to arrive a day early, spend the night and then go to school. After registering we had to wait for the next bus to leave to get back to town. We arrived at the bus station 30 minutes early to get seats. After being seated I heard some loud men attempting to sing in the back of the bus, and it turns out they were having a bus party. As the bus departed the station, the guys in back invited my friend and me to join in their party. We sang songs and had a fun time until we arrived at our stop. It’s always an adventure.

Get me on that stage, I’ll dance like a puppet if needed (another year another acto): The school year officially kicked off on the 3rd of February, which meant that I had to go to yet another school assembly, get up on stage and face the hundreds of faces of curious students (at least this year they didn’t make me give a speech, nor did I have to dance on stage). Instead, I sat with a group of my communities leaders on stage as we listened to the director give an opening speech. Next, we heard from our mayor, who made a shout out to Cuba, Venezuela and Bolivia (can we say, awkward). After two hours on stage (and luckily not having to make a speech) we all left and the school year was officially put into swing.

My friend Carla and I in the Rain forest about to cross a giant bridge


Mandate me some meat: One of my Nica friends, is concerned that I am not get my necessary daily protein intake and therefore sends me meat via the bus system. They butcher the animals in their town and grind the meat with all sorts of wonderful seasonings. Ever week, I am the lucky recipient of fresh meat…love it!

Carbon Monoxide looms too close for comfort: It was another typical trip to Chinandega to hang out with some friends, or so I thought. The trip started normally, at least. We ended up going to a baseball game, and spotting a player whose name was “C. Paz” or as we interpreted it “Cuerpo de Paz” (the translation of “peace corps” in Spanish). Whenever C. Paz came up to bat, we gave a roar from the crowd, did the “Ola” or “Wave.” Luckily, he was a pretty good player and brought in a few runs for his team, which I attribute to our overzealous cheering. After the baseball game, we headed to good ol’ “Top Tip” the Nicaraguan fast food equivalent of KFC. We ordered, ate and then left promptly. Our next stop was a dance club. Fast forward to the next day, and we decided to play it low key, and opted to stay in that night and watch a movie. The movie was playing and we were becoming a bit mesmerized as we stared into the glaring T.V.; meanwhile, outside of the apartment a fire truck pulled up to the gas station, and proceeded to make a lot of noise. They were running the engine and exhaust was piling out and filling up the air around the truck. We continued to watch the movie, as we became more and more relaxed and docile. Then one volunteer made an observation that saved our lives, the room we were occupying was filled full of carbon monoxide, due to the fire truck that was still revving it’s engine directly below us on the street. One volunteer got up to close the door, in an effort to prevent the fumes from entering the house. However, this action was moot due to the fact that right next to the door was a giant window that was open and thus omitting the gaseous fumes. Obviously, the volunteer was in a carbon monoxide induced stupor, and couldn’t reason correctly. The rest of us ran for the door to exit the apartment. From a safe, fresh air filled corner, we watched the fire men as they continued to rev the engine (little did they know they almost killed us…dare I say ironic). We waited for the truck to depart, and noticed that sparks were flying underneath (needless to say, this truck would not pass an emissions test if its life depended on it). After the sparks flew, the truck stalled and the fire men haled us from across the street to help push the truck…only to get it going again without any need of assistance. It drove away into the night and we returned to the apartment, fortunate that we had not gone to bed early that night, because we most surly would have been poisoned in our sleep.