Today I had a missed call on my phone from a number I didn't recognize. I was feeling lucky so I decided to call it back. After three rings, I hung up. The number called back. It was a young guy. Latino (go figure).
I asked who it was and he told me a name I had never heard before and then said 'You called?' so I told him I only called because HE had called and he says very kindly 'Disculpa amor numero equivocado pero prospero año nuevo' so I laughed and wished him the same.
I thought that was nice.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
Transportation
Feet: Take you to the bus, to a taxi, to the venta, to church, to buy fresh juice, to the drug house on the corner, to your family two blocks away, to the market; better for shorter distances
Bike: Good for one, two, or three people going shorter distances; babies accepted
Caponera: Good for one to seven or eight people, shorter distances
Motorcycle: Suits a single person or a family of four; infants are OK, you can keep them in the middle or put baby in front, dad in the middle and have mom hold the baby from the back; helmets are optional and when taking them, you can choose to put it on fully, or just go halvsies, resting it on your forehead; for a more adventurous ride, just hold the helmet as you ride; avoid riding at night
Taxi: Good for one to eight or nine people; do not take taxis after 8pm unless it's a taxista you know; don't be alarmed when the taxi stops to pick up other passengers after you've begun your ride, this is normal and acceptable (during daylight hours)
Microbus: Lower the price BEFORE getting on the bus if you plan to get off before the final destination; good for longer distances (1-3 hours)
Bus: Expect a school bus (Thanks to Webster and Boone County schools, among others); find an ounce of comfort and confianza in the buses that have Bible verses painted all over the inside roof; bus racing can happen, just hold on; good for up to 80 people or so- anticipate your bus stop and be prepared the squeeze through the people in the aisle to get off the bus; remember that when the bus is packed, the driver can't see you getting off from the back door, so shout SUAVE when he shuts the door on you by accident; good for short or long distances (5 minutes to 4 hours); never take the 118
Bike: Good for one, two, or three people going shorter distances; babies accepted
Caponera: Good for one to seven or eight people, shorter distances
Motorcycle: Suits a single person or a family of four; infants are OK, you can keep them in the middle or put baby in front, dad in the middle and have mom hold the baby from the back; helmets are optional and when taking them, you can choose to put it on fully, or just go halvsies, resting it on your forehead; for a more adventurous ride, just hold the helmet as you ride; avoid riding at night
Taxi: Good for one to eight or nine people; do not take taxis after 8pm unless it's a taxista you know; don't be alarmed when the taxi stops to pick up other passengers after you've begun your ride, this is normal and acceptable (during daylight hours)
Microbus: Lower the price BEFORE getting on the bus if you plan to get off before the final destination; good for longer distances (1-3 hours)
Bus: Expect a school bus (Thanks to Webster and Boone County schools, among others); find an ounce of comfort and confianza in the buses that have Bible verses painted all over the inside roof; bus racing can happen, just hold on; good for up to 80 people or so- anticipate your bus stop and be prepared the squeeze through the people in the aisle to get off the bus; remember that when the bus is packed, the driver can't see you getting off from the back door, so shout SUAVE when he shuts the door on you by accident; good for short or long distances (5 minutes to 4 hours); never take the 118
Monday, December 13, 2010
Telenovelas
The above picture is of my favorite three characters!
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Cultural Experiences
Friday:
Go from a semi-productive day of work to the mall with Sandy. Meet up with Violeta. Drink cappuccino and eat mini-pecan pies. Drop Sandy off at bus stop. Call Violeta's friend, who is to arrive in 20 minutes with a French friend. Wait 50 minutes. Friends arrive, leave to go home to a relaxing evening to watch my novela. Change my mind, buy some gum, go back into mall to same coffee shop. French guy and I listen to Violeta and friend converse. Say a few novedades. Time to leave. Wait for taxi, talk to French guy, who turns out to be Italian. Arrive home to watch last ten minutes of my novela. Watch 'Furry Vengeance' with Violeta, brother, brother's girlfriend. Go to bed.
Saturday:
Sleep in. Decide not to go to market with brother and sister. Regret decision. Squeeze some fresh juice for lunch. Shower. Leave house at ten thirty to go to cultural center for end of year closing ceremony which starts at ten. Walk ten blocks to bus stop, where no buses are passing. Construction. Walk ten more blocks to bus stop. Watch my bus pass three times before I manage to get on. Get on the right bus, which goes the wrong way. Ask to get off, bus driver all of a sudden doesn't speak Spanish. Retrace steps, get lost. Ask for directions. Get to cultural center as friend is beginning performance. Sigh of relief. Meet up with said friend, take picture in her cultural getup. Buy fresco de cacao which costs too much and tastes bad. Drink it all, eat ice. Wait ten minutes to get change after paying for bad drink. Catch up with friend. Watch second performance. Buy handmade earrings. Leave cultural center. Arrive home, change to go to graduation of an uncle which starts at three. Grab camera, leave at three fifteen. Arrive at four pm, graduation still has not started. Become bored, start taking random pictures of shoes and strangers and shoes of strangers. Watch graduation and take more pictures. Get ready to leave. Unwillingly take picture with random guy who asked for a picture with me as a recuerdo. Regret decision. Go with sisters to random restaurant to visit random friend of Nancy who was celebrating his birthday. Get invited to a drink. Partake. Listen to mariachi band which arrives to play five or six songs for cumpleañero. Leave restaurant. Return home. [Hole in schedule.] Go to bed at three thirty in the morning, tired.
Sunday:
Sleep in, go to church. Listen to six year old boy sing worship song in front of congregation, with no shame. Heart is touched. 'Teach' Sunday school. Go home. Enjoy fish soup Nancy made. Sleep for two hours. Call Katie, talk for forty five minutes. Go home, eat tajadas con queso with a sabroso potato patty. Talk to mom for two hours, while watching Ravens/steelers game. Call T, no answer. Call Monica, no answer. Call Katy, no answer. Feel defeated. Call T again, laugh it up. Call Katy, share a silly story, call cuts off. Go to bed.
Go from a semi-productive day of work to the mall with Sandy. Meet up with Violeta. Drink cappuccino and eat mini-pecan pies. Drop Sandy off at bus stop. Call Violeta's friend, who is to arrive in 20 minutes with a French friend. Wait 50 minutes. Friends arrive, leave to go home to a relaxing evening to watch my novela. Change my mind, buy some gum, go back into mall to same coffee shop. French guy and I listen to Violeta and friend converse. Say a few novedades. Time to leave. Wait for taxi, talk to French guy, who turns out to be Italian. Arrive home to watch last ten minutes of my novela. Watch 'Furry Vengeance' with Violeta, brother, brother's girlfriend. Go to bed.
Saturday:
Sleep in. Decide not to go to market with brother and sister. Regret decision. Squeeze some fresh juice for lunch. Shower. Leave house at ten thirty to go to cultural center for end of year closing ceremony which starts at ten. Walk ten blocks to bus stop, where no buses are passing. Construction. Walk ten more blocks to bus stop. Watch my bus pass three times before I manage to get on. Get on the right bus, which goes the wrong way. Ask to get off, bus driver all of a sudden doesn't speak Spanish. Retrace steps, get lost. Ask for directions. Get to cultural center as friend is beginning performance. Sigh of relief. Meet up with said friend, take picture in her cultural getup. Buy fresco de cacao which costs too much and tastes bad. Drink it all, eat ice. Wait ten minutes to get change after paying for bad drink. Catch up with friend. Watch second performance. Buy handmade earrings. Leave cultural center. Arrive home, change to go to graduation of an uncle which starts at three. Grab camera, leave at three fifteen. Arrive at four pm, graduation still has not started. Become bored, start taking random pictures of shoes and strangers and shoes of strangers. Watch graduation and take more pictures. Get ready to leave. Unwillingly take picture with random guy who asked for a picture with me as a recuerdo. Regret decision. Go with sisters to random restaurant to visit random friend of Nancy who was celebrating his birthday. Get invited to a drink. Partake. Listen to mariachi band which arrives to play five or six songs for cumpleañero. Leave restaurant. Return home. [Hole in schedule.] Go to bed at three thirty in the morning, tired.
Sunday:
Sleep in, go to church. Listen to six year old boy sing worship song in front of congregation, with no shame. Heart is touched. 'Teach' Sunday school. Go home. Enjoy fish soup Nancy made. Sleep for two hours. Call Katie, talk for forty five minutes. Go home, eat tajadas con queso with a sabroso potato patty. Talk to mom for two hours, while watching Ravens/steelers game. Call T, no answer. Call Monica, no answer. Call Katy, no answer. Feel defeated. Call T again, laugh it up. Call Katy, share a silly story, call cuts off. Go to bed.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Learning to be small
My work schedule here is 7am to 3pm Monday to Friday. When three o’clock rolls around, even though I’d like to leave, I usually wait for someone else to be ready to walk with me to the bus stop. I started doing this because a friend of mine at work asked me why I always left by myself; she said it made me seem distant or stand-offish. She was one of my few friends at the school at the time, so in order to build rapport with my other coworkers I decided to stick around a little bit longer to leave with them.
When we finally leave, I find myself painfully trying to walk as slow as everyone else. Maybe it’s just my height in comparison to most people here, but the pace seems unnatural. (Although as Monica pointed out to me, due to the heat, not many people want to work up a sweat on the way home.) So not only does it bother me to leave late, but then to walk slowly just wears on my patience. Many people know that I walk fast (even when compared to people my own height), which I like to blame on my older sisters. When we were younger we used to walk to the pool, the post office, church, Santoni’s, with Leanne in front, me in the middle, Sara in the back. In order to keep up with Leanne and not get trampled by long-legs Sara, I had to keep it pretty brisk. Anyhow, whatever the reason, my tendency to walk fast has the possibility of rubbing off the wrong way on someone, so I consciously try to change it.
When I think about what my rush is, I realize I have no idea. I usually don’t have anywhere to be, and leaving at three gives me plenty of time to get home before dark, so why do I lose my patience? I usually make my culture the scapegoat, always telling people (or convincing myself), ‘Bueno, mi cultura es diferente…’ It's kind of like this country song by Alabama that I used to sing obsessively:
Sometimes I think that what it really boils down to is self-centeredness. Perhaps the reason that I am so impatient is just because the world isn’t aware of my agenda. I remember from my psych class in high school a drawing that our teacher showed us of a person with each part of the body drawn in proportion to the amount of feeling sensors in that area. (Below, image from wisdomquarterly.blogspot.com)
I think that if someone were to draw me to scale with the things or people that are important in my life, according to amount of importance, you might see a drawing of, well, just me.
All of this reminds me of a song I learned here from the MCC team, sung by Jaime Murrel:
Yo quiero más de ti
Y habitar en tu presencia...
Menguar para que crezcas tú, y cada día seré
más como tú.
Quebranta mi corazón.
Quebranta mi vida
Te entrego mi voluntad a ti.
Todo lo que soy señor
Todo cuanto tengo es tuyo
Yo quiero menguar para que crezcas tú.
I want more of you,
To dwell in your presence.
Decrease myself so that you may increase,
And every day I’ll be more like you
Break my heart, shatter my soul
I give you my will
Everything that I am God,
Everything that I have is yours
I want to decrease that you might increase
(Sorry, it doesn't sing quite as pretty in English)
It also brings to mind Matthew 16:24: “Then Jesus said to his disciples, ‘If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.’” This verse is beautiful because it captures two very important ideas, the first being the notion that we must die to ourselves to follow Christ, putting aside our desires, our material items, our emotions, etc. If we truly deny ourselves, all we have left is Christ, causing us to depend on him. This leads to the second idea behind the verse (in my opinion) - if we can accomplish this-truly denying ourselves- then we are better able to serve others, which Christ called us to do.
I have a friend that tells me every once in a while, ‘Christa, not everything is about you…’ (a very helpful reminder). I think that if I could remember this on the daily, it would deepen my relationship with Jesus Christ and with others around me.
When we finally leave, I find myself painfully trying to walk as slow as everyone else. Maybe it’s just my height in comparison to most people here, but the pace seems unnatural. (Although as Monica pointed out to me, due to the heat, not many people want to work up a sweat on the way home.) So not only does it bother me to leave late, but then to walk slowly just wears on my patience. Many people know that I walk fast (even when compared to people my own height), which I like to blame on my older sisters. When we were younger we used to walk to the pool, the post office, church, Santoni’s, with Leanne in front, me in the middle, Sara in the back. In order to keep up with Leanne and not get trampled by long-legs Sara, I had to keep it pretty brisk. Anyhow, whatever the reason, my tendency to walk fast has the possibility of rubbing off the wrong way on someone, so I consciously try to change it.
When I think about what my rush is, I realize I have no idea. I usually don’t have anywhere to be, and leaving at three gives me plenty of time to get home before dark, so why do I lose my patience? I usually make my culture the scapegoat, always telling people (or convincing myself), ‘Bueno, mi cultura es diferente…’ It's kind of like this country song by Alabama that I used to sing obsessively:
I'm in a hurry to get things done
Oh I rush and rush until life's no fun
All I really gotta do is live and die
But I'm in a hurry and don't know why
Oh I rush and rush until life's no fun
All I really gotta do is live and die
But I'm in a hurry and don't know why
Sometimes I think that what it really boils down to is self-centeredness. Perhaps the reason that I am so impatient is just because the world isn’t aware of my agenda. I remember from my psych class in high school a drawing that our teacher showed us of a person with each part of the body drawn in proportion to the amount of feeling sensors in that area. (Below, image from wisdomquarterly.blogspot.com)
I think that if someone were to draw me to scale with the things or people that are important in my life, according to amount of importance, you might see a drawing of, well, just me.
All of this reminds me of a song I learned here from the MCC team, sung by Jaime Murrel:
Yo quiero más de ti
Y habitar en tu presencia...
Menguar para que crezcas tú, y cada día seré
más como tú.
Quebranta mi corazón.
Quebranta mi vida
Te entrego mi voluntad a ti.
Todo lo que soy señor
Todo cuanto tengo es tuyo
Yo quiero menguar para que crezcas tú.
I want more of you,
To dwell in your presence.
Decrease myself so that you may increase,
And every day I’ll be more like you
Break my heart, shatter my soul
I give you my will
Everything that I am God,
Everything that I have is yours
I want to decrease that you might increase
(Sorry, it doesn't sing quite as pretty in English)
It also brings to mind Matthew 16:24: “Then Jesus said to his disciples, ‘If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.’” This verse is beautiful because it captures two very important ideas, the first being the notion that we must die to ourselves to follow Christ, putting aside our desires, our material items, our emotions, etc. If we truly deny ourselves, all we have left is Christ, causing us to depend on him. This leads to the second idea behind the verse (in my opinion) - if we can accomplish this-truly denying ourselves- then we are better able to serve others, which Christ called us to do.
I have a friend that tells me every once in a while, ‘Christa, not everything is about you…’ (a very helpful reminder). I think that if I could remember this on the daily, it would deepen my relationship with Jesus Christ and with others around me.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Birthday a la Nicaragua
My brother’s 23rd birthday was Friday, giving me my first experience of a Nica birthday. We started celebrating at 5:30 am by playing at max volume a CD with about 10 different versions of the Nicaraguan birthday song (no, it’s not your typical ‘Happy Birthday’ tune). Keep in mind that the houses here share walls, so anything above the level of normal conversation can be heard by the neighbors. The loud music lets the world know that, hey, today is someone’s birthday.
When I left the house at 6:30 to go to work, I hadn’t even seen my brother yet, but I heard him talking on the phone to people who were calling with their happy birthday wishes. (Special note: Please call me on my birthday, but not at 6am.)
The tradition here is to prepare a big cena for all the guests. Violeta’s aunt made tajadas con pollo (thinly sliced platano, then fried, served with chicken). Violeta and I made the ensalada to go along with it (cabbage with tomato, vinegar, and salt). I made some cookies for dessert and we bought some soda for the guests. It was really a large amount of food and I lament not having taken a picture of the preparation and presentation. Basically the way it works is that the family members start arriving around 6 or so. They come with (or without) a gift and you serve them a plate of food with a cup of soda. They chill for a little bit, tell you felicidades for making it another year, and then they head out. It’s pretty great.
Birthdays here are a pretty big deal. At the school where I work there is a monthly celebration for people with birthdays in that month. They get some cake, soda, a card, and a small gift. Yesterday I went to a friend’s house for his birthday, and today was the birthday of a co-worker. After witnessing so much celebration I have decided that people here really out-do us back in the states. Before you can eat your cake, people sing at least four different birthday songs. (Then the last song is the one that goes ‘We’re ready for cake now! Even if it’s only a tiny piece, let’s eat!’)
Oddly enough it makes me think of JW’s that don’t celebrate birthdays. Do we celebrate ourselves too much? I don’t think so. I mean, let’s not go overboard and build a shrine or anything, but it’s a great time to remind people that they’re special and that, HEY! I’m glad you were born :)
When I left the house at 6:30 to go to work, I hadn’t even seen my brother yet, but I heard him talking on the phone to people who were calling with their happy birthday wishes. (Special note: Please call me on my birthday, but not at 6am.)
The tradition here is to prepare a big cena for all the guests. Violeta’s aunt made tajadas con pollo (thinly sliced platano, then fried, served with chicken). Violeta and I made the ensalada to go along with it (cabbage with tomato, vinegar, and salt). I made some cookies for dessert and we bought some soda for the guests. It was really a large amount of food and I lament not having taken a picture of the preparation and presentation. Basically the way it works is that the family members start arriving around 6 or so. They come with (or without) a gift and you serve them a plate of food with a cup of soda. They chill for a little bit, tell you felicidades for making it another year, and then they head out. It’s pretty great.
Birthdays here are a pretty big deal. At the school where I work there is a monthly celebration for people with birthdays in that month. They get some cake, soda, a card, and a small gift. Yesterday I went to a friend’s house for his birthday, and today was the birthday of a co-worker. After witnessing so much celebration I have decided that people here really out-do us back in the states. Before you can eat your cake, people sing at least four different birthday songs. (Then the last song is the one that goes ‘We’re ready for cake now! Even if it’s only a tiny piece, let’s eat!’)
Oddly enough it makes me think of JW’s that don’t celebrate birthdays. Do we celebrate ourselves too much? I don’t think so. I mean, let’s not go overboard and build a shrine or anything, but it’s a great time to remind people that they’re special and that, HEY! I’m glad you were born :)
Thursday, October 21, 2010
I Saw the Sign
My first introduction to Nicaraguan sign language was the same day I learned that the letter ‘T’ in ASL is actually a vulgar sign in Nicaragua, and that there are a few other differences between the manual alphabets in Nicaragua and back in the states. I was trying to spell (in sign language) my name for this eight year old girl, but when I got to the ‘T’ the look on her face told me something was wrong.
When I started my sign language classes at the school, I didn’t understand at first why my teacher wouldn’t open the door when somebody knocked. After the knocking happened four or five times, I remembered that my teacher was deaf. Duh. I guess I would have ignored the knocking also.
I’ve had a few incidences like that (when I forget that deaf people can’t hear) and I continue to talk to them as if they can. Well, sort of. Since sign language is basically an abbreviation of written and spoken language, I tend to reduce my words to just basic verbs, and in the wrong tenses. Luckily, they can’t hear my twisted Spanish, so I’m OK until an oyente comes around.
I started learning sign language by making my way through Nicaragua’s sign language dictionary, which contains about 200 pages. My teacher and some of the students helped me. After a few weeks I decided to really test my knowledge of sign language by picking a book from the library to translate. The book of choice was Curious George. With a little help, I was able to sign my way through the first adventure of Jorge el curioso and his friend, the man with the big yellow hat. Next on the list- Jorge el Curioso Monta en Bicicleta. ¡Qué emoción!
When I started my sign language classes at the school, I didn’t understand at first why my teacher wouldn’t open the door when somebody knocked. After the knocking happened four or five times, I remembered that my teacher was deaf. Duh. I guess I would have ignored the knocking also.
I’ve had a few incidences like that (when I forget that deaf people can’t hear) and I continue to talk to them as if they can. Well, sort of. Since sign language is basically an abbreviation of written and spoken language, I tend to reduce my words to just basic verbs, and in the wrong tenses. Luckily, they can’t hear my twisted Spanish, so I’m OK until an oyente comes around.
I started learning sign language by making my way through Nicaragua’s sign language dictionary, which contains about 200 pages. My teacher and some of the students helped me. After a few weeks I decided to really test my knowledge of sign language by picking a book from the library to translate. The book of choice was Curious George. With a little help, I was able to sign my way through the first adventure of Jorge el curioso and his friend, the man with the big yellow hat. Next on the list- Jorge el Curioso Monta en Bicicleta. ¡Qué emoción!
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Let's get lost.
Hard to believe tomorrow makes three weeks here in Nica!! It honestly feels like it's been longer. I already feel so comfortable here, with my family, my job, the MCC team. I've already started thinking about the fact that I leave in a year and it already feels like too soon.
It's hard to believe my own thoughts really, because it's not like I love it here. I was robbed my very first week here and have heard many bad stories, leaving me with a bad impression of the country and the people. Quite honestly I walk around thinking that I can trust no one and that in order to maintain any healthy level of safety I need to be in a constant state of paranoia. Also, it's unjustly hot here. I sweat all the time. It amazes me that people here can sport jeans and polo shirts and you can never see sweat marks, whereas every day I feel like I look as if I just walked through a rain shower (not to mention the humidity that leaves my hair a mountainous mess). I keep comparing Managua to Quito, wishing that Nicaragua were more like Ecuador. I miss Quito's cool climate, I miss the safety I felt there, I miss street names... YES!!! STREET NAMES!! That's what I was forgetting.
Here in Managua (and mostly all of Nica), they do not use street names. To get to my house, I would tell you the name of my barrio, and that from Raspados Loly (a store) I'm five blocks south, three blocks east, and one block north. Except that here, they use the word 'up' for east and 'down' for west (due the sunrise and sunset), and north is 'al lago' ('towards the lake'- Managua sits right on the southern edge of this huge lake) So to get to my house, go to Raspados Loly and go 3 south, 3 up, and 1 towards the lake. This is fine, once I get oriented to where the lake is from my house. Unfortunately, once I leave and try to get to my friend's house, I know longer know where the lake is. This happens to Nicaraguans all the time; they leave their homes and no longer know where the lake is. I've asked several Nicas, 'Well, why doesn't anyone use street names then? Wouldn't that help?'
They kind of laugh, shrug, and change the subject.
Needless to say, it's been a cause of confusion and frustration for me (especially since getting lost in a place where I don't feel safe is not a comforting feeling). However, things are getting better as time goes on. I'm starting to feel more comfortable getting around the city by myself.
Well, I could go on forever, but it's getting late and I have to take the bus home, so my paranoia and I have to head out. Adios!
It's hard to believe my own thoughts really, because it's not like I love it here. I was robbed my very first week here and have heard many bad stories, leaving me with a bad impression of the country and the people. Quite honestly I walk around thinking that I can trust no one and that in order to maintain any healthy level of safety I need to be in a constant state of paranoia. Also, it's unjustly hot here. I sweat all the time. It amazes me that people here can sport jeans and polo shirts and you can never see sweat marks, whereas every day I feel like I look as if I just walked through a rain shower (not to mention the humidity that leaves my hair a mountainous mess). I keep comparing Managua to Quito, wishing that Nicaragua were more like Ecuador. I miss Quito's cool climate, I miss the safety I felt there, I miss street names... YES!!! STREET NAMES!! That's what I was forgetting.
Here in Managua (and mostly all of Nica), they do not use street names. To get to my house, I would tell you the name of my barrio, and that from Raspados Loly (a store) I'm five blocks south, three blocks east, and one block north. Except that here, they use the word 'up' for east and 'down' for west (due the sunrise and sunset), and north is 'al lago' ('towards the lake'- Managua sits right on the southern edge of this huge lake) So to get to my house, go to Raspados Loly and go 3 south, 3 up, and 1 towards the lake. This is fine, once I get oriented to where the lake is from my house. Unfortunately, once I leave and try to get to my friend's house, I know longer know where the lake is. This happens to Nicaraguans all the time; they leave their homes and no longer know where the lake is. I've asked several Nicas, 'Well, why doesn't anyone use street names then? Wouldn't that help?'
They kind of laugh, shrug, and change the subject.
Needless to say, it's been a cause of confusion and frustration for me (especially since getting lost in a place where I don't feel safe is not a comforting feeling). However, things are getting better as time goes on. I'm starting to feel more comfortable getting around the city by myself.
Well, I could go on forever, but it's getting late and I have to take the bus home, so my paranoia and I have to head out. Adios!
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Vaya, pues
So I'm chilling here, waiting in the airport with my 2 new amigas! Our flight to Atlanta leaves soon. It's been an interesting week, getting to know people from all over the world. There were people from the US, Canada, Zimbabwe, Indonesia, Brasil, Nicaragua, Serbia, Laos, Kenya, the DR, Haiti, Colombia, China, South Korea, PARAGUAY, and other places.
Two things really stuck out this week, the first being the music. Each morning we had a worship time and different geographic regions provided the music each day. There were so many different types of music and dance (which we enjoyed both during impromtu dance parties and the end of the week talent show). I loved the diversity in the styles and the instruments and the sounds and the movements.
The other thing which really made me think was a short video we watched about the concept of a single story. It's essentially the idea that we all have a single story (what we usually call a stereotype) of a person or a group of people or a country or whatever. We assume certain things, forgetting that each person/people group/country has their own context. The video was pretty powerful and I will post a link to it for those interested. It will be interesting for me to see how my single story concept of Nicaragua is changed during my time there.
It’s funny to come to orientation, to meet so many people and get close to them in a week’s time, only to leave and head to separate countries all over the world. I guess though, as one of the SALTers said, this isn’t just my adventure. It really belongs to all 108 of us who are getting ready to go to our different assignments. We’ll all be facing similar struggles and obstacles, but we will also be lifting each other up from around the world, working towards the same idealist goal of a peaceful world where people love another and appreciate one another.
On a lighter note, the three of us headed to Managua wrote a song this morning about our excitement for the year ahead!! It might make a debut on this page one day….
Thursday, August 5, 2010
The difference between a good hair cut and a bad one is two weeks
I'm down to one week left at home before orientation. I've been pretty productive, but pretty stressed.
I've been not wanting to get a hair cut because I don't have a lot of money, but after encouragement from Nadia I decided that it might be my last one for a while, so I might as well go for it. While the lady was washing my hair, I was taking in these wonderful floral and fruit essence smells. In her husky Russian accent she said, 'Smell nice, right?' I agreed and drew in a long breath through my nose to relax and savor the scent at the same fated moment that she leaned over my face to thoroughly scrub the other side of my head. I think she forgot to put on deodorant before leaving the house.
Once back in the chair, she asked me, 'Vaht you vant?' so I started to explain. Slight bangs with angle, long layers, about 1 inch off. Ten minutes later, I was re-living 5th grade with short cow-licked bangs and hair about 3 inches shorter. 'Dis is better, dis is how it should be' she said. 'Look nice.' I am going to trust her.
Today I've been contemplating getting my suitcase down from the attic. Maybe I'll pretend pack tomorrow and see how one year fits into a bag.
I've been not wanting to get a hair cut because I don't have a lot of money, but after encouragement from Nadia I decided that it might be my last one for a while, so I might as well go for it. While the lady was washing my hair, I was taking in these wonderful floral and fruit essence smells. In her husky Russian accent she said, 'Smell nice, right?' I agreed and drew in a long breath through my nose to relax and savor the scent at the same fated moment that she leaned over my face to thoroughly scrub the other side of my head. I think she forgot to put on deodorant before leaving the house.
Once back in the chair, she asked me, 'Vaht you vant?' so I started to explain. Slight bangs with angle, long layers, about 1 inch off. Ten minutes later, I was re-living 5th grade with short cow-licked bangs and hair about 3 inches shorter. 'Dis is better, dis is how it should be' she said. 'Look nice.' I am going to trust her.
Today I've been contemplating getting my suitcase down from the attic. Maybe I'll pretend pack tomorrow and see how one year fits into a bag.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Indecision
Pretend today is July 7: Today I handed in my two weeks notice at my full time job. I also got punched in the face by one of my residents.
Now let's take it back to two months ago. You may not know this, but I was freaking out (a lot). Getting some cold feet. Considering not going. I had many questions, few answers, and had no idea what to do. I had a little breakdown and told God all about it. When I boiled it all down, all I could really say was, 'I'm scared.'
Two months ago I loved everything about my life. My friends, my family, my job, the church I was getting involved with. I didn't want to leave any of it behind. My stomach would hurt when I thought about leaving and I couldn't understand why. Did God maybe not want me to go? During the year I would be away would I be missing out on something greater here? (Most people think that is a silly question, but I think it's valid.) I wondered what I would do if I got there and hated everything about it. I feared that I would go to Nicaragua and die at some point during the year, and maybe that was why I had a bad feeling about it.
I decided to do some praying and some digging and some thinking. I can't really explain how, but over the past two months I made the decision to still go and I somehow feel comfortable with it. I know that it is going to be very difficult. I haven't been so happy in such a long time that to think of leaving everything behind for a year is still a little overwhelming. Unfortunately, I don't think that God calls us into our comfort zones.
Now let's bring it back to today. The main things that have changed are 1- my indecision and 2- my feelings toward my full time job. I thought it was appropriate that I would get punched the day I handed in my resignation; good bye and good riddance.
P.S.
Money raised is now $3,000!
Now let's take it back to two months ago. You may not know this, but I was freaking out (a lot). Getting some cold feet. Considering not going. I had many questions, few answers, and had no idea what to do. I had a little breakdown and told God all about it. When I boiled it all down, all I could really say was, 'I'm scared.'
Two months ago I loved everything about my life. My friends, my family, my job, the church I was getting involved with. I didn't want to leave any of it behind. My stomach would hurt when I thought about leaving and I couldn't understand why. Did God maybe not want me to go? During the year I would be away would I be missing out on something greater here? (Most people think that is a silly question, but I think it's valid.) I wondered what I would do if I got there and hated everything about it. I feared that I would go to Nicaragua and die at some point during the year, and maybe that was why I had a bad feeling about it.
I decided to do some praying and some digging and some thinking. I can't really explain how, but over the past two months I made the decision to still go and I somehow feel comfortable with it. I know that it is going to be very difficult. I haven't been so happy in such a long time that to think of leaving everything behind for a year is still a little overwhelming. Unfortunately, I don't think that God calls us into our comfort zones.
Now let's bring it back to today. The main things that have changed are 1- my indecision and 2- my feelings toward my full time job. I thought it was appropriate that I would get punched the day I handed in my resignation; good bye and good riddance.
P.S.
Money raised is now $3,000!
Monday, June 7, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
Money.
So. I'm around that three month marker. Financially, this is where I stand:
Goal- $4,450
Raised- $0
When you think about it though, money really has no value. What is a dollar? It's just made up. It's 'value' changes daily. It could die out one day. Essentially, having zero dollars is about as good as having four thousand of them. Plus, in my mind I have all the money raised already, and, as the saying goes, it's the thought that counts.
I'm golden.
Goal- $4,450
Raised- $0
When you think about it though, money really has no value. What is a dollar? It's just made up. It's 'value' changes daily. It could die out one day. Essentially, having zero dollars is about as good as having four thousand of them. Plus, in my mind I have all the money raised already, and, as the saying goes, it's the thought that counts.
I'm golden.
Monday, May 3, 2010
What it is
The voice of reason is standing next to my laptop on my desk, arms folded, toe tapping, shaking her head in exasperation. We've been at it all night.
'Hey, I think I'm going dancing tonight,' I said.
'You can't,' she spit.
'Why not?'
'You have too much to do. Support letters to write, forms to fill out.'
'Meh.'
'Not to mention you work two doubles for the next two days...'
'But I have to live it-'
'...and an overnight after that...'
'Yes, but I-'
'CHRISTA! You need to sleep.'
'I know but-'
'Stop justifying yourself and be productive. Or just go to bed!'
Things went like this for a bit, but luckily, since the voice of reason is just a figment of my imagination anyway, I won the battle, kicked her to the curb, and hit the road.
Now here I sit almost five hours later. I burned a little gas, a lot of calories, and had the best cha cha dance of my life during that time. Plus, as a bonus, I got to dance with someone half a foot shorter than I am who bounced when he danced like a bottle bobbing in the ocean. Whenever I messed up, he gave me this huge grin and a nod as if to say, 'Right on!' Even when I clocked his jaw (by accident!) with my entire forearm during a wild spin, he enthusiastically assured me it was his fault, and compared the incident to a soccer ball hitting his face. He said he used to play pro soccer, so what had just happened was nothing. Even if I gave him a black eye, it wouldn't be as bad as that time he was on bed rest for weeks because of a playing injury.
Spectacular.
Speaking of soccer, guess which sport is not the national sport in Nicaragua? You got it! Baseball is actually their cup of tea. I personally find soccer a bit more exciting, so I think I'll advocate for some change while I'm down there.
For those who wanted a bit more detail on what I'll be doing and where I'll be working while I'm in Nicaragua, here goes:
I will be volunteering as a (non-licensed) social worker at the Isaiah 29:18 Christian School for the Deaf, founded by the Assemblies of God denomination. The school provides educational and vocational training to about 75 students. The majority of the students live outside of Managua, where the school is located. During the week they stay at the school, going home on the weekends. The school receives a lot of assistance from outside organizations and sponsors, but these sponsors do not know about the specific needs of the students. The job of the social worker is to help research and provide the socioeconomic information of the families, so that the sponsors and other outside organizations might be able to better meets the needs of the students and their families. In addition to this, I may be responsible for any of the following: home visits, intake interviews/surveys, analysis of data collected, counseling of students, organizing contact between students and sponsors, and a few other things.
The school needs a social worker but cannot afford to pay for the position, hence why MCC sends a SALT volunteer. The SALTer raises funds and is supported by folk back at home so that the school in Nicaragua can afford to better serve its population. Yay! Hopefully I can be the hands and feet of Jesus to the people with whom I come into contact.
I'm really getting tired now though and I sense that anything else I try to write won't sound cohesive, so off to sleep I go. Stay tuned for more information on MCC, raising money, y mucho más!
'Hey, I think I'm going dancing tonight,' I said.
'You can't,' she spit.
'Why not?'
'You have too much to do. Support letters to write, forms to fill out.'
'Meh.'
'Not to mention you work two doubles for the next two days...'
'But I have to live it-'
'...and an overnight after that...'
'Yes, but I-'
'CHRISTA! You need to sleep.'
'I know but-'
'Stop justifying yourself and be productive. Or just go to bed!'
Things went like this for a bit, but luckily, since the voice of reason is just a figment of my imagination anyway, I won the battle, kicked her to the curb, and hit the road.
Now here I sit almost five hours later. I burned a little gas, a lot of calories, and had the best cha cha dance of my life during that time. Plus, as a bonus, I got to dance with someone half a foot shorter than I am who bounced when he danced like a bottle bobbing in the ocean. Whenever I messed up, he gave me this huge grin and a nod as if to say, 'Right on!' Even when I clocked his jaw (by accident!) with my entire forearm during a wild spin, he enthusiastically assured me it was his fault, and compared the incident to a soccer ball hitting his face. He said he used to play pro soccer, so what had just happened was nothing. Even if I gave him a black eye, it wouldn't be as bad as that time he was on bed rest for weeks because of a playing injury.
Spectacular.
Speaking of soccer, guess which sport is not the national sport in Nicaragua? You got it! Baseball is actually their cup of tea. I personally find soccer a bit more exciting, so I think I'll advocate for some change while I'm down there.
For those who wanted a bit more detail on what I'll be doing and where I'll be working while I'm in Nicaragua, here goes:
I will be volunteering as a (non-licensed) social worker at the Isaiah 29:18 Christian School for the Deaf, founded by the Assemblies of God denomination. The school provides educational and vocational training to about 75 students. The majority of the students live outside of Managua, where the school is located. During the week they stay at the school, going home on the weekends. The school receives a lot of assistance from outside organizations and sponsors, but these sponsors do not know about the specific needs of the students. The job of the social worker is to help research and provide the socioeconomic information of the families, so that the sponsors and other outside organizations might be able to better meets the needs of the students and their families. In addition to this, I may be responsible for any of the following: home visits, intake interviews/surveys, analysis of data collected, counseling of students, organizing contact between students and sponsors, and a few other things.
The school needs a social worker but cannot afford to pay for the position, hence why MCC sends a SALT volunteer. The SALTer raises funds and is supported by folk back at home so that the school in Nicaragua can afford to better serve its population. Yay! Hopefully I can be the hands and feet of Jesus to the people with whom I come into contact.
I'm really getting tired now though and I sense that anything else I try to write won't sound cohesive, so off to sleep I go. Stay tuned for more information on MCC, raising money, y mucho más!
Monday, April 19, 2010
Count em up!
One, two, three, four months from TODAY I will be flying to Nicaragua, si Dios quiere... I'll be volunteering (for a year) as a social worker in a school for the deaf.
Do I sign, you ask? Well of course not. But I will.
Excitement.
Anxiety?? Today I printed out 30 pages of health forms, support forms, WHAT TO DO IN CASE I DIE forms. It was awful (although I did come to the conclusion that cremation is the way to go). Tomorrow is the day I swim through the papers and the emails and the websites to try to make sense of the world.
To try to take my mind away from all of the responsibilities, I decided to skim through the Nicaragua Field Guide provided to me by the Mennonite Central Committee (MCC), the organization which is sending me. (The program is called Serving and Learning Together, or SALT.)
These facts are of note:
- Nicaragua has the only fresh water lake in the world with sharks
- Over half of the population is under age 16
- They have cloud forests (investigation to ensue)
- 'Nicaraguans have a great sense of humor and love to laugh and tell jokes' (yesssss!!! even though I usually don't understand jokes in Spanish)
I was beginning to think that Nicaragua was the place for me, until I started reading about how most people dress, and what is acceptable to wear...
One should wear functional, attractive clothing.
Unwashed jeans, dusty shoes and unkempt appearance may be interpreted as laziness or shabbiness rather than 'identifying with the people.'"
Oh oh.
Then I read that average temperatures in Managua are 80-100 F. Generally with high humidity. I was actually trying to get away from Baltimore summers, thank you very much! Not go somewhere where they would be a magnified. And eternal!
I'll be going to bed soon, but I wanted to end on a happy note so that I'll feel like waking up tomorrow. This statement satisfied me: 'In general, Nicaraguans enjoy music, dance, and theater.' Perfect.
Do I sign, you ask? Well of course not. But I will.
Excitement.
Anxiety?? Today I printed out 30 pages of health forms, support forms, WHAT TO DO IN CASE I DIE forms. It was awful (although I did come to the conclusion that cremation is the way to go). Tomorrow is the day I swim through the papers and the emails and the websites to try to make sense of the world.
To try to take my mind away from all of the responsibilities, I decided to skim through the Nicaragua Field Guide provided to me by the Mennonite Central Committee (MCC), the organization which is sending me. (The program is called Serving and Learning Together, or SALT.)
These facts are of note:
- Nicaragua has the only fresh water lake in the world with sharks
- Over half of the population is under age 16
- They have cloud forests (investigation to ensue)
- 'Nicaraguans have a great sense of humor and love to laugh and tell jokes' (yesssss!!! even though I usually don't understand jokes in Spanish)
I was beginning to think that Nicaragua was the place for me, until I started reading about how most people dress, and what is acceptable to wear...
One should wear functional, attractive clothing.
Unwashed jeans, dusty shoes and unkempt appearance may be interpreted as laziness or shabbiness rather than 'identifying with the people.'"
Oh oh.
Then I read that average temperatures in Managua are 80-100 F. Generally with high humidity. I was actually trying to get away from Baltimore summers, thank you very much! Not go somewhere where they would be a magnified. And eternal!
I'll be going to bed soon, but I wanted to end on a happy note so that I'll feel like waking up tomorrow. This statement satisfied me: 'In general, Nicaraguans enjoy music, dance, and theater.' Perfect.
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