We Live So Well So Long

Alrrriiiight.

Apologies for the length of time it’s taken me to post this entry, but it’s been an insane few weeks and I haven’t had much time to sit down and write. Also, I’m lazy.

Where to begin?

It’s been a weird few weeks health-wise. Two weeks ago, I had a late-night visit to a health clinic as the result of a fall I took a few days prior. Truthfully, it’s not even a cool story. I was playing with the five-year-old boy next door and tripped over my flip-flop. I took one of those freak falls and received a nice black eye, a few scratches, and some serious muscle spasms. I’m fine now, thankfully, but I’m just going to continue to practice walking and maybe stay away from five-year-olds for awhile? I also had the flu a few days ago. It sucked. It always sucks to be sick, but it sucks even more when it’s dark out (why is everything more dramatic at night?) and you’re alone in a foreign country. I had to reassure myself that it wasn’t meningitis, or typhoid, or testicular cancer. A few sleepless nights and lots of water later and I’m back to normal. But boy, I’m never taking good health for granted ever again.

Maddie and I ran into some American (!) boys the other day. I felt like a Nicaraguan because I seriously couldn’t stop staring at them. I mean, we really do stick out here...kind of like the way somebody in a Spiderman costume would stick out in church. One of the guys heard us speaking English and turned around (in the middle of the road) and was like, ENGLISH! We stopped and talked to them for a few minutes. They were both around our age and they’re Mormons and stationed here for two years (!!) Oh, and get this: they can only call their parents twice a year. Ah!! I don’t think I could do that. They can at least email friends once a week, but still. Twice a year? No, thanks. Anyway, it was nice talking to fellow English-speakers. It’s such a relaxing thing to be able to communicate effortlessly with someone else. Like good health, I’m never taking communication for granted either.

That’s the thing about language. It’s so freakin’ hard when you have to start from square one. It’s like learning grammar and spelling and pronunciation all over again, just with different rules and exceptions and inflictions. I mean, English grammar is a living nightmare for me. I don’t even know when to properly use commas…and then you get into all this other language business…it seems beyond the realm of my ability. Agh. I know it’s going to be an uphill battle, but one I think is worth fighting. I have a new respect for people who are trying to learn the English language...or any language for that matter, especially now that I understand how hard it is.


On to TV. I personally am not a huge fan of the ol’ boob tube. I mean, I can’t lie, I’ve been known to occasionally veg out in front of Family Guy or Eli Stone or Planet Earth (and okay, sometimes Spongebob—that show is actually really funny), but I’ve never been able to waste a whole day watching TV. But here… it’s different. I’ve developed this strange need to watch American TV. The TV in my house has a few channels in English (when the cable is working, that is) so sometimes I indulge in an episode of Friends or 90210 or CSI. I mean, I would never do that at home. But here, I can’t help it. I think maybe because watching American television and hearing people talk in English is a comfort or maybe because I’ve been kind of deprived of it I need it that much more. Or both. It’s weird, I know. Don’t judge. Oh, and the other thing... boy do the Latin American women love their novellas. Novellas are soap operas and everyone, I mean everyone, watches them. Virtually everyday all of the women in the house gather together in the same room and watch Jose declare his undying love to Maria in the morning, and then Jorge break up with Rosa in the afternoon. I mean, I don’t even speak the language but I can tell what’s going on because let me tell you, United States or Nicaragua, soap operas are soap operas. But for some reason the soap operas here just seem so much more dramatic. Maybe it’s the language.
The kids’ shows are all in Spanish (obviously) which has proven to be a good way for me to practice the language, mainly because cartoon characters have to talk slower and use less-complicated words so kids can understand them. I feel like a five year old. But let me tell you, if you thought Hannah Montana was bad in English, then imagine what it’s like in Spanish. Ugh. I also read the subtitles on some of the channels. I’m learning a lot that way. Some things get lost in translation, but I’m starting to understand concepts and conjugation. Which is good. I feel like there may be hope for me, after all.

I’ve also discovered I’m going through a withdrawal stage. It’s more of an ongoing thing than a stage, really, but I’m really craving the strangest things. Like American TV. And brewed coffee. And driving. And broccoli. And pastries. And restaurants. But I’ve discovered some new favorites. Like Tang. Yes, Tang. Like the #1 drink from 1999. It’s soooooo good. It’s like Crystal Light only with fifty times more flavor and fifty times more sugar. And they have pretty much every flavor. Fresa (Strawberry). Poncha de Frutas (Fruit Punch). Naranja (Orange). Durazno (Peach), which is my personal favorite this week. It tastes like melted peach rings. Oh. My. Gosh. They also have really good crackers (galletas), and fruit drinks (fresco), and these things called picos. They’re like sugar donuts only better because they’re Nicaraguan and Nicaraguans could trump Southerners in deep-fried foods any day. They also have a fruit called plantaina. It looks identical to a banana, just bigger and green but it tastes absolutely nothing like a banana. Nicaraguans can prepare it a million different ways. Fried. Raw. Smashed. Shaved. Chunked. Chopped. They’re so good. There’s really no way to describe how it tastes…America doesn’t really have a food equivalent to it. It’s purely a Latin American thing.

Ah, I feel like there’s always so much to say but never enough time or energy to fit it all in. I still have to tell you about cultural things. The guys. The girls. The food (of course). My host family. The Project. School. The kids. Cast of Characters. Orange Juice. Guitar songs. Ah!! There will be more to come, I promise. So stay tuned!

Stay blessed, everyone!!!

Laziness

So, I just wanted to say that I had a post all written out and saved to my flash disc, but then I left my flash disc at my house so therefore...I have no post.


BUT!
Don't give up on me. I will post it here this week. I promised myself I would so I have to, plus I just figured out how to use the apostrophe key (!) so who knows how many future posts that will unleash.

There's more to come. I promise!

So for the time being, here's a surplus of apostrophes. Just because I can.

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Stay blessed, everyone!

The Ninth Elegy

Alllriiight. So this is part one of my post. I am having trouble staying focused long enough to write a full post and I feel like this one is long enough...for now. The second part will follow, I promise. Here goes.

I found this in one of my old notebooks that I had brought along with me. It was by accident that I came across this poem, but when I read it I felt like I was reading it at the perfect time and because I needed here. Now. In this place. It's an elegy by the poet Rainer Maria Rilke (who, by that name I thought for sure was a woman....nope.) I'm starting in the jump into the middle of the poem here, but it reads this....

Oh, not because happiness exists, that too-hasty profit snatched from approaching loss. But because being here is so much, because everything here apparently needs us, this fleeting world, which in some strange way keeps calling to us. Us, the most fleeting of all. And so we keep on going and try to realize it, this earth, try to hold it in our simple hands, in our overcrowded eyes, and in our speechless hearts. We try to become it. And give it to whom? We'd rather keep all of it forever... Ah, but what can we take along into that other realm? Not the power to see that we've learned so slowly here, and nothing that's happened here. Nothing. And so, the pain and above all, the hard work of living, the long experience of love-- those purely unspeakable things. For the wanderer doesn't bring a handful of that unutterable earth from the mountainside down to the valley. This is the time for what can be said. Here is its country. Speak and testify. The things we can live with are falling away more than ever, replaced by an act without symbol. Our heart survives between hammers, just as the tongue between the teeth is still able to praise. Look, I'm alive. On what? Neither childhood nor the future grows less...More being than I'll ever need springs up in my heart.

I think that pretty much says it all.

It is by the grace of God that I have found this magical place, and I truly believe that I need this place more than it needs me.

I've been reflecting a lot on these past two weeks. Fourteen days, by most standards, isn't that long. But so much has changed in my life. I've changed, too. And I don't think you have to be Angelina Jolie and have lots of money to make the world a better place. Nor do you have to be Superman and wear a cape in order to do good things. You can just be who you are, whoever that is, and the only requirement is that you have a desire to let this world change you. I don't want to save the world. I just want to make it a better place.

Okay, class over. That's it. Enough motivation for one day.

I Bless the Rains Down In Africa

Okay, first of all, I just want to express my gratitude and love for everyone that reads and comments on this blog. You guys are amazing, and I know I wouldnt be able to do what Im doing without your love and support. It is always so wonderful to read your comments and thoughts. Thank you thank you thank you! I love you guys!

Well, I will try to avoid making this entire blog about food like I did in the last one (sorry about that...) but food really is a big thing here. At least for me. Maybe its because Im American and we tend to revolve our lives around food. The fruit here is amazing and Im told I will be blown away by the mangoes when the mango season starts in Feb. I. Cant. Wait.
Over the past weekend, Maddie and Isaac and I made a trip to the Managua mall. It was waaay cool. I think mainly it was just kind of a solace to be in an pretty organized, somewhat air-conditioned building after walking through chaotic markets in 80 degree weather. The stores were kind of similar to American stores (they have cell phone places, coffee places, bookstores, dept. stores, etc.) except for the store called Mens Fashion, which only sold Womens clothing. Hmmm. Im still trying to translate the culture here, but Im learning some things just are the way they are. For lunch, I had two slices of pepperoni pizza. Im telling you this because OH.MY.GOSH. Pizza has never tasted so good. Yeah, It wasnt Lenas or Wegmans pizza (oh, how i miss that) but it was pizza nonetheless. A taste of home. Its funny, the things that remind us of home when we are miles away. Nothing like pizza to cure temporary homesickness.
Thats another thing. Homesickness. There are periods where I do feel homesick, but then I realize that Im only here for five-ish more months and when I get home Im going to be homesick for this place so its all about being right here, right now, living in this very moment in this incredible place.

On a completely random (kind of) note, I met another American at the Project yesterday. His name is Keith and hes from Cincinnati. His wife is a nurse and she is a part of an organization called Brendas House of Hope, which specializes in taking care of kids with disabilities through physical therapy and other activites. Way cool. There is definitely a need for that kind of thing down here, especially since many families dont have the means for medical attention. Keith isnt a medical guy, so he visits the Project and helps out with various tasks. In July, hes taking a youth group to Chacocente to help paint a wall in the school. Its really neat to see people from all over come to this Project, whether they are just passing through or staying. From my experience, everyone Ive talked to or heard about thats been associated with the Project in one aspect or another agrees that this is, in fact, a magical place. I know that I am falling in love with this country.

On another completely random note, my next door neighbors really like American music. And the really good stuff, too, like Toto, and Tarzan Boy, and Men at Work. Its kind of fun to hear 80s music in Nicaragua. But this place has its own unique soundtrack, too. Its like you shut one radio off just to hear another song playing somewhere else. Walking through the streets is like flippinig stations on a radio. And everything here is magnified. There is almost always noise. Cars honk at everything. People play their music loud enough for Austrailians to hear. Whistles. Shouting. Its great. Im also learning how to play the guitar. Abuelito (my host grandpa) plays with his grandson Luís sometimes. Abuelito taught me how to play Happy Birthday and Luís is teaching me how to play Dust in the Wind.

Theres almost always something to do here and when there isnt, then down time is okay too. Im laerning that the concept of time is a little different here than in the States. Ten minutes can mean an hour and later is VERY relative. Its a culture thing, though. Things just move slower down here and maybe I can learn something from that...

Anyway, its dinner time and Im hungry and I have a lot more verses of Dust in the Wind to learn.

Ill post pictures here this weekend. I promise!

More to come....

A Sunburned Country

So, I've finally passed the one week mark of being in Nicaragua. It has been such a crazy week that it feels more like lots and lots of weeks piled into one. Saying goodbye to my parents in the airport felt like years ago (well, it was 2008) and I can't believe it's already the 10th.Nicaragua is, for lack of a better word, amazing. I'm still in the adjustment phase where nothing seems easy and everything seems foreign, but I've been told that's normal. Today, I went over to Maddie's house. She's the other volunteer here and she's staying in a town called Sabana Grande, which lies just on the outskirts of Managua. There's a lot to do here. On our walk from the bus stop today we stopped at Eskimo Ice Cream and I got a jumbo cone because I have been deprived of ice cream since Christmas. It tasted a little different, but ice cream is ice cream right? I may have to stop and get another cone on my way back to Tipitapa tomorrow.
The food here is pretty good. Rice and beans are a staple at almost every meal, and they also have plantains. Plantains look like bananas but don't taste anything like bananas. They are pretty good, though. They grow a lot of foods here. Bananas. Plantains. Pineapple. Watermelon. Peanuts. All the good stuff. I have to admit that I've been craving some American food, like pizza. Mac and cheese. Even yogurt. Things I took for granted in the States.
Anyway, I'll report more here later this week and I promise I'll write about more than just the food and weather. I'm also hoping to download some pictures on here pretty soon. Until then....

Mike Piazza

Oh.My.Gosh.

So Ive finally made it to Nicaragua. This country is amazing! Today, its about 80 degrees with blue skies and sun. Im dying! Right now, Im in a cyber cafe in Tipitapa and I cant find the apostrophe key on this keyboard. It very weird. Anyway, theres a lot to say here and Im not sure I can remember everything right now. Im living with a guy named Xavier and his family in the village of Tipitapa. Xavier is the director of the school @ Chacocente and he lives with his mom and dad, brother, and three nieces. Its like a full-time party at his house. There are always tons of people there. Oh, and did I mention that no one in his family (except Xavier) speaks English? No one. It is really hard to communicate with them, but Im learning words and phrases pretty quickly. I have no choice! In the meantime, we have resigned ourselves to universal sign language. Luisa, the mom, just points to the food and shrugs, which is her way of asking me what Id like to eat. Xaviers dad, whose name I cant remember right now but is referred to by his family as abuelito, is hysterically funny. Hes skinny and older and tan and always smiling. He talks really fast (they all do!) and he mumbles, which makes it really hard to understand. Not to mention its all in rapid-fire Spanish. But that doesnt stop him from talking to me. When I arrived on New Years Eve (Año Nuevo) he talked to me for, I swear, half an hour. And all I could do was nod. >Finally, someone told me he was asking how to say things in English. I taught him midnight (medianoche) and daughter (hija). He just giggled at me. He appears at the most random times, too. Like, Ill be sitting in my room reading a book and Ill look up and hes there. Standing in my doorway. Peeking his little head around the corner smiling. Its really funy. And then he starts talking and the rest is history. We seem to have found common ground with baseball. He loves the Yankees ( I try not to judge him for that) and Im partial to the Mets. So baseball is usually the topic of conversation. On New Years Eve, he said the word Yankee, which was the only word I could understand, and then said it was his equipo favorito de Nueve York (his favorite NY team). His son said You know the Mets (which is the only English I have heard him speak before and since) so I ran into my room and brought out my Mets shirt. Abuelito started giggling and took the shirt. Mike Piazza! He said. I know him! I know him! Then he made a gesture of swinging a bat and we both laughed for five minutes. Its fun here. Sometimes it can get frustrating because the language can be such a barrier, but I have Xavier. And Omar. Omar is awesome. Hes the guy in charge of delegation for the Project and hes really nice. He speaks perfect English so its nice to able to speak with him when I can. He lives a few blocks from Xavier so I see him alot. Yesterday, Omar and Xavier gave me a tour of the Project. Its about a twenty minute drive (by car- forty by bus) and it consists of a school, a main building, and eight houses. Its a really cool place. School is out of session now (its their summer break) so the place was pretty empty. Omar took me to some of the houses where families from the Project live. They used to live in the dump, so these houses are like heaven. They were all really nice. They let us into their houses, introduced me to their kids, and one woman even gave me a papaya. Nicaragua really is a magical place and Chacocente is no exception. Omar best described it as a place of Gods Peace and if youre quiet, you can hear it...the peacefulness. And its true. After the tour, Omar took me to his house, where I got to meet his family. He has a wife, Maria, and a son, Omar Steven. They are such a friendly family. His wife cooked for me, and Steven played with my hair and kept hugging me. Hes so cute! Omar is a very nice guy and I love being able to spend time with him. The people here are all so friendly! Anyway, Ill write more later. My time on the computer is running out and I still need to try to find the apostrophe key.

Buenos dias, todo el mundo!

The Beginning

So, it's only taken me about 4 hours (and counting...) to figure out how this whole blog thing works. Now, no one will ever accuse me of being a technology wiz and this whole online journal thing only furthers the point. I started this blog to document my time spent down in Central America on a long-term mission work experience. I've also set up this blog in the hopes that it will be a good way of staying in touch with family and friends back in the States and around the world through entries, pictures, updates, etc. It will be my story, the only way I know how to tell it...through my eyes. I'll be leaving December 31st to spend six months in Nicaragua working with Project Chacocente. You can check out the site here: www.outofthedump.org. I stumbled upon Chacocente through my church (Hurlbut UMC) which became involved in Chacocente a few years ago and members of our congregation make annual trips down there to volunteer. I decided to take a semester off and volunteer, too. And a year later... here I am.

On a more season-related note, my pastor gave a sermon today on the birth of Christ. It's a story I've heard thousands of times. The King of Kings born in a hay-filled manger in the presence of animals and awe-filled shepherds. But as I listened, for maybe the 1,001 time, it occured to me how truly miraculous the Christmas story is. It's like hearing a joke that you've heard a thousand times, and then you hear it one more time and you suddenly remember why you liked it in the first place. I mean, as if the birth of the Son of God in a stuffy and crowded manger isn't phenomenal enough, you have the story of Joseph and Mary. Joseph, the faithful and probably slight confused husband. And Mary, the faithful follower, the child-bearing virgin, the mother of the Son of God, probably a little confused and a little annoyed, riding on the back of a donkey, pregnant and uncomfortable and being told time after time "Sorry, there's no room here." When the angel told her she was bearing the Son of God and to not be afraid, she just nodded and trusted in God's plan. She never complained. She just did it. And in the long, difficult, ridicule-ridden, and probably uncomfortable months following, she never questioned God's authority. She just let God lead and followed faithfully. She just said, "Okay." She left it up to God, and I can't help but think maybe there's a lesson in this for all of us. I know there is for me and it's never been so relevant because now God is calling me to step forward, onto paths unknown, and all he's asking from me is to just trust Him. To just say "Okay." To Fear Not. It's harder than it sounds, but I know it'll be okay. I'm not sure what's going to happen tomorrow, or in the days and weeks to come, but God has already taken care of it. And for me, that's enough.

Okay, okay. I'll get off my high horse now. I don't need to tell you the story. You've heard it a thousand different times, too. But my prayer for you, in this crazy, chaotic, and noise-filled season, is that you find the miracle in the story. The peace among the noise. The gift that we have been given, yet again, in the birth of Christ. I know times have been a little harder lately, with the state of the economy and the fast-paced world we live in, but it's in times like these, when faith is a little harder to keep, that we must remember to Fear Not. I hope this Christmas season find you relaxed, surrounded by loved ones, and blessed. I know that's what I am.

Now, I believe I've been procrastinating long enough. I've even put off procrastinating, which just goes to show you how lazy I am. I have about eight loads of laundry to do and a whole lot of packing left. I also get to hear my mom ask, for maybe the 23rd time this week, "Now, are you sure you have everything?"

I'm sitting here at my computer, listening to something clank around in the dryer and watching the snow fall silently and gracefully out of the winter. It's cold outside. And windy, too. And it's hard to imagine that in a little more than a week I will be wearing shorts and a t-shirt in 80 degree weather. My world is about to flip upside down, in ways both exciting and scary, and I can't wait. But for now, I think I'll just go downstairs, help mom make some cookies, listen to Amy Grant, and watch the snow fall.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

"And lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age." Matthew 28: 20