Haciendo lo correcto: The Heartwarming Story of How I Got My Computer Back

Hacer lo correcto- to do the right thing

I should start this post off by saying that this is very much a classic "Emily story", in that involves me losing things (a common occurrence until recently), extreme feats of physical clumsiness, people being really nice despite my general haplessness, and absurd bus rides.

As previously mentioned, my computer got stolen off a bus about a month ago without my noticing as I traveled to notoriously touristy San Juan del Sur with a gringo pack of other TEFL volunteers. I logically assumed that this meant I would never see it again.

However, on Tuesday, I got a bunch of calls from a strange number during class. When I received yet another during my break, I decided to pick it up, assuming this person had the wrong number. The caller introduced himself. "Hi, you don't know me, but I'm an evangelical preacher in Rivas and I have something of yours." I thought for a second. Id card? Credit cards? Cell phone? I had all those. Then it hit me. "OMG, DO YOU HAVE MY COMPUTER???" I shrieked, although not without a tinge of suspicion. When he said yes, I almost started dancing around the school courtyard. "Look", he said "I'd like to explain the circumstances of how I got it, I'm an honest person..." I told him we could talk after class when it wasn't so unbearably loud, since band practice was getting underway.
A few phone calls later, the story, particularly of how he had gotten my phone number, became clearer. Apparently, his wife had bought the computer and realized it was stolen when they found all my files on it. Lazy thieves didn't bother to erase anything. THANK GOD!!! Luckily, a Spanish version of my CV happened to be on the computer, and so they found my contact information and decided to do the right thing and contact me.

I was still sort of suspicious this was some sort of hoax/elaborate thieves' plot, but I liked the vibe I got from the guy, so I figured I would head to his tiny town, called Belen, during the weekend, to try and get it back. As luck would have it, another Peace Corps volunteer from my training group lives there, so I figured she could back me up if things went south.
The only minor difficulty was that Belen is literally on the opposite side of the country from me, around the lake (although arguably, most of Nicaragua is on the other side of the country from Rio San Juan), and that I wanted to teach my Saturday classes in "El Never", which end until 10:30 am.

Operation Retrieve Computer got a slow start, because it started raining right as I was leaving school. Not only did I not have an umbrella, but I was wearing sandals, and they are doing a sidewalk construction project which has completely wrecked the road. My sandals broke when they got stuck in the mud, I got completely dirty and wet, and as a result of the walk to the highway taking nearly 20 minutes (instead of 5), missed a bus going north. There are precious few buses in Rio San Juan, so this was quite unfortunate.

To make a long story short, I eventually I got to Managua, but not until 5 pm. I could have made it to Rivas (the nearest city to Belen) that night, but I don't know it very well, and I didn't want to try and find a hostel at night in an unknown city. So I decided to head to the colonial city of Granada, which I know much better, and has loads of cheap backpacker housing.

Should have gone to Rivas. Granada turned out to not be the best decision, because it was in the throes of a giant street carnival to celebrate Mary's assumption, which a) disoriented me and b) ensured that there were throngs of people, particularly drunk men, everywhere, although it was still early, so there were families about. I was panicked about getting robbed. I had one of those "O shit, I'm a woman aren't I" moments when I got surrounded by a crowd of men. It was only for a few seconds and none of them did anything to me, but I was petrified that I was going to get robbed or who knows what, particularly because it would have been ironic to get robbed while on my way to getting unrobbed. Luckily, I got away quickly, walking near some families. I stopped at the first hostel I found, which turned out to be great and cheap, and I got to laugh at the "professional poker player" who had gotten robbed by a taxi driver when he paid $240 for a taxi ride because he wasn't paying attention to the exchange rate. This  made me feel better about my lack of knowledge of the calendar of Nicaraguan festivals. I'm not THAT green. Always know your exchange rates when traveling.

The next morning, I headed for Rivas, but got delayed by an hour because there were no buses leaving every 15 minutes like the hostel owner had described. Instead of being there at 8, I didn't get there til 9:30. Belen was adorable, with a cute little church and park. More importantly, the people who bought my computer were adorable and sweet. I got an even better vibe from them in person. They handed it over right away and encouraged me to look it over. They apologized for looking at my files. They said they realized that something was probably wrong when it was sold to them without a charger, but they rationalized it . But especially once they realized that I wasn't just here paseando, they wanted to make things right. "How can we preach about these things if we don't do them ourselves?" commented the preacher. Before I left, they said a prayer to bless my journey. I got goosebumps from the whole thing. It's just so rare that people do the right thing, at least in my experience.

After re-reading one of my favorite Paul Farmer books, "Pathologies of Power," I had been inclined to give the couple the full amount they had paid for the computer, in what is probably best described as a massive outpouring of white guilt, my own desire to "hacer lo correcto." Basically, I started over-analyzing the reasons Nicaraguans would be poor and need to buy a used computer.  As fate would have it, I didn't actually have that much money in my account at the time, so I couldn't give them the full amount. This was probably just as well. On the off chance they were involved in stealing it (which after meeting them seems extremely unlikely), I didn't want to reward them. And I didn't want to condone buying stolen goods, regardless of the structural injustices that might lead to that. And last, the amount they had paid for it was nearly twice what I had originally paid for it, which seemed a little bit ridiculous to pay to regain property that was technically mine.

However, down the line, I'd really like to do something for them. They run a series of comedores infantiles, sort of like a food kitchen for children, and I'd like to help them with some of their Christmas charity, even if it's not a model of development I necessarily agree with. We shall see how, but I'd like to do right by them.

Esoooooooooooooo

This cartoon made me laugh. I wish I had seen it earlier to show to my 11th grade students for our section on ¨Gender and Inequality.¨ Next year, for sure.

Dengue, or something like it

I did not actually have dengue, but I’ve been sick / exhausted for about the last week with something that was probably just a flu sort of thing, but resembled dengue with some of the symptoms. But I am finally on the mend, poco a poco (bit by bit).

What a long, strange month it’s been.  Too little work, too much time to think, but luckily plenty of stimulation to shake up my brain a bit. I’ve been a little vaga, out of the place where I live quite a bit, more for work and Peace Corps sanctioned reasons than not, but I still feel a bit weird about it. Between school vacations, trainings for Peace Corps, teacher trainings, national holiday, class cancelations that have logic in this country, but not in my rational, orderly Anglo-Saxonized imaginings of what a school schedule should be like, and illnesses, I’ve only taught about 5 days of class this month. Not to say that I haven’t been some sort of busy, but I feel like my purpose has been shriveling up, bit by bit. I’m waiting for a lluvia of ideas (brainstorm) that will revive it again. Real storms have settled into a dreary rainy season routine in one of the rainiest Julys on record, which has admittedly put a damper on most everything, from my ability to think clearly, to mood and movement.

The reason I haven’t posted in nearly a month is that my computer was stolen at some point during my travels. The thought of having to parse my thoughts out in long hand and retype them seems to have dried up most of my will to write. Hopefully, I’ll get the energy back for it again soon.

I started this post wanting to recount where I’d been and what I’ve seen, but it doesn’t seem right somehow.  For one there is too much to tell, and secondly, a list of places seems oddly divorced from what the experiences were actually like.

It’s a pity, because I feel like I have a lot to actually reflect on for once, but asi es. No tengo tiempo ni tintas para todos (I don’t have time or ink for everyone.) Not to capture the adventures with my fellow Peace Corps volunteers who’ve become like a family of sorts, or the dedication and wisdom of our counterpart Nicaraguan English teachers. I don’t have the time to tell fully of the colorful figures of travel and daily life, like the fisherman on the beach in Pochomil who tried to sell me crab, or for the guide at the Museum of the Revolution in Leon who talked to me about every aspect of his life for 3 hours, or the neighborhood children and our new reading routine or about the time I got into a public argument with a counterpart about the meanings of catcalling and machismo.

No time to reflect on art and culture, tourism as colonization (albeit a tasty and delightful one), about my growing frustrations with organized religion, about how history is all too easy to erase from a landscape, about resilience, about how patience is harder to cultivate than I thought it would be, about how it is easy it is to understand less about a place the more time you spend there, rather than more.

Maybe someday I’ll get the words out and tell the stories rightly, if I can even rightly lay claim to them as my own.

Celebrate, There's an Efeméride Relevant to Someone Somewhere!: The Last Week of School of 1st Semester

Word of the Day:
efeméride- celebration, special day, anniversary. Average number per month? I'd venture to say 5 or 6, but that might be a conservative estimate.

So this week was pretty underwhelming as far as teaching goes. It was good to be back in Rio San Juan though!

On Monday, there was no school, because Teacher's Day had fallen on a Saturday, so everyone needed to have off. Ah, yes. I tried to read Spanish picture books to my neighbors, but they got bored.

On Tuesday, I taught my only classes for the week, in San Miguelito. Mostly, though, we just reviewed old material, so my contributions were minimal. I also went to El Tule, but because the teachers had to meet about the students' grades, I didn't do a whole lot more than help a student make a powerpoint presentation.

On Wednesday, my counterpart told me there wouldn't really be class in Las Palomas, but I went anyway, because I hadn't seen everyone in a while. He told me they would be making a mural. This turned out to mean that the teachers were making a giant paper presentation board (for lack of a better term) to celebrate July's efemérides: World Population Day, Day of the Triumph of the Sandinista Revolution, 124th Anniversary of the Publication of national poet Ruben Dario's book Azul, Day of the Nicaraguan Sportsman/woman, Day of the Students. The poster featured a lot of flowers, a giant butterfly, flags and revolutionaries. Best looking revolutionary on the poster: Carlos Fonseca Amador, founder of the FSLN. Can't get enough of his geeky hot glasses. Worst looking: Fidel Castro. His beard is really struggling with age. But I suppose outlasting 5 (is that the correct figure?) US presidents is hard work.The fact that I had time to make such vapid observations is pretty indicative of how much I was contributing to the process.

On AMERICA'S BIRTHDAY, we had a Rio San Wide volunteer meeting and then had a goodbye party for Matt, a business volunteer in San Carlos. It was a fabulous day. We went down the Rio Frio, a smaller river that flows from Costa Rica into Lake Nicaragua, fishing, swimming, jamming. Great people and scenery.

On Friday, I tried to organize my room. It is overflowing with English materials. I officially don't have enough space for all my pronoun/verb dice and my "materials that could perhaps be turned into recycled crafts" collection.

On Saturday, I went to school, even though the teachers were just turning back grades. We didn't teach, although I did some play some bingo and hangman to review with my favorite 8th grade class. There was a meeting with a lot of parents who were worried because their children had failed this semester. I also helped the teachers rework the schedule after they had made it, because according to the old schedule, I was going to be at the school for nearly 5 hours with nothing to do; they've extended the school day, and there are only 2 sabatino English classes this semester.

Now, headed back to Managua for a regional NicaTESOL conference; my friend from training, Jamey, and I are giving a presentation about how to speak more English in class using cognates. Should be a fun time!

A Different Kind of Road Race, or, How I Came to Know Güisquiliapa

During training, I received a piece of advice that I've always tried to follow: accept any invitation that doesn't make you feel uncomfortable.

Adhering to this philosophy with my host family in Carazo during training frequently led to amusing incidents where I blindly tagged along and got an insider look at various aspects of Nica life. There was the time I accidentally attended a FSLN rally on my 4th day of training (the political party currently in power; probably a HUGE no-no since Peace Corps is apolitical), the time we randomly surveyed some land (still not really sure what that was about), the time we took a trip to the town nursery to pick (steal?) guayaba fruit, and the time I crashed a family party and was made to dance to marimba music, among many others.
When I went back to El Rosario to visit my old host family last weekend, accepting a "Vamos!" invitation once again led to an unexpected adventure.

I was sitting on the porch with my old host mom's granddaughter chatting and thinking about getting some fritanga (the Nica equivalent of grilled meat) for dinner when her cousin invited us to accompany him to some sort of parade. Bored, we agreed to go along, and after he buttered his Evangelical aunt up with a story about how we were going to do "an errand," he brought us along with a group of his friends to go in a Catholic parade celebrating Santiago (Saint James), who is the patron saint of the nearby town of Jinotepe.
A ton of people had turned out to watch the saint's image as it passed through the dark streets, which led to highly dangerous near collisions with cars and motorcycles as we exited the pueblo, headed for the highway. Many people were dressed in camouflage, which the cousin explained was not for military purposes, but chosen because they would be making a 16- day pilgrimage up to the mountains and then back to the sea. Spurred on by the gigantic drums at the rear of the procession, which began to beat a faster rhythm, people broke into a trot. This officially marked the only time I have seen Nicas run when not trying to catch a bus. It was quite joyous.

Not wanting to be an aguafiestas (party pooper), I said I didn't particularly mind if we continued to follow the procession more. And so, we walked on to the town of Güisquiliapa (pronounced Whiskey-lee-Ah-pa), which supposedly lies at the same distance from the highway as El Rosario. I personally think the road there is far longer, but maybe this was an illusion arising from the absence of fritanga in my stomach. Güisquiliapa is a tiny, although seemingly very nice town, with dirt roads, a tiny school, and a church. After the procession finally made its way to the church and was blessed by the priest, we made the long walk back home, witnessing a duck trussed up for strangulation and a wild west style line up of horses, ready to gallop off somewhere. No idea what those elements of the festivities were about. The "pagan" undertones of Latin American Catholicism are really fascinating; you've got to wonder where some of the syncretic practices originated and how they've been adapted through the centuries.

We got back after 8 o'clock, super late for Nicaraguan standards, so there was no fritanga left, but I did get some pizza from a new restaurant in town. A comforting standard after a new cultural experience.

"The West Stuffed with Money, Power, and Things"*: A Trip to the Land of 1% Milk and Honey

*Quote by Salman Rushdie, The Jaguar Smile

Word of the Day:
una potencia- superpower

I went home to the States for my sister's graduation! It was amazing to see my family, eat salad, and take stock of things 6 months into my service.

The story of how I arrived home is pretty comical, and deserves a few lines. On Monday, the day before my flight, I took the "6 am" bus out of San Miguelito. While it is the earliest bus to arrive in Managua, the ride is never a fun experience, because it is a guaranteed 6 hours to the capital. This time was no exception, as we stopped every few hundred yards to pick up passengers, got stuck behind plenty of cow herds being moved, made a detour to a fish factory, and the police searched our bus with drug sniffing dogs.
In the middle of all this, I got a voicemail from the Peace Corps doctors saying that my follow- up appointment for my #kidneyinfection was cancelled because they had a meeting, and I began to squirm frustratedly in my seat, aggressively reading Brian Greene's The Hidden Reality for distraction. As luck would have it, I eventually got into the city, got my appointment back and confirmed that the infection was gone, which was all much simpler than I had expected.

The next day, after waking at 3 am fearing I would miss my taxi, I went to the airport at 4:30 am to catch my flight. I got to Atlanta extremely smoothly, where culture shock set in very rapidly, especially in my sleepless state. The first shocking thing was the scale: I'd venture a guess that the Atlanta airport is bigger than many small Nicaraguan cities. Secondly, I was thrown by the diversity. THERE WERE SO MANY DIFFERENT KINDS OF PEOPLE!!!!!!!  I guess I've become sort of Nica in the fact that whenever I see people who do not phenotypically resemble the majority of Nicaraguans, I check them out extra, trying to figure out if they are other tourists or Americans or how I can place these "people from away." So I had to remember that I was in America, and that diversity was normal, and that I should probably stop checking everyone out quite so much.  After paying $10 for a Chipotle burrito, which is basically 2 days of my Peace Corps salary, I was profoundly unable to deal with anything anymore and settled down between two hipster parents and their brood and a Hassidic Jew to wait for our flight. Wait we did. I got stuck on the plane for basically 6 hours due to a bunch of absurd thunderstorm related delays, but I eventually got to the airport a little before midnight.

It was so good to hug my parents! Physical contact with loved ones is one of the things that can be hardest about Peace Corps service; it's easy to go for months without having satisfying physical contact with other people.

So what did I do while I was home? An exhaustive list:
-Hung out with my awesome family
-Vacuumed! I had not seen a vacuum for 9 months, so this was much more exciting than it sounds.
-Attended Adeline Clayton's high school graduation. Watch out University of Vermont! Plenty of promise headed your way!
-Had a lovely family party for the graduate, and hung out with my cousins, which was fun because we almost never get to see each other anymore
-Visited my grandmother, great aunt, aunt and cousin in Connecticut
-Ate grilled cheese, bagels, homemade pizza (which I sort of made, although with a ton of help from family members), smoked salmon pasta salad, chips, salsa, cookies, brownies, cake, cheddar cheese, broccoli, artichoke dip, SALAD, ice cream, and tons of other delicious things. Hence, nobody in San Miguelito thinks I am "delgada" anymore.
-Walked my adorable dog Maisy, who (not unlike moi) has become rather portly of late, but who is still the sweetest basset hound we've ever had
-Watched Season 4 of Arrested Development on Netflix (which is not available in Latin America)
-Went on bike rides
-Caught up with a few childhood friends

I also went shopping with my mother and sister, which was terrifying because of the overwhelming amount of choice in all of the stores. And also you could touch the things and didn't have to know their names!! I came very close to having a panic attack in Target. I am extremely bemused by one of the products apparently now sold in grocery and big box stores: cat food in weird refrigerated Pillsbury crescent roll-esque packages. These seem highly unnecessary to me, but what do I know. Also, I'm convinced they changed the size and or weight of quarters.

At least at home in the Somerset Hills, things felt very surreal. It was definitely bizarre to be somewhere so...perfect. I felt as if I had wandered into a picture the background that Nicas frequently photoshop into the background of their photos or hang as wall art: a fantasy-land representing freedom from want, the best of what can be imagined materially. I've always had a really weird relationship with where I'm from, because I've never felt that I belonged there, even though it was all I really knew for 18 years, so being back definitely brought up mixed emotions.

Despite living the dream, after hearing people tell me over and over about how I am so blessed to live in "una potencia," it was painfully apparent how damaged, divided and hypocritical my nation is. A few salient examples: after driving through one of the most air polluted zones of the nation, I spent most of my last day in America in the airport, cursing at CNN's vapid coverage of George Zimmerman's trial, and grumbling at Marco Rubio's religious rhetoric pandering to the Tea Party on the immigration bill. (Having lived in a country with minimal separation of church and state, I've become a bit fanatical about this not respected very often principle of our governance.) And while it was amazing to be home as the Defense of Marriage Act was struck down, the ramifications from the Supreme Court's other decisions have plenty of potential to be negative for many minorities.

Talking with my sisters, my family, friends and simply reading again made me realize how disolocated I am from so many things I cared about before I left: politics, environmentalism, vegetarianism, struggles against racism,etc. Sometimes, I'm blatantly unsure whether doing Peace Corps has made me a better or worse person, a more or less "active citizen", a more or less concerned child, family member or friend. It's not a question that's easy (or maybe even a good idea) to ask oneself during service.  It's so easy to lose focus on the bigger picture (sporadic internet certainly doesn't help) and not become incredibly self absorbed, especially when you are first settling in to life in a new country and are the center of everyone's attention, quite literally. 

On top of that, I've been doing so many things to fit in and because it's easy (and so much of my life, compared to life in the States, is not smooth or easy): going to church, even as my time here has made me increasingly uncomfortable with organized religion, eating meat, not eating well and exercising out of laziness, loosing track of the issues back home, not questioning sexist or racist attitudes more than is absolutely necessary, constantly buying things encased in plastic, etc.

I hope I'll be able to use this trip home as a springboard to re-evaluate my Nicaraguan life, re-center, and re-invigorate my work here. It's not enough to be "saving the world." (What an awful expression!) I need to hold true to the principles that I've developed for a reason. And to be less ambivalent about everything and everyone. Hold me to that.

Reading Reviews, Vol. 5

It's pretty easy to spot a slow month of teaching and lots of bus time in my reading patterns...almost halfway to my 100 books goal. Not halfway done with service.

36. A Thousand Splendid Sons- Khaled Hosseni
God, I think if we were to engage in the highly dangerous and ill- advised game of measuring suffering, I think Afghan women would be strong contenders for a "worst lives" prize. Heartbreaking story, pretty good at giving a quick run down of Afghan history since 1950, in a highly readable format.

37. Underworld- Don Delillo
THIS BOOK IS AMAZING. It made me, ambivalent as I am to sports, want to go watch a baseball game immediately. The writing is that good. Chock full of memorable characters. I don't think there's any writer more adept at portraying how modern American life can be so beautiful and so ugly simultaneously.

38. The Bluest Eyes- Toni Morrison
Toni Morrison attempted to do many things in this novel: depict small town American life in the 1940s, show the psychology of being black in America, critique society's narrow view of beauty, and write about childhood from a child's perspective while still trying to comment on occurences with a sophisticated, adult voice. The result was sometimes a bit jarring or overdone, but her writing is beautiful, political and heartbreaking all at once.

39. The Hidden Reality- Brian Greene
Different theories of the possibilities of multiple universes explained in relatively simple language? AWESOME. A lot of this book went over my head because I read most of it on a bus that was full of babies, filled to the gills and reeked of fish, but it was still fascinating to ruminate about how wild the universe(s) could be, without having to use much math.

40. Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason- Helen Fielding
Probably I should stop trying to read chick lit thinking that I will like it. However, I hated this one less because it vaguely reminded me of my friends and I overanalyzing things. Except whereas B. Jones and Co. tended to limit their discussions to the men in their lives (or not in their lives), we overanalyze everything humanly possible.

41. River Town: Two Years on the Yangtze- Peter Hessler
Classic Peace Corps memoir about working as an English Teacher in a Chinese University. I've been making an effort to read Peace Corps memoirs a lot lately, because many family members have told me I should write a book about my experiences here, and I'm trying to take notes on what's been done and how well it worked. I have a zillion reservations about whether or not this is something I actually want to do, but I certainly don't lack time to ponder post PC options.  In my opinion, PCVs in China definitely have an advantage in the book writing department because China is so fascinating to Westerners, rapidly changing, "mysterious," etc: they have another angle to write about in addition to the vagaries of their service.
Despite the very different realities of our service, there were many aspects of Hessler's service that I identified with: the blessing and curse of having a sitemate, running, terrible transportation and students becoming obsessed with phrases you use in class. Overall, an interesting read, and one I'd recommend to people contemplating Peace Corps, because I think he captured the ups and downs of volunteer life pretty well.

42. In Cold Blood- Truman Capote
Classic non-fiction crime novel, ripe with details of 1950s rural Kansas life, early psychology, and with subtle commentary on the death penalty.

43. The Tiger's Wife- Tea Obreht
A short but multi-layered novel, set in the Balkans, filled with wonderful "magical realism" style story telling with war, identity politics and a girl's relationship with her grandfather as the backdrop.

44. Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns)- Mindy Kaling
Not the funniest memoir I've ever read, but plenty of relatable and amusing tales of how Mindy Kaling got to her role as a writer and actor on "The Office."

45.  Gone Girl- Gillian Flynn
This bestseller was quite the page turner, but I got frustrated with it towards the end because the plot became too overblown, unrealistic/inconsistent and the characters became too unlikeable. I found this really unfortunate, because Flynn writes so well about modern relationships (her description of the pressure to be the "Cool Girl" was one of the [sad] funniest things I've read in a while), post- recession blues, and the polite culture of small towns. I think that writing simpler story about how a relationship falls apart post-recession would have made for a more genuine and challenging (and certainly depressing) book, but it wouldn't have the bestseller lists in the same way. I guess I only like my plots to be fantastical if there's an element of magical realism intended, so that's a serious prejudice on my part.

46. To Die in this Way: Nicaraguan Indians and the Myth of Mestizaje, 1880-1965- Jeffrey L. Gould
A really important book for Latin American studies, looking at the way Nicaraguan nationalism developed in an exclusionary way that inhibited the survival of indigenous communities and customs, enabling and enabled by the imposition of an export driven capitalist model.
While Nicaraguans are well aware of the ethnic diversity of the Atlantic Coast of the country, the dominant discourse of "we are all mestizo, and this racial mixing occurred a long time ago, harmoniously" has blinded Nicaraguans to the violence, exploitation, and scorn which undid or threatened indigenous communities on the Pacific Coast, Central Highlands and North of the country during the 19th and 20th century.
With the exception of some regions of Guatemala, many of the historical processes that Gould describes can be seen all over Central America and for that reason, I think it's really valuable in understanding Central Americans' myths about themselves, and more generally, for reflecting on the myths that nationalisms promote.

47. On the Plaza: The Politics of Public Space and Culture- Setha M. Low
On an ethnography kick apparently! This had been on my reading list for a while. Using two Costa Rican plazas as a starting point, Low traces the dual histories (Indigenous and European) of public spaces in Latin America and looks at how public spaces are used, contested and experienced. While sometimes the theories in the book were presented without a ton of depth, particularly the connection between public space and democracy, I found it to be a really interesting starting point for thinking about (urban) public space and I thought the different methods used, ethnography, history, literature survey and interviews, made for a eclectic whole.

Hello there

I have so many blogposts I need to put up! A surfeit of emotions, observations and recountings! However, I did not transfer them to my flashdrive to bring them to the internet cafe, so I´m going to put up some pictures instead, which I´ve been meaning to do more of anyway. Enjoy!

 TEFLeros hard at work editing textbooks from the Ministry of Education. The results are on the right. I was actually working hard during this endeavor, I just really like coffee and breaks. At least everyone else looks diligent, because we are. As my boss loves to say, TEFL rocks!

Some of the members of the ¨Teachers and Other People Who Speak Lots of English¨ class, at a goodbye party for German volunteer Verena (center). From the left, my counterparts Jonathan and Antonio, my sitemate Christina, Verena, my neighbor Kleydi and moi. I was sick, which is why I am so inappropriately bundled; it is never even remotely cold enough to warrant such garb in San Miguelito under non-extenuating circumstances.

School Anecdotes Week 16: The Right to Sleep, the Right to Walk

Words of the week:
dar de alta- to be in outpatient care (hospital term, not describing myself at all, but a counterpart's family member)
la tarima-stage

What a bizarre and surreal week. I think that any week which starts with you and a friend coining the fake hashtag #kidneyinfection and ends with a teacher training and a trip back to the United States is bound to be full of new and interesting surprises. Asi es la vida...

Given the circumstances, I didn't do much teaching this week. I'm going to America for my sister Addie's graduation and missing 2 weeks of class, so I'm not going to see the kids for a while which is unfortunate. It should be noted, however, that the second week of school that I'm missing includes "Teacher's Day." Chances are that there will be more celebrations than school and I will realistically only miss like a week of classes. So I feel much less guilty.

 On Monday, I woke up feeling like I had been punched in the kidneys, which was sort of true. I walked a couple hundred yards to get some medicine and food, which tired me out so much that I was essentially useless for the rest of the day. I watched Love Actually for the second time this month, which is extremely pathetic and seasonally inappropriate, but I needed some cheer and eye candy to keep my spirits up and my food down. By evening, with my spirits no doubt buoyed by Colin Firth's doe eyes, I finally felt not horrible.

Tuesday was more of the same. I slept a bunch and planned some things for a teacher workshop and watched a Mexican movie called Amores Perros (Love's a Bitch) for the second time this month. You know I'm in a bad way when I prefer to watch a movie I've already seen rather than read.

On Wednesday, I felt ok, so I decided to go to school in the afternoon. Since my counterpart and I couldn't plan, I observed some of his classes (which was perfect for me since I wasn't really up to planning and then co-teaching). He's improved his teaching so much since I've been here- it's been amazing to watch it unfolding. It's fabulous when motivated people are able to connect with opportunities; thanks to a grant from the American embassy, he was able to get a TEFL certificate at a program in Costa Rica, which has helped him enormously. The 8th grade class did a listening class and then created a shopkeeper/ buyer dialogue. 11th grade reviewed human rights, and invented some interesting ones that we did not teach, such as the right to sleep and the right to walk. I wish the right to sleep was a real right because it is pretty frequently violated here by chickens, boom boxes and firecrackers. After watching 2 hours of classes in the heat, I was pretty much exhausted. I left early and went home to finish some things for the workshop and sleep.

On Thursday, I planned with my Saturday counterpart Xiomara in the morning. Since the students were doing an environmental project in Las Palomas, I didn't go to class, but used the opportunity to write a report in Spanish on what we've been doing this semester for the delegado (the superintendent type figure) and the principals of the schools where I work, and finished some materials for the workshop. We also had teacher class, in which we played MadLibs as a warm up to practice parts of speech, and then talked about the topic of "collocation," words that commonly appear together in a language, practicing words that commonly appear with the verbs "do," "make," and "take." These phrases, such as "take a test," "take a trip" and "do the homework" can be difficult for Spanish speaking English Language Learners because in Spanish, they commonly appear with different verbs.

On Friday morning, we had the workshop for teachers, on the topic of communicative activities that the teachers can use to teach each of the four language skills: speaking, listening, reading and writing. We only had 7 participants, including 4 of my counterparts, which was a little disappointing, because many of the teachers who live in the small, rural communities and need more support were not in attendance. I think it's going to take better planning, communication, and perhaps some transportation funds to work with them effectively. At the same time, everyone who attended participated enthusiastically  and I hope they learned a lot of ideas for class. I'm so blessed with really great counterparts, who are excited about English, and eager to learn strategies for helping students too. Overall, it was a good experience for me to put on a workshop here and get an idea of how to do it effectively (assume things will start late, don't try to do too much, give powerpoint outlines and make sure there is water and soda). It's cool to track my own growth as a teacher and learner through the course of service; everything I learn becomes something I get to share and discuss with at least four other amazing teachers. It's a beautiful thing.

Island Adventures

Word of the Day
los comejenes-termites
la garza- heron

Went out to the amazing Solentiname archipelago this weekend. Really starting how to appreciate how stunning Rio San Juan is, and at the same time, as I spend more time here, it's even easier to take all the beauty for granted. I don't think I've ever been to a place as peaceful or welcoming.

Solentiname is made up of over 30 islands in Lake Nicaragua, only some of which are inhabited, and some of which only have one or two families living on them. Despite being small and remote, the place has got a fascinating place in history: in the story of the Nicaraguan revolution, in the history of liberation theology, etc. Communities of artists live on the bigger islands: painters and sculptors of balsa wood whose work reflects the beauty of their surroundings.

I'm too tired to write well today, so I leave you with pictures. 

This One Time in Peace Corps...

Words of the Day:
un suero- an IV
los riñones- kidneys
renal- adjective, of or relating to the kidneys

...I got a kidney infection! I should preface this by clarifying that I am totally fine now. Thanks Alexander Fleming!  Antibiotics were a top-notch invention!

Absolutely, this was an all around horrible and terrible experience. Worst pain of my life. (Say this in the Gap Yah voice for full pretentious Peace Corps Volunteer effect) But like most things in Peace Corps, it provided some humor, mostly at my own expense. It was almost fun once they gave me painkillers in an IV for a really long time and I just sat around texting everyone I know because I was extremely bored and deranged. Some of the best scenes:

Phone call #1
Peace Corps Doctor: So how bad, on a scale from 1-10, is the pain you're experiencing?
Me: Oh, I don't know probably a 4 or 5. (Imagining other painful things like childbirth or dangling appendages) But I can't really concentrate on anything else. (He definitely missed this statement)
Peace Corps Doctor: So you are able to go about your daily activities?
Me: Oh, not at all. I'm currently curled in the fetal position, close to tears.

In which pain diminishes all of my Spanish comprehension ability
Doctor: something diagnostic something something needle something IV. Go in there.
Me (Unnecessary hysterics): Please talk to my doctor from Peace Corps!!
Doctors on the Phone: Bla de Bla de Bla, no, she only has a regular infection.
Me to PC Doctor: I don't what is going on but I think they want to inject me with something!!! Do I have appendicitis?
PC Doctor: They're going to take a blood sample. And no, you don't have appendicitis.

Phone call #5
Me: So they say I have a kidney infection "bien fuerte (really strong)." I don't really know how precise the bien fuerte diagnosis is, but...
Peace Corps Doctor: That means really bad.
Me: Well yes, obviously I know that, but...
Peace Corps Doctor: Is this your first kidney infection in country?
Me: Err yes, and ever...
Peace Corps Doctor (completely deadpan): Well, there's a first time for everything.

Nurse putting in an IV
Me: What drugs are you giving me? (Trying to make conversation, but also wanting to make sure they weren't giving me something I didn't want. As if I know anything about medicine.)
Nurse: We're giving you an antibiotic. It's a medicine, not a drug.
Me (What I thought): Are you kidding me? Do you think my Spanish is good enough to make distinctions like that at a time like this?
Me (What I said): Ah, yes, sorry, my Spanish isn't very good when it comes to talking about medicine.

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT
Don't try to be tough. Go to the doctor. Especially when health care is free. Or, if you are a PCV, call the doctor. Don't be lazy. Don't assume that you can self medicate all things with lots of water. Don't ignore symptoms and take them seriously. Little things= easy to treat. Big things= not easy to treat. Don't be too busy doing your job to ensure that you will keep living it healthfully.

School Anecdotes, Week 15: Never! You are a Woman!

Word of the Week:
tomar la ruta once-hoof it, walk: "take the 11 bus", so named because you have 2 legs

Rough week. It was hot. Despite this, I got a bad cold. It rained a ton, so I have no clean clothing. And the power/water situation was dicey for a couple days. But hey, full week of school, so no real complaints.

Grossest: I nearly ruined a chart about human rights by accidentally dousing it with sweat droplets.

Dumbest: I got completely soaked in an intense rainy season downpour. I was trying to get back to San Miguel to plan classes and I thought I heard a bus coming. Since transport is notoriously scarce on Mondays at this time, I hurried out into the street to find it, thinking the rain wouldn't be that bad. It was. Pretty much instantly, I was soaked to the skin. Also, there was not actually a bus passing. I ducked into a random construction site, and 15 cold minutes later, I saw a real life bus coming up the road. I ran out, waving my arms like a crazy person. Did the bus stop? Of course it did not. Damp and dejected, I stood around for a while, finally managing to find transport. When I finally rolled up, 15 minutes late, my counterpart, upon seeing me, joked "Did you go swimming?" I think I have gone swimming and gotten less wet. I have since learned my lesson and bought the largest, most expensive, and heavy duty umbrella I could find, with a mystifying print combining Dalmatian spots and roses. Gonna be a cool cat now. Watch me shine.
 
Best Original Student Produced Language of the Week: While the 11th grade was learning about human rights in El Tule, we had the students create and perform mini skits. To demonstrate the "right to work", some of the students presented the following:

Female Student: Give me a job please.
Interviewer: Never, you are a woman!
Male Student: Give me a job please.
Interviewer: Ok, please sit down.

Clearly we need to work on teaching politeness strategies, but I thought it was pretty effective at showing discrimination in 30 seconds or less. Not to mention that "Never! You are a woman!" is a highly amusing phrase when delievered by beginning English speakers.

Don't scare the children: While I was teaching about personalities and emotions to 10th grade in El Tule, I did some very over the top acting to demonstrate the word excited, jumping up and down and yelling enthusiastically. In response, the kids made terrified faces at me. One of the students asked if the word  I was trying to act out was "crazy." I find it amusing that my teacher personality is pretty much the opposite of my real life introverted personality: I am confident, goofy, cracking jokes, working the crowd, bringing energy...all this acting probably explains why I am so drained at the end of the day.

This will probably be my legacy: My counterpart told me a story about how he sings the "Very Good Friend" song to his puppy. (You are, you are, a wonderful friend!) Apparently his nephew, who is my student, overheard him and asked him why he was singing it, since it's "Emily's song." If that isn't a nerdtastical thing to be known for, I don't know what is.

7th and 8th Grade Class- Straggling attendance as per usual. Luckily, we're ending in a few weeks anyway, so I'm not beating myself up over it. Learning curve: don't disregard the advice of people who've gone before you....This week, we did a class on wild animals. I made the kids organize the new vocab by mammals, reptiles, amphibians and birds. They made a ton of mistakes. Then, I realized that I couldn't remember what the technical scientific distinctions are between reptiles, amphibians and birds...feathers? types of skin? live birth and eggs? cold-blooded/warm-blooded? (but what do those really mean and how do I explain them in Spanish?) I took a cop out: I just re-sorted everything correctly and left it at that. This was the sort of moment where a smart phone would have been useful, because clearly I'm too dumb to remember basic science. Categorizations are all social constructions anyway, right?

Teachers and Other People Who Know Lots of English Class- This week we mixed things up quite a bit, to bid farewell to our German member of the group, a volunteer named Verena who's been living in San Miguelito teaching English at the private primary school here. We planned to meet for a goodbye party at a bar overlooking the lake at 6 pm. The Gergringa pack rolled in a bit late, around 6:15. Apparently, the Nicaraguans were all punctual and left, because they thought it wasn't happening. We ended up waiting around for a while, watching the sunset, the volcanoes and then a wonderful lightning storm rolling in across the lake.

Luckily, everybody else decided to check back again, rolling in around 7:30. Apparently, no one wanted to bother me, so they didn't call me. I explained that this is a perfect instance in which calling me would not be a nuisance, but this is an excellent example of the culture of indirectness that exists here. Eventually, we had a quite a nice evening. Verena will be sorely missed; she is a really sweet, thoughtful person who brought a really interesting perspective to the conversation group and late afternoon muelle chats.

School Anecdotes Week 14: Ayy Mi Madre

Mother's Day in Nicaragua: it's a big deal. With good reason: I'm pretty sure that the society would instantaneously collapse if Nicaraguan mothers stopped their daily devotions. Nicaraguan mothers are worshiped by their children, even if the men in their lives don't always treat them as well...Given this context, it's pretty unsurprising that many of the schools where I work only had one day of school this week.

Monday: School! Learning!!
Tuesday: School-wide Mother's Day celebrations, with mothers invited to watch. And no celebration would be complete without folklore dancing, hoochy dancing, and poetry reading
Wednesday: Town-wide Mother's Day celebration
Thursday: Holiday- no school, etc.
Friday: TEPCE= teacher meetings

Most frustrating: On Monday, I got trapped in El Tule, one of the rural schools, for an hour and half because the bus passed on the highway instead of going through town like it usually does. Due to this, I missed my class for the 7/8th graders, after I had planned an awesome lesson about animals. (Who doesn't love animal jeopardy!?) But did the kids show up? No, they did not. So I was doubly grumpy.  

Most fun: My sitemate Christina wanted to do an activity with some of the little kids in town we've become friends with, so we decided to do a Mother's Day craft: recycled bead bracelets/necklaces! We were trying to figure out how to get kids to come to the event, when we stopped by the primary school to go talk to the delegado, the equivalent of a regional superintendent, more or less. While we were there, the kids mobbed us to say hi, and so we asked them if they wanted to do crafts with us the following day. Surprisingly, with a little prodding from a few of their friends, we had 13 kids show up, including a lot of young boys, which is great, because I'm sure we kept them out of trouble for the afternoon. It was noisy and a little crazy, but a lot of fun. Chris and I are hoping to do more crafts with them in the future. You can see the instructions on how to make the beads here!

Awkwardest: Several people have told me that I can celebrate Mother's Day too, because I will be a mother in the future. There is no way in hell I would be honest and express that I'm not particularly interested in having children. It's great that women are celebrated for the tremendous work that they do as mothers, but it's also incredibly limiting that the very definition of what it means to be a woman is reduced to motherhood. 

Song of the Week: This is the way I ______________
 My counterpart Jonathan taught this one to me. It's great to review basic verbs (you can use any phrase that fits the rhythm of the song) and days of the week/times of the day.

(Do the actions as you say them)
This is the way I brush my teeth, brush my teeth, brush my teeth, brush my teeth
This is the way I brush my teeth, on Monday in the morning

This is the way I brush my hair, brush my hair, brush my hair
This is the way I brush my hair, on Tuesday in the morning

This is the way I wash my hands, wash my hands, wash my hands
This is the way I wash my hands, on Wednesday in the morning.

Etc.  

School Anecdotes Week 13: Beware of Venn Diagrams, You Silly Horse

I'll be honest. This week sucked. Personally, I had lost my momentum and motivation from so much time out of San Miguel, mentally and physically. Also, I got weirdly sick for a little while, missing a day of work with some of my favorite classes. I noticed that minor annoyances were bothering me more than usual: milk thirsty ants (SERIOUSLY WHY DO THEY LIKE MY MILK, THAT'S NOT A THING), the fact that finding vegetables on a non-market day is tantamount to a treasure hunt, the faces that everyone makes when I don't have exact change, etc.

To top things off, rainy season started in earnest. This means that almost everyday, it will rain at least once. I have mixed feelings about rainy season. There are beautiful romantic moments, like when the sky is filled with gigantic, majestic thunderheads, or like when you are lying in bed and there's a light rain falling, making a calming plinking sound and afterward it is cool and everything smells richly of wet earth. Then, there are other moments of rain season which are much less agradable, like when a downpour pounds against the zinc roof of your classroom as you are trying to teach, or when you get ten consecutive mosquito bites on your elbow and fear dengue, or when everything is muddy and the roads are washed to bits, or when the refrigerator spontaneously starts molding everywhere, and as a result of all this, you have a much stronger urge than you should to beat a leering drunkard with your umbrella. Can you tell which part of the culture shock cycle I'm in? It's like playing level of satisfaction limbo, how low can it go?

I'm being very dramatic, it's not actually that bad at all. And it was not certainly not without highlights:

Awkwardest: Apparently Venn Diagrams are not really a thing here. So I accidentally drew an admittedly very phallic looking three-way venn diagram on the board during my youth group. Another strike against me on the list of inappropriate things I have done and or said to them. Clearly, I didn't catch on quickly enough, because when I tried to draw one in my 9th grade class, I got a similarly smirk filled reaction. Should have overlapping circles going VERTICALLY. Next time...

Runner Up: It's been so hot that I can't stop sweating, even when I am not moving. Like sweat dripping off my chin and nose. I ran out of sweat rags and so I just upgraded to using a tee shirt, which drew some looks, but I was totally sweating enough to warrant it. All in- class movement is pretty much on hold: no Total Physical Response (TPR) until further notice.

Best original student thought in English of the week: One of my students in my 7th and 8th grade enrichment class likes to insult other students despite my admonishments and the class rule expressly forbidding being disrespectful to other students.
Two excellent insults this week resulted from some direct Spanish translation.
You are horse. (Vos sos caballo!)- What he meant to say? You are stupid.
You are strawberry. (Vos sos fresa!)- What he meant to say? You are lazy.

"Teachers and Other People Who Speak Lots of English Class": We did a section on time idioms this week. We made up for lost time since we didn't have class the week before. Time flew as we had fun.

Inspiring person of the week: This guy who lives way out in the campo came to the "Teachers and Other People Who Speak Lots of English Class" because he was visiting San Miguelito. His English was really good, which was awesome. Imagine living in the middle of the countryside, three hours from the nearest small town and making the tremendous effort it takes to try and learn a foreign language, with very few opportunities for practice. That's drive.

Song of the Week: The Jellyfish Song
On Friday morning, I went to nearby (2 hours is close enough for me!) Nueva Guinea (New Guinea, no idea where that name came from) today to watch fellow TEFL PCV Isabel's presentation in a workshop put on by the American Embassy as part of their English Language Fellows program. It was a really cool teacher training, focusing on pronunciation, the ECRIF teaching format, and Reader's Theater. Before her presentation on Reader's Theater (a reading, speaking and listening activity where you take books and adapt them into a script format for informal theatrical performances), Isabel had the brilliant idea to do the jellyfish song as an energizer. We got about 40 or 50 English teachers and students doing this. Then, that afternoon, I introduced the Jellyfish song to my 7/8th grade enrichment class. The two students who attended class (grumble grumble where IS everyone?) greatly enjoyed it.

The Jellyfish Song (Call and response, with actions)

Arms up...wrists (or hands, if adapting for easier vocab) together...And do the jellyfish, the jellyfish, the jellyfish fish (make a jellyfish motion)

Arms up...wrists together...elbows together...And do the jellyfish, the jellyfish, the jellyfish fish

Arms up...wrists together...elbows together...knees together...and do the jellyfish, the jellyfish, the jellyfish fish

Arms up...wrists together...elbows together...knees together...ankles together (or feet if adapting for easier vocab)....And do the jellyfish, the jellyfish, the jellyfish fish

Arms up...wrists together...elbows together...knees together...ankles together...butt out.... And do the jellyfish, the jellyfish, the jellyfish fish

Arms up...wrists together...elbows together...knees together...ankles together...butt out.... face squished (make a squishy face)....And do the jellyfish, the jellyfish, the jellyfish fish

Arms up...wrists together...elbows together...knees together...ankles together...butt out.... face squished...tongue out (THE BEST PART)...And do the jellyfish, the jellyfish, the jellyfish fish

A fun site visit: My friend Isabel visited on Saturday, and graciously sat through a Mother's Day celebration at my Saturday school in the community Never Oporta. Then we hung out on the dock, and ate fritanga (grilled meat with fried plantains and salad), which are pretty much the best things to do in San Miguel on Saturday nights. On Sunday, we hung out with Verena, a German volunteer who lives in San Miguel. She made us German style pancakes, with condensed milk and bananas on top, which are sort of like crepes. Then we walked around San Miguel a bit, taking in the gorgeous view from the top of the hill and visiting an artist's house. 4 extranjeros definitely caused a stir. It was super fun to have her visit. It's always great to have other PCVs understand what your site is like, and it's really cool that there are so many of us in Nicaragua, because in every department, you're guaranteed to have someone to stay with.

Reading Reviews, Volume 4

Aww yeah, up to 35 now. Except that's not good because I'm running out of books again and I just visited the Peace Corps office twice. #nerdsgonewild

35. Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide- Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl Wu Dunn
Horrible stories of female suffering, inspirational stories of perseverance despite all odds.
However, I am really not a fan of Wu Dunn/ Kristof's writing. Not totally sure I buy their opinions or their prescriptions to right the injustices described, although they present the positives and negatives of most things. Also, they're way too into the white man's/rich people's burden thing, which as a volunteer working in a foreign country I can't really get uppity about, but still. I also personally took offense at the way they kept describing the women they were profiling. For example, describing the founder of Women for Women International, Zainab Salbi: "Zainab Salbi is thin with olive skin and close-cropped black hair framing large, luminous eyes. She looks like central casting's idea of a free-spirited Middle Eastern princess..."  GAH. Would Salbi's life and work be less awesome if she weren't conventionally beautiful? If the founder of the organization was a man, would you describe him that way? Also, that next line is so rife with Orientalism I don't even want to deal with it. You're writing a book about women's rights and you don't bother to proofread it to make sure you're not being obnoxious? Yes, it's hardly up there with Female Genital Mutiliation, throwing acid on people, or depriving women of economic opportunity, BUT COME ON, SERIOUSLY? Clearly, Peace Corps service is accentuating my cynical, grumpy person qualities.

34. The Wisdom of Whores: Bureaucrats, Brothels and the Business of AIDS- Elizabeth Pisani
Written by an epidemiologist who's worked on AIDS internationally for many years, this was an interesting read with some very strong ideas about how money can best be spent on AIDS, and a good explanation of why it often is not: politics, religion trumping science, squeamishness about dealing with drug dealers and prostitutes, duplication of effort, or attempts to not duplicate effort that create counterproductive competition, etc.

33. Eat, Pray, Love- Elizabeth Gilbert
I got this book from the Peace Corps library because I figured I should try and read something fun and light for a change. Shouldn't have bothered because it just made me grumpy. I would just like to point out how for all her talk of being spontaneous and living life, Gilbert was being PAID to go write about mucking about, eating delicious things and having a lot of sex, which is pretty much the least spontaneous thing I can think of. But maybe I' m just jealous because of my own lack of gelatto (hell, I can't even get a proper ice cream cone most of the time), spiritual fulfillment and romantic love. One thing I will give her credit for was acknowledging that Bali's history is far from the rosy, lackadaisical paradise that has been marketed to tourists. Grump Grump Grump.

32. Reservation Blues- Sherman Alexie
Magical realism meets rock and rock and Native Americans. Good stuff, enit?

31. The Year of Magical Thinking- Joan Didion
A beautiful, raw portrait of the irrationality of grief.

30. The Jaguar Smile: A Nicaraguan Journey- Salman Rushdie
This was one of the best books I've read about Nicaragua, because it manages to capture in rich, poetic language so many things about the culture of this country, both funny and profound, in a little over a 100 pages. Also, the revolutionary period in Nicaragua in the 1980s is pretty fascinating and I think he does justice to its bright and dark spots.  I also thought the author's perspective as someone who understands both the Global North and the Global South provided a really fascinating lens through which to view a country like Nicaragua.

29. Rayuela (Hopscotch)- Julio Cortazar
Re-read. This book is amazing as a literary creation; you can read the first two books sequentially (as I did this time), or you can read the entire thing in a hopscotching fashion.
I personally find it too esoteric and complicated to actually enjoy in my second language, but I suppose I get some bragging rights for having read it, and understanding most of it this go round.

28. Residencia en la Tierra- Pablo Neruda
Re-read. I've read this poetry collection a bunch of times, and it's always something I can come back to, to take shelter and solace in. If only we can free ourselves from the chains of linear time, we can find freedom in the eternity of nature.

27. Angela's Ashes- Frank McCourt
Frank McCourt is a great writer and did a great job creating a portrait of a really dire situation, but I just couldn't really get into this. I don't know if it was because I wanted a break from thinking about poverty (although I don't exactly think about poverty that much here, which could be a subject for another post entirely), but just can't rave about this the way a lot of people have.

26. The Gulag Archiepelago (Books I and II)- Aleksandr I. Solzhenitsyn
Man, reading about people being tortured in Soviet prisons sure made for a fun spring break! Super fascinating stuff though, especially the way he introduced the reader to the language of the prison system. I wish I had the books and the stomach to read the entire saga but that might be too soul sucking.

25. Chasing the Flame: One Man's Fight to Save the World- Samantha Power
Mixed thoughts on this book, which profiles the life of humanitarian, long time UN employee, Sergio Viera deMello. I kind of have a problem with Samantha Power's tendency to fangirl about famous men in IR, but again that's probably a longer rant than I have time or space for. The book raised a lot of really fundamental questions about peace-keeping, but because it was so tied to the narrative of Viera deMello's Life, I didn't feel like it really explored them adequately. Then again, it was already a long book, and it wasn't intended to be a technical IR treatise or anything, so I should probably tone down expectations.

24. Norwegian Wood-Haruki Murakami
As normal as Murakami gets, but still unmistakably marked by his style. A really enjoyable read about the frailty of human relationships.

23. The Devil and the White City: Murder, Madness and the Fair that Changed America- Erik Larsen
Great historical fiction, looking at Chicago's World's Fair and a grisly mass murderer from the same era. It's really cool to think about the way America has developed in the last century, and the role that architecture had in shaping urban destinies and imaginations. Very meticulously researched. My one complaint is that there wasn't more of an attempt to weave subaltern histories into the account, but that's probably a fault of the historical record. As interesting as it was to hear the stories of the powerful men who planned the fair, I would have liked to hear more from the workers who toiled to bring it into reality, especially as that era was such a critical moment for labor rights.

Love You a Bunch a Bunch, Pop-Pop

"The skylark was born before all beings and before the earth itself. Its father died of illness when the earth did not yet exist. He remained unburied for five days until the skylark, ingenious of necessity, buried its father in its own head....."
Salman Rushdie, The Jaguar Smile

"We might, in that indeterminate period they call mourning, be in a submarine, silent on the ocean's bed, aware of the depth charges, now near and far, buffeting us with recollections."
Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking

Word of the Day:
presentimiento- literally- pre-feeling= premonition, feeling

After a long struggle with cancer, my grandfather passed away on Tuesday. I immediately felt the weirdness of someone so strong, large and permanent- seeming being gone. I had known for months that this was going to happen, but I was taken aback at how fiercely I felt the news. I'm going home for my sister's graduation in a month, and I'd had this idea that I'd be able to see him again. The breaking of my illusion of control shattered me. As did the idea that one side of my childhood had really drawn to a close. You'd think that after over a cumulative year of living in Latin America I would have picked up on the "si Dios quiere" (Godwilling) mindset, but it turns out my East Coast type A personality is pretty ingrained. And hates thinking about death.

Immediately, I wanted to be with my family. I had a crazy urge to just show up and hop on the next plane home. The distance between us, which has been blunted over time, came sharply into relief. Even though everyone told me that I shouldn't, I felt guilty for not being there. My love of running off to experience life elsewhere has the unfortunate side effect of me being less available for my loved ones. I might be able to bequeath them good stories, but I'm not there to give out hugs or cook dinner after a long day spent at the hospital. I felt guilty for not being able to help my parents more with daily life, for not calling Pop-Pop more, for not knowing what to say, for fearing "How are you?".

The one thing I knew was that I couldn't stay in San Miguelito. I've always found that movement is healing and I knew I was going to lash out at people if I stayed. And I didn't want to be a self-pitying wreck here around people I knew, people with far more difficult daily dramas. So I circled back around in the boat to Granada, numbing myself with yet another overnight journey and tried to lose myself in the tangled stalls of the market. Feeling emptied, I went on to Managua, holed up in almost 1st world luxury for a bit (the hot showers helped a lot), and tried not to feel guilty for being self indulgent. Getting to skype with my family was worth it. We reminisced and joked and it was almost as if I were there, if only for a little while. Miracles of wi-fi. A bunch of my friends happened to be  there too, and they helped far more than they realized. It probably seems redundant to note, but most people in Peace Corps are extremely nice.

After Pop-Pop passed, it was as if everything that was tied up with his life came loose and tumbled into my head. There was a specific geography to these recollections. As the saying goes, the past is another country, a sunny landscape not yet marred by Hurricane Sandy. My memories of Pop-Pop are entwined with a child's love of being at the beach. Going around different places in Spring Lake/the northern end of the Jersey shore, the North End pavilion at the board walk, the waves, the salt water pool, learning to body surf, watching the draw bridge with the boats going out to sea, going to Saint Catherine's, going to the park in Spring Lake. Eating fish and waffle fries at Klein's. Eating shrimp cocktail with horseradish sauce, Aunt Debbie's salmon with dill, grapes, cheddar cheese, salami on ritz crackers in the family room, which he built and meticulously wired with speakers over the years. Playing bocce in the backyard. My cousins and I jamming ourselves onto the swing bench. Looking at his drawings, going through his carpentry shop. Playing in my father's old bedroom, still decorated with 1970s plaid blankets. Goofy sing alongs with the aunts and cousins. Remembering the play house he constructed for my sisters and I, which we named "Ginger and Pickles" out of an old electrical box and which was subsequently reincarnated as a home, general store and restaurant.

Pop-Pop and I drew such different conclusions from the world we were presented with, but I think we were both people who are deeply curious about the world in front of us. I remember studying the books he had about the history of the New Jersey shore, and reading his "Discovery" magazines when I went over to his house. I think in many ways he encouraged my nerdy love of reading and armchair adventures, which over time have catapulted me into even more dramatic, real life adventures.

This flock of images has taken up a stubborn residency in my head, and it's going to take time to process everything, without making a hagiography, but to think a bit about what Pop-Pop's life has meant for us, and what his absence means. It will take time to reconcile that these parts of my childhood were in the past but that they didn't need to stop influencing my present semi-autonomous, wandering, stumbling into adulthood.

All this has reminded me though of how many wonderful communities I am a part of, how infinite is the care we can show each other, how connected family can be even across big distances. There are upsides to everything.

An interesting talk

I found this really interesting. I think she gets a little bit off point with the stuff about group think, but as an educator, this is important to think about.

A Few Good Quotes

In the cathedrals of New York and Rome
There is a feeling 
that you should just go home
and spend a lifetime, finding out just where that is.
Jump Little Children, "Cathedrals"

What, I wonder, is the message of Nicaraguan cathedrals?

We returned to our separate lives, two migrants making our way in the West stuffed with money, power and things, this North that taught us to see from its privileged point of view. But maybe we were the lucky ones; we knew that other perspectives existed. We had seen the view from elsewhere.
Salman Rushdie, The Jaguar Smile: A Nicaraguan Adventure (1987)

I think this is the best articulation I've seen in a while for why I do what I do.


I am sailing, I am sailing,
Home again cross the sea.
I am sailing, stormy waters,
To be near you, to be free.

I am flying, I am flying,
Like a bird cross the sky.
I am flying, passing high clouds,
To be with you, to be free.

I hate Rod Stewart, but I love teaching this song, and it popped into my head on my second boat ride in less than a week.

Teaching Anecdotes, Week 11: "You Should Go to the Hell"

Word of the Day:
el entierro- burial

I actually taught school this week. Well, the majority of the classes!

Class cancellation of the week: In San Miguelito, a teacher's grandfather died (He was at least 90), and since he was an elder in the community, the first two classes were cancelled so that the students and teachers could go to the funeral mass and then the burial. We didn't actually fit inside the church, so we all hung out nearby. Before they went up to the cemetery, which is a very beautiful place overlooking Lake Nicaragua, the funeral procession circled around the town, which I found very symbolic, as if saying goodbye to everything before moving on.
Runner Up: My teacher had to get a tooth pulled and was super drugged up, so we didn't have class.

Best "original student thought expressed in English": I came into class to find that my 10th graders had written "You should go to the hell" in giant letters on the board. This statement is rather indicative of their attitude towards English class. But the fact that they correctly used the modal "should" was awesome and shows that they are learning. I spent the entire class laughing and grinning proudly.

Runner Up: We played "2 Truths and a Lie" with 7th graders to practice verb "have."
One of my students wrote this:
I have two babies. (False)
I have three lambs. (True)
I have one love. (True)
I gave him a high five because I thought it was awesome and had a great poetic ring to it. Also, he correctly remembered the y to ies plural spelling rule. Boss.

Best Student Sass: I was talking about the future "will" with my 11th graders and as an example I used "I will get married in 5 years." This is not even remotely a plan of mine, but it popped into my head. One of my students who knows a lot of English and likes to be a wise guy yelled out "You're gonna be really old then, teacher!" By that estimation, I will probably be ancient by the time I actually settle down, if that ever happens.

Props: I brought my groceries for the week to 8th grade to teach them about food. This was a lot of fun. In addition to doing my favorite mini dialogue (below) and singing a song (also below) we did a critical thinking/shopping activity where I gave the kids a list of food pictures and prices and they had to try and buy as much as they could with C$120 (about $5 US).

A: This is a squash.
B: A what?
A: A squash.
B: O, a squash.

Endless amounts of fun...

Youth Group: Kids actually came to youth group this week! On Monday, we learned the phrase "What _____(insert noun) do you like?" and learned vocab about colors, music and sports. We did a lot of Total Physical Response (TPR), a teaching technique where you use physical movement to teach new vocab. The kids liked class a lot and that simple phrase really drastically expands their possibilities for basic conversation, which is super cool.
On Friday, there was no school and a rainstorm, so no one came to class. This was unfortunate, because I had delayed a trip to Managua. Instead of taking the bus, I decided to take the 12 hour ferry ride so that I could give class. Rookie mistake. But the boat ride was lots of fun. I caught up with my sister and my parents on the phone, stargazed, hung out with my neighbor and her friend, and watched "I am Legend." The ferry operator really seems to have a thing for zombie movies. The only thing that sucked was that we got attacked by a giant swarm of horrible little insects called chayules during the night.

Teachers and Other People Who Know a Lot of English Class: This week, I didn't really feel like planning a structured lesson per say, so I adapted a card game to practice conversation skills, talking about the past and vocabulary. To play an odd card, players had to answer questions, such as "Describe your favorite teacher when you were a child" or "Describe your favorite memory of hanging out with a good friend." To play an even card, players had to ask a follow up question about another player's story. To play a face card, the player had to initiate a game of categories. It was a fun time and I learned a bunch of things about everybody.

Nerdy Song of the Week (To the Tune of Frere Jacques): I am Hungry
I am hungry, I am hungry
Please bring me, please bring me
Rice and beans and chicken
Rice and beans and chicken
Thanks a lot, thanks a lot.

Coloring

Coloring Time with Emily: Tools of the Trade

So cute

The aftermath

On Sunday, I was having a great morning, sitting on my porch drinking a cup of coffee and reading Rayuela. I had just come back from church and I had no plans to do much of anything for the rest of the day. Like clockwork, my 5 year old neighbor wandered over. "Emily, can we color today?" I told him to come back later in the afternoon, but he got into the house and ran into my room. It was a mess, and I was trying to keep him from touching everything.

 We looked at some maps and National Geographics that I had lying around and it was awesome to see his reaction to the pictures. Since he's the kind of kid who loves to touch everything, I decided that it would be easier to keep him occupied with coloring supplies. He also got into my glue and scissors and recycling collection. His sister found out he was coloring with me and came over too. They stayed for over 2 hours, cutting and drawing and writing. It was a super tiring hanging out with them, but it was admittedly kind of fun. Especially because I got to return them to the parents later on.  

Today, when I arrived home from school, my neighbor was on the porch, watching my host-brother play a game. He lept up: "Emily!!!!!!!!!" Then he grabbed my water cooler and my heavy bag of school supplies and tried to carry them to my room even though they were bigger than he was. And then he made a beeline for the coloring supplies. 

Play

One of the things I really enjoy here is watching young children in the street playing. In country where only about 10% of people (or something like that) have access to internet, there's still plenty of time for unplugged, face to face, non- screen play. Of course, almost everyone has a television in their home, and I'm willing to bet kids are starting to spend an increasing amount of time in front of the TV. But in a small community like San Miguel, it's impossible to walk through the streets in the late afternoons, when it finally gets cooler, and not see kids scurrying about.

On the one level, it's terrifying to think about the global and national inequalities that are being perpetuated and deepened by uneven access to technology, particularly computers. On the other hand, though, it's so wonderful to watch kids being creative and resourceful and together, making toys and inventing games as they gallivant through the streets, in a way that seems reminiscent of my grandparent's stories of how life used to be. Toys don't come out of boxes, they come from what's around. Old cans become animals dragged along on strings. Sticks become horses or swords. The metal grill of our front porch becomes a jungle gym for the five year- olds who climb on it and attempt flips. Plastic bottles become soccer balls. Electrical poles become "base" for races and tag. Nothing has to have a set purpose, you-will-play-with-this-toy-this way, we must buy more toys for Little Johnny: it's profoundly radical and anti-capitalistic, although I'm positive that no-one intends it that way.

Maybe it sounds cliqued, but I think the lack of toys bought from stores is good in some ways. Sure, it will be cool if everyone's parents had lots of money and could buy them toys and books (more importantly) but it's not as if their absence is noted. The kids improvise their own playthings. And it's precisely this spirit of innovation that could be revolutionary, if we can find a way to create educational programs to keep this flame lit.

"The Internet is Where the People Are": Thoughts on the Internet and PCV* Life

*Peace Corps Volunteer

I chanced across a really interesting article today, "I'm Still Here: Back Online After a Year without the Internet" on my facebook newsfeed no less, that made me reflect on how my own relationship with the internet has changed during Peace Corps. It's the story of a man who gave up the internet for a year, in the hope of making himself whole again, but then found himself feeling isolated from the people he loved. A lot of things in the article resonated with me, particularly the feeling of isolation from loved ones that arises when I don't have access to it.

I have moments where I fantasize about how "pure" the Peace Corps experience might have been like in the 1960s, where people just marched off, saying "Bye, I'll talk to you two years from now." Thanks to the internet, and phone calls, I feel like I'm living three completely irreconcilable lives simultaneously: the life I have with people in San Miguelito, the life I have with other friends who are volunteers, and the family and friendships I left dangling back home. It's disorienting sometimes, and complicated. Over time, though, I've come to appreciate how beautiful my tangled up life is and how much the internet enables me to know what's going on back home.

When I first got to Nicaragua, I was terrified of the internet. I couldn't deal with seeing my friends on facebook, seeing emails about fascinating talks back at college, checking the news and feeling disconnected from everything that was important to me. I wanted to hide from the virtual reminders of home, thinking it would make me feel better, cleanse me, make me more present to my new reality. I wanted to pretend that I could become a Nicaraguan version of me and erase my identity back home.

Over time though, as I've become more settled in here, I've built my peace with the internet, realizing it would be insane to try and live without it. I smile, instead of wanting to cry when I see pictures of people having fun back home (unless there's good food or beer involved) and I cherish the moments when I can get a good enough connection to Skype with my parents or friends. I read articles to keep me mentally sharp. Once in a blue moon, I can even get youtube videos to load. The internet is a beautiful place, inhabited by people I love, and it's easy enough to get to.

At the same time, less frequent access has generally made me feel less stressed out, twitchy, overstimulated. Like the author of the article, I've found that I can really concentrate much better now and that my memory is sharper. I can read, 200, 300 pages in a sitting if it's a good book, just like I used to when I was little, in the age of dial-up. And I write a lot more too, journaling, planning, writing letters sometimes, a homage to the experiences of volunteers of past decades.

As a wise hipster once counseled me when I was trying to decide what kind of tomato sauce to buy: "Life's all about balance."

School Anecdotes Week 10: Have You Ever Seen the Rain?

*I've had this song stuck in my head all week, you definitely hear it sometimes here. Appropriate for the start of rainy season, no?

Words of the Day- Basketball Edition
tirar- shoot
perder un tiro- miss a shot
el tablero- backboard

In the last two weeks, I have taught 50% of the classes I am regularly scheduled to teach. If we exclude my Saturday classes, which aren't cancelled as regularly, I've only taught a third of my weekday classes. Frustrating beyond belief. I'm trying not to let the under-whelmingness of this week get to me, but it's hard.

On Monday, I taught my only weekday classes in San Miguel, a class on -Wh questions to 8th grade and a continuation of a class about family members to 7th grade. For lunch, I ate lengua con salsa, cow tongue with sauce, because my host mom made it for me after I mentioned I had never eaten it. I wasn't expecting to like it, but it was ok actually, really tender. Then I did my laundry.

In the afternoon, I taught a lively class to the English club, about informal phrases in English. I accidentally used a vulgar phrase to explain the phrase "I'm doing great". My host brother had taught it to me, and I thought it was just very informal street language, but I didn't realize that it would be perceived as vulgar, especially by 8th graders, although I definitely should have. So now the kids think that the phrase "I'm great" is hilarious, and they bust up laughing every time they say it. Then the kids started asking me about curse words in English. When I told them not to say bad words in class, they pointed out that I already had. I did however take the time to explain the difference between "beach" and "bitch" because we had just had a class on pronunciation...the difference between the /i/ and /I/ sounds in English are really hard for English language learners who have Spanish as a first language. Then one of the boys in my class asked me what the phrase "Give me your number" means, because he had heard someone use it to call out to me in the street while I was chatting with him. Dangerous language, who knows what trouble these kids will get into now that they know the phrases "How's it going?" "Take it easy" and "Give me your number."

On Tuesday, school was cancelled for a pre-Labor Day march. I finished Part I of Julio Cortazar's Rayuela (book reviews forthcoming),fell into the giant, beautiful abyss that is the internet and helped my sitemate Christina move. We figured this would be easy, because there are lots of taxis that pass by her house, and we assumed we could flag one down. Nope. After over an hour of waiting and after calling several taxi drivers, Chris (this is what the Nicas call her, pronounced KRees) finally got a former student to stop for her, but we couldn't fit all her stuff. We ended up having to make three trips carrying heavy boxes and bags in the hot sun. Everyone stared at us, as we literally dripped with sweat.  None of the men gawking at us tried to help. I guess machismo doesn't equally chivalry. But whatever, we did it ourselves, so clearly we didn't need help. Welcome to the gun show, San Miguelito.

On Wednesday, I didn't do much because we had off from school for  International Worker's Day (the International version of Labor Day), and town was dead. I shot hoops and swopped English vocabulary with my counterpart Jonathan, cleaned my room super throughly after I found an infestation of weird little paper eating bugs (DON'T YOU DARE GO NEAR MY SCHOOL MATERIALS!!!!), and watched soap operas and 12 Corazones, which was terrible for my brain, but probably not so bad for the Spanish. In the evening, I tried to do real things and made a calendar/syllabus for the 8th grade class. I also made a list of various projects I would like to do, and it ran onto 2 pages. This was just for English related projects. Ay Diosito lindo.

Supposedly, rainy season always starts every year on May 1st. It did not rain.

On Thursday, it became unbearably hot and horrible little bugs called chayules came up on a southern wind, invading personal space- mouths, eyes, ears. EW. I planned with the Saturday teachers in the morning and had my "English Class for Teachers and Other People Who Speak A Lot of English" except only 2 people showed up. It's sort of frustrating when stuff like that happens, but I need to get better at dealing with disappointment.

On Friday, I went to Las Palomas to help my counterpart with materials for a TESOL Certificate workshop he was going to go to in Costa Rica. In the afternoon, I had my English Club class, but only 3 kids showed up, which was disappointing. I drowned my frustrations about all of this by venting to Christina over batidos and eating lots of cheesy bread.

Rainy season began at promptly 8 pm. A beautiful, steady downpour washed the ambient heat out of the sky, punctuated by violet and white streaks of lightning that lit up the sky. Thunder roared rhythmically. Violent, yet oddly peaceful and wonderful.

On Saturday, I finally had school again (why is Saturday school never cancelled?) which was pretty fun with the grades that like English, and pretty awful with the kids who are less into it. One of my eighth grade classes is obsessed with the song I taught them last week (which happens to be from the TV show Barney, blast from the past!!) "I like to eat apples and bananas." So they all go around singing the song all the time, which helps them master "like to  + infinitive". Good times. The other thing that made my day was that one of my students who hasn't been interested in class pretty much all semester came to school well rested and was excited about participating. In a week like this, it really is the little things that keep you going...