Let it Rain

It's been one hell of a week since I last wrote. The film crew took off on Sunday, only to be replaced by Ismael, Marie and Mathias on Monday. The next 2 days were a whirlwind of activity as everyone else prepared for a long awaited trip to Cuba and I attempted to meet with all 15 people on my list. This would have been a lot easier had we all had our own transportation. Instead, we had to balance all 5 of our schedules in such a way that Victor, our driver, could chauffeur us all back and forth to a myriad of destinations all across the city. With the exception of a few minor issues, this actually worked out fairly well.

On Wednesday morning, I got up with the Cuba crew at 5am to say goodbye and deal with a few last minute logistics before crawling back into bed to wait for Victor's return. Alas, sleeping was not to be an option. No sooner had I closed my eyes than the phone started ringing. Dragging myself up from my mattress on the floor, I was informed by G that despite their best intentions to travel to Cuba on French passports, he and Mathias had to first exit the country on their American passports. So, after locating said passports, I caught a cab and managed to reach the airport with enough to time for everyone to get on their way.

The rest of the morning was spent running errands and locating various items that are completely unavailable in Bluefields. By the time I made it to the only place in the city that ships to Bluefields, it was already early afternoon and I had yet to make it to Matagalpa, 2hrs north of Managua, where I was scheduled to tour a hotel school. Getting back in the Magi-Boogy (our trusty VW van), Victor and I grabbed a bite to eat and started the long drive north. I'd love to tell you all about the sights along the way, but having only slept about 2hrs the night before, it wasn't long before I was passed out across the back seat of the bus.

Cresting a hill at the entrance to Matagalpa, we were greeted with a beautiful view of the city. The whole town is built in a valley ringed by towering mountains on all sides. Throughout the city church steeples rise above the corrugated metal roofs and city parks dot the landscape. After driving around asking everyone we met if they knew of the hotel school we were searching for, we finally happened across our destination. I was greeted by a lovely young lady who took me around and showed me all the different courses and classrooms. They had everything from cooking to computers to sewing and hairdressing. They also had quite a nice, simple auditorium with louvered glass panels for nearly the whole height of the walls.

Having taken lots of pictures and asked all my questions, I climbed back in the van and Victor maneuvered his way through the steep streets and we headed back out of town. On the way back I was delighted to discover that my Spanish has improved to the point of being functional and I enjoyed a lovely 2hr conversation with only minor miscommunications.

Back at the house, I made some food for myself and Rafael and started chatting with him about my plans for the rest of the week. When he heard that I was headed to San Juan del Sur the following day, he very shyly asked if he might be able to join me for the ride. Seeing no reason to force him to stay locked in the house for yet another day of mind-dumbing marathon television, I told him it wouldn't be a problem as long as his dad could come watch the house for the day. Clearly excited, he called home right away and made all the appropriate arrangements.

Bright and early the next morning, Victor, Rafael and myself were on our way south to San Juan del Sur, a world class surfing and vacation local. The intention was to get there, meet with a real estate agent who would show me around the local ecolodges and green-roof projects, visit an earthship construction project and make it back to Managua. Apparently, mother nature had other plans in mind.

As we approached SJS, the skies opened up and let loose all the water they'd been storing up for the past 6 months and traffic slowed to a crawl. The roads turned to mud and visibility depended entirely on wind direction. During a slight break in the storm, we found ourselves at what will one day be a bridge over the river, but which is currently a jumble of concrete and steel. Without the bridge, the only way to continue is to drive down the slope, through the river and up the other side. Confident in the power of Miss Magi-Boogy, Victor steered us down through the rushing brown water that crested the wheels as we passed through to the other side.

Once in San Juan del Sur, the rains started up again and the roads turned to rivers. Stopping in the market for some lunch, we kept our feet up off the ground and moved seats as the holes in the ceiling got progressively larger and closer. After quite a yummy meal, we made our way to Aroura Realty where, dripping wet, I was to meet my guide for the day. A phone call and a short wait later he showed up only to inform me that due to the hurricane we were in the middle of, all the roads were washed out and no one was going in or out of the town that day. Slightly frustrated, but with few available options, we sat down at a beachfront bar and enjoyed a cold beer. As we waited for the rains to subside, I was mesmerized by the repeated scene of gangs of fishermen attempting to salvage overturned and half submerged boats from the violent seas. First, a team of men would wade out as far as they could stand while their friends hauled on the bowline trying to bring their craft closer to the shore. As soon as it reached the first group, the would begin pushing it in towards shore, all the while battling pounding surf and violent currents. As I watched, at least 3 boats were salvaged and brought to shore.

Once the rains had subsided enough to see more than 5 feet, I ventured out to check out the ocean and was pleasantly surprised to discover that the water was warmer than the cold raining coming from above. Seeing that we still weren't going anywhere fast, Victor, Rafael and myself ventured further down the beach, away from the fishing boats, and decided to go for a swim. The water was gloriously warm, but incredibly murky due to the churning of the tides and runoff from the swollen rivers. Nonetheless, we passed a lovely hour or so hopping over waves and riding giant swells back in to shore.

After about an hour or so of calm weather, I figured it was time to try my luck at Aurora again. No go. All the roads were still washed out and there was little hope of any change before sundown. A little disheartened, I called up my second contact to see if I might have better luck getting out to the "casa llanta" earthship. Of course, reading the directions I had been given, which included the phrase, 'turn left into the creek,' I should have known that would not be a possibility. Nonetheless, Dave, who heads up the project for a couple weeks at a time, was willing to come into town and chat. So, I spent a lovely hour or so chatting about different building techniques and the logistics of acquiring bottles, tires and cans for use as construction materials. I also made plans to go out to the site early the next morning should I still be in SJS and assuming the roads were once again passable.

Not quite believing all the reports and wishing to see the extent of our isolation for ourselves, I climbed back into the Magi-Boogy and Victor drove us out to half finished bridge we had passed to come in. When we arrived, there was a line of trucks and buses stretching half a mile down the road, all waiting for the river to withdraw. Parking at the end of this long line of cars, we went on foot to the front of the line and were greeted by 15ft of rapidly flowing water rushing across the road we had passed only a few hours before.

Resigned to our fate we returned to town, played a few rounds of pool, had a few beers and located the cheapest hotel in town. Securing rooms, we said goodnight and reunited at the crack of dawn. The next morning dawned clear and bright, leaving few reminders of the havoc of the day before. Meeting up with Dave we ventured down a long dirt road past homemade cockfighting rings and ramshackle workshops til we did indeed turn left into the creek bed. Unfortunately, the creek was a bit deeper and the sand a bit softer than normal so we ended up parking where the car stopped itself and walking the rest of the way.

Very glad to have at least seen one of the 3 places I had planned to visit, I eventually returned to the car and we headed back towards Managua. Three hours later I found myself back at casa Ivan where a cold shower and a bite to eat commenced another long day. This one included various trips around town for last minute supplies, which was complicated by the fact that Friday was mother's day and all the construction supply stores were closed. Later, after finishing almost all the errands I had on my list, I had victor drop me off at the bus station and began the long journey back to Bluefields via the overnight bus/panga.

Volcanic Expeditions

On saturday, the film crew, myself and Mr. G made our way around the town and out to the market in Masaya. On the way there, we stopped at a national park to explore the wonders of a beautiful volcanic landscape. As we pulled over and got out, you could see the smoke rising from a seemingly endless ravine. The slightly grayish clouds billowed up shifting with the wind. Staring down into the depths of this sleeping dragon, I kept hoping to catch a glimpse of its' firey belly, but the clouds of smoke merely played tricks upon my eyes. Every time I thought I might get a break, the wind would shift ever so subtly and a new puff of smoke would swim across my view.

The landscape adjacent to the gapping depth was barren and rock strewn. The soil shifted from black to green to red to yellow, all with a slightly hazy brown mirage suspended across it as far as you could see. As we climbed the winding stairs to the wooden cross erected above, the clouds of smoke brought with them swarms of every insect imaginable. Some were so small you had to strain to see them as they crawled across your skin, causing your hair to stand and your nerves to tingle. Others were little black lines that squirmed along, tickling the back of your neck, causing you to imagine them crawling into your ears and up your nose. The worst part being that at least some of these nearly unseen foes were vicious enough to sink their teeth in as the passed.

The only way to put up with the constant torrent of microscopic nuisances was to keep moving. So, I hiked quickly up the steps, enjoyed a gorgeous view for as long as I could stand before descending past the abyss once more. In no time at all, we were on our way. Well, after David got finished expelling the "welcome to Nicaragua" message his stomach was so adamantly presenting to him.

Managua

The last few days have been quite a trip. I flew out of Bluefields on friday morning with the French film crew and Guillaume and landed in Managua a few hours later. As we walked out of the airport, G discovered that his phone was out of minutes, so we had to hike down the road a ways to meet up with Victor who would be driving us around in the 'Magi-Boogy,' a rundown diesel van, for the next couple days.

Having arrived after our first meeting was scheduled to begin, we decided to can that one and go straight to the house. On the way, I got my first real glimpse of Managua. It's a pretty intense city. Every stoplight brings a barrage of small children cleaning your windshield, women offering sliced mangoes, cold drinks and trinkets. The roads are full of the most incredible variety of vehicles I've ever seen in one place. There's everything from giant semi trucks to horse drawn carts and foot-pedal rickshaws. The houses are crammed in close, rusted zinc roofs and siding overlapping high walls with barbed wire and broken glass. In certain areas, the broken shells of collapsed houses and apartment buildings frame poorly constructed shacks and empty courtyards. The whole city feels as if it's been under siege for the past 30 years or so. Every home has a high wall of concrete and wrought iron with steel bars across every window and gates closing of each door. There's a tension in the air that mixes with the exhaust and thick, humid air to create a tangible, relentless weight.

Arriving at 'casa Ivan' we were greeted by Rafael, the young caretaker whose job it is to always be in the house. We dropped our bags, discovered the internet had been cut off for no particular reason, made a few phone calls and headed back out again. Guillaume went with the film crew to get his official residency ID after several years of buracracy. I headed off to the grocery store to stock up for the next few days. It was quite a treat to be in a real grocery store with a huge variety of food after a couple weeks in Bluefields where the selection is surprisingly limited.

As soon as I got back to the house, it was time to turn around again and head out for a meeting with Henry, the local architect that I will be working with on the design and construction of CERCA. Unfortunately, our taxi driver wasn't entirely sure where we were headed, so we ended up going by a different INATEC campus before going clear across town to our actual destination. Fortunately, the meeting that followed was well worth the trip! Henry has turned out to be a welcome and refreshing change from the norm or unmotivated and uncooperative individuals that dominate the INATEC offices. Not only had he found me the 3 things I asked for, but he'd gone out of his way to accumulate additional information and compile CDs with examples of hotel school layouts, building terminology and material specs.

With drawings and new material in hand, we headed off to the hotel school that has recently been built with the help of international funding. It was quite a treat to have a tour through the elegant dining room, fully stocked kitchens and 4 star hotel training rooms. Everything they had there was far larger and more upscale than anything we will be doing in Bluefields, but getting a chance to see the possibilities that are available sparked numerous ideas.

When we returned to Henry's office and picked up Guillaume, he was nearly dancing with excitement. He had just coerced his way into a meeting with the head honcho of INATEC and gotten permission to move ahead on a myriad of projects he'd been pushing for for quite a while. I was floored to hear him describe the trajectory of future development that will commence with a reorganization of INATEC-IPCC's existing infrastructure and the construction of CERCA. The vision he described will not only transform the way that training and enterprises occur in Bluefields, but will eventually alter the education system, living conditions and outside perspective of the entire Atlantic coast. There is something truly extraordinary about the way that Guillaume can visualize future endeavors and see how all the interconnected elements can grow together to create real changes.

Hyped up about the possibilities for the future, we came back to the house, cooked a yummy meal and started talking. Many hours later, we moved to the office to start making lists of all the the departments, projects and initiatives that we'd like to include in the development of CERCA and all the associated projects. Somewhere around 3am, still coursing with excitement, we finally called it a night and laid down for a few hours rest before the beginning of another long day.

Afro Beats

The other night almost everyone from blueEnergy made their way down to the BSS apartment where we found a wonderful collection of local musicians waiting to entertain us. After a few rounds of dominos, nearly a full case of beer and what passes for pizza in this country, Kila-B took the stage and began freesyling to some funky beats. I'm pretty sure I've never seen anyone speak so quickly, rhythmically and mesmerizingly in my life. He rapped in a language somewhere between English and Creole while Kali-boom joined in with some back up and Zabu added his own mix of beatboxing with crazy clicks, whoops and cries. As the three of them got going, they traded off verses and mixed their voices in a cascade of tones that made your blood tingle until you had no choice but to start moving.

As soon as those three had exhausted themselves, a new round of musicians took the stage (aka the living room). These guys, whose names I have unfortunately forgotten, opened with some classic Bob Marley played on guitar and congo drums. The moved smoothly into a few Spanish ballads before coming back to Marley. The whole night was a constantly shifting flow of music from one style to the next. Every once in awhile, they'd let the boombox take over, but that was a fairly rare occurrence. For the most part, the party progressed with live music, dancing and of course, "Beer AGAIN!!!"

It was such a treat to be surrounded by the region's best musicians for a laid back private party where they sang when, how and what they wanted. Of course, some of the show was really just for the documentary film crew, but we all got to enjoy it anyway. I really can't wait to see this documentary when it comes out. It's gonna be really interesting to see what they include and what perspective they approach the myriad of stories that make up blueEnergy.

Well, I gotta go pack up for an early morning trip to Managua, but I did take a couple videos of the musicians, so if I ever manage to get them uploaded, I'll be sure to share. In the meantime, you can check out Kali-Boom and Zabu on UTube at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1AZMzLR3eXI

Enjoy!

Maypole Madness

May is a very special month in Bluefields. In fact, the largest festival of the year takes place of the course of the month. Every weekend there are large fiestas in the streets and the barrios (neighborhoods) take turns hosting the party and attempting to show up last week's events. Last night the party took place in the oldest neighborhood and was organized by the bluefields sound system boys. Our group got there a little late for the live performances, but just in time for the maypole dancing.

A large group of us had only just arrived when the announcer began requesting that "all them white girls come dance maypole." Seeing as Stephanie and myself were the only gringas to be seen, we had little choice but to be ushered towards the brightly decorated tree they had installed in the middle of the cobblestone road. I'm not sure if any of you have every encountered Caribbean style maypole dancing before, but it's a trip! Basically, it's a combination of African rhythm gyrations, hip-hop grinding and a ferocious battle of the sexes. Stephanie and I managed to keep our dancing reasonably PG, despite the crowds of men pulsating around us, but we certainly weren't prepared for the show that followed. As the real Caribbean ladies stepped it up, the crowds went wild and the dancers followed suit. I was stunned to see a very voluptuous lady trap her man against the maypole and begin ramming herself against him hard enough to shake the whole tree. Not too much later, several of the men began throwing themselves across the floor, knees bent and arms in the air shaking everything they had while the girls danced above them. At one point, someone climbed right up the maypole and was dancing with his feet in midair while suspended from the branches above. It was as if the gods had let loose their hold on the world and all manner of wild spirits had swarmed up to take control.

Unfortunately, along with the wild dancing and battling of the sexes comes some rather rampant drunkenness and high tempers. From the few nights I've been out on the town, it's rather apparent that fist fights are a nightly occurrence. After a few small shoving matches between various individuals, one of the fights erupted into a full-fledged boxing match that left one man being carried out holding his wounded head in his hands. That pretty much ended the party since half the crowd accompanied the injured man and the rest scattered throughout the barrio.

Not ready to call it a night, but finding it too early for Four Brothers, we migrated to LaLa (aka midnight dream). This place is probably my favorite so far. The entrance is located at the end of a large sloping driveway and through a chainlink fence. The first room you come to is literally pulsating with music that shakes the floor and is occasionally accompanied by a very loud foghorn. If you can maintain your hearing as you walk through the main dancefloor, you pass through to a slightly quieter space filled with tables of dimly lit figures. A few more steps brings you out to the deck and finally brings the music down to a reasonable volume as the sky opens up and moonlight floods your view of the bay. Settling in at a table, we passed a few hours sharing stories, dancing to the best songs and enjoying the nearly full moon.

As midnight rolled around and the staff began putting away chairs, our dream had to end and the party moved on. Almost everyone continued on to Four Brothers, but my stomach had finally gotten a proper "welcome to Nicaragua" message and I decided it'd be best to head home. A few of us piled into a cab and were shortly at our doors. A few more pleasant moments were spent sleepily chatting in the hippie room before finally calling it a night. For the first time since I arrived, it was cool enough to fall asleep without turning on the fan. I slept like a baby.

Sifting Sands

Today was another lesson in patience and the reality of taking simple conveniences for granted. I offered to help Stephanie with the construction of a concrete water filter that she's been working on for some time. In fact, she's already made a few but wants to experiment to find the perfect balance between performance and cost. Hence, we were to mix several different combinations of varying size stones and sand from the river, the ocean and the volcanoes to achieve the strongest and cheapest concrete. Of course, in the States, this would have been a simple matter of ordering various size aggregates and various consistencies of sand and mixing it up in a cement mixer. Of course, in Bluefields, nothing is quite that simple.

Despite our low expectations, we arrived at the shop to find all the raw materials already laid out for us. However, raw materials is definitely the right description. Basically, we had bags full of whatever the boys who dive to the bottom of the river or ocean had scooped up in their buckets and sold to us. Hence, in order to have pure sand or stones of similar size, we had to sift the raw sand by hand. We started by simply shoveling piles onto our sifting screens and quickly realized we would be there all night if we didn't find a faster method. So, looking around the shop I noticed a set of hooks suspended from the ceiling. Thinking this could speed things up a bit, we commenced tying the various size screens up with space between so we could pour through the top and sift out everything at once. It was a little make shift, but it worked! That only left pouring our separated sands into buckets of water so the sticks, shells, leaves and other organic matter would float to the top where the 10 year old boy who had followed us to the shop would happily retrieve it all and toss it out on the grass.

We didn't quite get around to actually pouring the cement, but at least we've got the right size rocks all laid out together and the steel mold cleaned up and ready for a saturday afternoon mud mixing party.

Daily Life

So, I realized after reading through my last postings that I have neglected to give any notion of the reality of daily life in Bluefields, an oversight I shall attempt to rectify. There are so many little conveniences that simply do not exist here that seemingly simple activities require serious effort and vast amounts of time. Of those elements that impact daily life, water is probably the most evident.

There are 2 sources of water available at the house, a collection tank for rainwater and the well. Neither local offers potable water, so the kitchen is equipped with a series of filtration systems that must be constantly replenished. During the wet season, this is rarely an issue, as the rainwater tank is nearly always full. However, at this point in time we are at the very end of the dry season and the rains have yet to begin, so the tanks are often dry. This means that the showerheads are unusable so we must all become experts at the intricate techniques of bucket-baths, which is always an interesting endeavor as one hand must always be employed for scooping and pouring water while all other actions are completed one-handed. This of course implies that there is water in the bucket to be used in the first place. =)

If there isn't any water in the shower (or you need to flush the toilet), as was the case this morning, one must navigate the intricate network of valves and switches located throughout the grounds in order to fill the large trashcans we utilize for water storage. If the rainwater tank is full, this is a simple matter of turning a single switch. If not, you have to go down to the patio, open the tank valve just slightly, walk out back to the well, reach down and open the valve inside and wait for the very long pipe to fill so you can prime the pump. Once the pipe is full, you close the well valve, walk back to the patio, close the tank valve, go across the patio, turn on the pump, take a leisurely stroll upstairs while the tank starts up, open the valve there and begin to fill your bucket. Since this is such a time-consuming process, anytime you go to fill one bucket, it is worthwhile to fill all the buckets throughout the house as well as those the kitchen and cleaning crew will need for the rest of the day. By this time, the 5min shower you were hoping for has turned into a 2hr endeavor. Welcome to the reality of Nica-time!

First Week

The first week in any new location is always a challenge of new faces, proceedures, habits and adventures, but my first week at blueEnergy was further amplified by a whirlwind of ativity that began only a few hours after arriving. Most of the chaos was due to the fact that for the first time in history, all 3 co-directors of the organization, as well as 'mama blueEnergy' were assembled in Bluefields. To make things more exciting, they were commencing their first official operator training program to teach members of outlying communities the intricacies of wind turbine maintenance and management. This meant that, also for the first time, the leaders of all the communities in which blueEnergy operates were assembled together. Despite the challenges posed by instructing an eclectic group of individuals who each have their own prefered first language and varying degrees of comprehension, literacy and interest, the volunteers and workshop members diligently transfered their knowledge over the course of the coming week. In addition to all this excitement, and more important to my person agenda here, the head of INATEC, the national university that runs the local technical college which has partnered with blueEnergy and provides workshop and classroom space as well as transportaion and coordication, was to arrive on friday. But, I'm getting a little ahead of myself, so lets back up to that first night in Bluefields.

After a very refreshing nap and a quick (cold) bucket shower (the only kind of shower available), David, Lynn and I wandered down to the living room and chatted for a bit while other volunteers raced back and for intent of 15 different projects and attempting to mobilize for the training that was to commence in the morning. As the evening progessed, we slowly met each member of the household, some of whom have been here for the long haul and others who were only passing through for a few weeks. We also came to understand that dinner is always an impromptu event that happens whenever someone decides it's time to cook an takes the initiative to do so. Seeings as everyone else was more than overwhelmed with preparations, David Lynn and I took it upon ourselves to manage dinner. Slowly navigating through the foreign realm of a new kitchen with only fresh ingredients and basic stocks of rice, beans and noodles, we pieced together a lovely meal of spagetti in a spicy tomato sauce. All the other volunteers were more than grateful to sit down for a hot meal at a table overflowing with individuals from France and the US. After a lively dinner with stories of all variety being flung around the room (well, the covered patio as it's far to hot to sit down for a meal indoors), most people adjorned to the office for last minute preparations while a few of us, including Guillermo, the local director and his brother, Mathias, the head honcho for the US side of operations, cleared the table and dolled out the cervesas for a few raucous rounds of beer pong.

Somewhere along in the evening, after a few beers had been had, Guillermo pulled me aside and started to explain his vision for CERCA (Centro de Capacitación Ambiental), the project that I was brought here to oversee. Over the course of our discussion, it became clear that this center is a much larger project than I had previously imagined. It will include not only conference rooms and offices for blueEnergy, but also offices for other organizations, a 200 person auditorium, a dining hall for at least 200 ppl, a large kitchen as well as a smaller teaching kitchen and guestrooms. Overall, the concept is to create a center that would provide facilities for outside organizations to collaborate on various projects, to accommodations for visiting specialists as well as a training facility for hospitality services. All of this will be incorporated into a showcase for sustainable living that will include all renewable energy sources, water collection filtration and treatment, composting toilets, natural lighting, ventilation and cooling systems. In addition, the grander vision is to carry the same themes into smaller CERCitas that would be built in the communities and house batteries, volunteers, specialists etc. Feeling both incredibly excited and rather overwhelmed, I eventually said goodnight and laid down with my head still spinning full of cascading thoughts and visions.

The rest of the week passed in something of a blur. Since the head of INATEC was to be here on friday to discuss the possibility of actually building CERCA, I was immediately thrown into creating a presentation that included basic shematic plans and sketchs as well as a powerpoint exemplifying the benefits that could be reaped should this program go through. At the same time, the days remained hectic with migrations to the INATEC campus for communal lunches, presentations on various aspects of blueEnergy and the systems they provide as well as a lot of cooking for 15-25 people, gatherings every night that generally progressed far into the night. To make things just a little more exciting, all the taxi drivers in town decided to go on strike, so going anywhere meant walking through the scorching heat to arrive drenched in sweat and exhausted at your destination. Nonetheless, friday came along, the day of meetings went well, CERCA was signed off on by INATEC and I got a few minutes to breath.

Friday evening was consumed with a fabulous meal of beef boullion with a specialty potato dish from a specific region of France prepared by one of the many amazing guests we had over the week. After dinner, Colette (mama blueEnergy) enthralled us all with a wonderful presentation of her work studying the Rama language that started in the 80s and eventually led to the creation of blueEnergy through a series of events that I will have to go into at another time. Her presentation was interspersed with harrowing tales of being held at machinegun point by the Contras, living among the Rama in isolated villages and introducing Miss Nora, a Rama woman who helped to save the Rama language from extinction, to the luxuries of life in Eugene, Oregon for a short time.

The following day, the morning was spent preparing for a graduation ceremony to honor the community operators who had completed their training over the course of the week. After the ceremony, Stephanie and I snuck away for a small shopping tour of 'el centro.' Only mildly successful, we decided to drop by the Bluefields Sound System residence and say hi to a couple friends who live and work there. We sat on the porch and enjoyed the seabreeze while listening to Reggaton mixed with a few classics. On the way back to the house, we dropped Xander and Edwin off at a barrio party at the end of a dizzying network of winding alleyways. The fiesta was part of fiesta de mayo, a month long celebration that involves lots of crazy dancing, a maypole and copious amounts of flor de caña, the local rum (which happens to be delicious!). We got back to the house in time to start cooking before our own party was to begin. As we were cooking, a member of the documentary film crew that had a arrived a few days before and happened to be a world class bartender, began mixing various coctails with fresh mango, passion fruit, blended bananas and all sorts of delicious additions.

As soon as everyone was fed and happy, the BSS boys showed up in time to organize a dancing movement. As a group of maybe 20-25 people, we all departed casa blueEnergy and made our way downtown to the happeningest club in town, Cima. There, we sweat our way through the night gyrating to Reggatone music on the crowded dance floor. A few hours later, I found myself in the hatchback trunk of a taxicab with 2 other people while 5 more rode up front, driving with the door open while holding the taxi speaker on my lap and racing across town to Four Brothers, a dimmly lit shack with music and lots more crazy dancing. Somewhere around 2 or 3am, Staphanie and I decided that we'd had about all we could handle of the sex-on-the-dance-floor style that predominates the clubs and we headed back to the house. Unfortunately, we forgot that there aren't enough keys for all the volunteers and neither of us currently had a set. So, when we got home and found the gate locked, we had the joy of scaling the chainlink fence in order to get in. Luckily, a few people were still up over at Guillermo's house (one he's in the process of building just behind the main house), and were willing to let us into our rooms.

The following morning, a large contingient took off early for RamaKey, an island off the coast where lots of exciting things were to be happening. As I had no real reason for attending, Stephanie and I had made plans to meet up with the workshop boys for an outing to Gualaterra, the local swimming hole. However, when we got up, only one of the managed to show and he soon wandered off to who knows where when it bacame apparent that we were going to be moving rather slowly for the morning. Undetered, we managed to kidnap Lâl, the head of blueEnergy France, and convince him to lead us through the jungle to the mythical pool of water we'd been dreaming of since first learning of it a few days earlier. Hiking up over the hill behind our house, we were greeted with a stunning 360 degree view of nearly continuous rainforest, broken only by the blue of the bay. Marching down the oposite side, we made our way down a steep incline to an oasis of water complete with waterfall and several locals already enjoying the refreshingly cool water. Completely drenched in sweat by the time arrived, I couldn't wait to get in the water. Watching a few kids jump of the cliff and dive headfirst into the relatively shallow pool, I decided to follow suit, minus the diving headfirst part. I'm not sure I can describe the sheer joy of feeling cool for the first time in week. The unrelenting heat and humidity that had hounded us for the past five days was suddenly a thing of the past. We spent the morning enjoying the estatically refreshing waterhole until the influx of local families became too much to handle and we decided to call it a morning.

On the way back to the house, we wound our way through dirt paths that cut through backyards and banana groves and found ourselves thirsty enough to stop for a beer a few blocks from home. one beer quickly turned into more when the table next to us decided to buy us a second round, at which point we were socially required to return the favor. So, a few glasses later, we meandered our way back into the sunshine and found ourselves at home. Thoroughly relaxed from our excursion, we lazed about in hammocks sharing stories and enjoying the quiet of an empty house.

As everyone returned from their trip to RamaKey, a housewarming party was beginning over at Guillermo's complete with mardigras beads and feathered masks. Needless to say, the remainder of the evening involved plenty of toña and flor de caña.

And now, it's time to get to work.

Arrival

I arrived in Nicaragua last sunday after a wonderful roadtrip from Portland to LA that included some exhilerating climbing, beach combing, an unexpected reunion and a minor flat tire on the grapevine. When I got to Claremont, I had the pleasure of attending the 27th annual Claremont Folk Festival which included Jackson Browne, Ben Harper and Taj Mahal, all of whom gave awesome performances. After only a few hours of sleep that night, I embarked on my journey south.

When I arrived in Managua after a short stop in the Miami airport (which has the worst signage I've ever seen in an airport), I was greeted by a waft of hot, humid air and a welcoming party of Victor, the local blueEnergy taxi driver, David and Lynn, two new volunteers who has just arrived from Costa Rica where they are studying at the American University. Although I had originally planned to spend the night in Managua before catching a bus overland to Bluefields, David and Lynn were planning to embark that night (about 2hrs after I arrived) and had graciously reserved me a seat should I like to join them. Rather than completing the 12hr trip on my own, I was happy to take their invitation to travel overnight with them.

On the way from the airport to the bus station, we stopped for a quick meal at a roadside restaurant and filled up on rice, beans, marinated onions and a little meat. Of course, we also had to enjoy a toña, the local Nicaraguan beer. When we arrived at the bus station, we passed off our bags to men packing everything into a tarp on top of the rundown old school bus that would take us clear across the country and sat down to wait. An hour or so later, people began cueing up, so we followed suit and were quickly (by nicaraguan standards anyway) on our way to a chorus of car horns.

After a relatively uneventful ride over the mountains and through the jungle, we arrived in el Rama, where the road from Managua ends. From there, we were to take a small boat called a 'panga' down the river to Bluefields. However, the boats wouldn't depart for a few more hours, so we settled in to take a brief nap as the sun rose and the sleepy little port slowly woke up. Around about 6am, we started loading into a small open motorboat with wooden bench seats and rather limited space. Being the last boat to load up, we still had a couple seats left open, which meant we waited for another 45mins or so while we watched the rest of the pangas embark without us. A little nervous to travel without the backup of another boat nearby to help with engine trouble, but mildly comforted by the dilapitated lifevests we were each doned upon boarding, we eventually managed to fill the boat to capacity, which meant being crammed in shoulder-to-shoulder with barely enough room between benches to place your feet. Nonetheless, we were soon on our way down a wide river lined by banana groves and towering trees with tendrils of vines tracing their way down through a thick canopy of broad leafed trees and mangrove swamps.

A rather windy and bumpy 2hr ride later, the river openned up to a large lagoon and Bluefields came into view on the horizon. Disembarking at the docks to a crowd of taxi drivers vying for our business, we climbed aboard one and were zipped across town to 'casa blueEnergy.' Happy but exhausted, David, Lynn and I were shown our rooms and allowed to gratefully pass out for a few hours in the midmorning heat.