Hi world,

I just finished the day pretty discouraged and emotionally wearied. Spanish class was the usual four hours; I feel really bad for Barney, because we’ve been really tired and bored in class lately. We started out very enthusiastically, constantly talking and often going on tangents. Really it’s the two girls who are part of my tutoring group; no offense to them, but they tend to dominate conversation with silly topics and when they don’t feel like contributing meaningfully, lapse into sullen silence, thus dragging down the entire group. Still, I now feel much stronger in subjunctive, and Barney will be a valuable resource for translating our surveys (which we are writing right now) into Spanish.

 Today, the thirtieth, was also Mother’s Day in Nicaragua. It seems a much bigger deal than Mother’s Day in the states, especially since all public school were closed to celebrate this holiday. Marisol and I bought a nice flower arrangement and a singing card for all the mothers in the house. That includes Racquel, Maria Jose, their other sister, and their mother. We had Horacio and Edgar sign the card as well. The singing process of hilarious; Racquel clearly saw our gifts before we presented them to her, but we tried to keep them all hush hush while Horacio and Edgar signed the card. The problem was the card was opened all the way, it would start playing Für Elise, thus giving away our secret. Edgar, chubby little seven year old that he is, ran around trying to hide the card with his body...very cute. 

From left to right, Maria Jose, Horacio, Edgar and Racquel

I’ve settled into a routine here with my homeestay in Granada. I know more or less where everything is, and with a map I can get almost anywhere. I’ve got a schedule; I wake up at 6:45 and go to Spanish class at 8 AM. In the afternoons, before class I go to the Euro Cafe and enjoy dinner and a relaxed evening at home after 7 PM. It can get boring sometimes, and I still haven’t made extremely close bonds with the rest of the people in our DukeEngage group. Another problem is that many of my closer friends are in the other equipo that SEC had randomly divided us into. There are definitely moments, such as at the end of the day today, when I finish everything and head back feeling unfulfilled and lonely. During moments like these, I’m tempted by the idea of returning home to my friends and family, who, in my melancholic state of mind, I imagine are having a grand old time without me. 

On a funnier note, the dog LITERALLY ate my homework last night. First, he tried to eat my toothbrush. The last few nights, he’s been breaking into my room by resiliently nudging it open and stealing shoes, my purse, and eating my trash. Last night, he climbed on top of a chair and chewed to pieces the homework that I had left on the table, where I thought it would be out of his reach. I found the whole situation too funny to be mad; Barney kept teasing me the entire lesson the next day about me destroying my own homework to avoid having to do it. Now I can finally say that the dog ate my homework! 

Work wise, I have more than enough to fill eight weeks. We started making the surveys we’ll be starting weekend. Designing surveys, especially in another language within a different culture, is very difficult. More than anything, to tease out information that is often slightly private and often personal, we have to start conversations with people, gradually building up trust, before asking our host of questions, a process that usually takes twenty minutes per house. The whole point is to find better ways of finding a market for these new goods and finding ways to train entrepreneurs to sell these goods. Easy said, much harder done. There are a lot of strong personalities and leaders in my group, so I sense that we’re going to be very successful in the end but might experience some clash of wills before these eight weeks are done. 

I cannot stress how much I miss everyone back home right now and how much I look forward to seeing them in July. I love you all!

Goodnight. 

Same old grind...four hours of Spanish class in the morning. The most notable event during this morning was the near eruption of emotions while we were learning the subjunctive. In its most simple forms, the subjunctive is easy to use. We however, were doing some really complicated stuff, stuff difficult enough that Barney had to take a few seconds sometimes to think things over before giving us the nod of approval. Have any of you ever played Barnga? It’s a game where no one can talk, but one effectively has to ascertain the rules of a game through trial and error. Well, today’s lesson was a lot like that. We would fill in the blanks of sentences with conjugated verbs; more often than not, many different conjugations would make sense in the same blank. Except everything Barney said confused us more, so we kept firing counterexamples back, until everyone except Barney (who put up valiantly with our brattiness) got really frustrated. After lots of hard work, I think I’m beginning to be proficient in the subjunctive, which Barney informed me even native speakers still have trouble with. 

Afterwards, the professors took us to an archaeological museum, which happened to be right next to the chocolate museum. Inside were lots of exhibitions of ancient Nicaraguan pottery and ceramics. Lots of it was absolutely gorgeous, and I’m committed to the idea of buying a few pieces from Masaya before returning. Apparently the stuff in Masaya is much cheaper than the goods they sell in tourist-laden Granada. 

I’m enjoying my papaya now...here’s a picture: 

Marisol and me, proud parents of our papaya.

Delicious papaya

There’s absolutely no way I can describe how fragrant the papaya is here.

I also discovered this great little hole in wall called Tio Antonio’s. It’s an NGO that operates a coffeeshop and store that creates jobs for people who otherwise would not be employed, and seems pretty sustainable to me. They sell handwoven hammocks and backs, as well as coffee of all sorts, all at very good prices considering everything is hand crafted. Everything is overseen and operated by deaf-mutes. Here’s a picture of the hammock I want to get, parents: 

Later, Janvi and I went “window shopping” on la Calle Calsada, the street that caters towards tourists. There are some beautiful jewelry vendors that sell handmade wire jewelry.

Today’s orientation lesson in the afternoon focused on getting two ‘charlas,’ or chats, prepared. Each group is going to be focusing on providing consultation on the marketing of two items. Team Impacto (the team that I’m on) will be focusing on marketing water and solar products, specifically the Tulip water filter and two types of solar lamps. The tulip water filter has a hand pump, enabling a faster filtering time, can be reused over and over again (and the filter cleaned and reused), while also being able to provide for an entire family and is portable. Finally, it costs around 15 dollars. The solar lamps are around 6 to 25 dollars, depending on the size, which is pretty expensive for some families. It doesn’t use electricity however, is portable, and in a country where about half of people don’t have electricity and electricity goes out on a daily basis, the lamps are pretty useful even for city folk. The problem is that we have no idea on what the need really is for these items, no way of knowing the best way of marketing the products to consumers and no advice really to give the asesoras for marketing the goods as well. There are enough questions that we have to fill an entire summer worth of work, and we only have eight weeks here (going on seven). Wish us luck!

After getting back, I played a game of pick up basketball with a few friends and their homestay family. It got pretty intense, though it really turned out to be a two many game between the men. I played defense, which really meant getting out of the way of everyone. I got to meet Peter, the fifty something expat and lawyer turned student/entrepreneur who is also living with Sarah and Sophia. There are many interesting people that make it to Nicaragua. I returned home to a completely empty house; after about half an hour Racquel showed up, explaining that her niece was turning 14 and they had gone to her party. I spent the next two hours entertaining Horacio and Edgar at the birthday party. I’m seriously going to miss the two boys when I leave; they’re incredibly cute and saucy. Whenever they won a point in volleyball or basketball, they’d do a series of pretty inappropriate moves, while singing “el movimiento sexy.” The sight of two cherubic seven year olds gyrating can make anyone laugh. Needless to say, I had a good evening. The mosquitos are eating me alive however; they bite wherever I neglected to apply DEET. 

Goodnight! 

MCM

Not too much to write about for today. I went to Spanish class as usual and received a free gym membership to Pure, a gym and spa (mostly spa - there didn’t seem to be much gym equipment). We persuaded Barney to take us on a tour to Pure during the second half of class, and it seemed pretty impressive. Lots of buddha statues, gringo couples lounging around. You can get an hour massage for about 25 dollars here...I think I might go for something the last week we’re here. A manicure, pedicure, hour massage, and facial is around 40$. You should come here, Mama!

During our lessons in the afternoon, we went over the micro consignment model, which it turns out, is very cleverly designed in my opinion and DOES address a real need. I’m not sure how “sustainable” the model really can be, because it strikes me as a conscientious effort to address a need that rational businesspeople would never take up, for good reason. If I have time (which I probably won’t), I’ll give an explanation of micro consignment, one that is much shorter than the one Tim gave us. Just google “MCM” or “microconsignment model” and you should get to our home page. 

However clever the model is, we took about two hours to go over it. I understand that the model needs to be very clearly explained to all of us and each of its features explicitly defined, no matter how commonsensical MCM might be. Two hours was overkill in my opinion, and many of the people in the group have seemed to resent the threeish hours of class we have every afternoon with Tim. True, a lot of the information is intuitive, and true, we’ll probably only really learn once we go out into the field and learn these things ourselves and see the impact with our very own eyes. I do believe, however, that there is merit in clearly laying out every step of the process, even the process of building up a group of entrepreneurs, because there are a host of unforeseen complications that accompany any step as easy as publicizing an event. When you’re working with communities two hours away, with no car or means of individual transportation and with women who have usually only been housewives in the past, things can get hairy. 

I got to know Marisol, my housemate, a little bit better last night. We went out with a few of her friends in the program she is doing. While she is from Quebec and primarily speaks French, the rest of the people in her program are from the University of Wisconsin. They were very easy to get along with; we headed out to a cafe/bar very close to where I live; one of the guys in our group is in love with the owner of the cafe, Lucy, and his very apparent shyness is hilarious. Lucy meanwhile, speaks great English and is sassy as can be. I was pretty impressed by some of the work the people were doing. One guy in particular, Andrew, is working here for eight weeks with a zapatero named Alejandro and four “bums,” as he describes them. Together with a grad student, he’s trying to consult them and to provide the necessary guidance to start their own show business. While Alejandro got great praise for his acumen and shoe-making skill, his buddies are vagos who recently ended up in the hospital after getting stabbed by beer bottles in a fight...so we’ll see how successful the business venture ends up. 

Other exciting news is that I got my first papaya last night! I tried one here, and it was the most delicious thing I have ever eaten. The luscious red chunks just melt in your mouth...I literally ran out of the house to go to the supermarket to buy one after Maria Jose gave me a piece to try. Marisol came with me, and one the way back was majorly hit on by a pretty brassy Nicaraguan lady. I found the whole thing hilarious. 

Putting the papaya back in the fridge...which turned out to be a mistake, because  it apparently slows down the ripening process.

Goodnight!

Sueros saved my life

Sunday morning I woke up at around 5 AM with throbbing pains in my stomach. After three hours of agony and the runs, I finally dragged myself out of bed and went to ask my home stay family for advice. I still think it was the ice in the water I had drunk the night before; though I knew the water had mostly likely been clean (I saw the server pour the water out from a bottle), the ice was less likely so to be clean. My home stay aunt remarked that I looked like I was about to die; she ran out and bought some sueros, essentially dehydration salts. Within the next three hours I gulped down about six packets of the salts, and feeling much better, walked down to the pool. I probably should have stayed home and recuperated, but I wasn’t about to let my only free day during my first week in Granada go to waste. 

While most people were going on a tour of the volcano Mombacho, I was in no way ready to walk up a volcano in the searing midday heat and humidity. I met up with a few like-minded people and walked down to Hotel Granada, probably the nicest hotel in the city. The place was seriously nice and HUGE. I didn’t get too many pictures, since there was no particular place that was especially impressive, but altogether the effect was one of tropical luxury. When we arrived at the pool, there was almost no one there. It was like one of those mirages of paradise emerging out of the desert; after navigating several well-decorated halls, the pool seemed to magically appear, flat and still and blue, out of the palm trees. 

It was probably the nicest pool I’ve ever seen: meticulously maintained, perfectly blue, just the right temperature, wonderfully decorated, great service. I’m still uncomfortable being served to, but I think I could get used to drinks being brought out for me. Throughout the day only a few people came to swim, so I had a relaxing day as a whole. 

Yummy drink...plus the under ripe banana I picked from the nearby trees. 

The pool

Once again, I encourage everyone to vacation in Nicaragua! Arian somewhat sarcastically asked whether it was him in the first world country and me in the third world, or the other way around. In addition, he seemed to disparage whether I was doing actual work during my eight weeks here. I don’t want to give the illusion that I’ve been relaxing all week; to the contrary, I’ve been working for about eight hours a day, not including walking time. The day before Sunday, we had been in the field, starting at 5:30 AM until about 4 PM. The rest of our six weeks here after the end of this week will closely resemble our schedule on Saturday. I’m not complaining about the workload; in fact, I look forward to it. However, I do think a well-deserved break is needed every now and then.

El Pastor

A shower never felt so good. What a day! I woke up at 4:45 to make a 5:30 AM meeting time. Walking the streets of Granada at 5:30 in the morning reveals a city very different from the hustle and bustle that I’ve gotten used to. The streets were empty, the air (relatively) cool, and the sun was beginning to illuminate the streets. The reason for meeting so early was so that we could catch two buses and finally a moto on our journey to the far flung village of El Pastor, right outside of a town called Santa Theresa. Today was the first of many campaigns that we’ll be doing, in conjunction with local women whom we call “asesores comunitarias.” These asesores have been selected by a Soluciones Comunitarias member (SolCom) weeks in advance and trained in how to sell the goods that SolCom has vetted. 

OHMYGOSH Modern family is on! Of course it’s in Spanish, but it reminds me of home :) 

Anyways, the products we sell include reading glasses, protective lenses, solar lamps, stoves (upcoming), vegetable seeds (upcoming), energy-saving light bulbs, water filters, among others. Despite appearing very simple, the products have undergone an extremely intense screening process. SolCom members have to first identify a need, assess the costs and benefits of a product and depending on local factors. We also have to take into account how many houses there are in a community, the number of families, the presence of local leaders, the paydays of most of the workers, and things as simple as how to get to these extremely remote places. A lot of the work we have to do is investigating information in a manner that effectively makes our work ethnography. Another big part of our work is publicity and marketing; today, we walked for two hours along the only dirt road in the town, sometimes with packs of gigantic cows, to reach each house and explain to them that we were stationed at the primary school and were giving free eye exams, among other things. Many of the people that we talk to have presbiscia (nearsightedness) or eye problems from working outside amongst the bright sun and dust every single day without protection. Some of our products and free services address this need. Others, like the solar lamp and vegetable seeds, are seemingly overly-simple solutions to real problems that place serious burdens on families. 

Our driver; he was CRAZY!

The lovely moto

Us in front of the entrance to the school. 

First of all, the transportation systems here are crazy. The private buses that ferry people between buses are all repurposed school buses donated from the US. I fell asleep for most of the way, but as we traveled farther and farther our from Granada, the land became more and more rural. We saw many houses that looked as if they were in abject poverty, but also many verdant landscapes that were very beautiful.

After a bus transfer, we took, for the last leg of the journey, a moto, a motorcycle with a plastic/metal outfitting that allows up to four people to sit in the back. It’s this tiny little red thing, that the driver operated a breakneck speeds down truly treacherous paths. At one point I was holding on for dear life as we sped down a 45 degree incline full of ruts and holes due to erosion. I remarked that the driver had remarkable skill and he merely smiled a little at me. I think the moto drivers think I’m an idiot, since I also complimented the driver of the moto on our way back. After making it up a tough hill, I started laughing my head off while the driver laughed at my idiocy to himself. 

I thoroughly enjoyed myself today, even though our campaign wasn’t very successful. The asesores, Julia y Arlén, were wonderful. They chatted extensively with Tess (one of the program leaders), and I’m sure that they did the necessary preparations for the campaign. However, since the town was so small, the timing bad (people work until 12 or 1 on Saturdays and we were there only until 1), and the date not optimal (we learned that the people earned a paycheck every six months instead of every week, as expected, due to the fact that they sell their produce and livestock at long intervals to buyers), we only sold THREE pairs of glasses, which Tess told us was a record low. Still, this is better than any selling record I have ever had (since it was my first campaign) and it was also only the third or so campaign of Julia and Arlén. I found the experience of talking to all of the people in the town absolutely wonderful. We split into groups and walked for two or three hours under the hot sun (my tan lines are dreadful, but I suppose it’s a bit out of place to worry about first-world problems in the midst of a third world country) along a stretch of dirt road flanked by magnificent, bucolic views. The people in this area raise and tame horses, festooned with wonderfully crafted leather saddles and decorative equipment, which kind of reminds me of a Western, except everyone spoke Spanish. Anyways, we entered into every house that we saw, starting conversations with the local people and telling them about our project and trying to connect what we were doing to things relevant to their (very different) lives. We were told that most SolCom interns actually carry sticks around because of the dogs that almost always bite newcomers. We did have an encounter with a few dogs, but only barking, and no biting, ensued. Although many people were enthusiastic about the products, many didn’t have money or time to go to the primary school to buy the products, and I believe them. I think that many of the people work on a tenant system, where they pay part of their profit towards a landowner, since I saw one or two houses that were clearly a few socioeconomic levels above the general average. 

A beautiful horse we saw on the side of the road. There were a number of houses that had horses, which seemed rather spirited.

A mother with her three day old pups; we found them on a huge ranch at the end of the road.

Of course, I can never escape the fact that I am Chinese; one many took us to see his mother, who had presbiscia and couldn’t see things close up. She began to tell us a story about how there was an Asian family (I couldn’t ascertain how far she meant by “allá”) who had four daughters “with beautiful eyes,” and who had a blonde girlfriend. I have no idea what a chino is doing in Nicaragua but apparently he’s got it figured out, since according to her, he’s rich. She told me that at first she thought I was one of his daughters (at least, that’s what I think she said, since she had a really strong lisp - Nicaraguans don’t really pronounce their s). The racial profiling continues. 

Despite our lack of sales, I’d count today as a success, just from the experiences gained and the people I’ve talked to. I had a long conversation over a great dinner with one of the woman who lives in the house (I think she’s either the older sister or the mother of Racquel) about her life, likes and dislikes, technology etc. There’s something thrilling about conversing in another language and being able to get your message across, even if you have to stumble your way through. At least I understood what she was saying!

Lol, Horacio and his mother are watching a Bruce Lee movie. I got excited that I finally saw another Asian, albeit on TV, so they invited me to watch. Hasta luego!

Well, the electricity is out. The good news is that I can finally make use of my backlight on my Macbook. This is one way in which Macs are better than Windows, though I’m sure there are many others. I’m confused by the fact that I still can go to the bathroom even though the electricity is gone; the sink and flush capacity on the toilet work perfectly, so Nicaraguans use some alternative way to create water pressure, I guess.

Found a Costco here! It only sold clothes though.

My Oliver-Twist-esque dinner by candelight.

Today was the same old, same old. I’m very excited however, because tomorrow we will finally get to go out to the countryside and do some of the tasks that we’ve been training for this week. We had our presentations today, during which we tried to sell the products that we are marketing and helping local entrepreneurs sold. My group focused on sunglasses and Visine drops that prevent temporary and permanent damage to the eyes after long exposure to sun and dust. I thought that our Spanish was mediocre,  but our program leaders were really impressed, so I guess that’s all that counts. I also learned how to administer an eye exam to test for presbiscia, as it’s called here, a natural deterioration of the eyes that can cause near blindness. It’s the reason behind nearsightedness, so we sell glasses that correct for these effects. Everything seems very simple (or at least, it would be if it were happening in the United States), but takes so much preparation and explaining, step by step, here since the people operate and understand things much differently than we do. There’s not just a language barrier, but a cultural barrier as well.

Although I’m excited about going to the countryside (to a town called Santa Teresa and I forget the name of the other town), I’m not excited at the very early time that I have to wake up at: around 4:45 AM. Then it’s an hour and a half journey by bus to the villages that we’re visiting, in conditions, I’m told, that are not ideal. Apparently there’s no sitting room on the bus and rather crowded. To prepare, I found a supermarket and stocked up on some Gatorade; while there, a fellow group member was astounded by the fact that a six pack of Smirnoff goes for 30 cordobas here, the equivalent of about a dollar and 30 cents. I asked the bemused cashier whether the price was real (which it was). 

This morning at 7 I went to the market with my home stay mother. For more expensive goods that require good sanitation, my home stay mother will go to the supermarket, which resembles a grocery store. For cheaper, more common things for which can be easily cleaned, like potatoes or dried beans, it’s often cheaper to go to the market. The market was about two streets and a warehouse space bustling with makeshift wooden stalls in which people sold overflowing bags of vegetables, fruits and stacks of shoes and clothing. The only organization I could perceive was between the fruits and the meat, which had their own very distinct sections. Otherwise, stall locations seemed to have been awarded on a first come, first served basis, with clothing stalls interspersed with cheese sellers. A newcomer would be completely overwhelmed with the disorganization. What also fascinated me was the fact that such a market comes about completely spontaneously. I imagine that some time long ago, this market gradually emerged through decentralized, word of mouth relationships between individual vendors that gradually coalesced into a collective action that convened its own unspoken rules, like establishing ownership of a specific geographic spot; although the spots seem to be randomly determined, they are also fixed, with each vendor having  their own spot to return to daily.

The market in the morning.

A shot of my home stay mother in the market.

Since I need to go to bed early, here ends my post, though I don’t really know what to do with myself because there’s no electricity. I can’t even eat dinner...

Goodnight!

The chocolate factory

Today was not a bad day. Instead of staying for the last half of Spanish classes, we convinced our wonderful Spanish teacher, Barney, to take us to a chocolate factory a little off the Parque central. Poor Barney. We also dug into his personal life today, asking whether he had a girlfriend and the like. That’s what happens when you have three girls in a group of four students. The chocolate “factory”  turned out to be a hotel/spa that also made chocolate on the side. I fell in love with the hotel, which contained an impressive array of paintings, which had all been curated along the theme of stray dogs, which are very prevalent on the streets of Nicaragua. The furniture was also amazing, all sorts of shapes and angles and made from colorful steel wire. Like all Nicaraguan houses, the hotel was open air, made of wood, and painted a variety of pastel and neon colors. Disappointingly, the chocolate wasn’t great and the brownie I bought for the excessive price of a dollar fifty (I was hungry!) was a tad dry. Still, I might go back for a chocolate-making workshop this Sunday. We are definitely going back to swim in the pool they have in the hotel this Sunday. 

Beautiful courtyard surrounded by open air seating arrangements in the center  of the spa.

Add caption

Gallo Pinto in Chinese... Mama, what do the character say?

My disappointing brownie.

Oh. My. God. I just wanted to jump in. It's surrounded on three sides by an open aire veranda, a perfect azure blue, and within view of the hotel rooms behind the camer taker (me).

Amazing furniture. Art History nerds, go! I love the way the chair supports the sitter yet it completely penetrable. It creates a space around the sitter, but still provides structure and strength...idk, loved this chair.

If any of you reading the blog want to go somewhere different for a vacation, consider Nicaragua. Besides the plane tickets, it’s pretty cheap to spend a week in relative luxury here. Hostels are only five dollars a night, and Hostel Mochilas was an excellent place to stay in my opinion. Hotels on the upper end are probably around 20 to 30 dollars a night, and trust me, they are beautiful. Picture brightly painted, colonial style houses, huge verandas where one can be served meals and take in the view, and beautifully decorated interiors complete with open air gardens and creatively designed pools. 

On the way back from Spanish class I heard some marimba music, so I stopped and investigated. It was a few street musicians in the Parque Central playing the trumpet, strumming a guitar and playing the marimba pretty skillfully. The marimba player was certainly better than I ever would be in marching band at Amity. While I was looking on, a boy came up to me and tried to sell me a straw flower for a dollar. When I refused, he lowered the price to 10 cordoba (about 40 cents), and when I refused again, he tried to force the flower on me, which I repeatedly turned away. Feeling that all the stops had been pulled, he demanded a sip of my soda. Pretty saucy!

I actually have quite a busy schedule here. I wake up at 6:45 (earlier tomorrow, because Racquel agreed to take me to the market at seven AM!), go to Spanish class at 8, eat lunch at 12, continue classes at 2 (after a short break at the Café Euro, my fave place) and continue until around 5:30, whereupon I come home, eat dinner, and do my homework (yes, we have homework) and complete some activities I impose  upon myself, like vocabulary review and writing my journal and blog. Today for example, I had to prepare, in Spanish, a part of a marketing stint we’re doing for the products we’ll be selling this Saturday in a small, rural town called Santa Teresa. Additionally, I have about 15 pages of reading (not too bad) and also purchased a Spanish translation of Eclipse, for which I suspended better judgement and decided to pay an exorbitant 220 cordoba (about 9 dollars) for it. I figured it would be a good practice in Spanish reading, because 1) Eclipse isn’t really known for its sophisticated writing and 2) I confess that I have read it before, making comprehension easier. I brought the novel home and was surprised at how many of the family members recognized the books. They had even seen the movies and thankfully shared the same opinion as mine about the quality of both. 

I gained a book (especially valuable, since I found out the postal system is too unreliable for my mother to send me the rest of the books I had ordered for summer reading) but I almost lost a toothbrush the other night, when Voltio, that mischievous  dog, stole the brush while I was showering. Hearing scuffling outside, I ran, half naked after the dog, which ran away as soon as it saw me. I gave up since I couldn’t find him and could only hear the chewing of plastic. After a few minutes, Voltio accidentally turned on the brush, which began vibrating in his mouth, stirring him up into a frenzy and waking up Grace, who retrieved the brush (which is still in working condition!!!) for me. I thoroughly washed the brush a few times and now it’s good as new. 

Goodnight! 

Los puros

Another day of Spanish class down. We had a great lesson where we each picked social topics to talk about. I chose women’s rights, someone picked nutrition and dietary information in Nicaragua, another the music and culture...I heard some mariachi music today. It was playing in the house when I got back to my home stay family for lunch. I stumbled my way through asking about the music to Juana, one of the hired help; she seems to enjoy our bumbling and helps us along. 

After two hours of conversation, the entire group of us headed down to a tobacco factory, where a guide showed us the process of making  los puros, cigars, under the brand “Mombacho.” The tobacco is carefully cultivated and grown in either the shade or the sun. Those that grow under the sun produce a more aromatic and flavorful leaf that is used in the cigar. Among the leaves that are grown in the sun, there are four kinds that can be additionally differentiated, and are all treated in different ways to be combined in the end into one cigar. All cigars were made by hand; among the five workers at the factory, four hundred cigars are produced every day. All the cigars were then pressed into shape in a press  for twenty minutes, wrapped in tobacco leaves that were grown in the shade, sealed with a natural, odorless paste from the yuca plant and then storied in a temperature controlled storage room that smelled amazing due to the cigars. It didn’t smell like tobacco at all, but more like the aromatic smell of dried reeds or herbs. Parents; do you want cigars?

Lots of cigars!

A tobacco plant growing in the sun; the tobacco factory also  harvests leaves at different heights, affects the flavor. 

In the back of the factory there was an open courtyard, so typical of Nicaraguan households. There was a beautiful pool in the middle of an open courtyard, surrounded by a raised patio and decorative trees. I guess if you made a larger purchase of cigars, the owners would allow you to sit there and sip some flor de cana, a type of liquor made from canes. There seemed to be plenty stocked in the factory. 

Making the cigars by hand

Katelyn Wong, you wanted a picture! Here you go...super awkward shot of me holding a cigar. Yes, that sheen is pure sweat.

I wanted to dive right in. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent in orientation, where we discussed issues about development, the idea of mutually reinforcing, mutually inclusive objectives that may seem contradictory, like focusing on community development or self-interest. We discussed some misconceptions about developmental models; I’m looking forward to a future discussion about foreign aid and Dambisa Moyo...otherwise what we discussed was certainly important and needed to be explicitly discussed, but bored me to death, as it was either intuitive or common sense. 

We got introduced to some of the products that we’re going to be helping sell. I think that we are actually selling some goods ourselves and also helping other businesses sell these goods. I’m actually not sure, so I hope that SolCom will clarify these things later. The program leaders here, who all have worked here for more than a year, some for upwards of five years, are all extremely committed and enthusiastic about their work. They have foregone much better paying jobs, in much more comfortable conditions to live in a country to which they are not native and in which they face daily challenges for tasks as simple as setting up meetings with local townspeople. I can’t question the passion everyone has for the work they do, but I can’t help but question how they maintain this passion. It has taken them two, slow years to even reach the point where they say they are ready to start a stove campaign in a nearby village. The goods they sell are definitely sorely needed, like glasses that help with farsightedness, which is very prevalent, and sunglasses that prevent a kind of cataract-forming disease common among those who work in the sunny fields all day. However, it’s at once frustrating that infrastructure is so lacking that it takes a group of intelligent and committed individuals years to build up the networks necessary to distribute something as simple as lenses and therefore difficult for me feel like I can contribute meaningfully to alleviating certain elements of social problems. I guess I’ll just have to see what fieldwork is actually like. Our first trip to one of the Granada-based sites will be this Saturday!

Upon coming home, I got trapped in a huge parade. Students in front were carrying a likeness of the Virgin Mary and a band played behind them. This Thursday (tomorrow) is some day in celebration of the Virgin Mary (and when the fireworks finally stop - today, they were especially loud right before the parade and scared me immensely because they sounded like gunshots). Thus, some school organized a band and students to have a parade through the streets to some church somewhere in Granada. The band would play festive music, and in the breaks a woman on a microphone recited devotional odes and declarations to the Virgin. It was beautiful in its own way, especially since I’ve never been religious, largely due to its peaceful nature that attracted many bystanders who walked in solidarity with the parade. 

It took me forever to get home because of the slow-moving parade.

We stopped in front of the Iglesia Merced. In the right side of the picture you can see  a bit of the facsimile the students were carrying. 

Finally, I also went through another difficult ordeal in trying to find a place that was still open that sold phone cards for the specific type of phone that I had. Stores were either closed or didn’t sell the type of card I needed; I finally found a store that did sell the cards about a block from my house. The same thing, I later found out, happened in my search for an internet café last night; the Internet cafe was right near my house and I made it all the way right in front of the cafe, without realizing I had accidentally found the place. Great. 

Goodnight!

A chinese restaurant that I pass everyday on the way to Spanish class. Maybe I'll try it out one day.

El día tercero

Today was another long day. I’m currently in an Internet Cafe (which took me about half an hour to find after getting some bad directions and getting lost in the dark), and it’s getting a bit late, so I’m worried about getting home safely. Luckily there are very cheap taxis I can take. Wish me luck! At least I’ll be spared the heckling (“China, china, chinita!”) that guys yell out sometimes as I’m walking in the street. Actually, the culture of “machísimo” isn’t too bad here, especially since Granada is a very tourist-y city and they see a lot of foreigners from all over the palce, including East Asia.

Café Euro

My delicious chilled Chai Tea.

I woke up at 6:45 (the rest of the household wakes up at 5 and starts school/work at 7) and went to four hours of Spanish class, 8-12, at the Palacio Mundial, a Spanish school on the Parque central in front of the yellow church. For breakfast, all I had was a bowl of fruit and a mug of tea flavored like strawberries...by 10 AM I was famished. I was worried that Nicaraguans ate very little, given how small the portions had been for dinner and for breakfast today, but my worries were assuaged when I came back for lunch and Juana had prepared “choxsi” (spelling I made up myself) that tasted a lot like Chinese stir fry with crunchy, dry noodle. 

Inside Nicaragua Mía, the english school I go to in the mornings from 8-12. 

At first, and I’m still feeling this way a bit, I felt like my home stay situation was not ideal. The family consists of one mother and her son, Edgar. Her sister  and the hired help, who are treated like a part of the family, are constantly around and their children are as well. However, during the day, Racquel is working and the children at school, so the only people around are the hired help. They tend to be shyer about starting conversation, so I have to initiate, rather awkwardly at that, conversation. I did ask Juana to bring me to the market later this week and help me pick up some movies and telenovelas. Unfortunately, Racqul does not watch telenovelas (she’s too busy, understandably so) but she was completely welcome to me watching in her room. 

Playing a game called "quien soy," which is a lot like twenty questions.

All of this is an effort to learn more Spanish, because my brain seems to freeze up as soon as I begin talking to people in Spanish. I can’t understand what they are saying, and the words freeze in my mouth as I try to utter a few basic sentences. My spanish teacher told me “for a chinese person you speak Spanish very well,” and I think I’m one of the more advanced speakers in the group of fifteen here. However, I still feel completely out of place when speaking in Spanish and people always have to dumb down things and repeat them slowly to me for me to catch on. Additionally, my home stay mother still uses vosotros to talk to me and Marisol, so I’m worried that we haven’t broken down barriers and really become closer to one another. Likewise, I still call her usted. 

I guess I’m just being way to judgmental on myself about what I should be accomplishing after only three days here. Fingers crossed for major improvement by the end of eight weeks!

After our Spanish lessons, I had two hours for a lunch at my homestay and then I spent the last hour at a wonderful Internet cafe, called Café Euro which caters to foreigners and sells wonderful cold drinks like Chai lattes and iced coffee. The wifi is free with a drink. The inside is also wonderfully decorated and contains a courtyard, open to the air. Best yet, it’s right next to my Spanish school in the afternoons, which I go to at 2 PM for orientations lessons. We go over things like what our missions, methods for achieving our goals, developmental work, etc. Pretty crucial, but boring things. At the internet cafe, some guy named Bosco struck up a conversation with me. Bosco had an informal office of sorts in the cafe, where he advertised and picked up customers for a transportation company he owns that also gives tours. Impressively, he spoke some German and English and could understand French and Italian. Because I’m Chinese, he asked me  if I knew how to play ping pong and ended up being more skillful than I was the game. By the end of the match, he was teaching me how to play in “el estilo chino” he had picked up on Youtube, instead of the other way around. 

The exoticness of Chinese people here is hilarious. Maria Jose, a woman who helps around the house, asked me if I had chopsticks and whether I could teach her how to use them. I guess I’ll just have to leverage the apparent uniqueness that I possess for engaging people in conversation and opening doors. 

Hasta luego!

La casa amarilla

May 21, 2012


Phew...what a long day. We got started at around 7:45. I had collapsed exhausted and sweaty, despite just taking a quick shower, into my bed at the hostel around 11 but kept waking up in the middle of night due to a) my tetchy biological clock b) the cat mewing outside c) weird monkey screeching noises that intermittently filtered through our window, and d) the unusually early sunrise. I was a little sad to leave the hostel, even after one night: 

A view of the central park in front of the yellow church, a popular tourist site that I pass every day on the way to Spanish class.

View from the second floor of the Spanish school, el Palacio Mundial.

La Iglesia Merced, still exhibiting burn marks from William Walker's revengeful exit from Granada. 

The hostel was beautiful at night. The open air courtyard became a gathering spot for all the students in the program, and we spent a few hours trading brain teasers and riddles, while a Spanish-speaking group next to us became steadily drunker and louder. We got our luggage sorted, and headed out for an amazing breakfast at a small cafe. The women serving us was incredibly nice and was spoke slowly, understanding that our listening comprehension wasn’t exactly up to par.

Beans with rice, scrambled eggs, maderas (fried, sweet plantains), a wonderful salad with avocado, and my favorite, a chilled glass of melon juice. I’m not sure how much sugar was added (Nicaraguans love their drinks extra sweet - mica was another favorite drink) but I went ahead and ordered two glasses. I think I’m constantly dehydrated here. 

Then came the boring part: about three hours of orientation information, which effectively meant sitting around in a stifling hot room in the English school across from the Cathedral. I’ve noted this before, but Nicaraguan houses (especially the fancier ones) all have very narrow or low-slung facades, which belie the vast spaces that they are entrances to. After entering the small wrought iron doors of the English school, we entered into a sumptuously decorated atrium with two stories and balconies (though if you looked the closer, the paint was chipped and uneven, with some of the woodwork looking in need of repair). 

The atrium of the school

After orientation, we went to a buffet type joint next door and then onto our Spanish evaluations a Nicaragua Mía, a small Spanish tutoring place a few blocks down. At this point it suddenly started pouring, and of course, I had packed both my umbrella and rain jacket in my suitcase. Still, the hustle and bustle on the streets (the Spanish tutoring place was right next to a busy market section) continued. The markets, our tutor warned us, are a prime place to be robbed and probably one of the most unsafe places in Granada, next to the lakeside of Lake Granada. Still, I highly enjoyed seeing the goods people were selling, how aggressive some people were (some man carrying a basket of cheese on his head, confronted each of us individually, asking “DO YOU WANT CHEESE”), and how savvy some others appeared to be (una cambista, the people who will exchange currencies for us, seemed to have near perfect English). 

Spanish evaluations began easy; our test asked us basic questions about verb tenses and vocabulary. I quickly realized however, that my Spanish oral and aural fluency were not quite up to the level that I desired, especially in comparison to a few of the people in my tutoring group. While I’m decent at writing, because it gives me a lot of time to think everything through, conversational Spanish seems beyond me at this point. I have to not only process what is being said to me (which is often beyond my concentration abilities; as soon as I lose focus, Spanish begins to sound like a lot of staccato-ed gibberish), formulate an intelligent response, and then fit that into the grammatical rules and vocabulary of Spanish. At this point, I’m despairing of the fact that I’ll ever be fluent in Spanish. I can’t even understand half of what my home stay mother is saying to me! 

My home stay is super nice, however. Unfortunately, I’m not very close to the home stays of other people, but the house I’m staying in is very nice compared to the average standard of living. My home stay mother is named Racquel and her two small boys are absolutely adorable. Horacio is the older one, I think, and he just snuck around a lot, making faces and coughing. Edgar is in the second grade and SO CUTE AND CHUBBY. We played soccer and volleyball for quite a bit, during which I slipped and fell on my butt (“nalgas,” or buttocks, as Edgar taught me). The small gifts I had brought for the family were seemingly well received. The house is a wonderful bright yellow color and quite large. I have my own room with a fan, and the house is furnished rather nicely. Interestingly, all Nicaraguan homes and buildings are open air. The center of the house is always an open air courtyard, usually with a garden, around which the rest of the rooms are oriented. Surprisingly, Nicaraguans are able to keep their houses very clean and tidy despite being open to the elements. I told my home stay mother that the layout of the house reminded me a lot of the open air atriums in Roman villas...I hope that came across as a compliment. 

Oh, there was also (surprisingly) another study abroad girl named Marisol who is staying here, though for how long I don’t know. She’s from Quebec, speaks French, but can understand English. We’ve done a pretty good job of conversing in Spanish instead of being tempted by our mutually more familiar of English. She’s going to teach at the local school and spent the past few days in San Juan del Sur, a beachside city, where she was teaching in a surf camp. 

A typical street, on the way to spanish classes.

My first impression of the house was one of business. Racquel has hired help, but they seem to be part of the family. Grace (I’m not sure what her role is) and her mother were here, and a few aunts and cousins also stopped by. I had an interesting dinner of fried cornmeal tortilla with bean paste and cheese, accompanied by squeezed mango juice, and then we were off to a concert being held at the neighborhood school (one of around thirty, I’m told). The singing was, frankly, terrible, and no one really seemed to be paying attention. I was fascinated by the complete lack of separation of church and state. The entire concert was dedicated to the Virgin Mary, who the largely Christian Nicaraguans consider a saint. At one end of the open air courtyard in the middle of the school was a huge image of the Virgin, on whose altar each grade placed red roses after they finished singing. 

Now I’m back here, typing away. Some things that I’ve observed about myself today: it’s okay to be pretty aggressive and forthright when interacting with people. However, I’ve found myself confounded by the Spanish spoken here. As I’ve said before, I’ve lost hope of achieving fluency, simply because of how hard it is even to comprehend what is being said, very slowly and patiently I might add, to me. In addition, I worry that I’m too shy, that I don’t engage or take on every opportunity to interact with my home stay family or that I’m not as curious as I should be. Then again, too much worrying with only create self-fulfilling prophecies. Hasta mañana!