We Made It!

Nica 60 are now officially Peace Corps Volunteers! Look how good we look! And look well, because we all know we will never look this good again.

I had a good farewell weekend in my beloved training town of Diriamba. I finally got to climb the nearby volcano of Mombacho, which was, as they say, a bitch and a half. One can pay $15 to take a truck up to the top, the equivalent of my entire weekly allowance during training. I also happen to enjoy grueling hikes, so I set off on foot up the road while my intrepid companions boarded the truck. Some of them had climbed previously, and they warned me of how absurdly steep the grade was, but I was not deterred. Their claims were not exaggerated, but I made it triumphantly to the top in 90 minutes and had burning calves the rest of the week to remind me of this victory. Once at the top, we grouped together with some German girls to hire a guide to take us on a 4-hour walk around the various craters. We had fantastic views of the smoking Masaya Volcano, the pristine Laguna de Apoyo that we had visited earlier, the historic city of Granada, and the vast Lake Nicaragua with its hundreds of tiny islands off the coast, and of course the island of Ometepe in the distance (see photo below).

Breaking in my brand new Peace Corps T-shirt with a healthy sweat.

Our final Sunday in Diriamba we dedicated to saying goodbyes to all our host families. My host mother, Doña Yaya, taught me how to make nacatamales, a very traditional Nicaraguan dish, on Saturday, and even made me some special vegetarian ones with soy meat instead of pork. Unfortunately I had just returned from hiking and couldn’t keep my eyes open long enough to witness the entire process. I didn’t even shower before I collapsed on my bed. Gross. Sundays are typically the big family day in my host family, when no one has to work and Doña Yaya’s youngest daughter Yaya comes to visit with her family from Managua. I invited Caroline and Alba to come over for nacatamales and socialization. We whipped up a batch of brownies using a slightly-modified version of my Mom’s world-famous recipe and an adorable heart-shaped pan. I think they were a hit, and I was tickled when Doña Yaya asked me for the recipe afterwards. And then, of course, we had the requisite family portrait. It was like herding cats to get everyone together (What do you mean they went to the market? When will they be back? Who’s in the shower now? Okay, we’ll wait while you change your shirt. Yeesh.), but we got some good photos. I printed a few out that I intend to write heartfelt messages on for them.

Doña Yaya with her nacatamales.

FINALLY got everyone assembled for the family portrait.

                Our next stop was with Caroline’s host “mom” Patricia (age 27), who had been meaning to take us to try raspados at the local raspaderia. Raspados are a much tastier version of shaved ice; they shave the block of ice in front of you, then douse it with a chunky sweet fruit topping. Delicious, and hopefully marginally healthier than ice cream? We had tried them two weeks earlier, when Alba’s host mom had taken us to the beach for the day. Unfortunately, some spilled on my dress and left a conspicuous red stain. I then learned an important language lesson when I informed my family that the stain was from a “raspada” I had at the beach. “Raspada” translates to “scrape”, so they of course assumed I had fallen and was bleeding profusely, and rushed off to find a medical kit. Eventually we figured everything out and had a good laugh. It was a fun afternoon, complete with a visit to the park where we chatted and I raced Caroline’s 4-year-old host brother around on his scooter. He is a dirty cheater, let me tell you.

                Our final stop was a birthday dinner for one of Alba’s host “brothers” (in his 40’s, lives in another house with his family), an occasion that doubled as a goodbye. We combined the words for “birthday” and “good-bye” and called it the dinner of “cumple-dida”. I thought it was clever. The family had prepared many tasty dishes for us, including a flan-like dessert. I was glad I’d climbed the mountain the day before to compensate for all the food I ate, yikes.

The week leading up to the swearing-in ceremony was a grueling one of 5 daily talks designed to prepare us to be let off on our own. One day we spent in the embassy, where we met the head of security, the head of USAID in Nicaragua, and (drumroll please) the American Ambassador herself! We had about an hour-long Q&A session about her background, the situation in Nicaragua, her vision for the future, etc. We were told we had to stand up when she entered the room, even though she acted like she thought it was a ridiculous gesture. And we were treated to a delectable lunch of pizza and breadsticks. I know I always complain about all the carbs in the Nicaraguan diet, but sometimes carbs are just so darn irresistible, especially when covered in cheese!  Our final day of talks took place, fittingly enough, in the same place our initial orientation had taken place when we’d first arrived; it was cool to think of how much we had changed since then. Caroline and I were both given Peace Corps-issued life jackets, since we have to take boats to get to our sites. Caroline’s boats are wobbly and all passengers are required to wear life jackets, but mine is a huge ferry on which I would look ridiculous wearing a life jacket. Sigh. Some of us tested the life jackets out while playing Frisbee by the pool later that day, and they passed. I ended up having to trade life jackets with Caroline because she, a rabid Alabama football fan, had unwittingly grabbed a life jacket with (gasp!) Auburn’s colors. I can only imagine the reaction her friends and family had upon seeing those pictures.

One cool thing we did during our last week of technical sessions was to make predictions of who in our group would: be the first to date a Nicaraguan, be the first to get married, have the most visitors (me), have a pet, take said pet to the US (sorry Mom, I got a few votes in this category. Wouldn’t a pet deer be cool?), travel home the most frequently, be the most Nica, extend their stay, climb a volcano, be sick all the time, etc. We were told the predictions were surprisingly accurate, so I’m already excited to see how they turn out.

It was nice to spend a few days in a hotel with the whole group. Our days included trips to the mall (3 total…ugh) in which I picked up some absurdly neon running shoes. Note to all runners considering living abroad: buy them before you go. Selection will be limited and prices higher wherever you go, even if they were technically manufactured in that country. 

Wouldn't be Thanksgiving without the early morning run to pre-emptively burn off calories! Check out the vibrant colors on my new sneakers...actually matches the new shirt Caroline gave me quite nicely.

We also got sushi (mine seemed to be slightly fried? Weird.), Greek food, and some boxes of wine. There was morning running, mid-morning naps, Frisbee, and lots of catching up. We celebrated Thanksgiving in the house of the Peace Corps Nicaragua’s country director, Carol. Those of us who can hold their own in the kitchen went to help prepare food the night before, producing lots of chopped vegetables, homemade mac’n’cheese, artistically-decorated pies, and various other goodies. Though we were still unprepared for the spread we were presented with. It all began around 3, when bowls of homemade hummus, a sweat cream cheese dip, salsa, guacamole, and homemade tortilla chips appeared in massive amounts. We couldn’t stop eating, and soon everything was gone and we were lamenting having ruined our appetites. However, we had about 3 hours to digest before the real food came, thank goodness. We drank sangria, played Corn Hole on the lawn, and mostly just sat around talking.

 We, the Diriamba group, also took advantage of this opportunity to present the song we’d written, entitled “Diriamba”, to the tune of “La Bamba”. It was well-received, and somewhat legitimized the hours of “self-study” we had spent “writing” this song. Brian also presented a hilarious song he had written called “Piropos” about the relentless catcalls we women receive on the streets. There’s a wonderful tradition at all Peace Corps dinners buffet dinners, in which vegetarians serve themselves first, I guess to make sure we don’t run out of veggies? Fine by me, whatever the reason. We never said anything as a group or talked about what we were thankful for, which made it feel not quite like Thanksgiving, but it was all in all a very enjoyable experience. And the desserts, oh the desserts. Pumpkin pie, apple pie, cheesecake, banana bread, etc. And somehow we got away with not having to wash any dishes.

Para ser voluntario, oh-ay-oh, para ser voluntario se necesita el entrenamiento, oh-ay-oh,

el entrenamiento, que dura 3 meses, ¿y dónde se hace? oh-ay-oh,

¿y dónde se hace? eso lo sé, eso lo sé, eso lo sé...

en Diriamba...Diriamba...Diriamba!

 The swearing-in itself took place in a swanky room at a nearby hotel. Two family members from each of our host families arrived; unfortunately Doña Yaya had to work, but Luisa and her daughter Luisa came to support me. This was slightly awkward because they came with Andrea’s father, Luisa’s ex-husband, who is Caroline’s host father. Their relationship is cordial enough, but there was a definite undertone of awkwardness. We began with a ceremony to thank all the families, in which a representative from each group (we chose Alba because she is eloquent, speaks Spanish well, and loves her host family) said a few words and we awarded certificates of recognition to the host mothers. Apparently certificates are huge in Nicaragua, and we are advised to give them to all participants in whatever activities we organize in our communities. We then had a snack break, followed by the official ceremony, at which both the Ambassador and the vice-minister of the Ministry of Education were present. It was more formal than I expected; we had to shake the hands of all the officials present, sign our names to a contract, and receive an official Peace Corps pin. Then take many pictures, of course. We had celebratory cake afterwards with the PC logo iced on top, but all the families told us the cakes were much smaller this year. Darn budget cuts.

Due to scarcity of funds, the budget 'cut' the size of the cake. Sorry, it's the best I could come up with on the spot. Any other good cut/cake pun suggestions?

Two representatives from each host family came to support us. Me with Andrea and Luisa.

The 3 mosqueteros! (I said this trying to translate '3 musketeers', but it actually means 'the 3 mosquito nets') Alba, me and Caroline.

So here I am now, in my site on Ometepe. My time here got off to an inauspicious start when I arrived at around dusk to an abandoned house and 3 unanswered cell phones. A neighbor, who will be a future student of mine, rescued me from sitting alone on the street and took me and my bags into his house to meet his family. I hadn’t intended to start the process of community integration quite so soon, but so it was. I eventually got a hold of my host mother, who informed me they were at their beach house (apparently cell phone coverage is spotty) and that her brother would take me there in his car. So I eventually made it to the beach house, where I spent the next two days reading in a hammock and eating coconuts. It was too windy and rough for any actual swimming, and I was actually quite bored and finished an entire book, but I can’t tell any of my Peace Corps friends that or they’ll accuse me of having “fachenta-life problems”. “Fachenta” is a Nicaraguan word that refers to a person who likes to show off their wealth and status, be it real or pretend. We use it refer to any possession or habit that is above the general standard of living. For example, Paul’s iphone that he always uses in public (he tops our lists of “most likely to be robbed”) is fachenta. Alba’s wifi in her Diriamba home was fachenta. My private bathroom, walk-in closet, and beach farm are all totally fachenta.

So now I am looking at two months of community integration time. Stay tuned! In the meantime, please check out this link to our YouTube video we made of our original composition, “The 12 Days in Country”, sure to be appreciated by PCV’s around the world. Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rhNKvm91Vy4