A public apology, a lake and a complaint

Dear neighborhood,

Sorry I yakked on the sidewalk. Twice. Thanks for all standing around watching me from your front porches. Thanks for not judging me after I stood up and managed to squeak out "Good evening, everyone..." Sorry for disturbing the peace. Thanks also to whoever washed the bushes down with a bucket of water before I had time to do it myself. It won´t happen again.

So, yes, Friday night between the hours of 8 p.m. and 3:30 a.m., I managed to puke 8 times. It was pretty gross. But fortunately, Saturday was...

Beach Day!!! (Points to anyone who caught that Office reference. Or the reference to the "beach day" Cotrupi, Heidi and I enjoyed back in May over in 6 Mile.) Anyhow, there´s this really beautiful lake about an hour from Granada called Laguna de Apoyo. The laguna itself is set into a crater (which is, incidentally, the lowest point in Central America) and surrounded by beautiful forest. There are problems with too much construction going on but they´ve still managed to preserve a lot of the area. I went with 5 other girls to spend all day Saturday, Saturday night and Sunday at a hostel called The Monkey Hut. We swam for about 3 hours in the beautiful water, and then when it started raining I crawled into a hammock and read/slept (mostly slept) for the next 24 hours. Sometimes I changed hammocks or crawled into our dorm to grab a pack of soda crackers, which were all my stomach could handle at that point. The stars came out that night and the other girls hung out on the dock for awhile with a couple of Nicaraguans they met. Walking was kind of rough for me, though, so I stayed in my hammock and had a completely peaceful time. Essentially, it was the perfect place to spend my post-vomit day. Sunday morning was sunnier so we swam then, too, and hung out and read and had a really tranquil day until the bus came by around 11. I definitely needed a quiet weekend away from the city and all its noise and dirt, and Laguna de Apoyo was so perfect.

Next weekend will be my last weekend in Granada before I head off on my great exploration of the Nicaraguan/Honduran countryside.

Now for the complaint: my volunteer position just hasn´t been what I expected or wanted. I was told I´d be working with teenage girls and I ended up in the daycare. This is hard for several reasons, not the least of which being that I just don´t really like kids that small. Beyond my personal irritation, though, it´s incredibly hard emotionally because I´m starting to get invested in a lot of these kids, and the chances that they´ll be stuck in the poverty cycle are pretty high. Which is hard to take, especially when I´m leaving in a month to go back to my life of comfort. Also, I feel like rather than changing the situation, I´m just here to change diapers and pick them up when they cry and then 6 weeks later I peace out and nothing is different. I know they need this kind of help, but somehow I want to do more. I want to do something more permanent. I´m not very eloquent right now. A few other girls I´ve met are involved in projects with women´s rights or health organizations. It´s hard not to get a little bitter that I´m not doing something similar. I´m learning a lot about stuffing my pride into a corner.

Today when I asked one of the high schoolers I tutor in the afternoons if she wanted to get married, she laughed and said, "No, I´ve seen the problems of the world." She said she´s seen what bad marriages look like, and it was hard to find a man who was honest and who wouldn´t hurt you. Keep in mind, she´s 15. And she´s seen the problems of the world. She´s also teaching me how to play the guitar.

Illness is Inconvenient

2 points to me for the alliteration in that title.

My body decided that now would be the perfect time to shut down. It started with an itchy throat on Monday, moving on to congestion and itchiness on Tuesday. Wednesday and Thursday were a lot of sniffles and sneezing. Today was all of the above + my stomach feels like it´s eating itself. The obvious question is: was it something I ate? The unfortunate answer is: it could be any number of somethings I ate. Discretion isn´t really my forté when it comes to food. My host family swears I´m sick because I like to walk around the house barefoot, which means my feet get cold and thus I come down with allergies and a stomach virus. It´s more likely that I´m having a combined reaction to something in the air, germs I picked up from the kids and food I bought off the street. But I will not let myself miss out on going to the lake for the weekend, so I´m willing my aching body to forget about how gross it feels.

We´ve been without water for almost 2 days now, which means I havent had the chance to shower recently. I don´t really care, though. It´s been raining pretty steadily, so I haven´t gotten as sweaty as usual. Plus no one else has showered, either, so I just pretend it´s them and not me who smells like dirty socks.

I´ve been thinking a lot recently about working at the daycare, and why I hate it so much sometimes, and why I´m growing to love it. But I don´t really feel like writing about all that right now, so I´ll save it for next week. Cliffhanger!

Life of crime

If anyone ever wanted to pickpocket me here in Granada, the perfect time to do it would be when I´m walking down the street eating my bag of mango. I keep telling myself I will try something new like one of the bread treats they sell on the side of the road, but every time I´m walking through the central market and I see that one lady with the crazy eye and the basket of perfectly ripened mango, I can´t help myself. And then it´s just me and the mango for 10 beautiful minutes. I honestly dont think I´d notice if someone took my entire bag off my arm and walked away with it, so long as they didnt steal my fruit.

Also, there is a guy here in Granada who has tried to sell me drugs 3 times now. Except, he never remembers that we have already spoken. We have literally had the same conversation 3 times in 2 weeks (always with me inventing new fun details about my life). It´s starting to feel a little like Groundhog Day. Stay off crack.

Finally, I wish people here would stop commenting on my "beautiful blue eyes." They´re effing green. For the love.

Pardon my rudeness

People here consistently tell me I look angry, depressed, sad or worried. Sorry, guys, that´s just my default face.

Weekend Update

Highlights of the weekend include:

1. Attending what had to be the most happening high school dance ever at a discoteca by the lake. We weren´t the oldest people in the room, but we were definitely in the older crowd. Add to that the fact that we were the only foreigners there, and you have yourself the recipe for one amazingly sketchy night. However, security at the disco was surprisingly good. Yet another difference between Nicaragua and Argentina.
2. Having my first cup of brewed, not instant, coffee in 3 weeks. Make that 2 cups, since one girl didn´t want hers at breakfast Saturday morning. I´ll for sure have to go back to the Garden Cafe, as much for the coffee as for the books, hammocks and amazing granola and yogurt.
3. Kayaking on Lake Nicaragua (aka Cocibolca, don´t kill me if I spelled that wrong) this morning. Other than dancing Friday night, that was the first time I´ve sweated because of the work I´m doing and not because it´s just so hot. I love endorphins, I love kayaking and I love lakes.
4. Meeting 2 new girls who are here working through mid August. One of them goes to UT and was in Córdoba for a month last summer, so we got to reminisce a little about the place we both miss so much.
5. Sitting outside with my "cousins" until past midnight on Friday, getting to hear about things like their jobs, where they want to travel, and the earthquake that happened here a few years back. Apparently, after the tremors hit a lot of Granadinos gathered to sleep in an outside park near my house out of fear their houses might collapse in the night.

Nicaragua has a fair number of volcanoes, and our kayak guide this morning told us that 5 of them are connected, including the (dormant) Mombacho towering over Granada. Which means that, if things go wrong enough, 5 volcanoes could erupt almost simultaneously in Nicaragua. It probably won´t happen, but it´s nice to think about while I lie in bed at night. The volcano in Masaya, about an hour from Granada, has been sputtering recently. Let´s keep our fingers crossed.

Thank goodness I¨m not a poli sci major

I really don´t understand the political situation here. Maybe because I´m trying to categorize everything by "liberal" or "conservative", when in reality it´s much more complex than that. No matter how many conversations I have with Nicaraguans, or how many times I read the "political history" section of my guidebook, or how much time I spend on wikipedia, I just can´t keep it all straight. My brain doesn´t usually fail me like this. This is irritating.

Last night I had the strangest dream...

Well, really it was more like a week ago. I had this incredibly long dream that consisted entirely of me sitting in an air conditioned house. I would spend about 5 minutes just sitting in each room while the owners said things like "And see, even our bathroom is air conditioned! This room has a sofa AND air conditioning!" The heat here has been what some consider "oppressive", particularly on days when it doesn´t rain.

I´m also in love with the bags of fresh mango they sell on the streets here for US $.25.

Happiness is spelled "choco banano"

There´s this house near mine that sells ice cream on their front porch, and they have this sign that says they sell "choco bananos". Finally today I went and asked for one and oh my goodness, that´s probably the happiest I´ve been in awhile. It´s just a banana on a stick that´s dipped in chocolate and then frozen, but when it´s 90 degrees outside I don´t think there´s much that could be more delightful. I ended up sitting on their porch talking to the woman who owns the place for awhile and I for sure plan on going back, as much for the conversation as for the delicious choco bananos and raspados (snow cones). We talked a little about politics and she´s a die hard conservative. My family, on the other hand, is so sandinista (and therefore liberal) that our house is actually painted in sandinista colors, so I think it´s best that I don´t tell her who I´m living with. I´d hate for her to do something like torch our house or take away my choco banano.

Also, Mrs. Choco Banano gave me a huge compliment by telling me I spoke and understood Spanish "bastante bien" (well enough) and could express myself well. In Argentina, people almost always gushed over how well we spoke even when we spoke like retarded babies. Here, though, there´s more reservation, so receiving a compliment on my language skills means a lot more.

Today I also started my Spanish lessons with a new professor. Her name is Carla, she´ll be 20 on August 4 and she gave birth to a son named Joshua Samuel 12 days ago. Essentially, we´re so close in age but our lives could not be more different. We had a really interesting discussion about childbirth here, and let´s just say US women would die. Some minor differences include: the hospital doesn´t provide food, the family brings it. Natural birth is the norm. The baby is usually dressed and handed to the mother immediately, and then doesn´t leave her side. The mother is in the hospital for maybe a full day and then goes home. Et cetera. We also talked about violence against women, about machismo, about families in the USA vs families in Nicaragua and about Carla´s 36 year old sister who has a daughter, who´s 20, who also has a child. Carla asked me why it´s the norm for kids in the states to leave the house when they hit 18. I responded with some crap about how we value independence and responsibility to the extreme, but if you think about who has more responsibility: a 19 year old at a private university, or a 19 year old with 1-2 children, a job and a potentially abusive or absent husband? There has to be some happy medium.

I´ve finally figured out that more or less the only place I can be alone is at an old fort on the edge of town, so I think I´ll go sit there and read for awhile.

Just an ordinary day

Like I said, there´s a volcano that looks directly over my house called Mombacho. I really wanted to hike it, so yesterday Lesbia and I took a bus to the park and, through a long series of walks, rides and waits, ended up hiking around the peak for awhile. I´ll be real, it was a lot like hiking on a mountain with a few puffs of steam floating around, but I think I´d like to hike another volcano that´s about 3 hours from my house. That will have to wait, though.

Probably the most interesting part of my day was spending 4 or so hours talking to Lesbia. She told me about how she had to quit studying architecture when Marie Esther was born, how they worry about money constantly, how she wants to travel (but doesn´t have money), how they need their own house (but don´t have money), etc etc. She talked, too, about how she wanted to go to the States but couldn´t (finances, family, etc). The more I talk to people here, the more I get the sense that, to them, the US is a slice of paradise where they´ll have all the money they need, their own house, schools for the kids and food to eat always. And I guess in that sense, the US is more or less a utopia, especially for those who are willing to take any job that comes their way. There´s air conditioning, and you can buy anything you want in the supermarket, and education is at least decent and you can drink the tap water. Part of me always wants to tell these people that the States isn´t perfect, though, that we still have our share of depression and loneliness and suicide and rape and eating disorders and theft and cheating and confusion. But I guess in Maslow´s hierarchy of needs, most of that just isn´t that important.

Lesbia also asked me if I´d ever considered joining a convent, because apparently 20 is way past my marriage expiration date. I told her I wasn´t Catholic, which was a huge shocker (an estimated 90% of the population here is Catholic) and so wasn´t a likely candidate for life as a nun.

Speaking of the nuns, my volunteer work is going pretty well. The more time I spend with the little kids in the daycare, the more I realize that I absolutely do not want such young children to be the focus of my future career. Not that I in any way would degrade people who work with children for a living, but it´s not where I want my life to go. Today I started going in the afternoon to help the older girls with their English lessons. I´d really like to get to know them as people, not as the stereotyped Nica orphan girl, so hopefully our afternoon hours will be good. Some of them are almost my age, too, but because of whatever nasty situation they´ve been taken out of they´re a few years behind in school.

As far as adapting to life in Nicaragua goes, I´m progressing rapidly. I washed my clothes this weekend with a tub of water and a washboard, I´ve begun craving beans, rice and fried plantains and I´m mildly addicted to a telenovela called En Los Tacones de Eva about a man who faked his own death and now lives life dressed as a woman to avoid jail time for a crime he didn´t commit. Hilarity, danger and romance ensue.

Where´s the water?

Sometimes we don´t have water in the house for a few hours. When I asked Isabel about it, her response was "well sometimes they let us know when we´ll lose it, and sometimes they don´t." Um... but why is it gone?

Also, the mystery of Isabel´s father has been solved. Apparently he lives at the family farm about an hour from Granada and comes home occasionally on weekends. So, he really does "live here, but not really."

Socialistic thoughts

Yesterday, after a particularly rough morning, I sat in the park and fumed over everything I hate about this world. And maybe I´m overgeneralizing, but right now it all seems to come back to money.

I hate money. First of all, it only has value because we say it does. If I work 40 hours a week and get my paycheck and deposit at the bank, chances are I´ll never even touch most of that money. It just floats out there in some mystical economic sense that I can´t ever grasp, and I write a check for rent and swipe my credit card for groceries and somewhere out there some binary numbers change and suddenly there´s less in my account. Even the money I do touch is just paper with a number on it. And then the next month comes and the same thing happens and in the long run, who really cares? Also, who decided that I have to pay for the right to live in my house, or to eat? Who gets to say that healthcare is a privilege, not a right, and that you should have to "afford" vaccinations or stitches? Why is it ok for the elite to accumulate 7 digit figures in their bank accounts while the poor scrounge for enough coins to buy rice?

Im not for a second going to pretend like this is one of the great evils that has cropped up in the last 50 years. I wasn´t around in 1950, but I´ll go out on a limb and say that even if "family values", whatever the hell that means, were stronger then, people still spent a good portion of their time worrying about finances. In world geography last semester we learned about ancient African civilizations that would trade off goats and chickens and their sources of livelihood for gold, and all I could think was "why?" Why would you rather have useless metal than food?

And then there comes the problem of how to deal with money if you do have it. When a 6 year old approaches me on the street and tells me he hasn´t eaten all day, maybe he´s telling the truth and maybe he just wants cash so he can go buy glue to huff. But how do you know the difference? At what point do you start holding back? When is hunger no longer an excuse for begging? Is it better to withhold a dollar so he´ll "learn a lesson" or are we supposed to give without thinking? And I know people always tell you to use discretion in giving money to people on the streets, and maybe that´s all well and good in the US where you know if that bum by your car is drunk or not, but it´s not really applicable in the majority of 3rd world countries.

I don´t know the solution. Honestly, I don´t think there is one. Communism has never worked, even in the most socialistic of countries there have always been the wealthy elite. Capitalism often screws the poor, the bartering system couldn´t even withstand the lure of gold in ancient Africa. And Christ himself promised that the poor would always be with us. I do know that money is almost always poorly handled and unevenly distributed, and that people who are far smarter than me have failed to fix the problem. It´s like you´re damned if you do and damned if you don´t.

Anyhow, after I sat on a bench by myself for over an hour and pondered the upsides to living in a commune or a cave, I went home and played with Marie Ester and Cristina, ate dinner with my host family and visited Marjan. And so help me, none of that cost a cent.

Nuns and chicken parts

Reasons why joining a convent looks more appealing every day:

1. No one cares if you can´t dance.
2. Children behave when you´re around.
3. You get to wear the same thing every day.
4. You don´t have to answer the increasingly irritating, "So... why are you single?"
5. Men don´t whistle at you when you walk down the street with all your best friends.

In other news, Blinky enjoys a bowl of boiled chicken every morning. Correction, Blinky enjoys a bowl of boiled chicken heads and feet every morning. Blinky is officially never allowed to lick me.

Friendship and school buses

First of all, I get the feeling that a fair number of people are worried about me being lonely here. Just to put your fears at rest, let me explain what I´m learning. Every day, I´m forced to redefine "friendship". At home, my friends are the 10 or so people I see regularly and make an effort to hang out with. And at home, I´m pretty stingy with who I apply the term "friend" to, because it´s a heavy word to me. Here, though, I have to let that go. Because right now, my friends include Marjan (my dutch friend), Derica (my 16 year old "cousin" who´s so fun to talk to), my host family (none of whom are within 8 years of my age), Elsa and Claudia (the daycare employees) and random children I meet on the street. The thing is, though, every time I get so lonely I can´t stand it, I end up hanging out with Marjan and laughing a lot, or talking to Derica for an hour, or laughing at the ridiculous things the 4 year old Marie Esther says. So every day I wake up and wonder how I´m going to make it through being so alone, and every day I lie down exhausted from being with so many people.

Speaking of Marie Esther, here are some fantastic things that have come out of her mouth:
"You can´t be named Catharine, I´m Catharine!" (for the record, Catarina is one of the characters on Patito Feo)
"Do you want me to go with you to the bathroom? I always accompany my friends to the bathroom." (This one was actually directed at Cristina. Who, by the way, has lost all fear of me and screams CATHY-LEEN, which is the closest she can get to my real name, when I come home. Lesbia also uses me as leverage at meals times now, as in "If you don´t stop throwing your rice on the ground Catharine won´t want to eat with you anymore.")
"Catharine, your hair makes a circle around your head. Why is that?" (It´s because the humidity is probably at 80% and I sweat from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. Lay off.)
"Look, my doll´s cheeks are red like Catharine´s!" (Well... yeah.)

Marjan and I just got back from Masaya, which is a town about 30 minutes from Granada. It´s known as the crafts central of the country. In the states, if you want to go somewhere, you drive your car. In Argentina, you buy a bus ticket at the station. In Nicaragua, you stand on a street corner until an old American school bus comes barrelling by. When the man hanging out the door screams MASAAAYYAAA, or wherever you´re headed, you run after the bus and take a flying leap through the back door, praying to God you don´t land on any of the sweet old ladies who are taken their baskets full of fruit, blankets, etc to the market.

I liked Masaya a lot. I´d heard it was touristy, but I think that means touristy with the Nicas, because I only saw about 5 other foreigners during the 6 hours we were there. I bought a hammock for 13 dollars, and although that´s probably more than I should have paid, I didn´t see the point in haggling over the price for much lower than that. We also walked around and saw one of the neighborhoods where they make a lot of the hammocks. At one point we were wandering around iglesia San Jeronimo, which used to house the patron saint of Masaya until it was destroyed by an earthquake in 2000. We got in good with the cleaning people, who let us see the inside of the church, and when we came out 2 men had appointed themselves as our guides and spent about half an hour with us explaining the history of the church, its restoration and the festivals surrounding the culture in Masaya. They then took us to see the statue of San Jeronimo, which, if I´m translating correctly, was about the only statue not destroyed in the earthquake (sign from God?). After our guides released us, we made our way back to the market and hunted down a return bus for Granada. I was nervous about travelling here, since it´s a little less organized that I´m used to, but today was so smooth in that chaotic south american way that I feel way better about being by myself in July. Although, if anyone wants to come hang out with Nicaragua and Honduras with me, I wouldn´t say no.

Other than that, things are good here. My Spanish is decent but not awesome. For some reason I´ve decided to forget the difference between imperfect and preterite, as well as the difference between very basic words like "to go" and "to come". But hopefully each day is an improvement, and at least I know I can´t get any worse while I´m here. There is a group of high schoolers from Austin at the daycare this week, and I end up translating for them a lot, which is actually fun in a twisted "my Spanish is better than your Spanish" kind of way. Maybe I´d like to lead service trips when I get out of college for awhile...?

Finally, yesterday was Isabel Cristina´s 55th birthday. She had about 8 of her friends over, and when I returned home after class I heard what sounded like a chorus of dying cats coming from my house. It turns out that 55 year old Nica women really enjoy karaoke. And I really enjoyed watching them.

I can´t escape Patito Feo

Remember the horrible Argentinian show Patito Feo I mentioned last time? Turns out it´s not just Marie Esther (confirmed name) and Christina (eeeeh? maybe?) who are obsessed, it´s EVERYONE between the ages of 3 months and oh, I don´t know, death. We listened to the Patito Feo soundtrack on repeat at the school today, there are televised dance competitions for Nica girls (and boys) to see who´s the best Patito Feo impersonator, and I wish I were joking, but I started singing one of the songs to myself in my dream. It´s unavoidable.

The school I´m volunteering at is run by nuns whose order (correct term?) is based out of Calcutta. I finally got to talk with one of them for awhile today, and she told me that 4 of them are from India, one is from Kenya and one is from Peru. They all speak English since it´s the language of the community, as well as Spanish and their native language. So far I´ve been helping with the daycare for the local kids. The parents don´t pay anything to send their kids (which is why there are up to 65 children on any given day) but the nuns insist that the parents be working, and they check up on them to make sure they´re fulfilling their end of the deal. The sister told me they follow Mother Theresa´s vow to serve "the poorest of the poor" without compensation, so the daycare (and orphanage) are run off donations and contributions from other orders with more money. She also told me that of all the countries she´s served in (India, Mexico, Panama and now Nicaragua) these are some of the poorest conditions she´s ever seen. Which, honestly, makes me feel better about being here. I´m so proactive that I was starting to hate the fact that I hadn´t chosen to do volunteer work with a group so I could help build something or fix something. But most of these kids need so much love and I´m guessing that the food they get at daycare is by far the most substantial meal of the day. So, if I have anything to offer, it´s just another pair of hands.

I also asked the sister if I could maybe start working with the older girls a couple days a week, too, especially if they need help with their English homework. So we´ll see what comes of that .

Today they had a party for the kids. Marjan and I had to get to the orphanage at 7, which meant waking up at 6 to meet at 6 30 and walk for half an hour to the school. We helped Elsa and Claudia (daycare employees) put up balloons and string up a piñata, then went to mass with all the kids. After mass we played musical chairs and the kids got cake and ice cream. They were all really excited for the piñata (one kid actually threw up out of sheer joy), except for this one really awesome kid named Wilbur who screamed and ran in the opposite direction. Apparently he has what´s literally a paralyzing fear of piñatas, and he refused to come outside until they had knocked it down. In Wilbur´s defense, this thing did have one of the creepiest clown faces I´ve ever seen.

Final thought on Nicaragua for the day: when someone wants your attention, they make this "ch" sound with their teeth over and over again. It was insulting until I figured out it´s totally normal here.

Bien freaking venidos a Nicaragua!

In Catharine, that means "Oh em gee, welcome to Nicaragua!"

Yesterday started at the unholy hour of 5 30 a.m. Fortunately, Catherine Cotrupi was kind enough to drive me to the Atlanta airport, and my roommate Tara was on some meds that left her incapable of sleeping, so it wasn´t a lonely morning by any means. (P.S. Tara, I hope you´ve slept and haven´t been watching Crossroads on repeat.) Anyhow, my flight was by far the least eventful flight I´ve had in a long time. No delays, no baggage problems, no unruly passengers. I was way too revved up on caffeine and adrenaline to sleep, so I spent most of my time staring out the window. We flew directly over Cuba, which the captain was kind enough to point out to us. I will make it to that country, travel restrictions be damned. I also made about 6 trips to the bathroom since I remembered that toilet paper is scarce in other countries. Thanks to Delta Airlines for their generous contribution to my tp stash. Apparently Nicaraguan customs is where time goes to die because I was in that line forever, but other than that everything was as perfect as it could have been.

I was told that a woman named Veronica was going to pick me up at the airport. After scanning all the women holding signs, I realized that the only people holding anything close to my name were 2 men holding a sign with "Catharina Bolc" written on it. I guess there was some miscommunication along the line. Anyhow, my newfound friends Omar (or maybe Oscar, I´m not so sure) and Alberto (who I keep calling Arturo... for future reference, it´s a bad idea to repeatedly forget your only friend´s name) drove me the hour or so from Managua to Granada. Alberto took me to meet my new family (more on them later) and then showed me around the city a little.

The city is nothing, I repeat NOTHING, like my sweet Córdoba. It´s much less European and much more central American. There´s bachata and reggaeton playing on full blast at all times. One of my neighbors runs a radio station out of their house, which I think is super fly. The streets are choked with horses, dilapidated cars and brand new SUVs in the streets, along with pedestrians, bicyclists and women selling fruit. It smells like Argentina, only more so. I guess it smells like El Salvador, too, only hotter. Hardly any of the streets have names so I have to constantly orient myself by the position of the mountains and which cyber cafe I´m near. Hopefully I won´t get lost but Alberto told me if I do I should just ask someone where the central park is and find my way home from there. I don´t love it yet, but I like it a whole lot. Probably the only thing I´m not so fond of is the fact that Granada has a huge tourist population. I play a fun game called "spot the foreigner". I usually win. I´m also the only participant.

Like I said, it´s practically nothing like Argentina, but little things make me so homesick for Córdoba. Sometimes I´ll get a whiff of something or I´ll hear a song from there and it takes me back to last year... The man who lives in my house has his cell phone ringer set to the same thing I had in Argentina and I even miss that stupid phone. And yes, my Argentinian accent is still going strong and confuses most people. If I ever start to miss it too much, the little girls in my house are OBSESSED with this truly awful show called Patito Feo that´s produced in Buenos Aires. Think High School Musical meets Dancing with the Stars, only Bs As style so it´s twice as flamboyant and the dancers wear half as much clothing. I miss Argentines as whole, too. Not that the Nicas aren´t friendly, but Argentines have a little something special.

Ok, my family:

• Isabel Cristina is my main hostess. I´m really not sure how old she is, I would have to say late 50´s to early 60´s.
• Isabel´s mother. I don´t know her name yet. She talks really loud and slowly, but I´m not sure if it´s because she thinks I´m dumb or if that´s how she normally talks. We watched the news together yesterday. Apparently her husband lives in the house too, "but not really", whatever that means.
• William is Isabel´s son. He´s really nice, he works with computer programming and talks to me at meals. He´s married to Lesbia (don´t you EVEN laugh, I´m like 95% sure that´s her Christian name) and they have 2 daughters, whose names are some combination of Maria, Elena and Cristina. The oldest (Maria Elena?) just turned 4 and she thinks we´re best friends already. The younger one will be 2 on July 10 and is crazy shy, but she likes to stare at my light eyes.
• Reyna is Isabel´s other daughter. She´s probably 35 or so and she works at the hospital with internal medicine. She´s not around much because of work but I like her a lot. Reyna also has 2 dogs (Pelucho and Blinky) who live at the house. They´re all right, but Catharine and Blinky are going to have a talk in a language we both understand if Blinky doesn´t stop biting Catharine´s feet during siesta. Isabel also has 3 parrots. 2 live right outside my window and decided 5 a.m. would be a good time to start singing. The other lives at the back of the house and all it can say is "Mamá!!!" in this really terrible screaming voice and "amoooooorrrrrr".

The house is fantastic. I have my own room, complete with a fan, a mosquito net, a television and a bathroom. It honestly looks like someone got tired while they were walking down the street one day, so they put up a lean-to with 2 sticks and a tin roof, and then forgot to move out. You can see where the house has been added on to over and over again, and they eventually just kept going to the next street. It´s completely open, too--yesterday when it rained the furniture in the living room got wet. The back of my house connects to other houses where some family and neighbors live, so there are always people coming through. There´s the expected awkwardness that comes from moving in with 7 or so strangers, but I can´t complain. Some guy who doesn´t even live in my house yesterday welcomed me and told me "this is your house now!" I think I´ll start going to my friends´ houses and encouraging their guests to make themselves at home.

I started my volunteer work today. I thought I´d be working with older girls but they all go to school in the mornings, so I hung out with about 35 kids between the ages of 1 and 5 today. They´re cute but I think I´ll ask if I can alternate and come in the afternoons sometimes to work with the older girls, just for variety. There´s a girl from Holland named Martan who´s volunteering with me for the next month. Her English is a little rocky and she just started learning Spanish, so our conversations are limited, but it´s nice to have a friend. She told me she doesn´t like t.v. and when someone tells her to do something she wants to do the exact opposite, so we have a lot in common so far. The school that I´m volunteering through is also giving me Spanish lessons every afternoon. I took a grammar placement test today and more or less dominated it, so I think my "lessons" will be more conversation. It´s one on one, too, which is different from anything I´ve had in the past.

Well, I guess that´s it for my first look at Nicaragua. It´s been a weird 24 hours. I´ve wavered between doubting my decision to come here, being deliriously happy, and just being delirious from lack of sleep. I´d like to make real friends at some point. I need someone to laugh with. But I´m not too lonely yet and I´m so glad I´m here. Hopefully my Spanish (which is coming back to me quicker than I thought) will improve even faster.

Oh, by the way, when I walk out my front door the first thing I see is a volcano. Which I´m going to climb asap.