I don't know if I could take a photo of fireflies anyway... but there sure are a lot of them (fireflies) so it might be possible......
Also check my flickr site for the first couple Nicaragua pix.
Friday, June 30, 2006
fireflies in gloaming
I didn't have my camera last night so I decided to "draw" this lovely scene in photoshop.... woods dark, sky still light, last rays of sunlight still coming through the leaves, fireflies down near the ground where it's already night. This is just a sketch of sorts, but maybe it conveys the general idea.
I don't know if I could take a photo of fireflies anyway... but there sure are a lot of them (fireflies) so it might be possible......
Also check my flickr site for the first couple Nicaragua pix.
I don't know if I could take a photo of fireflies anyway... but there sure are a lot of them (fireflies) so it might be possible......
Also check my flickr site for the first couple Nicaragua pix.
the funny story
a long time ago Loopy and I went to the circus. Loopy was particularly excited to see a hippo that was advertised on the poster--the hippo would open its huge ginormous mouth and show all its teeth. She talked about this a lot in the days leading up to the circus.
But at the key moment on stage, the hippo opened its mouth and somehow Loopy wasn't looking! She missed it, after all that anticipation.
Periodically we talk about that sad event and how she missed the hippo's open mouth. That came up today because there was a smiling hippo on Cute Overload. Loopy then informed me that she had learned that hippos open their mouths wide like that when they want to show dominance, like if a new unfamiliar hippo or hippo family enters their territory.
I said it was funny to think of a whole family of hippos turning around and opening their mouths wide in response to an intruder. Loopy said she thought it was probably just the "alpha" hippo who did it, but I persisted in enjoying the image of a whole family of open-mouthed hippos.
Then the really funny thing occurred to me: what if people did that??? Can you imagine a human family turning around and opening their mouths really wide in response to a new person walking toward them?
I laughed for like five minutes. No, I'm not high. Maybe you had to be there.
But at the key moment on stage, the hippo opened its mouth and somehow Loopy wasn't looking! She missed it, after all that anticipation.
Periodically we talk about that sad event and how she missed the hippo's open mouth. That came up today because there was a smiling hippo on Cute Overload. Loopy then informed me that she had learned that hippos open their mouths wide like that when they want to show dominance, like if a new unfamiliar hippo or hippo family enters their territory.
I said it was funny to think of a whole family of hippos turning around and opening their mouths wide in response to an intruder. Loopy said she thought it was probably just the "alpha" hippo who did it, but I persisted in enjoying the image of a whole family of open-mouthed hippos.
Then the really funny thing occurred to me: what if people did that??? Can you imagine a human family turning around and opening their mouths really wide in response to a new person walking toward them?
I laughed for like five minutes. No, I'm not high. Maybe you had to be there.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
onion
Thanks so much to Mush and Loopy for their support. Seriously, that sounds trite but you know I mean it. It feels good. So thanks.
So, today I forced myself to get up (or rather to stay up after the dogs rousted me out of bed at 9am) and started by doing dishes, which is always a good start for me; I followed that up with a lot of other useful things (laundry, dishes, grocery shopping, dog food shopping, paid bills--even turned in the forms to my accountant to get started on filing my 2004 tax return, yes, I said 2004, don't ask).
All that felt pretty good. It's harder to be here than in Chicago, but it's getting easier.
I'm in a phase I recognize--I was last here after getting out of the psych ward in 1995--it's the "I'm not going back there" phase.
Many times each day I have choices like "go back to bed or stay up," or "do the dishes or surf the internet," and it's clear to me that they're choices (that's new in itself) and that one choice leads "back there" (to days of despond and ultimately the rest of my life unraveling) and the other choice leads forward.
It's not easy to take those forward steps but it's easier and easier as the momentum builds and "back there" is farther and farther back--further to fall. (The Paul Simon song 'Further to Fly' pops into my head; that was the soundtrack to another time in my life where I was choosing to move forward despite lead weights on my feet, not to be too overly dramatic or anything!)
Anyway. So then I thought, yesterday was hard, and if my next therapy session is going to be like that, I don't want it Sunday morning before i spend the day with Nadine, Chip & Alexa.
So I called to reschedule and to my surprise, OLIF answered the phone. I explained and he asked if I was okay...long story short I ended up going in for another session today.
That was a bit much, but I figured out something important.
The reason I want someone to say "I know how you feel" is that I don't want to have to explain how I feel, and the reason I don't want to have to explain how I feel (or more importantly why) is that I can't bring myself to say the words, and the reason for that is that I'm overwhelmed with shame.
It was one of those instances where I've read in books a thousand times that I might feel shame, but I didn't connect those words to this huge heavy thing in my heart.
It was also one of those instances where it was clear that there's a reason why it's the therapist's job to ask the moronic questions ("Why is it so hard to talk about this?"), because you assume the answers are obvious, but actually they're not. They're mind-blowingly illuminating.
So, well, now I have something to work on--I know how, I read in those books how to work on it--but it's totally different when you actually find the thing you're supposed to work on. Like reading about cooking is totally different from having a slippery slimy raw chicken in your hands. Exactly like that. Ugh.
I'm remarkably okay with all this. Go figure.
I have a funny story but I'll post it separately. Also I think I'm finally gonna get my Nicaragua pix uploaded; should I illustrate the old posts or make new ones? Any ideas?
Now I"m gonna go listen to Frank Sinatra b/c the title of the previous post has got "Blue Moon" playing in my head (Blue Moon, now I'm no longer alone, without a dream in my heart, without a love of my own... Have I mentioned that Loopy and I got together in a Blue Moon?)
So, today I forced myself to get up (or rather to stay up after the dogs rousted me out of bed at 9am) and started by doing dishes, which is always a good start for me; I followed that up with a lot of other useful things (laundry, dishes, grocery shopping, dog food shopping, paid bills--even turned in the forms to my accountant to get started on filing my 2004 tax return, yes, I said 2004, don't ask).
All that felt pretty good. It's harder to be here than in Chicago, but it's getting easier.
I'm in a phase I recognize--I was last here after getting out of the psych ward in 1995--it's the "I'm not going back there" phase.
Many times each day I have choices like "go back to bed or stay up," or "do the dishes or surf the internet," and it's clear to me that they're choices (that's new in itself) and that one choice leads "back there" (to days of despond and ultimately the rest of my life unraveling) and the other choice leads forward.
It's not easy to take those forward steps but it's easier and easier as the momentum builds and "back there" is farther and farther back--further to fall. (The Paul Simon song 'Further to Fly' pops into my head; that was the soundtrack to another time in my life where I was choosing to move forward despite lead weights on my feet, not to be too overly dramatic or anything!)
Anyway. So then I thought, yesterday was hard, and if my next therapy session is going to be like that, I don't want it Sunday morning before i spend the day with Nadine, Chip & Alexa.
So I called to reschedule and to my surprise, OLIF answered the phone. I explained and he asked if I was okay...long story short I ended up going in for another session today.
That was a bit much, but I figured out something important.
The reason I want someone to say "I know how you feel" is that I don't want to have to explain how I feel, and the reason I don't want to have to explain how I feel (or more importantly why) is that I can't bring myself to say the words, and the reason for that is that I'm overwhelmed with shame.
It was one of those instances where I've read in books a thousand times that I might feel shame, but I didn't connect those words to this huge heavy thing in my heart.
It was also one of those instances where it was clear that there's a reason why it's the therapist's job to ask the moronic questions ("Why is it so hard to talk about this?"), because you assume the answers are obvious, but actually they're not. They're mind-blowingly illuminating.
So, well, now I have something to work on--I know how, I read in those books how to work on it--but it's totally different when you actually find the thing you're supposed to work on. Like reading about cooking is totally different from having a slippery slimy raw chicken in your hands. Exactly like that. Ugh.
I'm remarkably okay with all this. Go figure.
I have a funny story but I'll post it separately. Also I think I'm finally gonna get my Nicaragua pix uploaded; should I illustrate the old posts or make new ones? Any ideas?
Now I"m gonna go listen to Frank Sinatra b/c the title of the previous post has got "Blue Moon" playing in my head (Blue Moon, now I'm no longer alone, without a dream in my heart, without a love of my own... Have I mentioned that Loopy and I got together in a Blue Moon?)
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
doing things differently
Welllllllll this morning I had a difficult therapy session, calling up all kinds of old things I'd rather forget. I got really angry... at a person who hurt me and also at OLIF*, because I felt he didn't understand, because he kept saying "tell me more" or "how does that feel" and I wanted to scream "HOW THE FUCK DO YOU THINK IT FEELS?????? WHAT KIND OF FUCKING MORON ARE YOU??????????"
Rationally I know it's his job to say "tell me more" and "how does that feel," but I felt like I just wanted someone to say, "oh, I totally know what you mean, I've felt just like that." And of course, rationally I know that I don't want to know if he's felt just like that.
So tonight I found myself absolutely enraged over some totally minor slight that happened in a meeting (someone gave credit to someone else for my idea). But (... I feel like I'm getting to know myself so much better...) something clicked in my head that something was wrong, that this was an over-reaction, that maybe there was more going on.
So I stopped and thought about it, and before I knew it I was crying and even more furious at OLIF because he'd stirred this stuff up and now where is he when I was all alone at 10:30 at night? One-hundred-forty-fucking-dollars-an-hour away, is where he is. Anyway I knew it would be unsatisfying to call him, since--still--what I really wanted was someone to say "I know just how you feel."
So I thought about where I could find that person,** and I looked up a number for a hotline where I would find that person, and I called it, and talked to her, and also got information on support groups where I can find whole rooms full of people to say "I know just how you feel, I've felt just like that." And I felt like I was really taking good care of myself like a grownup. So that feels good.
I tried to "deal with" all this crap about ten years ago, but I didn't do it effectively. (Basically, I made all kinds of other problems, and then they were my problems, so I could conveniently forget about this stuff and shove it aside.) I asked OLIF if I really have to deal with it now, and he said I "deserve" to have the richer, deeper, more meaningful perosnal relationships that will be possible when I'm less fucked up. OK.
I dunno. I just keep trying to stay with it, not run away, not make it worse, not "make it better" in an artificial/escapist sort of way...just...you know...keep it real.
All that amounts to doing things very, very differently. So even though it hurts, I feel like there's a positive process, a transformation, ongoing.
More and more often, instead of blindly thrashing about (e.g., getting mad at the guy who credited my idea to someone else, and stirring up a shitstorm over that) I'm (1) noticing that I feel something, (2) figuring out what it is, and (3) becoming more and more able to address needs that I identify in myself.
Pretty cool, huh. All things considered.
Rationally I know it's his job to say "tell me more" and "how does that feel," but I felt like I just wanted someone to say, "oh, I totally know what you mean, I've felt just like that." And of course, rationally I know that I don't want to know if he's felt just like that.
So tonight I found myself absolutely enraged over some totally minor slight that happened in a meeting (someone gave credit to someone else for my idea). But (... I feel like I'm getting to know myself so much better...) something clicked in my head that something was wrong, that this was an over-reaction, that maybe there was more going on.
So I stopped and thought about it, and before I knew it I was crying and even more furious at OLIF because he'd stirred this stuff up and now where is he when I was all alone at 10:30 at night? One-hundred-forty-fucking-dollars-an-hour away, is where he is. Anyway I knew it would be unsatisfying to call him, since--still--what I really wanted was someone to say "I know just how you feel."
So I thought about where I could find that person,** and I looked up a number for a hotline where I would find that person, and I called it, and talked to her, and also got information on support groups where I can find whole rooms full of people to say "I know just how you feel, I've felt just like that." And I felt like I was really taking good care of myself like a grownup. So that feels good.
I tried to "deal with" all this crap about ten years ago, but I didn't do it effectively. (Basically, I made all kinds of other problems, and then they were my problems, so I could conveniently forget about this stuff and shove it aside.) I asked OLIF if I really have to deal with it now, and he said I "deserve" to have the richer, deeper, more meaningful perosnal relationships that will be possible when I'm less fucked up. OK.
I dunno. I just keep trying to stay with it, not run away, not make it worse, not "make it better" in an artificial/escapist sort of way...just...you know...keep it real.
All that amounts to doing things very, very differently. So even though it hurts, I feel like there's a positive process, a transformation, ongoing.
More and more often, instead of blindly thrashing about (e.g., getting mad at the guy who credited my idea to someone else, and stirring up a shitstorm over that) I'm (1) noticing that I feel something, (2) figuring out what it is, and (3) becoming more and more able to address needs that I identify in myself.
Pretty cool, huh. All things considered.
*Our Little Italian Friend, remember?
**Of course, I could call Loopy and I know she's always there for me, but it has felt good lately to move from a dynamic where I want her to solve my problems, into a dynamic where I solve my problems, while maintaining open communication with her about them in a way that feels more grown-up and equal and still loving and supportive.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
I know what a blue moon is, but...
Busy busy busy since getting home from Nicaragua. I finally activated my file at the education career placement office and suddenly I'm getting lists & lists of job openings. It's great but overwhelming, as it always seems to be the last day to apply for two or three things. I'm not looking back (if I had activated the file earlier I could have been applying all this time), just moving forward (at least it's activated now and look at all these opportunities). Hopefully something will come of this.
It's quite exciting actually. There are two openings in a school just twenty minutes from home, which would just be a dream come true! That's eighty extra minutes a day (compared to my hour commutes to student teaching) which makes a big difference when you never seem to have enough time or sleep.
One part of this process is finding out about all the interesting schools there are around here. In a tiny town 40 miles south, they have a charter school with fewer than ten students. The focus is on an integrated curriculum designed around a "land ethic"--environmental science, prairie restoration, water quality, etc. There's only one teacher; they're hiring for a second teacher. Sounds interesting...
...although I can't totally suppress the thought that this kind of charter school sounds suspiciously like just another way to get rich white kids away from the rest of the students so they can maintain their privileged status... but maybe I'm just paranoid.
Since my return from Nicaragua Loopy and I have both been feeling more like ourselves. Loopy is benefiting a lot from hanging out in Chicago with people who are more similar to her in background, worldview, values, etc. I think maybe she didn't quite realize the full impact of the alienating academic environment, until the weight of it was lightened a bit... it makes me happy to see her feeling more at home.
Meanwhile for me, travel in other countries always "brings me to my senses" in multiple ways. It makes me feel competent and capable, and wakes me up because everything is new and different and interesting. I came back feeling much more energized and have had no problem working hard on the job search stuff.
As for the marriage, both of us feeling more like ourselves has done very good things for how we are together. It seems easy to keep on being the grown-up, responsible, capable person I remembered I was while traveling. It seems easy to let go of the weird little obsessions and routines that I felt all tangled up in before, which came between us and kept us angry and resentful.
It's wonderful and surprising. It's almost like when we were first falling in love, except without the anxiety and insecurity and all the scary unknown territory, i.e., better.
We have been joking that our bodies were temporarily inhabited by strange alien beings ("who were those people???"), but we sent them back to their spaceship.
Tonight I'm on my own at home, and Loopy's in Chicago; I took the bus back today to get some things accomplished around here. I'm heading back down on Friday because Nadine, Chip & Alexa will be in town this weekend for Kate L's wedding, yay!
Anyway, I drove out tonight to take out the garbage and pick up some beer and Diet Dr. Pepper, and across the cornfields I saw the newest moon I ever remember seeing... just the tiniest sliveriest sliver, with really long "horns," as though you could almost see most of the circle. I seem to remember my mother telling me that this is known as "the old moon in the new moon's arms."
It was beautiful, strange, and strikingly red.
I couldn't decide if it was eerie or enchanting—sort of an odd combo of both, really. When I got home I googled "red moon" to see if there were some kind of folk wisdom about what a new, red moon might mean, but they only talked about the moon being red during eclipses. Who knows... but if I look to my life instead of to omens in the sky, I would say that things are definitely getting better.
It's quite exciting actually. There are two openings in a school just twenty minutes from home, which would just be a dream come true! That's eighty extra minutes a day (compared to my hour commutes to student teaching) which makes a big difference when you never seem to have enough time or sleep.
One part of this process is finding out about all the interesting schools there are around here. In a tiny town 40 miles south, they have a charter school with fewer than ten students. The focus is on an integrated curriculum designed around a "land ethic"--environmental science, prairie restoration, water quality, etc. There's only one teacher; they're hiring for a second teacher. Sounds interesting...
...although I can't totally suppress the thought that this kind of charter school sounds suspiciously like just another way to get rich white kids away from the rest of the students so they can maintain their privileged status... but maybe I'm just paranoid.
Since my return from Nicaragua Loopy and I have both been feeling more like ourselves. Loopy is benefiting a lot from hanging out in Chicago with people who are more similar to her in background, worldview, values, etc. I think maybe she didn't quite realize the full impact of the alienating academic environment, until the weight of it was lightened a bit... it makes me happy to see her feeling more at home.
Meanwhile for me, travel in other countries always "brings me to my senses" in multiple ways. It makes me feel competent and capable, and wakes me up because everything is new and different and interesting. I came back feeling much more energized and have had no problem working hard on the job search stuff.
As for the marriage, both of us feeling more like ourselves has done very good things for how we are together. It seems easy to keep on being the grown-up, responsible, capable person I remembered I was while traveling. It seems easy to let go of the weird little obsessions and routines that I felt all tangled up in before, which came between us and kept us angry and resentful.
It's wonderful and surprising. It's almost like when we were first falling in love, except without the anxiety and insecurity and all the scary unknown territory, i.e., better.
We have been joking that our bodies were temporarily inhabited by strange alien beings ("who were those people???"), but we sent them back to their spaceship.
Tonight I'm on my own at home, and Loopy's in Chicago; I took the bus back today to get some things accomplished around here. I'm heading back down on Friday because Nadine, Chip & Alexa will be in town this weekend for Kate L's wedding, yay!
Anyway, I drove out tonight to take out the garbage and pick up some beer and Diet Dr. Pepper, and across the cornfields I saw the newest moon I ever remember seeing... just the tiniest sliveriest sliver, with really long "horns," as though you could almost see most of the circle. I seem to remember my mother telling me that this is known as "the old moon in the new moon's arms."
It was beautiful, strange, and strikingly red.
I couldn't decide if it was eerie or enchanting—sort of an odd combo of both, really. When I got home I googled "red moon" to see if there were some kind of folk wisdom about what a new, red moon might mean, but they only talked about the moon being red during eclipses. Who knows... but if I look to my life instead of to omens in the sky, I would say that things are definitely getting better.
Photo copyright R.J. Lautner; visit his website full of absolutely amazing photographs and buy some because I feel guilty for stealing this one (even though only about eight people, tops, will ever see it here, I promise, Mr. Lautner).
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
from Nicaragua to Chicago: in transit
So, here I am in Atlanta. My flight to Chicago is delayed a couple hours... of course I only found this out after I ran through immigration & customs, so I am all sweaty. And my breath stinks because the empanada I had back in Managua (in A.C. Sandino Airport) gave me indigestion. AND, to top it all off, when I went in the bathroom I discovered that the cute little black t-shirt I'm wearing exposes about two more inches of upper arm than the button-down shirt I wore two days ago... i.e., there is a totally ridiculous-looking two-inch band of white white skin above the strikingly darker red-tan of my healing sunburn from Day 9. (I didn't realize until now that I haven't seen myself in a full-length mirror all week!)
So, I can feel confident that I am looking and smelling my absolute worst for my long-anticipated reunion with my loveygirl. :-P She probably could overlook everything but the white-striped arms... looking bad is better than looking ridiculous. Yup, I'm more of a sight, than a sight for sore eyes. Oh well!
I had a moment of serious culture shock when I came up the escalator into the terminal. Even though I anticipated it, it still did hit me. It feels like a wave washing over, a wave of sound and brightness and light, and for a moment it seems like things swirl around and I can't see anything.
"Everything's so shiny!" I complained to Loopy on the phone. Even the floor is shiny, everything's so bright and branded and clean and has sharp edges... so much information everywhere, words and colors and everything... and people are so color-coordinated...pink watch with pink sweater, clean clean clean clean.
Also, there's something pleasant and even peaceful about being somewhere where you don't speak the language--it's like being insulated from things, and conversely, there's a bit of sensory overload now that I can understand all the conversations, tv, all thee words everywhere.
The only part of this that's really distasteful is walking down the terminal with CNN blaring out of a TV in every gate. I haven't seen Wolf Blitzer's face in eleven days, and I definitely haven't missed it. Perhaps because I've been farther away than before, the climate of fear is also palpable. The frequent announcements about "report any suspicious persons or activity and don't leave your bags unattended" combine with the words crossing the TV screens: "security alert," "US vs. al Qaeda," and stuff about North Korea's nuclear posturing.
Just at the moment, it's much clearer than usual that this is all like a big fake puppet show... it's not just that I know this, and remind myself of it, but right now, I feel it. It all just seems totally fake and weird.
In Nicaragua I felt much closer to the real dangers of the world, such as bullying imperialism and ecological devestation, and much closer to the real wars--both the war between haves and have-nots (when there is a "security" guard with an AK-47 in front of every bank and hotel and restaurant, it's glaringly obvious how much violence and threat of violence is required to keep the "have-nots" in their place), as well as the daily struggle for survival in the face of poverty, natural disasters, and violence. There, it felt like everyone was pretty clear on what was real. Here, not so much. Right at this moment there's a very clear sense that all this CNN noise is like a big screen put up so nobody can see the real world beyond...
OK, I'm paying by the minute here--not a huge amount, but still--and I want to respond to Loopy's comment on yesterday's post ... I appreciate your support, a lot, thank you lovey. It was a useful experience and it was only one day... so I'm glad it worked out that way, all things considered.
I had already been thinking about missing you and being lonely and that that's really okay. Humans are social animals who function best (including health and overall survival) in closely connected groups. Many humans in the US already have pared that group connectedness down to connection with only a few other people, which is already stressful, and when you're away from those few, it's totally reasonable to feel some sense of loneliness. It's reasonable to feel lonely when I'm alone.
I've been thinking too about something I read recently, about how our ideas about dependence and independence, weakness and strength are so culturally conditioned. In our culture it's ok to depend on a car, PDA, wheelchair, and an enormous military compelling the subservient labor of the entire world, but if you are dependent on love and connection shared with other people, that's "weak" and "dependent."
OK, before I sign off, I just have to note one more thing, Loopy...you do sound quite a bit like a SMART recovery pamphlet... not that that's bad, SMART is good and I do appreciate your support. I'm just noting, is all; it's kinda cute and sweet actually ("Gawd knows she's steeped in it now!" hee hee)
Oh, one more thing! I forgot to mention, I found the best thing ever in the market, for four cordobas (about 30 cents)--it's not really gift-worthy, but it's awesome. Many locals use all-purpose bags (shopping, luggage, etc) sewn out of the fifty-pound plastic mesh bags that once transported rice & beans. So I found one of those bags with the following inscription (more or less):
I just thought that was all cool and socialist and everything.
OK, I've spent twenty dollars here (hey, I considered spending it on a hand-held tetris game; at least writing is stimulating my brain rather than rotting it) so it's time to go.
So, I can feel confident that I am looking and smelling my absolute worst for my long-anticipated reunion with my loveygirl. :-P She probably could overlook everything but the white-striped arms... looking bad is better than looking ridiculous. Yup, I'm more of a sight, than a sight for sore eyes. Oh well!
I had a moment of serious culture shock when I came up the escalator into the terminal. Even though I anticipated it, it still did hit me. It feels like a wave washing over, a wave of sound and brightness and light, and for a moment it seems like things swirl around and I can't see anything.
"Everything's so shiny!" I complained to Loopy on the phone. Even the floor is shiny, everything's so bright and branded and clean and has sharp edges... so much information everywhere, words and colors and everything... and people are so color-coordinated...pink watch with pink sweater, clean clean clean clean.
Also, there's something pleasant and even peaceful about being somewhere where you don't speak the language--it's like being insulated from things, and conversely, there's a bit of sensory overload now that I can understand all the conversations, tv, all thee words everywhere.
The only part of this that's really distasteful is walking down the terminal with CNN blaring out of a TV in every gate. I haven't seen Wolf Blitzer's face in eleven days, and I definitely haven't missed it. Perhaps because I've been farther away than before, the climate of fear is also palpable. The frequent announcements about "report any suspicious persons or activity and don't leave your bags unattended" combine with the words crossing the TV screens: "security alert," "US vs. al Qaeda," and stuff about North Korea's nuclear posturing.
Just at the moment, it's much clearer than usual that this is all like a big fake puppet show... it's not just that I know this, and remind myself of it, but right now, I feel it. It all just seems totally fake and weird.
In Nicaragua I felt much closer to the real dangers of the world, such as bullying imperialism and ecological devestation, and much closer to the real wars--both the war between haves and have-nots (when there is a "security" guard with an AK-47 in front of every bank and hotel and restaurant, it's glaringly obvious how much violence and threat of violence is required to keep the "have-nots" in their place), as well as the daily struggle for survival in the face of poverty, natural disasters, and violence. There, it felt like everyone was pretty clear on what was real. Here, not so much. Right at this moment there's a very clear sense that all this CNN noise is like a big screen put up so nobody can see the real world beyond...
OK, I'm paying by the minute here--not a huge amount, but still--and I want to respond to Loopy's comment on yesterday's post ... I appreciate your support, a lot, thank you lovey. It was a useful experience and it was only one day... so I'm glad it worked out that way, all things considered.
I had already been thinking about missing you and being lonely and that that's really okay. Humans are social animals who function best (including health and overall survival) in closely connected groups. Many humans in the US already have pared that group connectedness down to connection with only a few other people, which is already stressful, and when you're away from those few, it's totally reasonable to feel some sense of loneliness. It's reasonable to feel lonely when I'm alone.
I've been thinking too about something I read recently, about how our ideas about dependence and independence, weakness and strength are so culturally conditioned. In our culture it's ok to depend on a car, PDA, wheelchair, and an enormous military compelling the subservient labor of the entire world, but if you are dependent on love and connection shared with other people, that's "weak" and "dependent."
OK, before I sign off, I just have to note one more thing, Loopy...you do sound quite a bit like a SMART recovery pamphlet... not that that's bad, SMART is good and I do appreciate your support. I'm just noting, is all; it's kinda cute and sweet actually ("Gawd knows she's steeped in it now!" hee hee)
Oh, one more thing! I forgot to mention, I found the best thing ever in the market, for four cordobas (about 30 cents)--it's not really gift-worthy, but it's awesome. Many locals use all-purpose bags (shopping, luggage, etc) sewn out of the fifty-pound plastic mesh bags that once transported rice & beans. So I found one of those bags with the following inscription (more or less):
FREE BEANS
courtesy of the Government of Nicaragua
Ministry of Health, Education, and Sports (or something)
NOT FOR SALE.
I just thought that was all cool and socialist and everything.
OK, I've spent twenty dollars here (hey, I considered spending it on a hand-held tetris game; at least writing is stimulating my brain rather than rotting it) so it's time to go.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Nicaragua Day 10: meandering in Managua (more added)
Today I wandered around Managua... which is not a very interesting city to wander in... I'm drinking a cold beer and waiting for my room to cool off so I can start packing! Last night I hogged the computer for three hours so I'm gonna make this quick today... I may write some more later if I finish packing, dinner etc.
Yay, Loopy, yay, I'm gonna see you tomorrow! Yay yay yay!
I'll come back to "what I did today" later... first.... tonight nobody made dinner at the hotel because none of the groups were eating here, and I didn't think to ask about dinner until dinnertime.
So, the woman who's here in the evenings dished up some beans 'n' rice (always available) and called in a delivery order of roasted chicken. That was slightly surreal, given the living/eating conditions we've been in all week; I took a photo of the bag and containers for what appears to be Nicaragua's equivalent of KFC.
As I sat down to eat I noticed that I seemed to be the only one in the whole hotel, besides the woman who called in my chicken order; she turned on the lights in the eating area (it's outside, so it's not a dining "room") just for me, and I sat down by myself to eat. It was a big change from eating with the group, and I started to think, "you know, I just don't like traveling alone." (I'll come back to that in a minute).
But after a minute or two, things got more interesting. I heard a thrumming sound, like running your fingers over corrugated cardboard. Thrrrrrrum! Thrrrrrrrrrum! I looked up almost inadvertently and discovered that this noise was being made by geckos!
"But I thought geckos walked almost silently in their funny wiggly way?" you may say.
Indeed, they walk almost silently. But when they run at each other to indicate "stay away from my hunting area!", and when they're running on flimsy acoustic tile with nothing behind it, they make a thrumming sound.
Anyway, there were five or six of them, and they were better than TV. I watched them the whole time I was eating and was no longer edgy, lonely, or in any way uncomfortable. I watched them watch bugs, sneak up on bugs, and eat bugs (muncha muncha muncha). There was one little bitty baby gecko that seemed to be a better hunter than the big geckos; when he came too near they would rush at him (thrrrrrrum!) and he would rush away.
So, while I still don't like traveling alone, I did have a delightful dinner.
Regarding the thought that I don't like traveling alone, I had the minor revelation that there didn't have to be any judgment attached to this thought.
What a concept. I can not like traveling alone. That's totally fine. It doesn't mean I'm a bad person or a bad traveler.
I had had a feeling that these two extra days could be therapeutic. As most of you know, fourteen years ago I graduated from college and set off on what was to be a year-long odyssey around Asia. Even though I came home "early" (I was back in Europe by Christmas), it was quite a trip, often amazing and wonderful but also often lonely, depressing, and unpleasant. I felt terrible (guilty, inadequate, lost, failed) at the time for not being able to live up to my own expectations--that I would have a great time and stay away a year.
Recently I had been experiencing a resurgence of the feelings associated with that trip--fear, loneliness, etc.--first, before coming here ten days ago, and again more strongly when the rest of the group left. Since there was nothing to be done about that I hoped I would gain some clarity from it. I think that has happened... to explain a bit more I'll write briefly about my day, how it reminded me of the Asia trip and how it helped me sort out what, precisely, was unpleasant about that trip, and give myself the validation ("yes, it's reasonable to think that this is unpleasant") that I never gave myself 14 years ago ("what is wrong with you that you're not having a good time???").
So.... my day. First I went to a gallery that the guidebook recommended. I guess I had my hopes up a bit much, because it was just one room of paintings (though many were quite interesting) and then two big rooms of tourist knickknacks... well, better than "knickknacks," but they were basically just nicer versions of what I saw in the market two days ago.
The "cafe," which I had especially been anticipating (I thought I'd sit a few hours, savor a pleasant drink and a snack, write all my postcards & watch the world go by) was a couple of wrought-iron chairs in a courtyard, with only one table off to the side. I pulled up to the table but the only thing to drink was bottles of soda, and there was no food, and no one else around, so after a few postcards I gave up.
Flashback situation #1: disappointment, in general.
Following the plan I'd made in the morning I took a taxi to the major market of the city. (Loopy, remember that big market we went to with Chris & Rachel in London? It was in like a giant warehouse thing? Sorta like that, only not). This was where the Asia-trip recollections were really strong.
It's definitely not a tourist destination. The market is in a huge space, a metal building with very high ceilings and a few skylights; as my luck would have it, the electricity had just gone out when I arrived. So, the interior of the market was dim, quite dark in places (although never so dark that I couldn't make out where I was going or what was being offered by the shops I passed).
Flashback situation #2: something is clearly inadequate, and I have to decide whether to react as I normally would (I don't want to go in that big dark metal building) or pretend that all is well in a situation that even the locals are complaining about.
I did the latter, of course; I walked right in and started weaving my way down narrow crowded aisles, the only touristy person around, looking at all the things for sale.
There was one type of item to each stall--almost like each stall represented one aisle at Walgreens or the grocery store. So, a stall might have plastic buckets and tubs, or piles of fruit, or hardware-related items, or 50-pound bags of rice and beans (purchased by weight in smaller bags), or children's clothes, or CDs & DVDs, or beauty products, or household cleansers...you get the picture.
This was actually quite interesting, but I was not well-received, or at least, I felt that I was not well-received. Of course, people watched me as I walked by, many with disinterest, some laughing, some hostile.
Flashback situation #3: I feel like I shouldn't be here, and people around me seem to agree. It would feel brave to keep walking around, and it would feel great to just get the hell out of here. I keep walking around.
I had hoped to maybe find a last few presents for Loopy and/or other people, but nothing was really suitable. So, not knowing what else to do and feeling that I should do something, I decided to take some photos.
I took a couple of photos without asking permission. This didn't seem right so then I started asking. The second woman I asked said "no, señora, no. no, no, no," in a tone that seemed to me to say, "I have had it with you people!"
Flashback situation #4: I am essentially consuming views of poverty and squalor as a tourism commodity. Unlike in some parts of the world, our neighbors here know very clearly what things are like in the U.S. Everyone knows that when I take photos, I'm taking photos of how quaint and interesting it is to sell food in big unrefrigerated unpackaged piles with flies on them, or to walk around in filth and darkness while shopping (the floor was quite literally filthy).
I talked briefly with one vendor about a possible present for Loopy, but there was a slight problem with the item so I set off to look for other options. In the course of wandering around I accidentally wandered back into the same stall I'd been at before. The owner assumed I had come back on purpose and got ready to package the item, and I had to explain that no, I still didn't want it.
Flashback situation #5: I'm lost, I'm confused, I don't know what I'm doing, I'm in an awkward social situation...
Finally I gave myself permission to just leave. I found a taxi and while I'd planned to go back to the hotel, the whole day felt so unsatisfying that I decided on the spur of the moment to try one more thing, and asked the driver to take me to another Gallery way across town.
We drove around for about ten minutes looking for it (remember how there are no addresses in Nicaragua?) and then it was closed. Lucky for me there was a hotel nearby where I had lunch; it had a swimming pool and seemed a few steps up from my current place, though not especially luxurious, so I made a mental note that this is where we should stay if Loopy ever comes with me.
After this I tried to take a taxi back to the hotel, but we couldn't find the hotel. We drove around and around and around near the hotel, with me trying to remember landmarks and sending the driver left or right when something looked familiar, only to have everything seem unfamiliar again. Finally I remembered that I had the precise instructions ("a block south and three blocks west of Hercules Gym") and the driver said, "ah, this is what I need, this is easy now."
In the 1.5 minutes it took us to get to the hotel (now that he had the right instructions) the driver told me that he spent 1985 to 1990 in Russia and speaks fluent Russian. Great, my taxi driver is a KGB agent (that's not a joke actually, in case that's unclear) who thinks I'm an idiot.
In case it's unclear that wasn't fun either.
I really started thinking about my Asia trip when I caught myself worrying about whether the hotel people would think I was a loser for coming back relatively early and eating dinner in the hotel. In Asia, I did that a lot (there were also days when I never left the hotel). I remember initially being able to tell myself that that was silly, but I think those paranoid fears/fantasies grew stronger the longer I spent in solitude (i.e. the fear that not only was I a bad person for not having a good time, but the hotel people could tell that I wasn't having fun and they thought I was bad, too).
Anyway, having some of these experiences again and seeing the thoughts come floating up to the surface helps me sort out a lot: why I didn't have a whole lot of fun in Asia, and how much worse I made it by beating up on myself about not having fun.
So, okay, therapy's over, can I go home now??? (in exactly twelve hours, in fact!)
See you all there......
Yay, Loopy, yay, I'm gonna see you tomorrow! Yay yay yay!
I'll come back to "what I did today" later... first.... tonight nobody made dinner at the hotel because none of the groups were eating here, and I didn't think to ask about dinner until dinnertime.
So, the woman who's here in the evenings dished up some beans 'n' rice (always available) and called in a delivery order of roasted chicken. That was slightly surreal, given the living/eating conditions we've been in all week; I took a photo of the bag and containers for what appears to be Nicaragua's equivalent of KFC.
As I sat down to eat I noticed that I seemed to be the only one in the whole hotel, besides the woman who called in my chicken order; she turned on the lights in the eating area (it's outside, so it's not a dining "room") just for me, and I sat down by myself to eat. It was a big change from eating with the group, and I started to think, "you know, I just don't like traveling alone." (I'll come back to that in a minute).
But after a minute or two, things got more interesting. I heard a thrumming sound, like running your fingers over corrugated cardboard. Thrrrrrrum! Thrrrrrrrrrum! I looked up almost inadvertently and discovered that this noise was being made by geckos!
"But I thought geckos walked almost silently in their funny wiggly way?" you may say.
Indeed, they walk almost silently. But when they run at each other to indicate "stay away from my hunting area!", and when they're running on flimsy acoustic tile with nothing behind it, they make a thrumming sound.
Anyway, there were five or six of them, and they were better than TV. I watched them the whole time I was eating and was no longer edgy, lonely, or in any way uncomfortable. I watched them watch bugs, sneak up on bugs, and eat bugs (muncha muncha muncha). There was one little bitty baby gecko that seemed to be a better hunter than the big geckos; when he came too near they would rush at him (thrrrrrrum!) and he would rush away.
So, while I still don't like traveling alone, I did have a delightful dinner.
Regarding the thought that I don't like traveling alone, I had the minor revelation that there didn't have to be any judgment attached to this thought.
What a concept. I can not like traveling alone. That's totally fine. It doesn't mean I'm a bad person or a bad traveler.
I had had a feeling that these two extra days could be therapeutic. As most of you know, fourteen years ago I graduated from college and set off on what was to be a year-long odyssey around Asia. Even though I came home "early" (I was back in Europe by Christmas), it was quite a trip, often amazing and wonderful but also often lonely, depressing, and unpleasant. I felt terrible (guilty, inadequate, lost, failed) at the time for not being able to live up to my own expectations--that I would have a great time and stay away a year.
Recently I had been experiencing a resurgence of the feelings associated with that trip--fear, loneliness, etc.--first, before coming here ten days ago, and again more strongly when the rest of the group left. Since there was nothing to be done about that I hoped I would gain some clarity from it. I think that has happened... to explain a bit more I'll write briefly about my day, how it reminded me of the Asia trip and how it helped me sort out what, precisely, was unpleasant about that trip, and give myself the validation ("yes, it's reasonable to think that this is unpleasant") that I never gave myself 14 years ago ("what is wrong with you that you're not having a good time???").
So.... my day. First I went to a gallery that the guidebook recommended. I guess I had my hopes up a bit much, because it was just one room of paintings (though many were quite interesting) and then two big rooms of tourist knickknacks... well, better than "knickknacks," but they were basically just nicer versions of what I saw in the market two days ago.
The "cafe," which I had especially been anticipating (I thought I'd sit a few hours, savor a pleasant drink and a snack, write all my postcards & watch the world go by) was a couple of wrought-iron chairs in a courtyard, with only one table off to the side. I pulled up to the table but the only thing to drink was bottles of soda, and there was no food, and no one else around, so after a few postcards I gave up.
Flashback situation #1: disappointment, in general.
Following the plan I'd made in the morning I took a taxi to the major market of the city. (Loopy, remember that big market we went to with Chris & Rachel in London? It was in like a giant warehouse thing? Sorta like that, only not). This was where the Asia-trip recollections were really strong.
It's definitely not a tourist destination. The market is in a huge space, a metal building with very high ceilings and a few skylights; as my luck would have it, the electricity had just gone out when I arrived. So, the interior of the market was dim, quite dark in places (although never so dark that I couldn't make out where I was going or what was being offered by the shops I passed).
Flashback situation #2: something is clearly inadequate, and I have to decide whether to react as I normally would (I don't want to go in that big dark metal building) or pretend that all is well in a situation that even the locals are complaining about.
I did the latter, of course; I walked right in and started weaving my way down narrow crowded aisles, the only touristy person around, looking at all the things for sale.
There was one type of item to each stall--almost like each stall represented one aisle at Walgreens or the grocery store. So, a stall might have plastic buckets and tubs, or piles of fruit, or hardware-related items, or 50-pound bags of rice and beans (purchased by weight in smaller bags), or children's clothes, or CDs & DVDs, or beauty products, or household cleansers...you get the picture.
This was actually quite interesting, but I was not well-received, or at least, I felt that I was not well-received. Of course, people watched me as I walked by, many with disinterest, some laughing, some hostile.
Flashback situation #3: I feel like I shouldn't be here, and people around me seem to agree. It would feel brave to keep walking around, and it would feel great to just get the hell out of here. I keep walking around.
I had hoped to maybe find a last few presents for Loopy and/or other people, but nothing was really suitable. So, not knowing what else to do and feeling that I should do something, I decided to take some photos.
I took a couple of photos without asking permission. This didn't seem right so then I started asking. The second woman I asked said "no, señora, no. no, no, no," in a tone that seemed to me to say, "I have had it with you people!"
Flashback situation #4: I am essentially consuming views of poverty and squalor as a tourism commodity. Unlike in some parts of the world, our neighbors here know very clearly what things are like in the U.S. Everyone knows that when I take photos, I'm taking photos of how quaint and interesting it is to sell food in big unrefrigerated unpackaged piles with flies on them, or to walk around in filth and darkness while shopping (the floor was quite literally filthy).
I talked briefly with one vendor about a possible present for Loopy, but there was a slight problem with the item so I set off to look for other options. In the course of wandering around I accidentally wandered back into the same stall I'd been at before. The owner assumed I had come back on purpose and got ready to package the item, and I had to explain that no, I still didn't want it.
Flashback situation #5: I'm lost, I'm confused, I don't know what I'm doing, I'm in an awkward social situation...
Finally I gave myself permission to just leave. I found a taxi and while I'd planned to go back to the hotel, the whole day felt so unsatisfying that I decided on the spur of the moment to try one more thing, and asked the driver to take me to another Gallery way across town.
We drove around for about ten minutes looking for it (remember how there are no addresses in Nicaragua?) and then it was closed. Lucky for me there was a hotel nearby where I had lunch; it had a swimming pool and seemed a few steps up from my current place, though not especially luxurious, so I made a mental note that this is where we should stay if Loopy ever comes with me.
After this I tried to take a taxi back to the hotel, but we couldn't find the hotel. We drove around and around and around near the hotel, with me trying to remember landmarks and sending the driver left or right when something looked familiar, only to have everything seem unfamiliar again. Finally I remembered that I had the precise instructions ("a block south and three blocks west of Hercules Gym") and the driver said, "ah, this is what I need, this is easy now."
In the 1.5 minutes it took us to get to the hotel (now that he had the right instructions) the driver told me that he spent 1985 to 1990 in Russia and speaks fluent Russian. Great, my taxi driver is a KGB agent (that's not a joke actually, in case that's unclear) who thinks I'm an idiot.
In case it's unclear that wasn't fun either.
I really started thinking about my Asia trip when I caught myself worrying about whether the hotel people would think I was a loser for coming back relatively early and eating dinner in the hotel. In Asia, I did that a lot (there were also days when I never left the hotel). I remember initially being able to tell myself that that was silly, but I think those paranoid fears/fantasies grew stronger the longer I spent in solitude (i.e. the fear that not only was I a bad person for not having a good time, but the hotel people could tell that I wasn't having fun and they thought I was bad, too).
Anyway, having some of these experiences again and seeing the thoughts come floating up to the surface helps me sort out a lot: why I didn't have a whole lot of fun in Asia, and how much worse I made it by beating up on myself about not having fun.
So, okay, therapy's over, can I go home now??? (in exactly twelve hours, in fact!)
See you all there......
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Nicaragua Day 9: burned at (not by) a sulphur-spewing volcano
Hi Loopy, thanks for your comment!
Earlier in the week (Thursday, to be precise) I was gleeful that you were a bit disoriented by my absence, but now you sound genuinely distressed, and I'm sad that you are feeling weird, it doesn't sound pleasant at all. I'm glad you had a good talk and that you ran into P yesterday and had yummy frozen yogurt.
All this goes to show that people can know each other really well and still have stereotypes and mistaken preconceptions... I think we both thought of me as the person who is sad and lonely when you go away, and of you, as the person who is competent and capable and actually even a little better off when I'm not around. So I guess maybe we're more the same than we thought! :-)
Well, something you said yesterday jolted me out of my homesickness and reminded me that my life at home has been difficult lately. I had forgotten all about everything—my difficulties with my schoolwork, our little italian friend, everything that was hard in recent months. But when I started to remember exactly what I would be going back to—especially finishing up school and slogging through the job search—it helped inspire me to really enjoy the heck out of these last two days of real vacation. I still can't wait to see you, but overall my mood and attitude when I got up this morning had much improved since last night when I felt all lonely and bereft. :-)
So, most of the group left very early this morning; I had breakfast with Mary Ann and Michael before they left for their plane. It was pleasant and mellow and we had a chance to talk about other topics than the ones that have preoccupied us all week. Then I said goodbye and went to get in the shower.
(The high school missionaries outside the window on the front terrace were being really loud and teenagery, and it was annoying me, but now they've started praying and that's even more annoying).
After that, I asked Doña Marta, the hotel owner (who staffs the front desk in the morning) (it's a small little hotel, more like a guest house, very pleasant) to call a taxi to take me to Masaya Volcano National Park. (I talked with our translator, Ann, before she left, to get some recommendations on fun stuff to do today and tomorrow; she suggested this and said it would be $25 for the ride out and back).
(Now the missionaries are having a theological discussion, argh; the youth minister is trying to explain predestination).
Well, Doña Marta told me it would be $40 instead of $25, so I wavered a bit and then decided to accept the price and just really get my $40 worth out of the day. So I did! It was great! I didn't feel bad about asking him to stop in different places or wait for me or anything, I just really enjoyed everything to the fullest.
And there was so much to enjoy! The good thing about not bringing a guidebook is that you can be surprised. Sometimes that's good, sometimes it's not so good; today it was all good.
So Don Manuel picked me up at eleven and we drove out of town to the south, on the road toward Masaya and Granada, which by now is getting quite familiar to me. After 20 minutes or so we were travelling along next to a massive field of lava, which is what first attracted my attention & curiosity last Sunday.
Instead of continuing on as before, we turned off the main road and started driving through the lava field. Don Manuel explained that the last major eruption was in 1772, and all this lava is from that time.
The rocks are still bare in many places, vegetated in some spots, and in a few places groups of larger trees have managed to grow, although the ground under them is still just piles of rocks. The whole area is impossible to use for planting or pasturage (the jagged jumbled rocks would be very difficult for animals to walk on without eventually injuring themselves), and therefore has remained mostly untouched--it was Nicaragua's first national park. The whole landscape was really quite impressive.
I stopped for a few photos of the Sacuanjote tree, Nicaragua's national flower, near a massive boulder (the size of a five- or six-story apartment building) that was spat out of the volcano and landed a kilometer (half-mile) away!
The lava rocks were so weird underfoot--they're lightweight (because they're full of air) and make weird squeaky crunching noises when you walk on them, and their bubbly poky shapes are intriguing.
Got back in the car and drove on up the side of the volcano to the crater at the top. The view out across the countryside during this drive was beautiful. The light was gorgeous, with huge fluffy clouds moving across a bright blue sky; as we got higher up the mountainside there was a refreshing breeze that made the air quite comfortable. (It's not actually terribly hot here, just extremely humid, so a bit of a breeze does wonders).
Higher up toward the crater the vegetation gets sparser, and the lava boulders give way to finer dirt and dust (perhaps ash) covered with tall gray-green grass. After a while I noticed that a few of the larger bushes existed up here too, but they seemed dead, their leaves withered and yellow; there was one big tree, but it was dead too, barkless and ghostly white. Don Manuel explained that when it rains, the gas from the crater turns the rain into sulfuric acid; I presume that this is the explanation for the desolation. Yet, later on my walk I would have a chance to see new shoots on these determined plants.
(I just heard the word "postmodern" from outside the window... I don't want to know).
We reached the rim of the crater and I was surprised and astonished (see above under "no guidebook") to see how deep it is. I think I've seen volcanic craters before but they were always flat across the bottom.
In this one, there is a flat surface like a floor, but it has a huge hole in it, and within that, a small hole at the bottom; yellowish clouds of sulphuric smoke continually billow out of the small hole. (I was lucky that the wind was blowing away from us--when the smoke occasionally blew toward me, it was chokingly acrid).
Until a few years ago, you could actually see lava in that small hole, but a landslide changed the terrain and now it just looks dark...but it is still open to the lava below.
Most impressive of all, you can hear the low rumbling sound of the continually roiling and bubbling lava! The sound isn't constant; sometimes there is a swishyness overlaid with the rumble, and sometimes there are muffled booms which I suppose must be pieces of rock falling in, though I really can't imagine.
Here, check out a picture! I was just in awe of this place!
When my parents took me to Hawaii when I was a little kid, I was so disappointed that the volcanoes didn't look like I had imagined. But this one does! It's a big cone, with a hole on the top, and lava in the hole!
Apparently when the Spaniards first got here in the sixteenth century, it was a much bigger hole, a huge open lake of lava 1 km across! The glow from the lava illuminated the billowing smoke with a fiery glow, and some stupid priest thought that it was literally the entrance to hell and stuck a cross on the rim to keep the devil inside....the cross today (a replica of the original, which must have been swept away in 1772 if not before) doesn't look like it could hold anything back; it just looks a bit small and pathetic, dwarfed by the enormity of all the natural phenomena around it.
Anyway, after staring in awe at this crater and filling up all my remaining camera memory with photos of it, I asked about a trail that seemed to go up a hundred yards to another vantage point over the crater. I received assurance that the whole area is patrolled by park rangers and that I would be quite safe wandering about alone. I found Don Manuel's commentary very interesting but I was tired of struggling along in Spanish and just wanted to wander a bit.
(Re the Spanish, my vocabulary for things having to do with the topics of the week is vastly expanded--I have vocabulary for the upcoming elections, rural women's empowerment, farming and land rights and reproductive health, etc.....but....I can't get the verb tenses right and all the little prepositions and adverbs and connecting words like "still" and "before" and "all" keep coming out in Japanese--I actually said "arigato" and "hai" at least once today, and I keep saying "sohhh, sohhh," when I want to say, "yes, you're right.")
So I went up to the little lookout and discovered that the path kept going beyond it, so I followed it up a hill and around a bend until I came to... (trumpet fanfare please) ANOTHER CRATER! (Remember what I said above about being surprised?)
It was immediately clear that this one has erupted much less recently: while there are barren sweeps of jumbled rock (as the sides are slowly tumbling down), there are also sweeps of vegetation and, far far down, the floor is filled with a little piece of lush rainforst, a small and more-or-less-circular area of immensely tall trees nestled together like a shining jewel in the palm of a hand, or a water droplet sparkling in a concave leaf. That may be the first piece of Nicaragua I've seen that was never deforested.
I saw that there was a very high place on the rim where I thought I might be able to get a photo of both craters simultaneously, so I set out towards it. But the path up to it was blocked with a "no pase" sign that warned of high winds and loose scree. I had seen people up there earlier, so I stayed on the same path around the side, hoping to find another way up there.
The path continued round the side of the second crater until I came upon.... (trumpet fanfare again if you don't mind) A THIRD CRATER!!!
This one was even older--much shallower, and with gentler slopes down (I'm guessing the sides had fallen in almost completely), although the space at the bottom is not much bigger. The slopes are grassy, and again at the bottom is a little piece of rainforest.
I just felt like the day couldn't possibly get any better, like wonders were heaped upon wonders.
I had clearly passed any point where I would be able to climb up to the high spot, but I wanted to see what else I would find, so I kept walking. Around on the back, here, I could see Lake Masaya, Lake Managua, and in the distance, the volcanoes we saw on Day Three when we drove to León.
It was SO BEAUTIFUL, with gorgeous forest stretching around the base of the volcanoes (I'm now on the opposite side from the more recent lava flows, and while this forest was all cut, it has been a national park long enough that it is growing back) and all the lakes, and the huge fluffy clouds and the blue blue sky. One of those views I'm going to file away in my "favorite memories" box.
SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.... sorry this entry is so long but my traveling companions are all gone and there's no roommate to disturb, so I'm just writing and writing!
I'll try to speed this up a little, though, as if I were in an internet cafe and had to go home with my companions or had the five-minute warning flashing on my screen.
So then the path started to go downhill, and the sun was hot and the breeze stopped as I got lower, so I decided to turn around and head back. When I came to one of the park rangers (whom I'd passed earlier), I stopped and chatted with him briefly, and then asked if there was any place where I could see all the craters at once. He said yes, but I could only go if he guided me.
We proceeded up a steep but not difficult piece of rock (almost like a stairway) right up to the high spot I had hoped to reach earlier!
From there I could see the three craters I've already mentioned, and learned that their names were (in the order I encountered them) Santiago, San Fernando, and San Juan.
The guide then pointed out two more, beyond the active crater: San Pedro is farthest away (it was almost out of view from our vantage point), and Nindirí is an older crater that was actually higher, before Santiago and San Pedro opened up on its sides. So, Nindirí's floor now forms a flat plateau between San Pedro and Santiago, and is slowly being eaten away by Santiago.
You can actually see this really well in this image (the one labeled Masaya in the image is what the guides called San Fernando).
THEN... this is the coolest part... I asked what was the ridge beyond all the craters, and the guide explained that these five craters are all in the middle of what used to be a gigantic caldera, around the time of the dinosaurs. I
think (from reading around a bit online) that this means that there was a huge eruption or a series of them and then the whole thing collapsed in on itself. Either that it means that the whole thing was a roiling mass of lava.
Anyway, check out the topographical map to see the large oval caldera encircling the cluster of volcanoes at the center...Lake Masaya fills the southeastern end of the caldera.
Did I mention that this was all extremely cool?
Did I mention that I am a HUGE GEEK???? :-)
So anyway I returned to the car, and just as we were getting ready to leave, three hot and exhausted-looking backpacker types approached and asked for a ride down. It was a French man with an Argentine woman and British woman, and we all had a nice chat about how stupid and evil the Cuba embargo is, and all of Bush's policies in general, and ended on the theme of Margaret Thatcher. They left us at the visitors' center (I mean, we went in and they left).
Oh, I forgot to mention--one of the first things I saw when I arrived was four bright-colored birds flying up to and disappearing into the wall of the crater. In the visitors' center I learned that these birds, a largish green species of parakeet, have adapted to the toxic fumes of the volcano and are well-protected from predators in the walls of the craters.
The visitors' center was actually really fantastic and I learned a lot, but it is getting exremely late and people are going to think I'm weird because I've been here for like three hours.
I came back to the hotel, had a nap, and returned to one of my favorite spots for dinner: La Cocina de Doña Haydée. I had the same thing as last time, that lovely "Indio Viejo," a mix of deliciously flavored cornmeal and beef, and then had a dessert that Don Manuel had recommended, Buñuelos, which is fried yuca in honey. The dessert was a bit bitter for my taste but it was a wonderful meal. I enjoyed the tropical plants and flowers and breezes, and watched the clouds change color as the sun set.
Yup, I enjoyed the heck out of my day.
(even if I did get a bad sunburn and have to go to the grocery store on the way back to the hotel, to get some Jergens aloe lotion. :-) hence the title of the post)
Earlier in the week (Thursday, to be precise) I was gleeful that you were a bit disoriented by my absence, but now you sound genuinely distressed, and I'm sad that you are feeling weird, it doesn't sound pleasant at all. I'm glad you had a good talk and that you ran into P yesterday and had yummy frozen yogurt.
All this goes to show that people can know each other really well and still have stereotypes and mistaken preconceptions... I think we both thought of me as the person who is sad and lonely when you go away, and of you, as the person who is competent and capable and actually even a little better off when I'm not around. So I guess maybe we're more the same than we thought! :-)
Well, something you said yesterday jolted me out of my homesickness and reminded me that my life at home has been difficult lately. I had forgotten all about everything—my difficulties with my schoolwork, our little italian friend, everything that was hard in recent months. But when I started to remember exactly what I would be going back to—especially finishing up school and slogging through the job search—it helped inspire me to really enjoy the heck out of these last two days of real vacation. I still can't wait to see you, but overall my mood and attitude when I got up this morning had much improved since last night when I felt all lonely and bereft. :-)
So, most of the group left very early this morning; I had breakfast with Mary Ann and Michael before they left for their plane. It was pleasant and mellow and we had a chance to talk about other topics than the ones that have preoccupied us all week. Then I said goodbye and went to get in the shower.
(The high school missionaries outside the window on the front terrace were being really loud and teenagery, and it was annoying me, but now they've started praying and that's even more annoying).
After that, I asked Doña Marta, the hotel owner (who staffs the front desk in the morning) (it's a small little hotel, more like a guest house, very pleasant) to call a taxi to take me to Masaya Volcano National Park. (I talked with our translator, Ann, before she left, to get some recommendations on fun stuff to do today and tomorrow; she suggested this and said it would be $25 for the ride out and back).
(Now the missionaries are having a theological discussion, argh; the youth minister is trying to explain predestination).
Well, Doña Marta told me it would be $40 instead of $25, so I wavered a bit and then decided to accept the price and just really get my $40 worth out of the day. So I did! It was great! I didn't feel bad about asking him to stop in different places or wait for me or anything, I just really enjoyed everything to the fullest.
And there was so much to enjoy! The good thing about not bringing a guidebook is that you can be surprised. Sometimes that's good, sometimes it's not so good; today it was all good.
So Don Manuel picked me up at eleven and we drove out of town to the south, on the road toward Masaya and Granada, which by now is getting quite familiar to me. After 20 minutes or so we were travelling along next to a massive field of lava, which is what first attracted my attention & curiosity last Sunday.
Instead of continuing on as before, we turned off the main road and started driving through the lava field. Don Manuel explained that the last major eruption was in 1772, and all this lava is from that time.
The rocks are still bare in many places, vegetated in some spots, and in a few places groups of larger trees have managed to grow, although the ground under them is still just piles of rocks. The whole area is impossible to use for planting or pasturage (the jagged jumbled rocks would be very difficult for animals to walk on without eventually injuring themselves), and therefore has remained mostly untouched--it was Nicaragua's first national park. The whole landscape was really quite impressive.
I stopped for a few photos of the Sacuanjote tree, Nicaragua's national flower, near a massive boulder (the size of a five- or six-story apartment building) that was spat out of the volcano and landed a kilometer (half-mile) away!
The lava rocks were so weird underfoot--they're lightweight (because they're full of air) and make weird squeaky crunching noises when you walk on them, and their bubbly poky shapes are intriguing.
Got back in the car and drove on up the side of the volcano to the crater at the top. The view out across the countryside during this drive was beautiful. The light was gorgeous, with huge fluffy clouds moving across a bright blue sky; as we got higher up the mountainside there was a refreshing breeze that made the air quite comfortable. (It's not actually terribly hot here, just extremely humid, so a bit of a breeze does wonders).
Higher up toward the crater the vegetation gets sparser, and the lava boulders give way to finer dirt and dust (perhaps ash) covered with tall gray-green grass. After a while I noticed that a few of the larger bushes existed up here too, but they seemed dead, their leaves withered and yellow; there was one big tree, but it was dead too, barkless and ghostly white. Don Manuel explained that when it rains, the gas from the crater turns the rain into sulfuric acid; I presume that this is the explanation for the desolation. Yet, later on my walk I would have a chance to see new shoots on these determined plants.
(I just heard the word "postmodern" from outside the window... I don't want to know).
We reached the rim of the crater and I was surprised and astonished (see above under "no guidebook") to see how deep it is. I think I've seen volcanic craters before but they were always flat across the bottom.
In this one, there is a flat surface like a floor, but it has a huge hole in it, and within that, a small hole at the bottom; yellowish clouds of sulphuric smoke continually billow out of the small hole. (I was lucky that the wind was blowing away from us--when the smoke occasionally blew toward me, it was chokingly acrid).
Until a few years ago, you could actually see lava in that small hole, but a landslide changed the terrain and now it just looks dark...but it is still open to the lava below.
Most impressive of all, you can hear the low rumbling sound of the continually roiling and bubbling lava! The sound isn't constant; sometimes there is a swishyness overlaid with the rumble, and sometimes there are muffled booms which I suppose must be pieces of rock falling in, though I really can't imagine.
Here, check out a picture! I was just in awe of this place!
When my parents took me to Hawaii when I was a little kid, I was so disappointed that the volcanoes didn't look like I had imagined. But this one does! It's a big cone, with a hole on the top, and lava in the hole!
Apparently when the Spaniards first got here in the sixteenth century, it was a much bigger hole, a huge open lake of lava 1 km across! The glow from the lava illuminated the billowing smoke with a fiery glow, and some stupid priest thought that it was literally the entrance to hell and stuck a cross on the rim to keep the devil inside....the cross today (a replica of the original, which must have been swept away in 1772 if not before) doesn't look like it could hold anything back; it just looks a bit small and pathetic, dwarfed by the enormity of all the natural phenomena around it.
Anyway, after staring in awe at this crater and filling up all my remaining camera memory with photos of it, I asked about a trail that seemed to go up a hundred yards to another vantage point over the crater. I received assurance that the whole area is patrolled by park rangers and that I would be quite safe wandering about alone. I found Don Manuel's commentary very interesting but I was tired of struggling along in Spanish and just wanted to wander a bit.
(Re the Spanish, my vocabulary for things having to do with the topics of the week is vastly expanded--I have vocabulary for the upcoming elections, rural women's empowerment, farming and land rights and reproductive health, etc.....but....I can't get the verb tenses right and all the little prepositions and adverbs and connecting words like "still" and "before" and "all" keep coming out in Japanese--I actually said "arigato" and "hai" at least once today, and I keep saying "sohhh, sohhh," when I want to say, "yes, you're right.")
So I went up to the little lookout and discovered that the path kept going beyond it, so I followed it up a hill and around a bend until I came to... (trumpet fanfare please) ANOTHER CRATER! (Remember what I said above about being surprised?)
It was immediately clear that this one has erupted much less recently: while there are barren sweeps of jumbled rock (as the sides are slowly tumbling down), there are also sweeps of vegetation and, far far down, the floor is filled with a little piece of lush rainforst, a small and more-or-less-circular area of immensely tall trees nestled together like a shining jewel in the palm of a hand, or a water droplet sparkling in a concave leaf. That may be the first piece of Nicaragua I've seen that was never deforested.
I saw that there was a very high place on the rim where I thought I might be able to get a photo of both craters simultaneously, so I set out towards it. But the path up to it was blocked with a "no pase" sign that warned of high winds and loose scree. I had seen people up there earlier, so I stayed on the same path around the side, hoping to find another way up there.
The path continued round the side of the second crater until I came upon.... (trumpet fanfare again if you don't mind) A THIRD CRATER!!!
This one was even older--much shallower, and with gentler slopes down (I'm guessing the sides had fallen in almost completely), although the space at the bottom is not much bigger. The slopes are grassy, and again at the bottom is a little piece of rainforest.
I just felt like the day couldn't possibly get any better, like wonders were heaped upon wonders.
I had clearly passed any point where I would be able to climb up to the high spot, but I wanted to see what else I would find, so I kept walking. Around on the back, here, I could see Lake Masaya, Lake Managua, and in the distance, the volcanoes we saw on Day Three when we drove to León.
It was SO BEAUTIFUL, with gorgeous forest stretching around the base of the volcanoes (I'm now on the opposite side from the more recent lava flows, and while this forest was all cut, it has been a national park long enough that it is growing back) and all the lakes, and the huge fluffy clouds and the blue blue sky. One of those views I'm going to file away in my "favorite memories" box.
SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.... sorry this entry is so long but my traveling companions are all gone and there's no roommate to disturb, so I'm just writing and writing!
I'll try to speed this up a little, though, as if I were in an internet cafe and had to go home with my companions or had the five-minute warning flashing on my screen.
So then the path started to go downhill, and the sun was hot and the breeze stopped as I got lower, so I decided to turn around and head back. When I came to one of the park rangers (whom I'd passed earlier), I stopped and chatted with him briefly, and then asked if there was any place where I could see all the craters at once. He said yes, but I could only go if he guided me.
We proceeded up a steep but not difficult piece of rock (almost like a stairway) right up to the high spot I had hoped to reach earlier!
From there I could see the three craters I've already mentioned, and learned that their names were (in the order I encountered them) Santiago, San Fernando, and San Juan.
The guide then pointed out two more, beyond the active crater: San Pedro is farthest away (it was almost out of view from our vantage point), and Nindirí is an older crater that was actually higher, before Santiago and San Pedro opened up on its sides. So, Nindirí's floor now forms a flat plateau between San Pedro and Santiago, and is slowly being eaten away by Santiago.
You can actually see this really well in this image (the one labeled Masaya in the image is what the guides called San Fernando).
THEN... this is the coolest part... I asked what was the ridge beyond all the craters, and the guide explained that these five craters are all in the middle of what used to be a gigantic caldera, around the time of the dinosaurs. I
think (from reading around a bit online) that this means that there was a huge eruption or a series of them and then the whole thing collapsed in on itself. Either that it means that the whole thing was a roiling mass of lava.
Anyway, check out the topographical map to see the large oval caldera encircling the cluster of volcanoes at the center...Lake Masaya fills the southeastern end of the caldera.
Did I mention that this was all extremely cool?
Did I mention that I am a HUGE GEEK???? :-)
So anyway I returned to the car, and just as we were getting ready to leave, three hot and exhausted-looking backpacker types approached and asked for a ride down. It was a French man with an Argentine woman and British woman, and we all had a nice chat about how stupid and evil the Cuba embargo is, and all of Bush's policies in general, and ended on the theme of Margaret Thatcher. They left us at the visitors' center (I mean, we went in and they left).
Oh, I forgot to mention--one of the first things I saw when I arrived was four bright-colored birds flying up to and disappearing into the wall of the crater. In the visitors' center I learned that these birds, a largish green species of parakeet, have adapted to the toxic fumes of the volcano and are well-protected from predators in the walls of the craters.
The visitors' center was actually really fantastic and I learned a lot, but it is getting exremely late and people are going to think I'm weird because I've been here for like three hours.
I came back to the hotel, had a nap, and returned to one of my favorite spots for dinner: La Cocina de Doña Haydée. I had the same thing as last time, that lovely "Indio Viejo," a mix of deliciously flavored cornmeal and beef, and then had a dessert that Don Manuel had recommended, Buñuelos, which is fried yuca in honey. The dessert was a bit bitter for my taste but it was a wonderful meal. I enjoyed the tropical plants and flowers and breezes, and watched the clouds change color as the sun set.
Yup, I enjoyed the heck out of my day.
(even if I did get a bad sunburn and have to go to the grocery store on the way back to the hotel, to get some Jergens aloe lotion. :-) hence the title of the post)
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Nicaragua Day 8: shopping & fond farewells
Dear Loopy,
I'm sorry yesterday's entry was so dry. I was a little intimidated by the idea that WCCN staff were reading. But today I have decided not to worry about them (although I am waving to them, hello Alisha! Thank you for saying my blog is a hoot!) But you didn't comment which made me sad, so I will try to make this a more commentable entry.
You would definitely have enjoyed today... we went to a bookstore and the local equivalent of the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul (remember that??). The bazaar was in Masaya, a smaller town halfway between Managua and Granada (where I went on Day 1, remember?)
The exterior of the bazaar was a big gray stone wall with crenallations; I couldn't decide (and didn't think to ask) if it was an old fortification to protect the market from bandits, or a modern replica of the same, and either way, whether it still had a function or was just picturesque.
Inside were two squares, each with a courtyard, fountain and flowers in the middle (dang, shoulda taken a photo of that--as if I don't have enough photos of courtyards, fountains and flowers!); there were shops all around the inside and outside of each square. It was slightly confusing but pretty easy to navigate once you got some landmarks.
Of course, I looked around for a bit and then decided what, precisely, I had to have for you. I then drove every shopkeeper nuts looking for that precise thing--this of course made me think of how much you HATE it when I do that! So maybe you wouldn't have enjoyed today...
As it turned out, the precise thing didn't exist. So I got two approximations and you can pick one or both or neither. I'm not worried about it being imperfect, because I also got you something that I know you will enjoy. Hee hee!
I am dying to tell you what these presents are but I think it will be more fun if they are a surprise. I thought about getting stuff for the little cousins, etc., but everything was either heavy, fragile, or cheap and cheesy, and after a while I had a headache anyway. (Your gifts are neither heavy, fragile, nor cheap nor cheesy, but the little cousins wouldn't want them (and their parents wouldn't want them to have it!)) Enjoy the suspense... :-)
I got Mom a religious medal... I had thought of lighting a candle for her surgery in the grim cathedral in Managua back on Day 2, but when I thought about the money (even the miniscule amount) going anywhere near a guy who funded the Contras, I couldn't do it, even for mom's surgery. So... she gets a medal instead. I hope she likes it.
Lunch was a Mexican restaurant near the bazaar. I had a vegetarian burrito which was wonderful, with big chunks of that lovely crumbly white cheese, rice, black beans and avocado. Mmmm scrumptious.
Anyway, after all that we went to San Juan de Oriente, a small town that was having its yearly ceramics fair. The pottery was very beautiful, featuring finely incised designs of all kinds, including geometric, plants and animals, emulations of pre-Columbian work, etc. Apparently it's world famous (click here for a few examples).
I resisted buying any of it, even though it's gorgeous, and instead took photos of the pieces I would have liked to buy for you, if we didn't already have too much stuff. (I can't wait to get all my photos posted!)
That was a fun little interlude, even though the place was overrun with hideous Baptist missionaries from Kentucky who were so glad to have an English-speaking heathen to evangelize that I felt like I did when all those mosquitos attacked me at the Fairy Bridge in Scotland. They were loud, sweaty, weird, and embarrassing. We haven't been around people from the U.S. all week, except each other; it's always weird to come back in contact with our fellow countrypersons after a period of absence. We really are a strange bunch.
Then we went on to a high point overlooking Lake Masaya, which was interesting because you can see Granada on the other side of the lake, and beyond Granada, Lake Nicaragua where I was on Day 1 in the boat. You really do get the sense that half of this place is already under water.
Speaking of which, oh my god, did you see the news story about the polar bears? It's too horrible... you remember how the ice never formed last winter enough for them to get out and hunt on the ice like they're supposed to? Well, now, apparently some polar bears are dying of hunger and being eaten by other hungry polar bears, which is behavior that has never been observed before. It's like the apocalypse or something... the world going crazy... it's so sad. Periodically a global warming story really gets me and this is one of them... the last one... well, no, I won't go there, since this is already sad enough.
OK, something more cheerful... a good animal story. On our way out to the remote rural community that we visited on Day 5 (with the lesbian), we were bouncing along in the pickup truck when all of a sudden three dogs came running down the road toward us. I wondered where they were going so fast and so purposefully--they were all looking very determined as though they had something very important to do.
As it turned out, they did have something very important to do: bark at the trucks. They jumped up and down barking ferociously and very much as though they were attending to important business (also clearly enjoying themselves). It was just so hilarious, I started laughing out loud... I don't know if I described it well but I thought of you, you would have loved it.
So, anyway, back to the lakeside... it was so mellow and pleasant. We were up high so there was a nice breeze, and there were a lot of families and couples relaxing and enjoying the view, eating ice cream, etc. There were some musicians playing (for money I guess), a xylophone and two guitars, and singing; for some reason, two boys had climbed up into a tree over their heads and were bouncing the tree in time to the music (can't wait to post *that* photo!). It was a really nice little scene.
Finally, we returned to Managua, which is becoming very familiar now, or at least this side of town is. We had a rest at the hotel and then ate dinner and then did an evaluation and then said our goodbyes. I have some plans and ideas about the next two days, when I'll be here alone, but it's late and my roommate has to leave for the airport at 5 a.m. so I should go to bed.
But I'll just add--you know this because we were just IM'ing, but then we got cut off--that the departure of all my traveling companions is making me sad and lonely, and I miss you and can't wait to come home. It's been a wonderful trip, but I'm ready to be done. But, I'll make the best of the next two days, and of course, I will keep you posted!
I'm sorry yesterday's entry was so dry. I was a little intimidated by the idea that WCCN staff were reading. But today I have decided not to worry about them (although I am waving to them, hello Alisha! Thank you for saying my blog is a hoot!) But you didn't comment which made me sad, so I will try to make this a more commentable entry.
You would definitely have enjoyed today... we went to a bookstore and the local equivalent of the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul (remember that??). The bazaar was in Masaya, a smaller town halfway between Managua and Granada (where I went on Day 1, remember?)
The exterior of the bazaar was a big gray stone wall with crenallations; I couldn't decide (and didn't think to ask) if it was an old fortification to protect the market from bandits, or a modern replica of the same, and either way, whether it still had a function or was just picturesque.
Inside were two squares, each with a courtyard, fountain and flowers in the middle (dang, shoulda taken a photo of that--as if I don't have enough photos of courtyards, fountains and flowers!); there were shops all around the inside and outside of each square. It was slightly confusing but pretty easy to navigate once you got some landmarks.
Of course, I looked around for a bit and then decided what, precisely, I had to have for you. I then drove every shopkeeper nuts looking for that precise thing--this of course made me think of how much you HATE it when I do that! So maybe you wouldn't have enjoyed today...
As it turned out, the precise thing didn't exist. So I got two approximations and you can pick one or both or neither. I'm not worried about it being imperfect, because I also got you something that I know you will enjoy. Hee hee!
I am dying to tell you what these presents are but I think it will be more fun if they are a surprise. I thought about getting stuff for the little cousins, etc., but everything was either heavy, fragile, or cheap and cheesy, and after a while I had a headache anyway. (Your gifts are neither heavy, fragile, nor cheap nor cheesy, but the little cousins wouldn't want them (and their parents wouldn't want them to have it!)) Enjoy the suspense... :-)
I got Mom a religious medal... I had thought of lighting a candle for her surgery in the grim cathedral in Managua back on Day 2, but when I thought about the money (even the miniscule amount) going anywhere near a guy who funded the Contras, I couldn't do it, even for mom's surgery. So... she gets a medal instead. I hope she likes it.
Lunch was a Mexican restaurant near the bazaar. I had a vegetarian burrito which was wonderful, with big chunks of that lovely crumbly white cheese, rice, black beans and avocado. Mmmm scrumptious.
Anyway, after all that we went to San Juan de Oriente, a small town that was having its yearly ceramics fair. The pottery was very beautiful, featuring finely incised designs of all kinds, including geometric, plants and animals, emulations of pre-Columbian work, etc. Apparently it's world famous (click here for a few examples).
I resisted buying any of it, even though it's gorgeous, and instead took photos of the pieces I would have liked to buy for you, if we didn't already have too much stuff. (I can't wait to get all my photos posted!)
That was a fun little interlude, even though the place was overrun with hideous Baptist missionaries from Kentucky who were so glad to have an English-speaking heathen to evangelize that I felt like I did when all those mosquitos attacked me at the Fairy Bridge in Scotland. They were loud, sweaty, weird, and embarrassing. We haven't been around people from the U.S. all week, except each other; it's always weird to come back in contact with our fellow countrypersons after a period of absence. We really are a strange bunch.
Then we went on to a high point overlooking Lake Masaya, which was interesting because you can see Granada on the other side of the lake, and beyond Granada, Lake Nicaragua where I was on Day 1 in the boat. You really do get the sense that half of this place is already under water.
Speaking of which, oh my god, did you see the news story about the polar bears? It's too horrible... you remember how the ice never formed last winter enough for them to get out and hunt on the ice like they're supposed to? Well, now, apparently some polar bears are dying of hunger and being eaten by other hungry polar bears, which is behavior that has never been observed before. It's like the apocalypse or something... the world going crazy... it's so sad. Periodically a global warming story really gets me and this is one of them... the last one... well, no, I won't go there, since this is already sad enough.
OK, something more cheerful... a good animal story. On our way out to the remote rural community that we visited on Day 5 (with the lesbian), we were bouncing along in the pickup truck when all of a sudden three dogs came running down the road toward us. I wondered where they were going so fast and so purposefully--they were all looking very determined as though they had something very important to do.
As it turned out, they did have something very important to do: bark at the trucks. They jumped up and down barking ferociously and very much as though they were attending to important business (also clearly enjoying themselves). It was just so hilarious, I started laughing out loud... I don't know if I described it well but I thought of you, you would have loved it.
So, anyway, back to the lakeside... it was so mellow and pleasant. We were up high so there was a nice breeze, and there were a lot of families and couples relaxing and enjoying the view, eating ice cream, etc. There were some musicians playing (for money I guess), a xylophone and two guitars, and singing; for some reason, two boys had climbed up into a tree over their heads and were bouncing the tree in time to the music (can't wait to post *that* photo!). It was a really nice little scene.
Finally, we returned to Managua, which is becoming very familiar now, or at least this side of town is. We had a rest at the hotel and then ate dinner and then did an evaluation and then said our goodbyes. I have some plans and ideas about the next two days, when I'll be here alone, but it's late and my roommate has to leave for the airport at 5 a.m. so I should go to bed.
But I'll just add--you know this because we were just IM'ing, but then we got cut off--that the departure of all my traveling companions is making me sad and lonely, and I miss you and can't wait to come home. It's been a wonderful trip, but I'm ready to be done. But, I'll make the best of the next two days, and of course, I will keep you posted!
Friday, June 16, 2006
Nicaragua Day 7: intersection of state and us (updated)
(I wrote a lot more since I first posted earlier tonight)
The title of this post is a reference to Betsy's daughter Ursula's thesis on "the intersection of state and capital," which they always joke is "one block south from the intersection of State and Main." Today we met with some officials and would-be officials of the state, so, you know. It's supposed to be a joke.
Anyway, the "one block south" thing reminds me to tell you the interesting fact that there are no addresses in Nicaragua, and in fact, not always street names or numbers.
The hotel we're staying at, for example, has the following "address" in the phone book: "Hotel San Juan, San Juan district, 3 blocks north and 1 block east of Hercules Gym."
Similarly, in Estelí they told me the internet cafe was 1/2 block west of "the corner with the banks." Ann (our noble translator) says that the worst is when the landmark is "where the banks used to be," because then you really don't know unless you live there!
OK, so, let me try to say something semi-intelligent or at least descriptive before we leave for our night out on the town.
So, yesterday, Day 6, which of course seems like a billion years ago, in the morning we went to visit Fundación Entre Mujeres (Foundation Among Women), whose name is interesting both because it has the handy acronym FEM and because it is a foundation among women instead of for women.
Let me interject that Estelí is in the mountains, beautiful beautiful country--if I were going to come back here for any amount of time I'd rather like to stay in that mountainous area. Unlike much of the rest of the country we've driven through, not all of the beautiful rainforest vegetation has been stripped away--there are these ENORMOUS gorgeous trees, mostly along streambeds (perhaps because the shade keeps them from evaporating?) and on slopes that are too steep to be used (tho there are precious few degrees between "too steep to be used" and "too steep to support vegetation"--horses can graze on slopes too steep for cattle, apparently).
So anyway, FEM's offices are in a lovely building on the edge of a steep hill, overlooking the town. The bathroom, which presumably drops waste off the edge of the cliff (I didn't examine the situation too closely), has the best view in the complex. As is often the case there's a small interior courtyard with a fountain and roses and flowers, as well as (more unusual) a front garden and a backyard with lovely flowers (and a dog, whose "doghouse" consisted of a large piece of particle board leaning against the chainlink fence). The overall impression was airy and light and full of greenery and blossoms. The cherry on the sundae: during the break, in the backyard, I watched a parade of leaf-cutter ants carrying things. Many of them were carrying tiny flowers so it looked like a little ant parade...it was charming.
OK, but the actual content of the meeting... Like many of the orgs we're visiting, FEM was created in the 90's to try to address the needs created after the revolution ended and the state withdrew from its responsibilities for the health, education and general welfare of the people. The Sandinista veteran who started the introduction said that the road to gender and economic equality is long, and that the achievements of the 80s were just the first few steps; organizations like FEM tried to pick up and continue the unfinished tasks.
She described FEM as "not an NGO" but rather "a legal and political instrument to mobilize rural women." They "combine material and theoretical tools to create radical change in the situation of marginalized women." The centerpiece of their work is women's access to land... during the big land reforms of the 80s (that I talked about yesterday) only 6% of the land went to women.
Like many of the other orgs we've visited, they see personal empowerment as an essential component. "We understand empowerment as a process that's very individual--each woman discovering herself as an individual--but that ends up in the public arena," through changes in the relationship with her partner, changes in family dynamics, then changes in her role in the community and finally her participation in the civic sphere. (This is the ideal anyway!)
They have a mobile health clinic that provides healthcare as well as education in health, sexuality and reproductive health, which reaches 3000 women; adult education program which reaches 425; and a family garden & livestock program that involves 300 women. But the most interesting are the three collective farms of single mothers.
Several women from one of the collectives were there to talk with us about their experiences. One explained that single mothers are supposed to stay in their parents' home and take care of their children; if people even see them on the street they'll reproach them for not being home with their children. So when these women got land from FEM to begin working as a collective farm, and started being out in the fields all the time and with their animals, they got a lot of crap from the community.
One of the women had a boyfriend who got a lot of crap too, for "not being man enough" to provide for her. He in turn bugged her about being part of the collective and tried to get her to stop. But when she brought home two big bags of beans that, with what he brought home, were enough to feed the family for the year, he changed his tune!
This is the fascinating thing about many of the groups we're visiting: they have figured out how to create material experiences for women and their families that alter their relationships and perceptions of self and others, so much more effectively than a lecture or any kind of "education."
This was a recurring theme all week: a woman obtains land (or learns how to make her backyard fertile) and receives technical training in agricultural techniques as well as information and self-empowerment education on different levels. She begins working the small plot of land in her backyard, and initially encounters opposition from her family & community, but perseveres with the new information about her rights and personhood.
But, when she actually creates a material improvement in her family's situation, support begins to develop until, in many cases, the entire family reorganizes around her work and becomes a production unit focused on the woman's agricultural efforts. The change in material reality is what creates a real change in her relationships with family and community--although this probably wouldn't be possible without the various self-empowerment educational aspects. It's a fascinating process and I'm probably not really doing it justice since I'm pretty tired.
There are other themes that this week has brought out, which maybe I should turn to instead of giving a blow-by-blow about each meeting..... but for tonight I'll just try to finish up the overview of the meetings.
VERY briefly, the rest of the FEM meeting was concerned with promoting the produce of the coffee-growing collectives and finding markets for it in the US (such as Just Coffee in Madison). We also learned a lot about coffee production.
In the afternoon yesterday we met with representatives of a microfinance organization (FODEM) that makes loans almost exclusively to women. Then we went to visit three of the borrowers--two bakeries and a retail shop selling clothing and furniture. FODEM doesn't do a lot of the healthcare and empowerment training that the other orgs do, so there was less of a sense of transformation and more a sense of promoting small business.
But, it was interesting to get a behind-the-scenes look at the businesses. I haven't seen a lot of storefronts other than internet shops and bodega-type stores called "pulperias" (nobody knows why, since literally that means "octopus shop"). So, I learned that many businesses run out of private homes with unmarked fronts. The little retail shop was just a room in the woman's house that was crammed with household goods, many wrapped in plastic to keep them from getting dusty.
This morning, we got up early and drove back to Managua. It was a beautiful road, through the mountains with lots of big trees and gorgeous flowers (interspersed with the cattle pastures that we've seen throughout the country). In the mountainous region around Estelí I finally felt that I was seeing a few glimpses of the country depicted in the murals we saw the first day, the lush vegetation and sense of natural richness. The rest of the country just looks denuded, which it is.
In Managua we met with Ana Criquillon, another veteran feminist who had been in the Sandinista government in the 80s, and whose article about the Nicaraguan women's movement was a key reading for our trip. I didn't get to ask her nearly all my questions, but some interesting themes came up... we talked about all the great grass-roots organizing we'd been seeing all week, and while her organization (Puntos de Encuentro) is a foundation providing grants to grass-roots organization (with priorities placed on youth, women's rights, and rural areas), she also put all this in context with some sobering realities: women are about to lose the right to abortion in Nicaragua, which they've had for decades (if only under somewhat limited circumstances, i.e. if the life of the mother or fetus is in danger or if the pregnancy is the product of rape); the laws about material and other responsibilities of fathers to their children are no longer being enforced; and single women are about to lose the right to adopt children. So in the realm of public policy, the space created in the 80s is closing faster and faster.
Later in the afternoon we met with Patricia Hernandez, who unlike the rest of the women we'd met all week has chosen to stay in government after the end of the revolution in 1990. She has been fighting all this time for rural women's access to land and has been engaged in enormous government efforts to increase the titling of land in women's names. She's had a lot of frustrations and setbacks in the context of enormous bureaucracy, corruption, and political wrangling, but where she's succeeded, she's able to work on a much larger scale than the other groups and individuals we spoke with. An intersting contrast particularly given Ana's notes on the increasing erosion of women's rights on a state level.
Finally, we went to meet with four candidates for political office from a new party, the MRS (which I keep thinking is funny because of course it looks like the abbreviation "Mrs." in English), which stands for "Movimiento de Renovación Sandinista" (Sandinista Renovation Movement), which is supposed to be a hope for change in the country in the context of a hopelessly deadlocked political situation (which I hope to talk about another time, because it struck me today that recent developments that locals bemoan as "the end of democracy" are developments that take Nicaragua to exactly the same political situation as the US...)
Three of the four disappointed me as just the usual politicians, who try not to say anything, while sounding inspiring. The fourth was a very interesting woman who again reminded us that all the amazing grassroots work we've seen in the past week takes place in a national and international context that has a huge impact on the situation of the women involved--such as CAFTA and the WTO, the eroding separation of church and state, women's legal status and access to reproductive healthcare and family planning, the strength of state institutions and their ability to support women's rights. You can see why I titled the post as I did...
In the evening we went out to hear music and drink. It was funny, after some initial merriment, we all fell silent. I don't know if everyone was reflecting on the week we've had or listening to the music, but I had the impression that we were all missing someone far away, at least I was, I was missing my Loopygirl a lot... I called her when I got back to the hotel (this post has not felt like it was written to her, because there was so much reportage and data in it) and said, "When I'm bouncing over a rutted country road in the back of a pickup truck, it doesn't feel like you should be there because I know you wouldn't want to be, but when I'm in a nice restaurant listening to a hot woman sing romantic songs it does feel like you should be there."
I know I'll be home soon but I wish it was sooner. It's been an incredible week but I'm tired. I'm torn between trying to squeeze every last ounce out of my last two days (Sunday and Monday I'll be on my own here) and just relaxing, writing postcards, waiting for the plane to take off...... probably it will be a combo... certainly the time will pass more quickly if I make them active days, but I do feel pretty worn out.
Maybe that's because it's 12:30 at night. Time for bed!
The title of this post is a reference to Betsy's daughter Ursula's thesis on "the intersection of state and capital," which they always joke is "one block south from the intersection of State and Main." Today we met with some officials and would-be officials of the state, so, you know. It's supposed to be a joke.
Anyway, the "one block south" thing reminds me to tell you the interesting fact that there are no addresses in Nicaragua, and in fact, not always street names or numbers.
The hotel we're staying at, for example, has the following "address" in the phone book: "Hotel San Juan, San Juan district, 3 blocks north and 1 block east of Hercules Gym."
Similarly, in Estelí they told me the internet cafe was 1/2 block west of "the corner with the banks." Ann (our noble translator) says that the worst is when the landmark is "where the banks used to be," because then you really don't know unless you live there!
OK, so, let me try to say something semi-intelligent or at least descriptive before we leave for our night out on the town.
So, yesterday, Day 6, which of course seems like a billion years ago, in the morning we went to visit Fundación Entre Mujeres (Foundation Among Women), whose name is interesting both because it has the handy acronym FEM and because it is a foundation among women instead of for women.
Let me interject that Estelí is in the mountains, beautiful beautiful country--if I were going to come back here for any amount of time I'd rather like to stay in that mountainous area. Unlike much of the rest of the country we've driven through, not all of the beautiful rainforest vegetation has been stripped away--there are these ENORMOUS gorgeous trees, mostly along streambeds (perhaps because the shade keeps them from evaporating?) and on slopes that are too steep to be used (tho there are precious few degrees between "too steep to be used" and "too steep to support vegetation"--horses can graze on slopes too steep for cattle, apparently).
So anyway, FEM's offices are in a lovely building on the edge of a steep hill, overlooking the town. The bathroom, which presumably drops waste off the edge of the cliff (I didn't examine the situation too closely), has the best view in the complex. As is often the case there's a small interior courtyard with a fountain and roses and flowers, as well as (more unusual) a front garden and a backyard with lovely flowers (and a dog, whose "doghouse" consisted of a large piece of particle board leaning against the chainlink fence). The overall impression was airy and light and full of greenery and blossoms. The cherry on the sundae: during the break, in the backyard, I watched a parade of leaf-cutter ants carrying things. Many of them were carrying tiny flowers so it looked like a little ant parade...it was charming.
OK, but the actual content of the meeting... Like many of the orgs we're visiting, FEM was created in the 90's to try to address the needs created after the revolution ended and the state withdrew from its responsibilities for the health, education and general welfare of the people. The Sandinista veteran who started the introduction said that the road to gender and economic equality is long, and that the achievements of the 80s were just the first few steps; organizations like FEM tried to pick up and continue the unfinished tasks.
She described FEM as "not an NGO" but rather "a legal and political instrument to mobilize rural women." They "combine material and theoretical tools to create radical change in the situation of marginalized women." The centerpiece of their work is women's access to land... during the big land reforms of the 80s (that I talked about yesterday) only 6% of the land went to women.
Like many of the other orgs we've visited, they see personal empowerment as an essential component. "We understand empowerment as a process that's very individual--each woman discovering herself as an individual--but that ends up in the public arena," through changes in the relationship with her partner, changes in family dynamics, then changes in her role in the community and finally her participation in the civic sphere. (This is the ideal anyway!)
They have a mobile health clinic that provides healthcare as well as education in health, sexuality and reproductive health, which reaches 3000 women; adult education program which reaches 425; and a family garden & livestock program that involves 300 women. But the most interesting are the three collective farms of single mothers.
Several women from one of the collectives were there to talk with us about their experiences. One explained that single mothers are supposed to stay in their parents' home and take care of their children; if people even see them on the street they'll reproach them for not being home with their children. So when these women got land from FEM to begin working as a collective farm, and started being out in the fields all the time and with their animals, they got a lot of crap from the community.
One of the women had a boyfriend who got a lot of crap too, for "not being man enough" to provide for her. He in turn bugged her about being part of the collective and tried to get her to stop. But when she brought home two big bags of beans that, with what he brought home, were enough to feed the family for the year, he changed his tune!
This is the fascinating thing about many of the groups we're visiting: they have figured out how to create material experiences for women and their families that alter their relationships and perceptions of self and others, so much more effectively than a lecture or any kind of "education."
This was a recurring theme all week: a woman obtains land (or learns how to make her backyard fertile) and receives technical training in agricultural techniques as well as information and self-empowerment education on different levels. She begins working the small plot of land in her backyard, and initially encounters opposition from her family & community, but perseveres with the new information about her rights and personhood.
But, when she actually creates a material improvement in her family's situation, support begins to develop until, in many cases, the entire family reorganizes around her work and becomes a production unit focused on the woman's agricultural efforts. The change in material reality is what creates a real change in her relationships with family and community--although this probably wouldn't be possible without the various self-empowerment educational aspects. It's a fascinating process and I'm probably not really doing it justice since I'm pretty tired.
There are other themes that this week has brought out, which maybe I should turn to instead of giving a blow-by-blow about each meeting..... but for tonight I'll just try to finish up the overview of the meetings.
VERY briefly, the rest of the FEM meeting was concerned with promoting the produce of the coffee-growing collectives and finding markets for it in the US (such as Just Coffee in Madison). We also learned a lot about coffee production.
In the afternoon yesterday we met with representatives of a microfinance organization (FODEM) that makes loans almost exclusively to women. Then we went to visit three of the borrowers--two bakeries and a retail shop selling clothing and furniture. FODEM doesn't do a lot of the healthcare and empowerment training that the other orgs do, so there was less of a sense of transformation and more a sense of promoting small business.
But, it was interesting to get a behind-the-scenes look at the businesses. I haven't seen a lot of storefronts other than internet shops and bodega-type stores called "pulperias" (nobody knows why, since literally that means "octopus shop"). So, I learned that many businesses run out of private homes with unmarked fronts. The little retail shop was just a room in the woman's house that was crammed with household goods, many wrapped in plastic to keep them from getting dusty.
This morning, we got up early and drove back to Managua. It was a beautiful road, through the mountains with lots of big trees and gorgeous flowers (interspersed with the cattle pastures that we've seen throughout the country). In the mountainous region around Estelí I finally felt that I was seeing a few glimpses of the country depicted in the murals we saw the first day, the lush vegetation and sense of natural richness. The rest of the country just looks denuded, which it is.
In Managua we met with Ana Criquillon, another veteran feminist who had been in the Sandinista government in the 80s, and whose article about the Nicaraguan women's movement was a key reading for our trip. I didn't get to ask her nearly all my questions, but some interesting themes came up... we talked about all the great grass-roots organizing we'd been seeing all week, and while her organization (Puntos de Encuentro) is a foundation providing grants to grass-roots organization (with priorities placed on youth, women's rights, and rural areas), she also put all this in context with some sobering realities: women are about to lose the right to abortion in Nicaragua, which they've had for decades (if only under somewhat limited circumstances, i.e. if the life of the mother or fetus is in danger or if the pregnancy is the product of rape); the laws about material and other responsibilities of fathers to their children are no longer being enforced; and single women are about to lose the right to adopt children. So in the realm of public policy, the space created in the 80s is closing faster and faster.
Later in the afternoon we met with Patricia Hernandez, who unlike the rest of the women we'd met all week has chosen to stay in government after the end of the revolution in 1990. She has been fighting all this time for rural women's access to land and has been engaged in enormous government efforts to increase the titling of land in women's names. She's had a lot of frustrations and setbacks in the context of enormous bureaucracy, corruption, and political wrangling, but where she's succeeded, she's able to work on a much larger scale than the other groups and individuals we spoke with. An intersting contrast particularly given Ana's notes on the increasing erosion of women's rights on a state level.
Finally, we went to meet with four candidates for political office from a new party, the MRS (which I keep thinking is funny because of course it looks like the abbreviation "Mrs." in English), which stands for "Movimiento de Renovación Sandinista" (Sandinista Renovation Movement), which is supposed to be a hope for change in the country in the context of a hopelessly deadlocked political situation (which I hope to talk about another time, because it struck me today that recent developments that locals bemoan as "the end of democracy" are developments that take Nicaragua to exactly the same political situation as the US...)
Three of the four disappointed me as just the usual politicians, who try not to say anything, while sounding inspiring. The fourth was a very interesting woman who again reminded us that all the amazing grassroots work we've seen in the past week takes place in a national and international context that has a huge impact on the situation of the women involved--such as CAFTA and the WTO, the eroding separation of church and state, women's legal status and access to reproductive healthcare and family planning, the strength of state institutions and their ability to support women's rights. You can see why I titled the post as I did...
In the evening we went out to hear music and drink. It was funny, after some initial merriment, we all fell silent. I don't know if everyone was reflecting on the week we've had or listening to the music, but I had the impression that we were all missing someone far away, at least I was, I was missing my Loopygirl a lot... I called her when I got back to the hotel (this post has not felt like it was written to her, because there was so much reportage and data in it) and said, "When I'm bouncing over a rutted country road in the back of a pickup truck, it doesn't feel like you should be there because I know you wouldn't want to be, but when I'm in a nice restaurant listening to a hot woman sing romantic songs it does feel like you should be there."
I know I'll be home soon but I wish it was sooner. It's been an incredible week but I'm tired. I'm torn between trying to squeeze every last ounce out of my last two days (Sunday and Monday I'll be on my own here) and just relaxing, writing postcards, waiting for the plane to take off...... probably it will be a combo... certainly the time will pass more quickly if I make them active days, but I do feel pretty worn out.
Maybe that's because it's 12:30 at night. Time for bed!
Nicaragua note
Hiya folks
Just a quick note now (we arrived back in Managua early so we have a few minutes at the hotel before our next meeting)... I found out some WCCN people are reading my blog so I feel bad for saying yesterday was "more of the same." The truth is, I couldn't really think clearly because I was feeling really sick yesterday, and at that moment I couldn't remember what we had done, it was all a fog. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to worry anyone. But I skipped dinner and went to bed and slept for fourteen hours, so now I feel fine.
If you want to see some photos (and probably more intelligent commentary; I haven't had a chance to read it) check out Mark's blog!
Just a quick note now (we arrived back in Managua early so we have a few minutes at the hotel before our next meeting)... I found out some WCCN people are reading my blog so I feel bad for saying yesterday was "more of the same." The truth is, I couldn't really think clearly because I was feeling really sick yesterday, and at that moment I couldn't remember what we had done, it was all a fog. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to worry anyone. But I skipped dinner and went to bed and slept for fourteen hours, so now I feel fine.
If you want to see some photos (and probably more intelligent commentary; I haven't had a chance to read it) check out Mark's blog!
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Nicaragua Day 6: mountains and rain
So, today was pleasant but mostly it was more of the same, so I can catch up a little on previous days.
You asked how much time I buy--it's not always that, it's that I can't walk back to the hotel by myself at night, so when others want to go, I have to go. Also it takes a while to get logged on and read your comment, and I also write stuff and delete it if it's coming out too boring, so it takes a long time to make a good entry.
I came over early today in the hopes of catching you on instant messaging, but no such luck. :-(
So going back to day 3, one of the things I meant to say was that I was surprised and impressed that both the first two meetings (with Sofia Montenegro and the Network of Women Against Violence) included mention of struggle around sexual orientation and the right of choice in sexuality.
Another thing I wanted to add to Day 3 was that Sonia Agurto, the sociologist who studies land reform, said some interesting things about the Sandinista program. They didn't initially take land away from all large land holders, only from Somoza and his allies.
All this land was given to state-run collective farms, which didn't work out for the same reasons they didn't work out in Cuba or the Soviet Union. She mentioned that when the Sandinistas were first in power and were considering what to do with the land, some French comrades argued that they couldn't transition directly from feudalism to socialism, that they would have to go through capitalism in between; those kinds of arguments based on Marxist teleology don't make a lot of sense to me (perhaps due to my ignorance), but I asked if they had considered other models, such as individual farms that sell produce to the state for distribution, etc. She answered in one word: "no."
There was a second wave of land confiscation, from large land holders, but this was considered "unjust" and in recent years they have been compensated. This annoyed me because I'm guessing they don't need the compensation, and the gov't can ill afford it (the police ride around on bicycles, for chrissakes).
(We are in a different internet place today and the teenagish girl sitting at the desk is playing goopy love ballads, particularly "unchained melody" over and over. Arg... I like that song but it's beginning to really get on my nerves!)
At the end of Day 3 we drove out of Managua, enjoying the vistas of lakes and volcanoes. I never really realized how many volcanoes there are here! They are everywhere--there's usually at least one visible at any time, often two or three. It's like the imagined landscapes of other planets. And they look just like they do in books--gently curved cones with a hole on top. Some of them are even smoking! I remember being fascinated by volcanoes at a certain period in my life--they're
kind of cool and scary.
Apparently, more scary than cool if you actually live near a live one. The ones here do erupt occasionally, mostly just ash, but the worst disaster in recent years was that when Hurricane Mitch came through--it sat over Honduras for a week and rained like crazy here, and the crater of one of the volcanoes filled up with water til the
wall of the crater collapsed, creating a huge avalanche of mud and water that swept away more than three thousand people, their homes, etc etc. It nearly destroyed many of the organizations we're visiting, since the state had withdrawn from many social supports and the NGO's didn't have the resources to compensate.
Anyway, about 1 hour out of Managua we had to stop the bus because it was overheating. We all got out and I took a bunch of pictures of trees.
After about ten minutes we got back on but a half hour later, the bus died altogether. You asked how we were rescued--well, it was easy, sort of--the bus driver, Juan Pablo, called his dad (the owner of the bus company) on his cell phone, and someone drove out with another bus.
But of course, they had to come from Managua, so there was quite a wait. I wanted to get a walk in so four of us walked down a little side road for ten or twenty minutes and then came back. Along the side road, on one side, were a series of brick and tile factories (and by "factories," I mean large open spaces where clay was being shaped with wooden forms and then fired in handmade kilns with piles and piles of
firewood--very interesting but low-tech methods).
On the other side were a lot of small homes built from corrugated tin and, of course, bricks and tiles. People sat in the yard and children, dogs and chickens wandered about. Some of the homes had little flower gardens and looked quite cheerful; others less so. Most of the people wore what should accurately be described as rags. It was our first glimpse of the rural poverty that we've been encountering for the past days. I wish I'd felt it would be okay to take photos, but I didn't feel right.
It takes so long to write this stuff out... it's time for dinner now already. :-( I might come back later but I'm feeling pretty tired today so I might just get an early night.
I love you baby... I'm glad I'll be home soon. Big kisses, mwah mwah mwah.
Oh, and I can't help being gleeful that you have trouble going to bed when I'm not around. This makes me feel less crazy for having the same problem when you're gone. It's very different to be the person left behind isn't it... not that I would be happy if you were miserable, but you don't sound miserable, just sleepy. But.... come with me next time!!!!!!
Love love love
me
You asked how much time I buy--it's not always that, it's that I can't walk back to the hotel by myself at night, so when others want to go, I have to go. Also it takes a while to get logged on and read your comment, and I also write stuff and delete it if it's coming out too boring, so it takes a long time to make a good entry.
I came over early today in the hopes of catching you on instant messaging, but no such luck. :-(
So going back to day 3, one of the things I meant to say was that I was surprised and impressed that both the first two meetings (with Sofia Montenegro and the Network of Women Against Violence) included mention of struggle around sexual orientation and the right of choice in sexuality.
Another thing I wanted to add to Day 3 was that Sonia Agurto, the sociologist who studies land reform, said some interesting things about the Sandinista program. They didn't initially take land away from all large land holders, only from Somoza and his allies.
All this land was given to state-run collective farms, which didn't work out for the same reasons they didn't work out in Cuba or the Soviet Union. She mentioned that when the Sandinistas were first in power and were considering what to do with the land, some French comrades argued that they couldn't transition directly from feudalism to socialism, that they would have to go through capitalism in between; those kinds of arguments based on Marxist teleology don't make a lot of sense to me (perhaps due to my ignorance), but I asked if they had considered other models, such as individual farms that sell produce to the state for distribution, etc. She answered in one word: "no."
There was a second wave of land confiscation, from large land holders, but this was considered "unjust" and in recent years they have been compensated. This annoyed me because I'm guessing they don't need the compensation, and the gov't can ill afford it (the police ride around on bicycles, for chrissakes).
(We are in a different internet place today and the teenagish girl sitting at the desk is playing goopy love ballads, particularly "unchained melody" over and over. Arg... I like that song but it's beginning to really get on my nerves!)
At the end of Day 3 we drove out of Managua, enjoying the vistas of lakes and volcanoes. I never really realized how many volcanoes there are here! They are everywhere--there's usually at least one visible at any time, often two or three. It's like the imagined landscapes of other planets. And they look just like they do in books--gently curved cones with a hole on top. Some of them are even smoking! I remember being fascinated by volcanoes at a certain period in my life--they're
kind of cool and scary.
Apparently, more scary than cool if you actually live near a live one. The ones here do erupt occasionally, mostly just ash, but the worst disaster in recent years was that when Hurricane Mitch came through--it sat over Honduras for a week and rained like crazy here, and the crater of one of the volcanoes filled up with water til the
wall of the crater collapsed, creating a huge avalanche of mud and water that swept away more than three thousand people, their homes, etc etc. It nearly destroyed many of the organizations we're visiting, since the state had withdrawn from many social supports and the NGO's didn't have the resources to compensate.
Anyway, about 1 hour out of Managua we had to stop the bus because it was overheating. We all got out and I took a bunch of pictures of trees.
After about ten minutes we got back on but a half hour later, the bus died altogether. You asked how we were rescued--well, it was easy, sort of--the bus driver, Juan Pablo, called his dad (the owner of the bus company) on his cell phone, and someone drove out with another bus.
But of course, they had to come from Managua, so there was quite a wait. I wanted to get a walk in so four of us walked down a little side road for ten or twenty minutes and then came back. Along the side road, on one side, were a series of brick and tile factories (and by "factories," I mean large open spaces where clay was being shaped with wooden forms and then fired in handmade kilns with piles and piles of
firewood--very interesting but low-tech methods).
On the other side were a lot of small homes built from corrugated tin and, of course, bricks and tiles. People sat in the yard and children, dogs and chickens wandered about. Some of the homes had little flower gardens and looked quite cheerful; others less so. Most of the people wore what should accurately be described as rags. It was our first glimpse of the rural poverty that we've been encountering for the past days. I wish I'd felt it would be okay to take photos, but I didn't feel right.
It takes so long to write this stuff out... it's time for dinner now already. :-( I might come back later but I'm feeling pretty tired today so I might just get an early night.
I love you baby... I'm glad I'll be home soon. Big kisses, mwah mwah mwah.
Oh, and I can't help being gleeful that you have trouble going to bed when I'm not around. This makes me feel less crazy for having the same problem when you're gone. It's very different to be the person left behind isn't it... not that I would be happy if you were miserable, but you don't sound miserable, just sleepy. But.... come with me next time!!!!!!
Love love love
me
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Nicaragua Day 5: dykes in the wilderness
Hi Loopy!!! I miss you!!!!
So, tonight we're in Estelì, tho we weren't sure we were going to make it here. Tonight's internet place has red walls and a teenage guy at the cash drawer, under a sign saying (in spanish) "God bless this business." When we first arrived he was playing extremely cool-sounding euro-techno music, but almost immediately he switched to one of those whiny women you like (Bjork or the Cranberries or Lisa Loeb or something) and now it's Meatloaf's "I would do anything for your love but I won't do that," which of course makes me think of that Dr. Pepper commercial where the boyfriend is buying tampons. It's very stinky in here, like acrid sweat, but I'm not sure if it's me, my fellow travellers, some piece of the furniture, or what. It could easily be us, after today.
OK, so, your questions. I can't tell how the pieces of wood are attached to the pigs, but it seems very secure (I've never seen them slipping or slipped down) and also doesn't seem to bother the pigs at all. It's like an X on top of their neck, if that helps imagine it. Today I also saw some cattle with the wooden X's. Hmm. It's hard to get a good look at (never mind photos of) any of this because we're always moving quickly, either horizontally down the road or vertically through the potholes. It's not really a sight-seeing trip after all...
OK, other questions. I'm mostly sleeping enough. Last night I went to bed much earlier than usual (finally dodging the temptation to stay up late talking with my roommate Susan about what to do with the rich after the revolution) and actually woke up before my alarm. I'm definitely drinking plenty of water. There's always a big thing of water on the bus and every time we stop at a gas station I go in and buy my own 2-liter bottle so I won't be all weird about using "more than my share" of the water. And as far as I know we're all getting along great. It's a very nice group. Very different people, but generally friendly, mellow, tolerant, laid-back, etc. I'd say that even if they weren't going to be reading this.
Oh shoot, they're all saying they're going back to the hotel in a couple minutes and I haven't even started on today. But if I don't answer your questions I don't feel like I'm communicating with you at all!
OK, so, the highlight of today, I'll cut right to the chase: I met a lesbian who's organizing young women in a rural community! (She was extremely hot & you would have been jealous, lovey, and you will be when you see the photos, but don't worry--she's attached and everyone was very proper and appropriate).
She had a tattoo of her and her girlfriend kissing, right out in the open on her upper arm. I asked about it and she bravely said, "that's me and my partner," and kissed her arm and then babbled a little about how it's an unusual tattoo (I do the same thing after coming out, it's like I want to fill up some airspace so the other person can get that look off their face and think of something not-stupid to say).
So I showed her my tattoo of our names, and told her the story of how mine is the chicken-shit version, and yours goes all the way round your leg in four colors.
I think we were both happy to meet each other out there an hour from the main road...I had a thousand questions for her (like, do your students or their parents give you any trouble, how do your parents feel, how many others of us are there in this area, how do you meet other lesbians, etc. etc.) But, before we could talk further, the meeting got started--but we exchanged email addresses and I promised to send her information on a whole list of topics in the US, from salary disparities to domestic violence to women in politics to Latina lesbian support groups. So I can ask my thousand questions later. :-)
OK, my companions want to leave so I will too. There's a lot more to tell, like how the bus broke down (this is a new bus) and we had to push it to get it started, and how we ended up riding in the back of a pickup truck for a mile or so and my back was fine and I was so proud of doing all my exercises to be ready for just such an event, and how the group we visited today was absolutely the most amazing thing ever--they just put me and my whining about men in Solidarity to shame! What they've done here, it's really inspiring. I wish I could write more about it.
OK, gotta go... love you lovey love, be well.
So, tonight we're in Estelì, tho we weren't sure we were going to make it here. Tonight's internet place has red walls and a teenage guy at the cash drawer, under a sign saying (in spanish) "God bless this business." When we first arrived he was playing extremely cool-sounding euro-techno music, but almost immediately he switched to one of those whiny women you like (Bjork or the Cranberries or Lisa Loeb or something) and now it's Meatloaf's "I would do anything for your love but I won't do that," which of course makes me think of that Dr. Pepper commercial where the boyfriend is buying tampons. It's very stinky in here, like acrid sweat, but I'm not sure if it's me, my fellow travellers, some piece of the furniture, or what. It could easily be us, after today.
OK, so, your questions. I can't tell how the pieces of wood are attached to the pigs, but it seems very secure (I've never seen them slipping or slipped down) and also doesn't seem to bother the pigs at all. It's like an X on top of their neck, if that helps imagine it. Today I also saw some cattle with the wooden X's. Hmm. It's hard to get a good look at (never mind photos of) any of this because we're always moving quickly, either horizontally down the road or vertically through the potholes. It's not really a sight-seeing trip after all...
OK, other questions. I'm mostly sleeping enough. Last night I went to bed much earlier than usual (finally dodging the temptation to stay up late talking with my roommate Susan about what to do with the rich after the revolution) and actually woke up before my alarm. I'm definitely drinking plenty of water. There's always a big thing of water on the bus and every time we stop at a gas station I go in and buy my own 2-liter bottle so I won't be all weird about using "more than my share" of the water. And as far as I know we're all getting along great. It's a very nice group. Very different people, but generally friendly, mellow, tolerant, laid-back, etc. I'd say that even if they weren't going to be reading this.
Oh shoot, they're all saying they're going back to the hotel in a couple minutes and I haven't even started on today. But if I don't answer your questions I don't feel like I'm communicating with you at all!
OK, so, the highlight of today, I'll cut right to the chase: I met a lesbian who's organizing young women in a rural community! (She was extremely hot & you would have been jealous, lovey, and you will be when you see the photos, but don't worry--she's attached and everyone was very proper and appropriate).
She had a tattoo of her and her girlfriend kissing, right out in the open on her upper arm. I asked about it and she bravely said, "that's me and my partner," and kissed her arm and then babbled a little about how it's an unusual tattoo (I do the same thing after coming out, it's like I want to fill up some airspace so the other person can get that look off their face and think of something not-stupid to say).
So I showed her my tattoo of our names, and told her the story of how mine is the chicken-shit version, and yours goes all the way round your leg in four colors.
I think we were both happy to meet each other out there an hour from the main road...I had a thousand questions for her (like, do your students or their parents give you any trouble, how do your parents feel, how many others of us are there in this area, how do you meet other lesbians, etc. etc.) But, before we could talk further, the meeting got started--but we exchanged email addresses and I promised to send her information on a whole list of topics in the US, from salary disparities to domestic violence to women in politics to Latina lesbian support groups. So I can ask my thousand questions later. :-)
OK, my companions want to leave so I will too. There's a lot more to tell, like how the bus broke down (this is a new bus) and we had to push it to get it started, and how we ended up riding in the back of a pickup truck for a mile or so and my back was fine and I was so proud of doing all my exercises to be ready for just such an event, and how the group we visited today was absolutely the most amazing thing ever--they just put me and my whining about men in Solidarity to shame! What they've done here, it's really inspiring. I wish I could write more about it.
OK, gotta go... love you lovey love, be well.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Nicaragua, Day 4: to the back of beyond (and back)
Hiya Loveygirl,
Sorry for the curtailed entry yesterday. This is actually quite funny--here at this internet cafe, you sign on for a certain amount of time and then when it's done, you're done--the computer logs you off automatically, even if you haven't posted your blog entry. Last night five of us (from the tour) came in and logged on at about the same time, so as the two-minute and one-minute warnings flashed on our screens there were various exclamations of panic. It's kinda funny in retrospect.
OK, let's see, I think I should talk about today first, in case I run out of time again, because otherwise I'll just get farther and farther behind.
But first a few responses to your (Loopy's) comment... what were the compañeras wearing?? THAT's your question??? What am I going to do with you?? ;-) Sofia was wearing a louse blouse and light or white jeans; Jamila was wearing an embroidered peasant blouse and jeans, and Juanita was wearing a brownish suit (I think she had just come from some other meeting); Sonia was wearing a red blouse and some necklaces. It's pretty boring. Jeans appear to be considered fairly dressy here.
I took pictures, so I think I'll skip the clothing descriptions from now on, if that's okay with you.
And... I didn't eat anything interesting yesterday, and neither did anyone else--lunch was a rather nondescript buffet (all I can remember is beans, boiled vegetables and a fried banana, although--wait, yes, I also had a lumpy lump of beef), and dinner was pizza for everyone (except me; I had a quarter of a boiled chicken). Today I made up for it though (more on that later).
I think I miss you more today than I have in past days because I thought about you constantly and took pictures just for you, about five times as much as I have up to now. I took photos of everyone's lunch and dinner and also of lots of cute baby animals (but most of those didn't come out because we were driving fast on a bumpy road, more on that later).
And I tried to take lots of photos of people (note to others: I almost never take people photos--I tend more toward architecture and peeling paint--but Loopy much prefers people-photos). And I talked about you a lot at dinner. I miss you and wish you were here... I´m having a good time but I just miss hearing your voice.
OK, so, on with the report. So, last night we stayed at the Hotel Coloniàl in Leòn, which is gorgeous--huge high-ceilinged lobby, courtyard with palm trees, potted palms around the edges, rocking chairs everywhere. For breakfast we had what we always have--a sort of omelette, beans-and-rice, and fruit (¡long live the fruit!)--today it was watermelon and pineapple. Yum.
Then we set off to the office of the Comité para Mujeres Rurales (Committee for Rural Women). This too was built round a courtyard (it's a common feature here just as in Mexico), but in this courtyard was a garden of rose bushes and other lovely plants, along with a green cage containing two green birds. (I bent down to look at them and take some photos and they were very angry and scolded me until I went away.) I'm getting used to the fact that everything isn't so shiny and new as it is in the states, so that I can enjoy the beauty of a space like that without taking so much note of any shabbiness around the edges.
The next thing I noticed after the birds and garden was the educational posters around the walls (we had to wait here for a few minutes so I had time to notice things)--for example, there was one showing a cartoon series of symptoms that, if you experience them while pregnant, are serious and should send you to the hospital (one of the cartoons was a bit gruesome, but I thought it would be a very useful poster to have around!).
There were also some stickers from the Network of Women Against Violence that we'd visited yesterday, saying things like, "the next time he raises his hand to you let it be in salute/greeting," and "2000 reasons to live with out violence: sì se puede!" All this made it feel like a very positive space.
Loopy, you talked about the trip reviving me; it's partly the trip, partly the whole revolution thing (although we are learning about all kinds of flaws in the revolution, but nothing's perfect and I enjoy learning about the reality--all the better to do it better next time), but a lot of it is just being around real feminists. The women we are meeting are just incredible.
Shoot, I´m running out of time again!!! Twenty minutes left! Arg!!!
So ANYWAY, the woman we were waiting for arrived and we all climbed into two big shiny American pickup trucks for an hour's drive out into the country (they said it would be too rough for our bus). About twenty plastic chairs were also loaded into one of the trucks.
We drove north from Leòn for about twenty minutes, then turned off the highway onto a dirt (mud) road that was actually quite well-maintained, hard-packed and only occasionally gullied or rutted. It probably would have been too rough for the bus, but it really wasn't bad at all.
We took this road west for another forty minutes or so, passing homes cobbled together of corrugated tin and similar materials, and people walking along the road (on the way back we passed quite a few children coming from school). We also passed carts pulled by mules (or small horses, I can't always tell the difference) and lots of chickens, pigs and piglets wandering along the sides of the roads. Many of the small and medium-sized pigs had long pieces of wood attached to their necks, sticking up, to prevent them from going through fences and eating people's crops.
Finally we arrived at a low stucco building with a deep veranda, which turned out to be a store selling chips, candy, and I don't know what else because I couldn't really see inside. The meeting was held in the shade of the veranda; the occasional store patrons slipped past us to the window.
Some women met us there and welcomed us, while three hand-lettered signs on the wall warmly greeted us, thanked us for coming and for our (WCCN's) support of the project in their community. The men who had driven the trucks began setting out the plastic chairs while a few women hurried off "to tell everyone you're here."
We sat down and listened to an introduction from the woman who had traveled with us from Leòn, while women of every age, size, and shape started to appear from every direction and take their seats in the plastic chairs.
As the women walked up in twos and threes, they would call out loudly, "¡Buenos días!" regardless of what was going on among those already assembled. The guidebook said that it's the custom to greet any group in any room you enter, and this has definitely been true. It's a nice custom, I think--it feels very friendly.
Anyway, each woman introduced herself and explained the nature of her work with the project. Many were learning to read, the majority had been taught how to supplement their family's diet by planting small vegetable gardens outside their homes, and some were also raising goats, whose milk and meat greatly reduced malnutrition throughout the community.
They also have a program of "defensoras," defenders, who are trained to take care of any women who come to them after being beaten, raped, or otherwise suffering violence. They accompany the women to the women's police stations (another successful achievement of the Network of Women Against Violence) and help them seek medical and legal assistance.
One of the first women to arrive and take her seat was remarkably like a bulldog... her features were all small and pinched toward the center of her face, and she was short and stocky. I couldn't help thinking that she was remarkably ugly. But when the women introduced themselves and she said she was a defensora, I was struck by how great it would have been, at a certain time in my life, to have been able to go to someone like her for help. With that solid-looking grandmother at my side, I would have felt safe and like nobody could hurt me anymore. I was really overwhelmed with warm appreciation, and even moved to say something along these lines in the self-introduction (well, not the part about how she looks like a bulldog--you know what I mean), even though it made my hands start shaking.
Oh, shoot, our time is up. Tomorrow I will try to go to the cafe instead of sleeping in the afternoon!
I will try to write more tomorrow aboutthe rest of this meeting (including the snake!) and the meeting in the afternoon, including the woman who got her start as a feminist going to women's meetings with her grandmother. And the food! I had an interesting lunch AND an interesting dinner! I can't wait to tell you lovey!
I miss you so much! These little notes in the evening aren't enough. I wish I could call you but it doesn't seem like there's a way to do it here... I tried yesterday. Oh well. I'll be home in a week... I love you!!!
xoxo
me
Sorry for the curtailed entry yesterday. This is actually quite funny--here at this internet cafe, you sign on for a certain amount of time and then when it's done, you're done--the computer logs you off automatically, even if you haven't posted your blog entry. Last night five of us (from the tour) came in and logged on at about the same time, so as the two-minute and one-minute warnings flashed on our screens there were various exclamations of panic. It's kinda funny in retrospect.
OK, let's see, I think I should talk about today first, in case I run out of time again, because otherwise I'll just get farther and farther behind.
But first a few responses to your (Loopy's) comment... what were the compañeras wearing?? THAT's your question??? What am I going to do with you?? ;-) Sofia was wearing a louse blouse and light or white jeans; Jamila was wearing an embroidered peasant blouse and jeans, and Juanita was wearing a brownish suit (I think she had just come from some other meeting); Sonia was wearing a red blouse and some necklaces. It's pretty boring. Jeans appear to be considered fairly dressy here.
I took pictures, so I think I'll skip the clothing descriptions from now on, if that's okay with you.
And... I didn't eat anything interesting yesterday, and neither did anyone else--lunch was a rather nondescript buffet (all I can remember is beans, boiled vegetables and a fried banana, although--wait, yes, I also had a lumpy lump of beef), and dinner was pizza for everyone (except me; I had a quarter of a boiled chicken). Today I made up for it though (more on that later).
I think I miss you more today than I have in past days because I thought about you constantly and took pictures just for you, about five times as much as I have up to now. I took photos of everyone's lunch and dinner and also of lots of cute baby animals (but most of those didn't come out because we were driving fast on a bumpy road, more on that later).
And I tried to take lots of photos of people (note to others: I almost never take people photos--I tend more toward architecture and peeling paint--but Loopy much prefers people-photos). And I talked about you a lot at dinner. I miss you and wish you were here... I´m having a good time but I just miss hearing your voice.
OK, so, on with the report. So, last night we stayed at the Hotel Coloniàl in Leòn, which is gorgeous--huge high-ceilinged lobby, courtyard with palm trees, potted palms around the edges, rocking chairs everywhere. For breakfast we had what we always have--a sort of omelette, beans-and-rice, and fruit (¡long live the fruit!)--today it was watermelon and pineapple. Yum.
Then we set off to the office of the Comité para Mujeres Rurales (Committee for Rural Women). This too was built round a courtyard (it's a common feature here just as in Mexico), but in this courtyard was a garden of rose bushes and other lovely plants, along with a green cage containing two green birds. (I bent down to look at them and take some photos and they were very angry and scolded me until I went away.) I'm getting used to the fact that everything isn't so shiny and new as it is in the states, so that I can enjoy the beauty of a space like that without taking so much note of any shabbiness around the edges.
The next thing I noticed after the birds and garden was the educational posters around the walls (we had to wait here for a few minutes so I had time to notice things)--for example, there was one showing a cartoon series of symptoms that, if you experience them while pregnant, are serious and should send you to the hospital (one of the cartoons was a bit gruesome, but I thought it would be a very useful poster to have around!).
There were also some stickers from the Network of Women Against Violence that we'd visited yesterday, saying things like, "the next time he raises his hand to you let it be in salute/greeting," and "2000 reasons to live with out violence: sì se puede!" All this made it feel like a very positive space.
Loopy, you talked about the trip reviving me; it's partly the trip, partly the whole revolution thing (although we are learning about all kinds of flaws in the revolution, but nothing's perfect and I enjoy learning about the reality--all the better to do it better next time), but a lot of it is just being around real feminists. The women we are meeting are just incredible.
Shoot, I´m running out of time again!!! Twenty minutes left! Arg!!!
So ANYWAY, the woman we were waiting for arrived and we all climbed into two big shiny American pickup trucks for an hour's drive out into the country (they said it would be too rough for our bus). About twenty plastic chairs were also loaded into one of the trucks.
We drove north from Leòn for about twenty minutes, then turned off the highway onto a dirt (mud) road that was actually quite well-maintained, hard-packed and only occasionally gullied or rutted. It probably would have been too rough for the bus, but it really wasn't bad at all.
We took this road west for another forty minutes or so, passing homes cobbled together of corrugated tin and similar materials, and people walking along the road (on the way back we passed quite a few children coming from school). We also passed carts pulled by mules (or small horses, I can't always tell the difference) and lots of chickens, pigs and piglets wandering along the sides of the roads. Many of the small and medium-sized pigs had long pieces of wood attached to their necks, sticking up, to prevent them from going through fences and eating people's crops.
Finally we arrived at a low stucco building with a deep veranda, which turned out to be a store selling chips, candy, and I don't know what else because I couldn't really see inside. The meeting was held in the shade of the veranda; the occasional store patrons slipped past us to the window.
Some women met us there and welcomed us, while three hand-lettered signs on the wall warmly greeted us, thanked us for coming and for our (WCCN's) support of the project in their community. The men who had driven the trucks began setting out the plastic chairs while a few women hurried off "to tell everyone you're here."
We sat down and listened to an introduction from the woman who had traveled with us from Leòn, while women of every age, size, and shape started to appear from every direction and take their seats in the plastic chairs.
As the women walked up in twos and threes, they would call out loudly, "¡Buenos días!" regardless of what was going on among those already assembled. The guidebook said that it's the custom to greet any group in any room you enter, and this has definitely been true. It's a nice custom, I think--it feels very friendly.
Anyway, each woman introduced herself and explained the nature of her work with the project. Many were learning to read, the majority had been taught how to supplement their family's diet by planting small vegetable gardens outside their homes, and some were also raising goats, whose milk and meat greatly reduced malnutrition throughout the community.
They also have a program of "defensoras," defenders, who are trained to take care of any women who come to them after being beaten, raped, or otherwise suffering violence. They accompany the women to the women's police stations (another successful achievement of the Network of Women Against Violence) and help them seek medical and legal assistance.
One of the first women to arrive and take her seat was remarkably like a bulldog... her features were all small and pinched toward the center of her face, and she was short and stocky. I couldn't help thinking that she was remarkably ugly. But when the women introduced themselves and she said she was a defensora, I was struck by how great it would have been, at a certain time in my life, to have been able to go to someone like her for help. With that solid-looking grandmother at my side, I would have felt safe and like nobody could hurt me anymore. I was really overwhelmed with warm appreciation, and even moved to say something along these lines in the self-introduction (well, not the part about how she looks like a bulldog--you know what I mean), even though it made my hands start shaking.
Oh, shoot, our time is up. Tomorrow I will try to go to the cafe instead of sleeping in the afternoon!
I will try to write more tomorrow aboutthe rest of this meeting (including the snake!) and the meeting in the afternoon, including the woman who got her start as a feminist going to women's meetings with her grandmother. And the food! I had an interesting lunch AND an interesting dinner! I can't wait to tell you lovey!
I miss you so much! These little notes in the evening aren't enough. I wish I could call you but it doesn't seem like there's a way to do it here... I tried yesterday. Oh well. I'll be home in a week... I love you!!!
xoxo
me
Monday, June 12, 2006
Nicaragua Day 3: Some very cool wimmin
OK, so, today we mostly had meetings, except for our unplanned adventure which I'll get to later. The meetings were extremely interesting though. I know, I'm such a geek.
First we met with Sofia Montenegro, a real Sandinista veteran, a leader in the revolution (I would have swooned or something if I could do that--maybe I should wear a corset or something). She was extremely cool (massive understatement).
She had this way of sitting, her elbows flopped on the table and her face flopped onto her hands, her eyes half-closed, that made her look almost sleepy... but if you were sitting near her, you could see that her eyes glittered sharply and shrewdly from behind those drooping eyelids. She chain-smoked and waved her hands while she talked, looking somewhat jaded like she'd seen it all before... which no doubt she has... but at the same time the fire was still there.
For example, she said "we need people inside the system and outside, but when they asked me to run for office I said no way, I gave my LIFE (flash of fire) for this movement and I'm gonna give the rest of my life to the movement."
I'll write more about what she said, if I have time, but the cafe is gonna close in half an hour so I gotta hurry... so for now, on to the next meeting.
It was the Network of Women Against Violence (Red de Mujeres Contra La Violencia), where we met with two amazing women, Juanita and Jamila (Jamila was gorgeous (sorry lovey), with green eyes... At first you'd think was 25, but as she talked you gradually realized she was probably closer to 40 if not older). They have done incredible work here... changed the law to punish domestic and sexual violence more harshly within the family (instead of less harshly as it was previously) and to bring these issues to the forefront of public discussion in an unprecedented way.
Last we met with a sociologist, Sonia Agurto, who has studied agrarian issues and land tenure under the Sandinistas and continues to study it today, collecting data monthly. I had a chance to ask all kinds of questions about land reform, why it failed, etc. which was fascinating (did I mention I'm a huge geek?)
Oh, shoot, I only have one minute left!!!
In the afternoon our bus broke down and we stood by the side of the road for an hour but all's well and we are in Leon a gorgeous colonial city and and and.... aaaaah!!!!!
Love you!
First we met with Sofia Montenegro, a real Sandinista veteran, a leader in the revolution (I would have swooned or something if I could do that--maybe I should wear a corset or something). She was extremely cool (massive understatement).
She had this way of sitting, her elbows flopped on the table and her face flopped onto her hands, her eyes half-closed, that made her look almost sleepy... but if you were sitting near her, you could see that her eyes glittered sharply and shrewdly from behind those drooping eyelids. She chain-smoked and waved her hands while she talked, looking somewhat jaded like she'd seen it all before... which no doubt she has... but at the same time the fire was still there.
For example, she said "we need people inside the system and outside, but when they asked me to run for office I said no way, I gave my LIFE (flash of fire) for this movement and I'm gonna give the rest of my life to the movement."
I'll write more about what she said, if I have time, but the cafe is gonna close in half an hour so I gotta hurry... so for now, on to the next meeting.
It was the Network of Women Against Violence (Red de Mujeres Contra La Violencia), where we met with two amazing women, Juanita and Jamila (Jamila was gorgeous (sorry lovey), with green eyes... At first you'd think was 25, but as she talked you gradually realized she was probably closer to 40 if not older). They have done incredible work here... changed the law to punish domestic and sexual violence more harshly within the family (instead of less harshly as it was previously) and to bring these issues to the forefront of public discussion in an unprecedented way.
Last we met with a sociologist, Sonia Agurto, who has studied agrarian issues and land tenure under the Sandinistas and continues to study it today, collecting data monthly. I had a chance to ask all kinds of questions about land reform, why it failed, etc. which was fascinating (did I mention I'm a huge geek?)
Oh, shoot, I only have one minute left!!!
In the afternoon our bus broke down and we stood by the side of the road for an hour but all's well and we are in Leon a gorgeous colonial city and and and.... aaaaah!!!!!
Love you!
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Nicaragua Day 2: Tour of Managua
Hey Loopy Loop (and anyone else who might be reading)
So, Day 2.
Well, first, a brief intro to my fellow-travelers. They want to read this so I can't be snarky or anything. I'll save that for later. ;-) There's Marc, a professor who was here in the 80s with Witness for Peace (he has a trip blog too, here); there's Mary Ann, a retired mental health professional & non-retired traveler & feminist organizer; and there's Michael, a special-ed teacher who lives and works in northern WI on an Indian reservation. They all seem very pleasant (so diplomatic!). I'll fill in more details if any seem necessary.
We ended up getting to bed kind of late last night, so this morning I was sleepy, which was bad because the morning activity consisted of two lectures: lecture 1, history of Nicaragua; lecture 2, the upcoming election. It was very interesting but between the heat and the sleepiness I missed quite a bit.
The short version of lecture 1 is that the English colonized the east coast, the Spanish colonized the west coast, and they fought periodically. The Spanish wiped out the indigenous population but the English were more focused on obliterating Jamaica, so there are a lot more indigenous people along the Atlantic coast, along with descendants of the Africans enslaved by the Brits.
The short version of lecture 2 is that the Sandinistas have mostly degenerated into the sort of pandering populism that infects much of the rest of Latin America, and everyone's afraid to return to anything genuinely revolutionary (i.e. anything that would threaten the interests of the U.S. and the wealthy families) because of what happened last time (the contra war etc).
I also learned that Somoza was an old-school fascist, i.e. pro-worker in a weird corporatist way (more on that later).
Sooooo.... after lunch and an all-too-brief nap we were introduced to our other traveling companion for the week: a very spacious but not very airconditioned mini-bus with " ¡Viva Cristo Rey!" emblazoned across the front. (We're working on a name for the bus; I'll keep you posted).
Our first stop was the new cathedral ("What is that in Spanish?" Marc asked; "El Cathedral Nuevo," was the response). It's an incredibly creepy prison-like concrete building funded by that Domino's pizza guy, Thomas (?) Monaghan, who also funded operation rescue and that Catholic town in Florida--and, it turns out, the Contras! Bastard.
Then we drove up what seems to be the highest hill in Managua, which is quite high actually, almost something of a mountain... on top is a park, "Loma de Tiscapa," and towering high above is a gigantic outline form of Sandino. Apparently that's where he disappeared from when he was assassinated. I like the symbolism... you can kill the man but it only increases his stature.
Also in the park is a large bronze horse's ass in a little white fence. The story here is that, apparently, Mussolini sent Somoza an equestrian statue of himself (that is, of Mussolini) (see above under "old-school fascist"). So, Somoza cut off the head (eerie, since that's what ultimately happened to Mussolini) and replaced it with a likeness of his own head, then mounted it in an important plaza somewhere. At the time of the revolution they tore down the statue and smashed it, but they saved one part (perhaps the one they felt most resembled Somoza) and put it in the little white fence in the park. I found this very amusing.
This hill-mountain also contains a crater lake, which looks very nice but apparently is Managua's toilet bowl. ("One of the mis-steps of the revolution," our translator commented). On the other side of the hill, you can look out over Lake Managua, which is pretty big but not as big as Lake Nicaragua (that's where I was on yesterday). Look at a map, seriously. Here's one.
So anyway... I should try to speed this up, I'm boring myself.
We went on to the Peace Park, where a bunch of rifles and a tank from the revolution/counter-revolution are piled up and globbed over with concrete (what a waste of decent artillery!), and then we went on to the "Plaza de la Revolucion" (it's been renamed but we'll just ignore that), which has the ruined "old cathedral" on one side (lots of things between the mountain and the lake are ruined, because there was a big earthquake in 1972 and a lot of buildings just abandoned. Most of the city is now on the other side of the mountain, though the government buildings were rebuilt and remain on the "old" side).
Anyway, the plaza. There's the picturesque ruined cathedral on one side, the presidential palace (actually his office building, not his house) on one side, the "Palacio National" on a third side (art museum etc), and on the fourth side, the tomb of Carlos Fonseca, the founder of the FSLN (read more about him here, he's really very interesting).
(I took lots of photos but have no way to upload them, so this will be illustrated later, at which point it will I'm sure be much more interesting.)(Remember my old tag line... "feel free to skim"... except for you, Loopy, there will be a quiz later ;-) )
After that we went down to the shore of Lake Managua, which was crowded with restaurants and an amusement park catering primarily to the working class, according to our translator. Despite the fact that apparently this lake, too, is a toilet bowl and industrial toxic waste dump, it was very beautiful, with billowing clouds, a shining sky, and semi-conical volcanic mountains across the way, blue & purple in the mists. (or smog, whatever)
Our final stop was a lovely neighborhood of tree-lined streets and cute little houses built by the Sandinistas for the people, although apparently the people didn't want to move there so it ended up housing government officials and their families.
In the neighborhood was cultural center created by a Spanish priest and American nun in 1983. They have classes in sewing, painting, music, dance, and all sorts of vocational and cultural subjects. It's meant as a type of liberation project and clearly it enriches lives, both materially (job training) and socially, but, well, part of me was still grumbling that it was mere charity. But don't listen to that part of me if you don't want to.
There were absolutely gorgeous murals all over the place. One showed revolutionary icons (with a Catholic focus, e.g. Romero) clustered around a baby Jesus (which our guide said "isn't necessarily Jesus--it can also be the Nicaraguan children of the future." Uh huh. That's why he's glowing and floating and people are giving him mangoes).
Che was in that mural, too; he had his arms around the shoulders of two others, and looked askance at the maybe-baby-Jesus like he was saying, "C'mon guys, this isn't my scene--let's go get a beer." Which of course seemed perfect to me.
Other murals showed different parts of Nicaragua, plants and birds and scenery, and history of Nicaragua and other saints and icons...
Our guide there was a very smart, articulate 20-something Nicaraguan woman whose father had been in the Sandinista government. She explained everything to us and then patiently answered questions like, "Who do you think you'll vote for in the next election?" (she hasn't decided; they all make promises and none seem sincere); "What do you think of the Sandinistas now?" (she admires them but thinks it was a very sad and difficult time), and "What kind of women's activism and empowerment is needed in Nicaragua?" (here she spoke eloquently, emotionally and at length about rural women who don't know their rights, who are mistreated emotionally and physically and don't have the information to resist, etc.)
That conversation was probably the best part of the afternoon for me (although I also got a kick out of the giant Sandino and the horse's ass). I'm happy thinking ahead--much of the week will be more such interactions. Tomorrow I think we're meeting a famous Sandinista leader (also a woman). I can't wait...
Dinner was fantastic affair at a restaurant (mostly we've been eating at the hotel, where the food is very good but quite simple). I *really* wished you were there at dinner... you would have really enjoyed it. A whole new cuisine.
I tried a local drink, "tiste," made of cornmeal and chocolate. It tasted exactly like not-very-sweet chocolate milk with cornmeal in it. Weird, but good. Gets stuck in your teeth.
For my main course I had a traditional indigenous food, a sort of stew of cornmeal and beef with spices and onions and tomatoes, served with fried plantains and cabbage salad. It was really wonderful. Mary Ann had something the menu called "enchiladas," but they were more like empanadas, except more fried and greasy. I'm afraid I didn't notice what everyone else had, I'm sorry Lovey!
For dessert we tried a couple different things, but the most interesting was the "icocos," a Nicaraguan fruit about the size of a small apricot with a big pit. It was marinated in a sweet cinnamon syrup & I can't really tell what it would have tasted like without the syrup, but it was absolutely delicious--sweet and flavorful and spicy just like something you would imagine eating in some exotic foreign locale.
I'm trying to think of what it tasted like, but it didn't taste like anything familiar.... sort of like what rice pudding would taste like, if it were a fruit, maybe soaked in rum and rose water. No, not like that at all. I don't know!
OK, so, time for bed. I miss you Loopy!!! I take lots of pix for you of things I think you would enjoy, but I'm afraid I might have to delete some before the trip is over, since I'm taking too many... (I know, hard to imagine, right??) I wish I'd brought the flash card reader... next time I'll remember.
I love you baby, have fun at your meetings, enjoy your huggy addicts!
Love,
me
So, Day 2.
Well, first, a brief intro to my fellow-travelers. They want to read this so I can't be snarky or anything. I'll save that for later. ;-) There's Marc, a professor who was here in the 80s with Witness for Peace (he has a trip blog too, here); there's Mary Ann, a retired mental health professional & non-retired traveler & feminist organizer; and there's Michael, a special-ed teacher who lives and works in northern WI on an Indian reservation. They all seem very pleasant (so diplomatic!). I'll fill in more details if any seem necessary.
We ended up getting to bed kind of late last night, so this morning I was sleepy, which was bad because the morning activity consisted of two lectures: lecture 1, history of Nicaragua; lecture 2, the upcoming election. It was very interesting but between the heat and the sleepiness I missed quite a bit.
The short version of lecture 1 is that the English colonized the east coast, the Spanish colonized the west coast, and they fought periodically. The Spanish wiped out the indigenous population but the English were more focused on obliterating Jamaica, so there are a lot more indigenous people along the Atlantic coast, along with descendants of the Africans enslaved by the Brits.
The short version of lecture 2 is that the Sandinistas have mostly degenerated into the sort of pandering populism that infects much of the rest of Latin America, and everyone's afraid to return to anything genuinely revolutionary (i.e. anything that would threaten the interests of the U.S. and the wealthy families) because of what happened last time (the contra war etc).
I also learned that Somoza was an old-school fascist, i.e. pro-worker in a weird corporatist way (more on that later).
Sooooo.... after lunch and an all-too-brief nap we were introduced to our other traveling companion for the week: a very spacious but not very airconditioned mini-bus with " ¡Viva Cristo Rey!" emblazoned across the front. (We're working on a name for the bus; I'll keep you posted).
Our first stop was the new cathedral ("What is that in Spanish?" Marc asked; "El Cathedral Nuevo," was the response). It's an incredibly creepy prison-like concrete building funded by that Domino's pizza guy, Thomas (?) Monaghan, who also funded operation rescue and that Catholic town in Florida--and, it turns out, the Contras! Bastard.
Then we drove up what seems to be the highest hill in Managua, which is quite high actually, almost something of a mountain... on top is a park, "Loma de Tiscapa," and towering high above is a gigantic outline form of Sandino. Apparently that's where he disappeared from when he was assassinated. I like the symbolism... you can kill the man but it only increases his stature.
Also in the park is a large bronze horse's ass in a little white fence. The story here is that, apparently, Mussolini sent Somoza an equestrian statue of himself (that is, of Mussolini) (see above under "old-school fascist"). So, Somoza cut off the head (eerie, since that's what ultimately happened to Mussolini) and replaced it with a likeness of his own head, then mounted it in an important plaza somewhere. At the time of the revolution they tore down the statue and smashed it, but they saved one part (perhaps the one they felt most resembled Somoza) and put it in the little white fence in the park. I found this very amusing.
This hill-mountain also contains a crater lake, which looks very nice but apparently is Managua's toilet bowl. ("One of the mis-steps of the revolution," our translator commented). On the other side of the hill, you can look out over Lake Managua, which is pretty big but not as big as Lake Nicaragua (that's where I was on yesterday). Look at a map, seriously. Here's one.
So anyway... I should try to speed this up, I'm boring myself.
We went on to the Peace Park, where a bunch of rifles and a tank from the revolution/counter-revolution are piled up and globbed over with concrete (what a waste of decent artillery!), and then we went on to the "Plaza de la Revolucion" (it's been renamed but we'll just ignore that), which has the ruined "old cathedral" on one side (lots of things between the mountain and the lake are ruined, because there was a big earthquake in 1972 and a lot of buildings just abandoned. Most of the city is now on the other side of the mountain, though the government buildings were rebuilt and remain on the "old" side).
Anyway, the plaza. There's the picturesque ruined cathedral on one side, the presidential palace (actually his office building, not his house) on one side, the "Palacio National" on a third side (art museum etc), and on the fourth side, the tomb of Carlos Fonseca, the founder of the FSLN (read more about him here, he's really very interesting).
(I took lots of photos but have no way to upload them, so this will be illustrated later, at which point it will I'm sure be much more interesting.)(Remember my old tag line... "feel free to skim"... except for you, Loopy, there will be a quiz later ;-) )
After that we went down to the shore of Lake Managua, which was crowded with restaurants and an amusement park catering primarily to the working class, according to our translator. Despite the fact that apparently this lake, too, is a toilet bowl and industrial toxic waste dump, it was very beautiful, with billowing clouds, a shining sky, and semi-conical volcanic mountains across the way, blue & purple in the mists. (or smog, whatever)
Our final stop was a lovely neighborhood of tree-lined streets and cute little houses built by the Sandinistas for the people, although apparently the people didn't want to move there so it ended up housing government officials and their families.
In the neighborhood was cultural center created by a Spanish priest and American nun in 1983. They have classes in sewing, painting, music, dance, and all sorts of vocational and cultural subjects. It's meant as a type of liberation project and clearly it enriches lives, both materially (job training) and socially, but, well, part of me was still grumbling that it was mere charity. But don't listen to that part of me if you don't want to.
There were absolutely gorgeous murals all over the place. One showed revolutionary icons (with a Catholic focus, e.g. Romero) clustered around a baby Jesus (which our guide said "isn't necessarily Jesus--it can also be the Nicaraguan children of the future." Uh huh. That's why he's glowing and floating and people are giving him mangoes).
Che was in that mural, too; he had his arms around the shoulders of two others, and looked askance at the maybe-baby-Jesus like he was saying, "C'mon guys, this isn't my scene--let's go get a beer." Which of course seemed perfect to me.
Other murals showed different parts of Nicaragua, plants and birds and scenery, and history of Nicaragua and other saints and icons...
Our guide there was a very smart, articulate 20-something Nicaraguan woman whose father had been in the Sandinista government. She explained everything to us and then patiently answered questions like, "Who do you think you'll vote for in the next election?" (she hasn't decided; they all make promises and none seem sincere); "What do you think of the Sandinistas now?" (she admires them but thinks it was a very sad and difficult time), and "What kind of women's activism and empowerment is needed in Nicaragua?" (here she spoke eloquently, emotionally and at length about rural women who don't know their rights, who are mistreated emotionally and physically and don't have the information to resist, etc.)
That conversation was probably the best part of the afternoon for me (although I also got a kick out of the giant Sandino and the horse's ass). I'm happy thinking ahead--much of the week will be more such interactions. Tomorrow I think we're meeting a famous Sandinista leader (also a woman). I can't wait...
Dinner was fantastic affair at a restaurant (mostly we've been eating at the hotel, where the food is very good but quite simple). I *really* wished you were there at dinner... you would have really enjoyed it. A whole new cuisine.
I tried a local drink, "tiste," made of cornmeal and chocolate. It tasted exactly like not-very-sweet chocolate milk with cornmeal in it. Weird, but good. Gets stuck in your teeth.
For my main course I had a traditional indigenous food, a sort of stew of cornmeal and beef with spices and onions and tomatoes, served with fried plantains and cabbage salad. It was really wonderful. Mary Ann had something the menu called "enchiladas," but they were more like empanadas, except more fried and greasy. I'm afraid I didn't notice what everyone else had, I'm sorry Lovey!
For dessert we tried a couple different things, but the most interesting was the "icocos," a Nicaraguan fruit about the size of a small apricot with a big pit. It was marinated in a sweet cinnamon syrup & I can't really tell what it would have tasted like without the syrup, but it was absolutely delicious--sweet and flavorful and spicy just like something you would imagine eating in some exotic foreign locale.
I'm trying to think of what it tasted like, but it didn't taste like anything familiar.... sort of like what rice pudding would taste like, if it were a fruit, maybe soaked in rum and rose water. No, not like that at all. I don't know!
OK, so, time for bed. I miss you Loopy!!! I take lots of pix for you of things I think you would enjoy, but I'm afraid I might have to delete some before the trip is over, since I'm taking too many... (I know, hard to imagine, right??) I wish I'd brought the flash card reader... next time I'll remember.
I love you baby, have fun at your meetings, enjoy your huggy addicts!
Love,
me
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