My Last Day Volunteering

This Friday was my final day as a volunteer in León, ending what has been two enjoyable months of work. I felt ready to be done, especially since my motivation has been lagging and the Semana Santa break has arrived. At the same time, I´m happy that I´ve built some meaningful relationships with my students and helped out in a small way. It´s surprising to me: I came here to teach but ended up learning more from my students, just observing how they faced their difficult lives with courage.

My attention has now turned to my upcoming travels--three months of moving about Central America and trying to understand this place in a different fashion. It is certainly bittersweet to leave, since the people I´ve met are really special.

At Proyecto Rocas:

They threw me a little party to thank me for the two months I spent working there. It felt nice to be recognized. One cool thing was that the kids performed their dances and songs for me. Since they practice those in the evening and I only work at the project in the morning, this gave me a good chance to finally see what they´d been up to. It was very impressive to watch, and great to see them enjoying themselves. Then we served up cake and coke for the kids, and everyone from the project was there to enjoy it. The kids always get a bit festive (wild?) at these parties, and we took several pictures of my face covered in cake. I rode back into town as a dozen kids ran and waved behind me.

At Las Tias:

I had a great last week with the kids, singing songs and playing games. The good news is that my friend Nick is going to take over my class, so the kids will have some continuity in their English studies. Nick and his girlfriend Jessica are here volunteering for a month, and they´re UNC grads from the Triangle, so it´s been fun to get to know them.

At the Casa de Cultura:

My adult students and I threw ourselves a nice party on Friday afternoon, complete with refreshments, snacks, local delicacies, and cookies. It was fun to just sit there and chat and listen to music. I tried to give them a few tips about how they could continue to study without me. We´ve covered most of the grammar, so it´s just a matter of expanding the vocabulary and getting practice. American movies and TV shows offer an opportunity to hear the language spoken. It was great to develop friendships with my students and learn about their lives. One lady sang me her favorite song that we translated into English together. We also joked about everything that happened in the course. I really enjoyed how teaching the class allowed me to make friends.

As I rode home Friday afternoon, my path was obstructed by a large procession. This marked the beginning of Samana Santa, the holy week. The crowd hovered around a float that had one large figure of Christ. It was as if he was floating above the people. The band played a mournful tune, and the music hung in the air above us. The sun, setting in the West, bathed the people and procession crowding the street in light.

My time in Nicaragua is roughly half over, or roughly half begun. I´m done volunteering and am looking forward to my travels.

Yet Another Bicycle Story

I have a flatmate named Harry. He also has a bicycle. Here´s what happened to him one morning:

Harry was riding around town, doing some errands. While inside one shop, he left his bicycle outside against the wall. When he came out, the bicycle was gone. He looked around and spotted it lying in the middle of the road up the street. Next to the bicycle a Nicaraguan girl was lying on the ground, crying.

Harry went up the girl and asked her what was wrong. She didn´t answer him. So he walked across the street and asked some people sitting on the curb.

Harry: What happened here?
The people: That girl was drunk and trying to riding the bicycle but she fell off and started crying.
Harry: Yes, but that´s my bicycle.
The people: Ohhhh.

Turns out a drunk girl tried to steal his bicycle but lost her balance and fell off so she lay there crying in the middle of the road instead!

Perplexed, Harry picked up his bicycle and went on his way.

The Week of Too Much Fun

Allie: All this fun isn´t free.
Me: Si, but it is worth it.

My friends and I had a period of time here in March which we now refer to as ¨the week of too much fun.¨ That´s when we went from having a nice time together to a special time together. We all kinda realized how great it was at the same time, and came to appreciate it since we know we´d all be leaving soon.

The main culprits were my friends Harry, Allie, Adam, Janine, and I. In addition, we´ve chilled a lot with our other friends here in León.

It all began on our trip to Volcán Cosigüina one Friday morning. That weekend included volcano climbs, camping on the beach, swimming in the ocean, a soccer match against Nicas, bathing in hot springs, and playing lots of games. When we returned to León on Sunday afternoon with a busload of Sandinistas, we roamed around the city that evening and attended a political rally of Hugo Chavez and Daniel Ortega.

The next week didn´t let up: There were two poker nights, two group dinners (cooking an enormous pot of pasta in my kitchen), two movie nights (¨All the King´s Men¨ and ¨Blood Diamond,¨ the latter of which we all loved), and a couple crazy nights out at the bar. If this tally seems to exceed a normal week´s worth of fun, it´s because we sometimes doubled up. We were drinking and laughing every night. We were always together, always up for everything. I liked that.

Then Friday we went out to Via Via as normal. On Saturday my friends at Quetzal Trekkers through a massive party to celebrate their second anniversary. Both nights we also went clubbing at Don Señores and Las Estrellas, and that´s when things got really crazy. It´s a bit hard to explain how unless you know all the personalities, and it´s probably for the best if the details remain obscure. Suffice it to say, it´s hard for me to remember two back-to-back nights out so filled with hilarious dramatics. In between, of course, Allie and I went to the beach and swam in the Pacific, so blue and vast.

Sunday we were more or less exhausted from a week of non-stop action, but we got together to make guacamole and a stew for lunch. After a goodbye drink for our friend Taylor, we reconvened on my balcony late that evening, marveling at what a wild time we had just experienced. Things couldn´t have been better.

Get Naked: My Theory of Clothing Here

Don´t you hate pants? --Homer Simpson

Answer: Yes, I do hate pants.

In fact, truth be told, I´m really not that fond of any clothing. Sure, I concede that in civilization it is a necessity since otherwise many people would feel uncomfortable and no one would get anything done. But, really, when you live in a place that´s 95 degrees every day and 70 degrees every night, too much clothing feels like a burden.

So I´ve worked up a general theory of clothing in tropical areas. It´s simple: The fewer articles of clothing I wear, the happier I am. This probably isn´t a post that will please the puritans out there, but my logic is undeniable. Just take a look at the type of activities I do when compared with the number of articles of clothing. While I should never be taken too seriously, this is a rough model for utilizing appropriate technology in tropical areas. Whenever you are confused I suggest consulting the following list:

Zero: The ideal state. Activities: Sleeping (fan on my body, wrapped up in a sheet), sex (obviously), showering (given this heat, the shower is a refuge and a blessing), swimming (naked in the ocean).

One: This generally takes the form of mesh shorts only, no shirt or underwear. Activities: Lying in my hammock studying, chatting with friends in my balcony, swimming in the ocean, running barefoot on the beach.

Two: Shorts and t-shirt. Activity: Riding my bicycle to the fritanga to pick up dinner and a fresco. NOTE: Long pants simply do not make sense in this climate. The only time to wear them is when going into air conditioned spaces like the movie theatre and the dance clubs.

Three: Shorts, underwear, t-shirt. My default setting for participating in society. Activities: Teaching English classes, going to the market, going out to bars and clubs with my friends, etc.

INTERRUPTION FROM MY FRIEND HANNAH:
Q: Wait, what about shoes?
A: Good question, Hannah. Shoes are very important. After all, there may be broken glass on the ground. And as enjoyable as it may be, if you walk without shoes in certain areas you may get parasitic worms. That´s no joke. Naturally, sandals are preferable to shoes at all times. Shoes that must be worn with socks should be avoided in this climate.

Four: Sometimes, however, you must wear socks. Like when you are climbing a volcano. That is probably the only time socks are acceptable.

Anything more than four: Cold climates will not be discussed on this blog!

Posting on Janine´s Blog

Janine, one of my closest friends here in León, also has a blog. We decided to guest post on each other´s blogs; she´ll be adding something here quite soon. To read my description of her killer dance moves, and to read other insights from her point of view of our life here in Nicaragua, check out Janine´s blog here.

Revisiting the Mines of Rajasthan

Many of you may remember my op-ed dealing with GRAVIS´ work on child labor issues in the mines surrounding Jodhpur.

This is one topic that´s very important to me, one that´s not going away any time soon. For that reason I´m always pleased to find additional articles, blogs, and postings that deal with the conditions of child laborers in the mining industry of Rajasthan.

Who´s Your Hero?

Harry and I had an interesting debate last weekend. We were talking about our favorite film heroes and found ourselves in disagreement. He, being British and all, said James Bond was the ultimate protagonist, while I, being an American, selected Indiana Jones.

We spent a long time drinking liters of Victoria and going over the pros and cons. I must admit that James Bond is rather good at driving fast cars and wooing beautiful women while saving the world from destruction.

But still here I am at age 23 trying to base my life on Indy: After all, don´t you remember that time in India when I battled the Nazi henchmen in the pit of snakes in order to recover the stolen idols?

A Six Year Old Assassin

There´s a little boy at Proyecto Rocas named Maynor. He´s six years old. He´s got a big head, thin little limbs, and an enormous smile. He is easily the most amusing kid there. He´s gotten into the habit of taking his pencil out of his bookbag, pretending it´s a gun, and shooting at me like he´s the police and I´m a villian. When he does this, I convulse and slump over like I´ve just been shot. Sometimes he hides behind the chairs shouting at me for minutes. He makes little shooting sounds with his mouth. Sometimes he does elaborate fighting style karate moves on the floor for minutes. This totally cracks me up. Then I pick him up, take him back to his seat, and watch as he copies the number ¨4¨ and the letter ¨M¨ over and over again.

One day my friend Marcus, the other volunteer at the project, found Maynor hiding behind a door, pencil-gun poised in his little hands:

Marcus: Maynor, ¿que haces?
Maynor: Voy a matar a Hayden.

The Reality of My Students´ Lives

Cristobal is one of my students at Las Tias. She´s a clever, cute little girl with dimples and bangs. Her favorite animal is the butterfly and she is absurdly good at jacks. She has a sweet demeanor and I always look forward to seeing her. Only sometimes, however, am I reminded of the daily difficulties my students (so smiley and playful in class) often face. This conversation really hit home with me, especially because she responded in her usual delightful way, for this is completely normal for her.

In English:
Hayden: Hello Cristobal!
Cristobal: Hello!
H: How are you?
C: I am fine, thank you. And you?
H: I am also fine.
C: Nice to meet you.
(We shake hands.)
H: And how old you are, Cristobal?
C: I am... nine... years old.

Then in Spanish:
H: Nine? I thought you were eight years old.
C: My birthday was last week.
H: When?
C: On the 12th of March.
H: Oh, well, happy birthday.
C: Gracias.
H: Entonces, did you do anything special for your birthday?
C: Nope.
H: Nothing? No party with friends or family?
C: Nothing.
H: Not in your house or at school?
C: Nope.
H: Why not?
C: ¡Somos pobres!

Remembering Sundari Bai

This weekend I received some sad news. Sundari Bai, the cook at GRAVIS and a close friend of mine from my time in India, past away last week from cancer. She lived a full life, and will be dearly missed by her family and everyone at the organization.

Upon hearing the news, I wrote these words of recollection to Prakash. I´d like to honor Sundari Bai´s memory by sharing them here:

Dear GRAVIS,

I am writing to express my condolences regarding the passing of Sundari Bai. She was an important member of the GRAVIS family, having been with the organization almost since its inception. More significantly, she embodied the character and values of this organization, and her presence there -- quiet but strong -- will be greatly missed. To Shanti Bai, Prem, and the rest of Sundari Bai´s family, I´d especially like to express my condolences, as surely this is a very sorrowful and difficult time for them.

I first met Sundari Bai in July 2005, on my first day at GRAVIS. During the ten months I spent there as a Research Assistant, I became very close to her. We couldn´t communicate very much in Hindi, but I think we both felt that our bond was deeper than words. And this was one of the great lessons of my time in India: No matter what our differences, there is something strongly human that binds us together. And everyone -- no matter what their life experience or background -- has something to contribute.

I have so many memories of her, from the first meal I ate at GRAVIS to my very last day in Jodhpur. During my first week, Sundari Bai would sometimes come into my room to check on me, and marvel at all the strange objects (the alarm clock, the plastic toothbrush holder) strewn out on my bed. I particularly remember one time for some reason I needed to fill a very large pot with boiling water, and how she helped me, and how we did this quietly but together, and how much I enjoyed sharing that little moment with her.

Most vividly, perhaps, I remember my last days in Jodhpur. As a goodbye present she bought me a new shirt; I knew this was no small cost for her and I think I only fully understood then, as I was leaving, how we had grown to care about each other, how indeed I had come to love her. Saying goodbye to her made leaving difficult. She was a special presence in my life in India. Since I left the country, I have often missed having her around. I will never forget her.

It is also important to mention that she was very dedicated to her work with GRAVIS. Sundari Bai was a wonderful cook, and she kept the house and office running smoothly. I came to see her as one of the people that sustained us as an organization. Her presence at GRAVIS was a constant: There was the sure sweep of her red skirt above her bare feet on the floor, her capable hands, and her knowing smile. Although this is a sad time now, I know that my life -- and indeed all of ours who knew and cared for her -- has been enriched by her presence.

With regards,
Hayden

My Nicaragua: By The Numbers

It gives me much pleasure to reintroduce my popular summary of my traveling experiences by the numbers. Here´s a little numerical slice of Nicaragua:

The country
Population of Nicaragua: 5.1 million
Population of León: 185,000
Average daily temperature: 95 degrees

Costs in dollars
Monthly rent: $70
Montly bicycle rental: $25
Hammock purchase: $5

Costs in cordobas
Echange rate: $1 = C$18 (cordobas)
Movie ticket: C$30-8
One hour bus ride to Chinandgega: C$11
Internet (per hour): C$8-10
Speed of Internet in León: Purty fast
Phone call to America (per minute): C$1

Costs of food in cordobas
Lunch in a comedor: C$25-30
Dinner at the fritanga of Flor de Maria: C$12
One liter beer: C$30 in a bar (C$24 in a pulperia)
One liter bottle of Flor de Caña rum: C$130
Medium-sized pineapple: C$8
Avacado: C$5
Plastic bag of fresco from the market: C$5
Plastic bag of plantain chips: C$2
Plastic bag of water: C$1

My trip, my life here
Months in Nicaragua: 2.5 down, 3.5 to go
Jobs I have here: 3
Classes I teach a week: 15
Times I cook a week: 3
Times I check e-mail a week: 6
Frescoes I drank this week: 21!
Movies seen so far: 5
Poker games so far: 4
Buy-in to our poker game: C$100
Nights we normally go out drinking in a week: 3
Nights we went out drinking this week: Umm, all of them
How much fun it was: Umm, a lot
Volcanoes climbed: 2
Distance from León to the beach: 20 km
Time it takes to cycle out there: 1 hour
Trips to the beach: Every Saturday

Health
Weight: 160 lbs.
Weight lost so far: 0 lbs.!
Day in the country on which I started drinking the local water: 3
Illnesses caused by food or relating to stomach problems: 0!

Bicycle Trick

I know this isn´t particularly difficult to do, but one thing I´ve taught myself here is how to ride a bicycle with no hands. It´s takes a little bit of balance, and also building up a little bit of speed. Arms spread open wide--reaching for the wind. But now I´m able to ride all the way to the end of the block without touching the handlebars and as a result I´m enjoying showing off my new-found skill around town.

Speaking More, Reading More

I´ve been studying Spanish for a little more than two months, and I´m pleased to report that I´m making some progress. Over the past month or so, I´ve felt myself becoming a bit more comfortable with the language. I´m happily past the point of just getting by, and I´m now able to hold long conversations. There may be words I want to say that I don´t know, or I may mix up my endings, or attempt grammatical structures I don´t know how to use, or make other errors, but I am generally able to make myself understood. Not a bad feeling.

This is the result of much studying and practice: I took classes for three weeks at the Casa de Cultura here in León, then studied on my own every day by borrowing two Spanish textbooks. When I finished with those, I made long lists of things to remember. But perhaps most importantly, I´ve had the daily practice of living in this country.

And here comes the fun part: It´s hard to maintain one´s motivation when swatting at a textbook or in four hour Spanish session. It´s much more fun to simply have conversations with people, or to read a book or newspaper. And that´s what I´m doing now. I´ve got a bunch of Nica friends from work and school and other places in the city. Last week I went out on a date and we spoke two hours--entirely in Spanish! I´ve also borrowed a young adult novel from one of my schools and am slowly making my way through that. It´s a story about a caveman who refuses to hunt and becomes a vegetarian because he believes killing is wrong: seriously. It´s much more enjoyable to learn this way--by making friends and reading stories.

So perhaps I speak Spanish now, but poorly. I´ve still got a long way to go to where I want to be; indeed I wouldn´t even consider myself conversant yet. I´ve got more time still. And each day it gets easier, and more enjoyable, to learn this language with my new friends here.

The Political Rally: Chavez and Ortega

Returning from Cosigüina, my friends took an hour or two to get showered and changed before we all met up to attend the political rally that night. At sunset we wandered down to León´s parque central where a large crowd had gathered. They were anticipating the arrival of El Presidente, Daniel Ortega of Nicaragua, and his ally Hugo Chavez of Venezuela.

It took a while for the two leaders to arrive, and while we waited I wandered through the center of town with my friends. We were talking a lot about our weekend hiking the volcano while we searched out delicious street food. The street food continues to be one of my favorite parts of Nicaragua, and I ate two spoonfuls of gallo pinto and a fritter of rice and chicken. I washed that down with some plastic bags of cold water. Then we got slices of watermelon and pineapple. The meal cost 11 cordobas while the water is 1 cordoba a bag. That´s well under a dollar. This to me is one of the biggest differences with America. If you go out to a concert, street fair, or similarly themed event in the States, it is prohibitively expensive to buy food and drinks on the street. Here it´s so easy and cheap. I just love living here.

Four of us were sitting on a park bench when suddenly a siren heralded the arrival of the heads of state. I´d never seen a president live before, so this was exciting. A large crowd had gathered in front of the cathedral, and the two men popped out of their jeep, and began climbing the steps. The crowd, a mix of bodyguards, aides, photographers, ecstatic supporters, excited young locals, and voyeuristic tourists, swarmed around the pair and into the church. Naturally, we followed: it was like being sucked in by the undertoe of the ocean.

Inside, the scene was madness. This is the largest cathedral in Central America, but people were running and shouting and shoving like it was a playground. Some people were climbing on top of religious objects and statues or hurdling pews: desperate for a view. I´ve never seen such a thing. We lost my friend Janine at that point, constantly searching for a better view, but I managed to stay with Allie and Adam throughout the night. With my height, at slightly under six feet, I have a natural advantage over most of the local population. Towering above them, I easily saw the pair as they laid a wreath on the tomb of Nicaragua´s patron poet, Ruben Dario: Chavez was there in a red shirt, his neck thick like a bull, waving to the crowd. And there was Daniel by his side, a Commandante Sandinista turned President, black hair combed over a balding head, slighter than his friend but with a kinder face.

The two made their way out of the church, pausing once again to greet the crowd on the steps. There were thousands of people there. (See this article for an AP photo of the two men leaving the cathedral.)The scene struck me as incredibly unsafe, as any assassin could easily have attacked the controversial pair with a gun or a bomb. This is particularly strange to me because Chavez routinely accuses the U.S. of plotting to kill him. It´s the type of thing that could never happen in the States. The church and stairs should have been cleared before their arrival. At several points, we were no more than five feet from them. And then as I stood on the side of the road, they drove by in their jeep, Daniel driving and Chavez in the passenger seat, both waving pleasantly through open windows.

The convoy moved, and the whole crowd ran, to Barrio Sutiava, at the other end of León, for a political rally. It was a 15 minute walk for us, and above 9:30 PM by the time we arrived. The great square was filled with people--probably more than 25,000 or so if I had to guess. Another grand cathedral loomed in the back, with the stage set up opposite it. Fireworks burst in the air. Red and black Sandinista flags waved. Posters with slogans against the U.S. and imperialism hung prominently. Behind the stage itself were three giant portraits of Simon Bolivar, Ruben Dario, and Augusto Sandino. This is the standard backdrop for a Sandinista rally.

Daniel´s wife Rosario finished up her remarks introducing Chavez; political cartoonists here like to joke that she actually holds el poder. Then Chavez came up to speak. He´s a fiery orator, and spoke for more than an hour: it was good practice for my Spanish. A week after I arrived in Nicaragua, in January, Daniel Ortega was inaugurated as president, and Chavez attended the celebration and made a speech. This was pretty much the same speech, so I could really test how much Spanish I´ve learned. I didn´t understand everything, but I did get a good bit of it. And whatever I didn´t understand Allie and Adam could help me with.

Chavez gave his usual diatribe against U.S. imperialism. He asserted that Latin Americans must unite against this evil, and constantly mentioned the cooperation between Venezuela, Nicaragua, Bolivia, Argentina, and of course Cuba. He directly challenged Bush on several fronts; indeed this trip was arranged to counter Bush´s own tour of Latin America. He called him a ¨political cadaver¨and noted sarcastically that only now did he suddenly seem to care about poor people in Latin America. He gave a long discourse on American abuses of power in the region, much of which of course was accurate, and lectured the people on various revolutionaries and resistance movements, positioning himself as the inheritor of that legacy. He also affirmed his belief in God for this Catholic audience and asserted that Jesus was in fact the first socialist.

There wasn´t much new from his speech -- he even redeclared war on America -- but it was still entertaining to listen to. He shouts out his stock lines ¨¡patria, socialismo, o muerte!¨ with gusto and the people cheer excitedly. Yet watching the crowd I got the sense that this discourse, although fiery, didn´t really hit with the core of the people. It´s my theory that Nicaraguans voted for the Sandinistas for most internal reasons--because they were fed with the corruption and the poor schools and health care. So to me this long diatribe about international abuses, it doesn´t really speak to the everyday experiences of the people. Ortega has only been in power for a few months, and when he was elected it was not with a majority of support but only a plurality. Twenty years ago, when the Sandanistas were last in power, the country made significant gains in health care, education, and literacy under his leadership. I think that if his administration is to be successful here again, and I´m hoping for the country´s sake that it will, it will be because he´s able to show the people progress in these areas.

The speeches include one big surprise. Chavez and Ortega signed an agreement to build an oil refinery in the department of León, and this news was greeted with much enthusiasm. The unit will cost $250 million dollars, but when it is complete it will be able to process thousands of barrels of oil a day, providing the country with a guranteed cheap source of energy. That´s going to be a big deal here. This is all part of Chavez´s plan to counter U.S. influence in Latin America. He stated that Nicaragua (and other left-leaning countries) will no longer need to accept money from the I.M.F. He´s also starting a satellite TV station, called TeleSur, which will present the news from a leftist Latin American viewpoint. For this reason, it was interesting to be at the rally watching this moment--a specific counter to American power, and it will be interesting to see how this all plays out.

Volcán Cosigüina

Me: Hey Janine, thanks for leading this trip. This was the best weekend I´ve had in Nicaragua so far.
Janine: Yeah, wasn´t it great? Thanks for all your enthusiasm getting it organized.
Me: Pues, with enthusiasm alone you can´t move mountains, but you sure can climb them.

This weekend I made a trip with some friends to Volcano Cosigüina. We´d previously tried to plan the trip for a previous weekend, but only this time were we able to get enough people together. I went with my friends Sophia and Allie (fellow volunteers at Las Tias), and Harry, Adam, and Janine (guides at Quetzal Trekkers, who also organized and led the trip.) In addition, four Canadians (including three siblings) signed up for the trip as well. Our group of ten got along great--camping out, climbing the volcano, swimming at the beach, and playing games all weekend.

Cosigüina is a 870m volcano that sits at the very tip of Nicaragua´s northwestern peninsula. From that point, one can see the looming volcanic landscape of El Salvador and Hondaurus. In 1835, Cosigüina, then more than 3000m tall, erupted, in what is considered the largest volcanic explosion since European colonization began. Today the volcano is a relic of that former giant, but is easily summitable and contains a stunning crater lake.

We started out from León on Friday morning for the village of El Rosario, more than seven hours away. The ride there was a hot, bumpy, and dusty affair. The bus wound its way slowly over the pot-holed dirt roads. Though tiring, this trip allowed me to see a greater part of Nicaragua´s campo, and get a sense of how different rural lives are from city lives here.

Upon arriving in the tiny, almost forgotten settlement of El Rosario, we set up our campsite on the beach. We spent Friday afternoon swimming in the Pacific. I invented a very fun game in which you run from the shore into the ocean at full speed and get points awarded for how hilariously you fall over, collapsing into the waves. After a magnificent sunset, we built a fire, roasted marshmallows, and fell asleep outside under the stars.

We woke the next morning before 6 AM to begin the three and a half hour ascent of the volcano. We walked with our day packs up through a dry tropical forest, with temperatures rising above 90 degrees. It was a tiring walk, but the view from the top down into the crater revived us: Here, in the middle of one of the driest and hottest parts of the country, was a crater lake, filled with rainwater, a shimmering blue-green expanse, tucked away below the rim of a volcano like a jewel. Exuberant, we looked down at the steep, unclimbable slopes, and out across the gulf, across Central America. Clearly, we were standing on the cusp of something remarkable.

After lunch at the summit, we descended back through the forest. The day grew hotter still, and we were all rather thirsty and dusty when we returned. After an early dinner in a local comedor, we swam again. With Adam and Janine, I swam out quite a ways, out past the breaking waves. There, with the setting sun shining on the ocean, we gazed up at the volcano we had just climbed, and let the water soothe our bodies.

When I emerged from the water, a bunch of local Nicaraguan children showed up, and they challenged us to a soccer match. For some reason, I played goalie, but rose to the moment by saving eight shots ¨like a wall.¨ The game ended due to darkness and I went again for another long tranquil swim to cool off. That evening, my friends and I drank a surprise bottle of rum I had brought and spent the night joking and laughing. I slept again under the stars, with only the sand beneath me.

Sunday morning featured a swim in the hot springs in the nearby town of Potosí. We played tag, and I pretty much realized that from good friends all I want is for people to play and talk with me. I´ve found good friends this weekend, and it was great to go away and feel comfortable with them. Breakfast of gallo pinto and plantains was followed by an incredibly slow and drowsy return trip, pausing in the city of Chinandega for an excellent hamburgesa.

At that point, Harry traded hats with a Sandinista tailor, and he in turn invited us to ride gratis with him on his bus to León. There were a dozen buses going to León from Chinandega in that convoy, all filled with jubilant Sandinista supporters. They were attending a Sunday night rally in León at which Daniel Ortega, the President of Nicaragua, and Hugo Chavez, the President of Venezula, would speak. So the ride back to León was filled with bastante flag waving, cheering, clapping, and hooting. These folks were excited, and their excitement was contagious. (For more on our experiences at rally on Sunday night), see my next post.

As for this trip to Volcán Cosigüina, I was happy to be with my friends out in countryside. We had for a weekend our own slice of nature--sleeping on a completely undisturbed beach and swimming in the ocean. For me, to be with these people in this place was something to remember.

March Daily Schedule

My schedule for March is quite similar to February, as I´m still living here in León in the same house and working atthe same schools.

One minor change has been that a new German volunteer Kolja has moved into our house. Harry and I were initally concerned about the disruption of our tranquil living space, but so far we are all getting along well.

Other new additions: At Proyecto Rocas, I´ve started teaching an English class as well. This has allowed me to get to know more of the kids there. Although it is somewhat boring to once again start teaching English right from the beginning, I find that I am a more effective teacher this time around.

And at the Casa de Cultura, I am also meeting with an intermediate English speaker after my beginngers class, helping him progress with his linguistic skills.

So now I´m teaching English three times a day:
10-12 PM: Proyecto Rocas
2-3 PM: Las Tias
4-5 PM: Casa de Cultura

Socially, things are really great here. I feel like I´ve got a nice group of friends, both Nicaraguans and foreigners. As a result of this new-found community, I find myself pleasantly busy in the evenings, going out to bars, hanging out with friends, and studying Spanish.

Here´s an average week:
Monday: Poker night
Tuesday: Live music at El Divino Castigo
Wednesday: Live music at La Olla Quemada
Thursday: New films premier at the movie theatre
Friday: Live music at Via Via

And on the weekends, I´ve got a pretty routine going as well:
Saturday: Cycle out to the beach
Sunday: Study Spanish in my hammock

So I´m enjoying my time in the city, and looking forward to this last month here until I begin traveling after Easter.

What Dreams Are Made Of

I had a bit of inspiration: What if I could teach my adult students English through music? But where to find the words so powerful to express the force and beauty of a whole language?

There´s only one answer to that question: Hillary Duff. No, seriously.

Well, I thought that maybe my students at the Casa de Cultura might enjoy a change. So I decided to bring in some music, play it to the class on my ipod, and translate it. The exercise worked pretty well: We listened to a couple verses of the music at a time, and I wrote the words on the board. Then I challenged my students to identify the words they knew, and take a guess at the ones they didn´t. Together we worked up a rough translation. Then I played the verses back so they could actually listen for it. They seemed to like this activity.

And, yes, I really started with Hillary Duff´s ballad ¨What Dreams are Made of.¨ The words weren´t difficult, and if I may say so, they are also rather peppy.

Got any better ideas for songs? Leave a comment.

Hillary, if you´re reading this, you´ll be pleased to know that you now have a few more fans here in Nicaragua.

UPDATE: The following week I also performed this exercise with Phish´ ¨Waste.¨ Now this is actually a good song (one of my favorites) and it has repetitious vocabularly that´s easy to master.

Life in the Tropics

On average, I kill one large bug a night here. Just comes with the territory in what I consider my glorious life in the tropics.

Biking to the Beach

This past weekend, for the second weekend out of three, I bicycled out to the beach with my flatmate Harry and a bunch of Nicaraguan friends. These included David, his brother Leonardo, and a couple other guys from their cycling club here in León. I´d made the 20 km trip solo two weeks previously, but it was also quite fun to do it with our small group of eight.

The ride itself is hot (more than 90 degrees) and long (it takes a full hour of hard cycling). The road is not good, very bumpy and pot-holed; taking care to avoid these ditches really slows us up. We go over hill and dale out through the campo, but generally the road slopes downhill a net 110m to the waiting ocean! Leaving the city, the ride passes through various farmlands and past roadside rancheroes. There are grazing cows, large stalks of corn, scraggily hills, and, most impressively, the conical peaks of a line of volcanoes rising in the distance. There are three hills to tackle, and at the top of the last one you get your first glimpse of the Pacific.

Arriving at Playa Roca -- the hostel/restaurant where I now spend my Saturdays reading, running barefoot on the beach, playing pool, and swimming -- I immediately went for a dip in the ocean. My God, that water is so refreshing. Then I sat with the guys and hung out for a while, sliding my feet into the cool, shaded sand. They were impressed with my deep love for Reggaeton, if not my dance moves. We shared a watermelon (which I carried all the way out there on my carrier rack), a couple beers, cookies, laughs, and stories. Good times.

And coming home, there´s no need to make the long slog uphill to León, especially not after running, cycling, and swimming all day. For 9 cordobas (50 cents), I just toss my bicycle on the back of the bus.

Moving Very Quickly on a Bicycle

There is a volcano near León named Cerro Negro. Cerro Negro means ¨black hill.¨ This mountain is apparently ideal for riding down very quickly because a Frenchmen broke the mountain bike land speed record of 172km (and his bicycle... and his face) on the way down. To watch the YouTube video (commentary in Japanese!), click here.

Making Good Friends

I´ve met a cool bunch of people to be friends with here in León. And slowly they are coming to understand how hilarious and crazy I am.

While eating dinner at Flor´s...
Harry: Hey, you were really funny when we were playing poker last night.
Me: Yep, I know.

After I screamed out to her in the middle of street while on my bicycle the wrong way up a one-way street...
Janine: Man, you look totally crazy on that bicycle right now.
Me: Thanks, you made my day!

Impromptu Bicycle Race

I was on my way home from work, riding up a long hill that leads up from the river. My momentum carried me halfway up, and ahead of a pair of cyclists. They were young guys (one bicycle carried two people), and when they saw me pass them they sped up. Soon they inched ahead of me as we all climbed the hill. Not to be out done, I began pedalling faster. They responded. And soon our three bicycles were racing up the hill, pedals turning furiously, weaving through traffic, around trucks. We reached the crest of the hill in a virtual tie and headed off in our separate directions. They gave me a big wave as they turned and I returned the gesture with a little salute of my own.