It’s none of your beeswax; plus, popsicle stick sculptures and noodle art

¿Qué Paso?:

Vaga Briks (in English, I’m a wanderer): I have not written in a while, sorry, but I have been rather occupied with grading exams, running around town on my bike searching for people, falling off bridges, planning competitions, avoiding bolos (drunks) and evangelicals, and teaching English. I am super tiered nowadays, with lots and lots to do all the time (and I am not complaining…things to do are AWESOME!). That is my accuse as to why I haven’t been keeping up with my blog…but here I sit finally with a little free time, and I thought I would catch everyone up with what’s been happening…

Rainy Season: The rainy season has started, and all my clothes are damp and things are starting to mold on me.

Ups and downs: I am still enjoying my time here although there are always ups and downs. For example, I was ripped off on a bus (and didn’t say anything because it wouldn’t have solved anything) but I was happily surprised when someone in my town stuck up for me and managed to get my money back.

Politically correct: Lately, it has been difficult to deal with the built up political tensions between people, why can’t we all just get along? For me, it has been a lesson in diplomacy: how to get people who so ardently dislike one another to come to an agreement or dare I say compromise.

Party time: My town festival is in full swing this weekend. The streets are lined with people eating cotton candy, candied apples and enjoying themselves. I was people watching yesterday and eating a rather delightful dinner, when a waft of exhaust entered my nostrils. My stomach turned a little, from the unpleasant scent, and I looked around to see where it had originated from, and that’s when I saw a motorcycle trying to make its way down to crowded and packed street. “Why?” I thought. It’s not like this is the only street in town. The only explanation was that he was “showing off” his motorcycle and meanwhile he almost ran over half the people in town.

A mule, a gordo and a priest: This sounds like a joke, but in all honesty it actually happened, and I witnessed it all. Although, I didn’t take any pictures to prove it. Last weekend, was our town’s horse festival. People ride around the town on big horses. This year, the priest decided to get in on the action, and mounted a horse, but no one taught him how to control the animal. The priest was recklessly riding around town, nearly running everyone down. Next, a “gordo” (fat man) rode a stocky mule. The poor animal was grunting under the heavy load, but the fat man didn’t seem to notice and kept taking sips from his brown paper bagged bottle of booze.

It's a rug...the kids created this project and wrote up a business plan including how to market and finance the product

Last weekend I found myself boarding a bus on a search for the most beautiful river in Nicaragua. Conveniently, the river was only a short ride from my town, plus a quick ox ride and finally finishing up with a brisk walk. By the time I arrived at the river I was more impressed by the many methods of transportation it took to reach the river than the river itself. This bus ride, was the usual chaotic ride, almost comparable to Toads Wild Ride at Disney World (note, I said almost). The Ox chart is where things got a bit more fun! First of all, these two poor oxen were carrying a load of wood (for cooking), and my nica friend asked if we could hop on the back of the cart too. The 3 of us were sitting among piles of wood being pulled by two oxen. We were going at a snail’s pace. So slow in fact that if there was a grandmother with a walker on the side of the road she would have quickly passed and left us in her “walker dust”. My friend was jumping on and off the chart to take pictures (having plenty of time to snap a picturesque shot and easily catch up). I was trying to shield my eyes from the overwhelming sun, and remain patient. Even though walking would have been a more productive use of time, my friends refused to walk the 1 kilometro. That is correct; we were not going very far, just 1k. As the oxen drudged on, so did we. Then we hit a rut in the road (bound to happen) and pieces of firewood went flying off. The already slow ride became even slower. Kids helped to collect the wood and redistributed it onto the cart. Next, we hit a giant mud pit. The cart’s wheels became embedded in the mud. The ox had to pull extra hard through the pit. Finally, we reached our destination (mas o menos). The riverbed was dried up and the water was a muddy color. Right now, the river is not a very pretty site, but in a few months and with some more rain it will be a site to behold (and I will only behold the site again as long as I don’t have to ride on the back of an ox chart). They are slow animals, and I am just fine walking!

A few weeks ago, a student decided to throw a chair across the room into the wall. The student was apparently angry that I had kicked him out of class. I didn’t realize he was so quick to anger, because the intonation in my voice was nothing but normal and calm. I gave him several warnings ahead of time and then resorted to asking him to leave. However, he did not like this option, thus the chair being thrown. Well, it turns out having a student throw a chair in a rage of anger has its advantages. The students are now working harder than ever to get their work done!

Who needs a bike seat? Someone stole the bolts right off of my bike. One minute, the bolts were all in their place and the next minute my bike seat was doing a 360-degree swivel and my handle bars were all out of whack. I think it’s also worth saying that this was at a different school than the “chair throwing” school. I approached my school’s principal about the incident, mainly to see if anyone happened to get a glance at the perpetrator. Then the next thing I know, all my kids were apologizing to me. The principal decided to call a school assembly to announce to everyone that the gringa’s bike had been tampered with, and the result was that all my kids decided to apologize non-stop.

There is never a dull moment on a bus in Nicaragua, and this past week I found myself on a bus with 2 very drunken men (along with about 40 other people who were just trying to get home). Of course, the men were super obnoxious, but no one wanted to kick them off the bus. Therefore, for 2 hours we had to put up with their rambling, shouting and overall craziness. I was super glad when I was able to get off.

Another business group of mine, they are making decorations for fiestas

I suppose I should clarify 1 thing first, I teach 4^th year students who range in age of 14-18. The class I teach is simple to explain: A business course that promotes creativity. All year long, we work on increasing students’ business knowledge and then they apply their new knowledge to an actual working business that they are developing/creating for the class. In the month of September, we have the first of 3 competitions. As a motivating factor, the kids know that their business plans and products will be entered into this competition. I just had the first competition at the local level. I had about 43 groups of students competing all year long for 5 slots. Before, the actual day of my competition I was able to eliminate quite a few groups aka kids with popsicle stick art and ode to macaroni art. From those kids I narrowed it down even more to the top 12 groups. These groups then competed for the 5 spaces to go onto the Regional Competition. It was a tough decision, but the groups that worked the hardest (in my opinion) did come out as the clear winners. I am happy to report that all of my students did their work, which means they wrote a complete business plan. However, the day after the competition was tough, because the kids’ motivation was way down. I spent most of my class doing team building activities. Now I am busy planning the Regional and National Competition, which will take place in October and November respectively.

In an effort to help prepare a group of students for our local competition, I decided to take a bike ride with them to help look for bees wax (they were utilizing the wax in their product). They are making candles from bees wax, but of course, we had to hunt down the person who sells the wax. No one knew exactly where this person lived, but they knew he lived pretty far down this long road. In Nicaragua, there used to be a train that crossed across the country. Although the train and track are long gone, the signs of train tracks can still be seen across the countryside. In fact, this explains why there are many small seemingly random towns spread across the countryside. At one point in time, these towns ran along the train line. Anyway, my journey to find the bees wax man took me along the former train track lines. We were a group of 5, peddling along on our bikes. Now because there are no longer tracks, but the rivers remain, we were presented with a bit of a conundrum when crossing water. There are unsteady rickety wooden planks in the spots of the former train tracks. Below the rickety wooden planks, lay muddy, mucky cow patty littered coffee colored puddles of “water.” Now since we had our bikes with us, we were forced to make the crossings extra carefully, with the bikes resting on our shoulders. I really should work on my balancing skills, because in hindsight it would have paid off to have tightrope walking skills. We finally found the “bee” man but just our luck, he wasn’t home. I hopped back on to my bike, and as a group, we started biking 1 hour back into town. On the way out to the bee house, we had to cross 4 “bridges” and so on our return trip we would also be faced with 4 bridge crossings. I crossed the first without any troubles. Then we came upon the second, and I crossed again rather quickly. I was getting a bit cocky with my bridge crossing skills, and instead of taking my time, I was practically running across each bridge. Then I hit bridge number 3, I made it halfway across, lost my balance, and before I fell, I decided to hop off into the mucky water. I landed straight, my bike still resting on my right should, mud up past my knees. I hopped out of the mud rather easily, but my ego was greatly deflated and I road 1 hour back to town a muddy mess. Then I had to take a bus ride for 45 minutes in all my muddy glory. I got home around 6pm to find I had no running water, and I have learned another lesson about hubris and showing off.

“Rollin’ Down the Street, Sippin’ on Ron y Enza, laid back, got my mind on my córdobas and my córdobas on my mind”

¿Que Pasa?

Power line comes crashing through my roof: A few weeks ago, Nicaragua was hit with Hurican Alma. My house sustained some damage (like a hole in the roof due to a wayward power line toppling into it), but my neighbors sustained even more damage to their homes. During the storm, a chavalo decided to climb onto my neighbor’s roof to help secure the tiles. There were ramas (branches) everywhere and giant trees were uprooted and lay in complete disorder. We were without electricity, water and phone service. Luckily, my town was able to pick up the pieces rather quickly and normalcy was restored within a few days (however, my house is still without power).

Dog sitting: My neighbors decided to take a trip into the city for two days and asked if I could house sit and dog sit for them. I, of course, agreed and was left in charge. I went over to their house around mid-morning to feed and check on the dog. My neighbors left a giant bowl of chicken soup in their fridge for the dog to eat. They told me that the chicken was settled at the bottom of the pot and to make sure I dished out pieces of chicken with the broth. So, I poured some of the soup into the dog’s bowl but I noticed that none of the chicken made it into the bowl. I reached my hand into the soup to grab some chicken. Well, my neighbors forgot to mention that the “chicken” that they put into the soup was actually just chicken feet and hearts. My hand made contact with the pointy chicken nails at the bottom of the pot, and I didn’t quite realize what I was touching. I slowly withdrew my hand from the pot to discover that I was grasping feet and hearts.

My fan died: After serving me for an entire hot season, my fan finally gave up and stopped working (the motor had been overworked). I panicked because it was still super hot and I knew I would not be able to make it through the night without a fan. So that afternoon I went out and purchased a new fan (that will hopefully not breakdown and keep me cool).

Go for a 3-pointer: My town has a basketball team, and every Saturday and Sunday I enjoy sitting on the sidelines and watching them play. One team has a player named “El niño (“the kid”),” who is anything but a niño. Instead, he stands 6’5” and is more like a giant wall. However, he isn’t very agile or athletic, but he is really good at blocking the way.

The trash band: The trash collectors just added a new bonus to their service, not only will they pick up your trash but they will also have a band (that sits amongst the trash) play a little ditty of a song.

Happy Mother’s day (bring on the band): The month of May was Mother’s month. However, only 1 day of the month is devoted full out to the moms. The usual fanfare is to have a band serenade your mother’s at the wee hours of the morning (anytime around 3:30am or 4am). I am not a mom or a wife, but my neighbors still thought it would be fun to include the gringa in all the festivities. Therefore, at exactly 3:45am I had a 2 singers in a flatbed truck lined with giant speakers stilling outside of my house singing 4 songs. I was just a little angry. When the songs finally ended I thought I could get back to sleep (oh how wrong I was). The truck moved only 2 houses away and began the same serenade again and again and again. I had to hear it 4 times before they were finally out of earshot.

Bat killer: I killed a bat. Enough said.

Mud pit

I was biking to school (nothing new there) and came upon a rather large puddle (aka en español charco). I stopped at the edge and looked around for the clearest path to cross through, but didn’t see anything. My only option was to go through the puddle. I backed my bike up a few feet and went for it. Two-feet in and my bike became stuck in the muck and I was forced to plant my left foot in the mud for stability. I was wearing a skirt and a pair of dress shoes. The mud came up to my knee. I ungracefully hopped out of the mud puddle and sought out dry ground. I road into town with one muddy leg and taught class that night I took my rain boots out of storage…they’re back and ready for action!

When the power goes out in the night, everything is encapsulated by blackness. Therefore, it is wise and recommended to stay indoors. One night, the power went out and the rain started to pound on my roof. In my home state of Colorado it rains, but in Nicaragua it pours. I have never witnessed such a torrential downfall of rain, and the thunder that accompanied the rain hit me to the core. No one in their right mind was going to leave their house during this storm. That is when I received a knock on my front door, only to find my friendly neighborhood stalker standing in front of me asking to borrow some salt. I lent him my salt. Then a few minutes later, he was back again to return my salt. I took my salt back. Then he proceeded to ask to borrow some chiltomas (peppers). I lent him some peppers. Then he asked to borrow the salt again. This escapade was probably going to continue on and so I decided to put an end to it by telling him I was going to go to bed.

Some rockin´students of mine at the mud pits

I rather enjoy taking bike rides around the surrounding countryside and I often encourage my school kids to come along for a ride. We had all planned to go to the hot springs (which are located in a neighboring town). The ride was about 1 hour and we were going to leave early on Sunday morning. I told the kids to meet me in front of the school at 7am so that we could leave before the sun got too hot. Everyone was told to bring a sack lunch and plenty of water. I woke up early on Sunday, and rode over to the school. I had packed myself a sandwich, and a snack of Ritz con queso. Moreover, I had 2 water bottles full of H2O. I also threw in some extra snacks for my kids. At 7am, on the dot, one of my students rode up on his bike ready to go. When I asked him where everyone else was he replied, “Oh, I will go get them, just wait here.” Thirty minutes later, he returned with the crew. Only seven of my kids had bikes and three kids were being “chinear’ed” (carried) on the crossbars of the bikes. What a group. I double-checked that everyone brought food and water. Then we left. About half way through the journey, we stopped for snacks and water. That’s when one of my students pulled out a 3-liter “Big Kola” bottle filled with water to pass around to the group. After a quick break, we continued on…until finally we reached our destination, the boiling mud pits. The boys started throwing boiling mud on one another and the girls were running away shrieking. I stood on the sideline trying not to get in the line of fire. The boys finally tired and we all decided to eat lunch and then head back home. One student brought a block of cheese to eat. Another student brought avocado and salt. They all traded food amongst themselves, and I was just glad that we chose the shorter excursion trip versus going all the way to the volcano (an 8 hour round trip). We ended the trip chasing a lizard and riding back into town performing bike tricks (for example, feet over the handlebars, one foot peddling, etc.).

More mud pits

The power line that across the street from my house

As a small child of five, I vividly remember visiting the Barnum and Bailey circus. Acrobats, trapeze artists, elephants, and clowns all given their own separate performing space in the giant cement auditorium filled full of screaming kids and reluctant adults who brought their children to the event. The clowns are my fondest memory, for some, the image of a clown might conjure up feelings of fear, but that is just because as a child they probably saw the movie “It”. Brief movie synopsis: a killer clown is on the loose and he is after a bunch of suburbanites, I know terrifying. I can honestly say that I do not have this fear of clowns, and I owe this in part to the fact that I didn’t see the movie “It” until I was around 20 years old, and by then the graphics, special effects and plot were outdated. Anyway, back to the clowns, I always loved the act where about 15 clowns piled into and out-of a tiny vehicle that appeared only large enough to hold 1 person in the first place. So how did they all fit? It is one of the great-unsolved mysteries of all times; right up there with, how did the Egyptians build the pyramids? I will uncover that mystery later. Besides, I highly doubt anyone knows the secret to the clown car. However, last night I came as close as ever to unveiling the mystic that surrounds this illusion (Note to reader: start playing the music “It’s the final countdown” in your head; trust me, it will make what I am about to say even more amazing and wondrous). Ok ready, music playing? I am about to reveal the mystery of the clown car: How do so many clowns fit into one isty-bitsy, tinny-tiny, minuscule vehicle? Well, the answer is quite simple, they all chinear one another, bending and contorting their bodies into the vehicle. Yep, it’s that simple and it might seem rather obvious. Now that I have revealed the “big” secret, you’re probably thinking to yourself, I already knew that (or you might be thinking what in the world does chinear mean). While I am sure you’ve pondered this great mystery, and “chinearing” was a likely hypothesis, you ruled it out as being “not physically possible.” However, I am here to tell you that in fact it is physically possible…how do I know this as being 100% true? The answer, I have been inside of a clown car and pulled this body contortion act (also known as chinear in Español) in front of all the people in my town. Enough about clowns, it’s time to recapture the scenario that took place one fateful night in Malpaisillo Leon (my site).

The day started like any other, I awoke to my neighbors blasting the “Happy birthday Jam remix CD,” the one where the creepy guy pronounces the word “birthday” as “BIRDday” (in a most disturbing voice). Yes, that is the music I awake to every single morning, it is the bane of my existence. I rolled out of bed and put a pot of water on the stove for coffee, because I don’t function without at least 1 cup of coffee. Next, I finished washing my laundry that I let soak in my “pan” overnight. At 6am, my neighbors came over, glad that I was up, so that they could ask me a very pertinent question “Brigs (not my real name, but sadly that’s what I am known as in my town…close enough I guess),”What are you doing today?” My reply, “It’s Saturday, so I will be cleaning, mopping, etc. etc.” Their faces lit up (almost a little too brightly) and I knew I had roped myself into yet another commitment without even knowing what that commitment entailed. Turns out, they wanted me to cook a pancake breakfast, and later they wanted to cook lunch for me, and we would all finish out the day by going to a disco dance club. The day went by rather quickly; the pancakes were fluffy, golden brown and delicious. Lunch, was a slice of fishy goodness on a plate, fried of course, but good nevertheless. Around 8pm I was informed that we would be leaving in 30 minutes (calculated Nica time: if x=Gringo time of departure, y=Nica time of departure, and z= random variable such as: visitors show up at the front door to talk or maybe a Jehovah witness tries to convert me or better yet the 30 year old man down the street proposes to me, again). Entonces, who needs a mathematical equation to tell me what my gut already knows, we won’t really be leaving in 30 minutes…at the earliest we will be leaving in 1 hour. It’s no big deal, because the disco tech is only 3 blocks down the street from my house, or approximately 3.2 minutes via foot.

One hour and 15 minutes passes by, and I am finally summoned to come outside to leave for the party. That’s when I see it, a 1987 white Toyota sitting in front of my neighbors house, and I think immediately, “Oh no, where are we going?” Turns out my fechenta neighbors, pulled out the car to drive to the disco. I will reiterate the fact that the disco is 3 blocks from my house, yes that is correct, just 3 blocks. They had pulled out their car to go 3 blocks. Now I must admit that this came as only a moderate surprise, because it has happened before. In fact, a week earlier, they pulled out the car to go only two blocks, to the restaurant, Cielo NICA, located around the corner. And 3 weeks prior, they pulled out the car to go to the panadaria that is quite literally 1 block around the corner (and I’m not talking city blocks here, I am talking regular suburban street blocks). Anyway, I played along and got into the car…but not too fast…because there was a crowd surrounding the car…strange, right?…turns out everyone was going for a ride, all 8 of us. My neighbors all started to get into the car and I proceeded forward, to jump in as well, but I was politely held back and told to wait my turn. My turn, turned out to be dead last, because it turns out, I had chosen the short straw, and therefore was going to be “chineared”. I cautiously wiggled one of my legs into the vehicle, next I hunched over and tried to fit into the car (that was already carrying 7 other people). Slowly, carefully, cautiously, I slipped my other leg into the car, now came the difficult part, closing the door. Good thing I’m not claustrophobic, and I thought to myself, good thing we are only going 3 blocks. Stupid, stupid, stupid (I am referring to myself here and not the reader…so please continue…). I should have known, we weren’t going straight to our destination because Saturday night in Malpaisillo is iqual to “cruising night,” shouting out the window a grandiose “ADIOS” and waving to everyone in sight. What a whip (whip= slang for car/cool ride) we were rollin’ on 27 inch chrome colored (although not actual chrome) rims, blasting Los Toros Band, and rockin’ the hydraulics (actually I don’t think the car had any hydraulics but I am pretty sure it was missing a few springs).

Forty-five minutes later, after making 15 laps around town, we finally arrived at the disco (remember the disco is only 3 blocks from my house). My left leg had lost feeling about 30 minutes into the ride and my neck is now permanently angled 15 degrees to the right (due to having been chineard and thus forcing me to hunch my head). And that is how I know, for a fact, with 100% certainty that it is possible to fit numerous clowns into 1 tiny vehicle….

The power line that fell into my house