Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Tidings
So, I realize I let my blog slide during my last month or so in Bluefields, but I assure you, it was due to thorough enjoyment resulting in a lack of time for writing and not for want of exciting stories. My final stretch included many riotous gatherings, lots of networking, new volunteers and all the joys of everyday life in Bluefields. I was incredibly sad to leave all my wonderful companions and return to the United States in October, but life always seems to have something new and exciting waiting for me and I am simply unable to resist it's draw. Hence, I have returned to the US and begun a new adventure living and studying in the Sonoran desert of Arizona. I continue to work diligently on my design for CERCA and to maintain contact with as many fellow volunteers and Bluefields locals as humanly possible. Ideally, I will have a chance to return to Bluefields in the not-too-distant future to reconnect with friends and oversee the initial phases of construction for CERCA. Wish me luck!
Monday, August 18, 2008
Moonlit Madness
Since the very first time I visited Gualpatara, I had contended that we really needed to go back on a full moon in order to properly enjoy the surroundings. Despite being called crazy by 90% of the people I proposed this idea to, Stephanie was always in favor, so I knew we'd figure out a way to make it happen. Knowing it to be a fairly bad idea to go tramping through the Jungle in the middle of the night on our own, we recruited a few local friends to walk us out there and take care of any nasty creatures the wild might throw in our direction.
Having had a gran fiesta on Friday night, Saturday started fairly slowly, but with good weather. So, after finally Managing to leave the house in the early afternoon, Steph & I went up to the main house to do some "shopping" in the main kitchen and announce our intentions for the evening in case anyone else happened to be loco enough to join us. From there, we hiked across town through the barrios until we reached our friend's house where we had planned to cook some chicken to take with us. Unfortunately, said friend was on a mission when we arrived and could not be reached. A little perturbed by the delay, but still having a few hours of sunlight at our disposal, we hung out and played a few rounds of dominos until he arrived. At that point, he disappeared across the street with our chicken declaring that we would only prepare it then and cook it out at Gualpatara. A fair while later, we had rounded up the rest of the party, which grew well past our original intentions, but was still manageable, cut and par-boiled the chicken, collected a grill, hammocks, drinks and the like and were on our way back up the hill.
As we hiked through the barrios with all our equipment to cook and spend the night out, we got rather incredulous looks from most people we passed. A few knew various members of our party well enough to ask where we were headed, but not a single one believed the response. I should probably stop here to explain that only one of the 4 local boys we were with had ever camped out, and that one only because he'd spent nearly half his life living in the States. The rest had never even considered the idea. They were, however, very excited by the idea once it was proposed. In any case, after passing from one end of town to the other, we started up the steeper slopes and into the jungle. As we stepped off the last concrete pathway, we were immediately immersed in a trail of mud. The boys managed to proceed elegantly up the horrendously slippery slopes without seeming to pay much mind to their footing, but that was not the case for Stephanie and myself. For my part, I was concentrating thoroughly on every step attempting to avoid the mushiest of the mud patches. I managed to make it through fairly cleanly, but Stephanie didn't fair quite as well. 10 mins into the trip she was covered in mud up to her knees. Of course, that didn't slow her down in the least. She simply lost the shoes and kept on trucking.
We reached the crest of the hill just as the sun was sinking behind the distant ridges. As we hiked along the highest point for miles in every direction, we had an incredible view of all of Bluefields and the surrounding area. On one side, you could see the ocean, on the other, lush green jungle covering rolling hills for as far as you could see. As the sun sank lower and lower, dusk came on quickly. Just as the light was truly fading, we arrived at our destination. Being thoroughly sweaty and non too clean, Steph & I left the boys our flashlights and sent them off to find firewood while we clambered down the ridiculously steep, slippery rocks to reach the calm pool of water that had enticed us out in the first place. Jumping in, every step to get there was immediately worth while. We had the place entirely to ourselves, and it was pitch black at that point, so we took the liberty of removing our swimsuits and properly enjoying the cool touch of refreshing water against our skin.
As we were bathing, the boys managed to locate the candles and set them up along the path to light our way. Laying back in the water, we were greeted with a vision of twinkling spots of fire lining the rim of our secluded basin. It was magical.
Thoroughly refreshed, but feeling a little guilty for not helping set up camp, we started climbing out just as the skies opened up for the first time that day. Already soaked, we weren't bothered in the least. We did loose our beautifully lit path, but that was a small sacrifice to pay. Retrieving and donning our clothes, we climbed back out and greeted a few other volunteers who had decided to join us. Everyone else was slightly more concerned by the driving rain than either Stephanie or myself, but luckily it didn't last long enough to really become a problem. In fact, as the rain subsided, the clouds parted to reveal the rising moon in all her glory. A hush fell as we all turned to gaze upon this magnificent sight and took a moment to thoroughly enjoy where our lives had brought us.
As we turned back to reality, we had the difficult task of starting a fire in the now thoroughly drenched surroundings. Not to worry, this is a typical problem in much of Nicaragua; wet wood, wet ground, difficult to light a fire. Their solution? Plastic. The boys proceeded to burn plastic bags so they would drip onto the wood, causing it to burn slowly and hence dry out enough to light. Kinda brilliant when you don't have any pine sap handy. In almost no time at all, we had a fire going and chicken on the grill.
We passed the next hour or so watching our food cook while we listed to live music courtesy of our musician friend who had carried his guitar all the out specifically for the occasion. It was wonderful.
Then the rains came again.
That made us wet.
But, the chicken wasn't done yet, and no one really wanted to go anywhere, so we passed around a bottle of the cheapest alcohol in town and worked on keeping the fire as dry as possible. As the rain subsided, the odors of the chicken became truly overwhelming and we decided to dig in. It was delicious. M had come through once more with his skills as a chef and we had succulently slow roasted chicken with a touch of flame broiled flavor. MmmmMmmm Good!
Thoroughly satiated, but with plans to spend the rest of the night there, M directed others to gather more wood and fetch some water from the spring for the second course. This was to be a chicken soup, which we set to simmer as soon as the water arrived and veggies had been chopped.
Then it rained again.
And we got wet again.
Throughout which, the moon played hide and seek behind the clouds, only coming out in full force when the rain halted. This time for good. With a clear sky and full moon, it was if the noonday sun was shinning. You could see clear across the valley where the leaves were bathed in pale blue light and the trees shimmered as they played in the breeze.
By the time the soup was ready, we were starting to get a little chilly, considering we were all soaked several times over. Warming up with chicken soup couldn't have been more perfect. Once that was gone, we saw more ominous clouds headed in our direction and hence decided we might have to call off the plan for spending the night. Packing up our soggy belongings, we struck out again down the path that had officially become a river of mud. Nearly loosing my shoes in the first 5 steps, I quickly ditched them in favor of walking barefoot through the squishy brown mud.
We hiked out by the light of the moon, only switching our headlamps on when we passed through a dense patch of vine covered trees. By the time we reached civilization, we were all covered in mud, but far too enamored by our experience to care. Walking through the nearly deserted streets we made our way quietly back home. After washing off our mud-caked legs, we settled in and called it a night. And what an incredible night it was.
Having had a gran fiesta on Friday night, Saturday started fairly slowly, but with good weather. So, after finally Managing to leave the house in the early afternoon, Steph & I went up to the main house to do some "shopping" in the main kitchen and announce our intentions for the evening in case anyone else happened to be loco enough to join us. From there, we hiked across town through the barrios until we reached our friend's house where we had planned to cook some chicken to take with us. Unfortunately, said friend was on a mission when we arrived and could not be reached. A little perturbed by the delay, but still having a few hours of sunlight at our disposal, we hung out and played a few rounds of dominos until he arrived. At that point, he disappeared across the street with our chicken declaring that we would only prepare it then and cook it out at Gualpatara. A fair while later, we had rounded up the rest of the party, which grew well past our original intentions, but was still manageable, cut and par-boiled the chicken, collected a grill, hammocks, drinks and the like and were on our way back up the hill.
As we hiked through the barrios with all our equipment to cook and spend the night out, we got rather incredulous looks from most people we passed. A few knew various members of our party well enough to ask where we were headed, but not a single one believed the response. I should probably stop here to explain that only one of the 4 local boys we were with had ever camped out, and that one only because he'd spent nearly half his life living in the States. The rest had never even considered the idea. They were, however, very excited by the idea once it was proposed. In any case, after passing from one end of town to the other, we started up the steeper slopes and into the jungle. As we stepped off the last concrete pathway, we were immediately immersed in a trail of mud. The boys managed to proceed elegantly up the horrendously slippery slopes without seeming to pay much mind to their footing, but that was not the case for Stephanie and myself. For my part, I was concentrating thoroughly on every step attempting to avoid the mushiest of the mud patches. I managed to make it through fairly cleanly, but Stephanie didn't fair quite as well. 10 mins into the trip she was covered in mud up to her knees. Of course, that didn't slow her down in the least. She simply lost the shoes and kept on trucking.
We reached the crest of the hill just as the sun was sinking behind the distant ridges. As we hiked along the highest point for miles in every direction, we had an incredible view of all of Bluefields and the surrounding area. On one side, you could see the ocean, on the other, lush green jungle covering rolling hills for as far as you could see. As the sun sank lower and lower, dusk came on quickly. Just as the light was truly fading, we arrived at our destination. Being thoroughly sweaty and non too clean, Steph & I left the boys our flashlights and sent them off to find firewood while we clambered down the ridiculously steep, slippery rocks to reach the calm pool of water that had enticed us out in the first place. Jumping in, every step to get there was immediately worth while. We had the place entirely to ourselves, and it was pitch black at that point, so we took the liberty of removing our swimsuits and properly enjoying the cool touch of refreshing water against our skin.
As we were bathing, the boys managed to locate the candles and set them up along the path to light our way. Laying back in the water, we were greeted with a vision of twinkling spots of fire lining the rim of our secluded basin. It was magical.
Thoroughly refreshed, but feeling a little guilty for not helping set up camp, we started climbing out just as the skies opened up for the first time that day. Already soaked, we weren't bothered in the least. We did loose our beautifully lit path, but that was a small sacrifice to pay. Retrieving and donning our clothes, we climbed back out and greeted a few other volunteers who had decided to join us. Everyone else was slightly more concerned by the driving rain than either Stephanie or myself, but luckily it didn't last long enough to really become a problem. In fact, as the rain subsided, the clouds parted to reveal the rising moon in all her glory. A hush fell as we all turned to gaze upon this magnificent sight and took a moment to thoroughly enjoy where our lives had brought us.
As we turned back to reality, we had the difficult task of starting a fire in the now thoroughly drenched surroundings. Not to worry, this is a typical problem in much of Nicaragua; wet wood, wet ground, difficult to light a fire. Their solution? Plastic. The boys proceeded to burn plastic bags so they would drip onto the wood, causing it to burn slowly and hence dry out enough to light. Kinda brilliant when you don't have any pine sap handy. In almost no time at all, we had a fire going and chicken on the grill.
We passed the next hour or so watching our food cook while we listed to live music courtesy of our musician friend who had carried his guitar all the out specifically for the occasion. It was wonderful.
Then the rains came again.
That made us wet.
But, the chicken wasn't done yet, and no one really wanted to go anywhere, so we passed around a bottle of the cheapest alcohol in town and worked on keeping the fire as dry as possible. As the rain subsided, the odors of the chicken became truly overwhelming and we decided to dig in. It was delicious. M had come through once more with his skills as a chef and we had succulently slow roasted chicken with a touch of flame broiled flavor. MmmmMmmm Good!
Thoroughly satiated, but with plans to spend the rest of the night there, M directed others to gather more wood and fetch some water from the spring for the second course. This was to be a chicken soup, which we set to simmer as soon as the water arrived and veggies had been chopped.
Then it rained again.
And we got wet again.
Throughout which, the moon played hide and seek behind the clouds, only coming out in full force when the rain halted. This time for good. With a clear sky and full moon, it was if the noonday sun was shinning. You could see clear across the valley where the leaves were bathed in pale blue light and the trees shimmered as they played in the breeze.
By the time the soup was ready, we were starting to get a little chilly, considering we were all soaked several times over. Warming up with chicken soup couldn't have been more perfect. Once that was gone, we saw more ominous clouds headed in our direction and hence decided we might have to call off the plan for spending the night. Packing up our soggy belongings, we struck out again down the path that had officially become a river of mud. Nearly loosing my shoes in the first 5 steps, I quickly ditched them in favor of walking barefoot through the squishy brown mud.
We hiked out by the light of the moon, only switching our headlamps on when we passed through a dense patch of vine covered trees. By the time we reached civilization, we were all covered in mud, but far too enamored by our experience to care. Walking through the nearly deserted streets we made our way quietly back home. After washing off our mud-caked legs, we settled in and called it a night. And what an incredible night it was.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Trenzas
At some point during my birthday weekend, Stephanie and I had realized that we had yet to make a single female friend here in Bluefields (besides our lovely volunteers) and hence have had almost no exposure to the females side of life. This has a lot to do with the much larger picture of gender roles throughout Nicaragua, and the fact that we work in an entirely male-dominated realm. The reality here is that the few women who do work work in shops, banks, bars and homes with the occasional teacher and doctor thrown into the mix. It's definitely better than it could be, but considering that most women are mothers by the age of 16, there's not a whole lot of opportunity for simulating and engaging jobs. Not to mention, 90% of the available work in Bluefields is unskilled manual labor.
In any case, we wanted to get a better picture of life as a woman and maybe get a chance to chat with a few local ladies. Not having many outlets within our social sphere, we asked around and found a friend of a friend of a worker who occasionally braids hair for a small fee. Not having many other options for meeting women, other than joining the church or getting pregnant, we made our way out to a barrio we had yet to explore to meet up with Fern. This was a bit of an adventure in itself since her directions were, go to the basketball court and wait. I'll come find you. Being the only white girls in town, not to mention this particular barrio, we figured we'd be hard to miss. So, we took a taxi to the court, asked a few people for Fern and were quickly chaperoned by a young girl down an alley and onto the porch of a house entirely dwarfed by an enormous fig tree with beautiful wandering roots. We sat down under the dripping laundry while piles of small children peered cautiously around the door frame.
A short while later, after we'd made good friends with the bravest (and youngest) of the children, her mother finally emerged from the depths of the house. After negotiating a price, we declared our intentions to return later that weekend and headed out. That Sunday, Stephanie, myself and a new volunteer who recently arrived made our way back to the barrio. Our friend was set up at the basketball court selling tacos with all the other ladies of the neighborhood and was thrilled to see us all arrive. When she realized all three of us wanted our hair braided, she called up her sister, enlisted her cousin and set up 3 chairs right there on the sidewalk.
We passed the next 4 hours surrounded by women and children of all ages chatting about daily life, relatives, men etc. It was a little hard to follow all the Creole when the women really got going, but it was absolutely fascinating nonetheless. Despite being the main attraction for the neighborhood that day, it was the first time I felt as if I was getting a true glimpse of the women's world here in Bluefields. After about the first hour, the women pretty much forgot we were there, relaxed and went on with their day the way they would have had they been braiding each other's hair. Well, that's how it felt at least.
In the end, it was a lovely, long afternoon with some wonderful results. Not sure how long they'll stay in, but for the moment I'm loving having my hair braided as it means no maintenance and significantly cooler temperatures.
Oh, in other news, we've also acquired a kitten and a puppy in the last week. They're both adorable!
In any case, we wanted to get a better picture of life as a woman and maybe get a chance to chat with a few local ladies. Not having many outlets within our social sphere, we asked around and found a friend of a friend of a worker who occasionally braids hair for a small fee. Not having many other options for meeting women, other than joining the church or getting pregnant, we made our way out to a barrio we had yet to explore to meet up with Fern. This was a bit of an adventure in itself since her directions were, go to the basketball court and wait. I'll come find you. Being the only white girls in town, not to mention this particular barrio, we figured we'd be hard to miss. So, we took a taxi to the court, asked a few people for Fern and were quickly chaperoned by a young girl down an alley and onto the porch of a house entirely dwarfed by an enormous fig tree with beautiful wandering roots. We sat down under the dripping laundry while piles of small children peered cautiously around the door frame.
A short while later, after we'd made good friends with the bravest (and youngest) of the children, her mother finally emerged from the depths of the house. After negotiating a price, we declared our intentions to return later that weekend and headed out. That Sunday, Stephanie, myself and a new volunteer who recently arrived made our way back to the barrio. Our friend was set up at the basketball court selling tacos with all the other ladies of the neighborhood and was thrilled to see us all arrive. When she realized all three of us wanted our hair braided, she called up her sister, enlisted her cousin and set up 3 chairs right there on the sidewalk.
We passed the next 4 hours surrounded by women and children of all ages chatting about daily life, relatives, men etc. It was a little hard to follow all the Creole when the women really got going, but it was absolutely fascinating nonetheless. Despite being the main attraction for the neighborhood that day, it was the first time I felt as if I was getting a true glimpse of the women's world here in Bluefields. After about the first hour, the women pretty much forgot we were there, relaxed and went on with their day the way they would have had they been braiding each other's hair. Well, that's how it felt at least.
In the end, it was a lovely, long afternoon with some wonderful results. Not sure how long they'll stay in, but for the moment I'm loving having my hair braided as it means no maintenance and significantly cooler temperatures.
Oh, in other news, we've also acquired a kitten and a puppy in the last week. They're both adorable!
Nica days
Last weekend, most of the volunteers headed down to Monkey Point to pick up our valiant community liaisons were winding up their 2 month stint of living and working in the community. As a result, the house was incredibly quiet with only 5 of us still around. Over at Stephanie and my little house, things weren't nearly as silent as we had visitors starting around 8 am on Saturday. Shocked that we hadn't already been up for 4 hours (despite having been out dancing the night before with the same friends until at least 1am), our friends showed up to see what we might have on offer for the day. Not really having any plans for the weekend, we opted for a nice homemade breakfast and multiple rounds of Dominos. In fact, I believe we ended up playing Dominos until at least 2pm that day. I know you're all probably thinking, how in the world could a game as simple as dominos be entertaining for that long, but you have no idea. The way they play down here keeps you on your toes! For those of you in my family, watch out! we've got a new game to compete with Trumps! I have a feeling you're all gonna love it. Of course, you might have to come down here and play with 2 of my friends here to really get into it. These guys are truly amazing. After 2 or 3 tiles are laid, they already know where the game's going. In some cases, they lay down their first tile with the exclamation that they're gonna win. So far, they haven't been proved wrong in those cases.
In any case, we passed a lovely, properly Nica morning playing dominos and watching our supply of rum mysteriously disappear throughout the day. Around about 2pm we decided we'd had enough and kicked the boys out so we could shower and start our day.
The rest of the day consisted of more good food, a few rounds of pool and a night on the town. Not too bad for a lazy saturday in Bluefields.
In any case, we passed a lovely, properly Nica morning playing dominos and watching our supply of rum mysteriously disappear throughout the day. Around about 2pm we decided we'd had enough and kicked the boys out so we could shower and start our day.
The rest of the day consisted of more good food, a few rounds of pool and a night on the town. Not too bad for a lazy saturday in Bluefields.
Settling In
So, since my crazy weekend of seaside fiestas life has settled down significantly and started to take on a welcomingly calm rhythm. I can now officially call myself a local as I now know enough taxi drivers to occasionally get free rides and I can no longer leave the house without expecting to run into at least 3 people I know. This change has not only altered my social life significantly, but has changed the pace of everyday life.
One of the very first days that I arrived in Bluefields, I accompanied one of the other volunteers downtown to do a few errands with him and stop by the bank. At the time, I became rather frustrated because doing errands entailed walking around in circles and checking every single shop to see if they had what we wanted. This also meant spending a few mins in each shop chit-chatting with the owners. Not to mention the fact that everything closes between 12 and 2pm, so we also ended up going to a friends place to hang out for an hour while we waited for things to open. Needless to say, I found this a rather odd routine and was somewhat putout by spending 3hrs doing something that typically would have required less than one. Of course, I now understand completely as I am now in precisely the same place the other volunteer was when I arrived. Here's a quick sample of a "short" trip into the city...
I went into town one day to copy keys and get a few food items. Only, when Steph and I arrived at the key shop, we were informed that the woman who normally copies them had gone on vacation for the summer. So, we went up the street to the only other place in town that copies keys. We showed them what we needed and were informed that they didn't have those blanks and we'd have to come by another time. Slightly frustrated, but with no other options, we headed on our way. Since my cell phone had gone missing and one of the people I needed to get in touch with had had their service disconnected, I headed over to their office to see if I could get in touch with them that way. On the way, I ran into a guy we'd met at the pool hall, who did an about-face and walked with us for awhile to chat. Then we came across one of the BSS boys who asked us to come by and say hi later. When I got to the office, the man I wanted to meet wasn't there. I left a message that I had come by and headed back across town. On the way, I passed a mechanic's shop with a pile of used tires out front. Since I may be needing a large number of tires for my construction project here, I stopped to chat with the thoroughly inebriated old man to determine how many tires he had and how much he would want for each of them. Then we noticed that the stationary store across the street actually had real books in the window, so we had to stop and take a look since I had yet to see a bookstore in town. Walking out of there, we ran into another friend who happened to be passing through. We chatted with him for a bit and then ducked back into the key store to avoid spending the rest of the afternoon with said friend. Since we were there, we figured it wouldn't hurt to ask a different employee about the keys we needed copied. He took one look, nodded, pulled a few blanks off the wall and started cutting. Who knows what the woman before had been thinking.
Nearly an hour later we emerged from the key store with a new sets of keys and headed down a few streets to get the food we had come for. Of course, this involved going down to the market to find nuts, to a different store for drygoods, to the only store in town that sells yogurt (when he happens to have it) and another stop at the only place in all of bluefields that sells real chocolate. In each store, we had to go through the same rigamaroll of small talk, comments on the weather, discussions of what we'd been up to recently etc. Then we'd pick out what we wanted and wait 10mins while they looked around the store for their receipts (a nearly unknown item that can often be a serious, but necessary process). Once they found their packet of receipts, we waited while they reverse-calculated the tax so they could write down the price they'd already told us as the final one. Sometimes, we'd also have to wait while someone ran next door to get someone else who happened to be literate enough to write out the receipt in the first place.
Walking out of the last store with all our goods in hand, we were finally ready to go, so we flagged down a taxi and hopped in back. Only, there was already someone in front, so we drove all the way across the city to drop them off in a different neighborhood before we could turn around, come back through the maze of one-way streets that make up the town center and head back towards our house. Only, on the way, we picked up another passenger who was only headed a short distance, but in the wrong direction. So, we drove across the bridge to Santa Rosa to drop them off, drove through the entire rest of the neighborhood just to be able to turn around, then got stuck in a line of traffic while someone stopped in the middle of the bridge to unload their truck and everyone else simply waited since they couldn't go around. 20mins later, we finally crossed the bridge and drove up to the house. Hence, what we had anticipated to be a short (hour or 2 at the most) trip into town ended up taking the entire afternoon.
Welcome to life in Bluefields. =) I have to admit, I'm starting to really love it. There's a pace to life there that forces you to relax enough that simple, personal interactions start to have more and more significance while the larger, stressful issues fade a bit. There's always quite a delicate little balance to be maintained between knowing how much to push to actually make things happen and knowing when to let things take their time. I think I'm starting to get the hang of it.
One of the very first days that I arrived in Bluefields, I accompanied one of the other volunteers downtown to do a few errands with him and stop by the bank. At the time, I became rather frustrated because doing errands entailed walking around in circles and checking every single shop to see if they had what we wanted. This also meant spending a few mins in each shop chit-chatting with the owners. Not to mention the fact that everything closes between 12 and 2pm, so we also ended up going to a friends place to hang out for an hour while we waited for things to open. Needless to say, I found this a rather odd routine and was somewhat putout by spending 3hrs doing something that typically would have required less than one. Of course, I now understand completely as I am now in precisely the same place the other volunteer was when I arrived. Here's a quick sample of a "short" trip into the city...
I went into town one day to copy keys and get a few food items. Only, when Steph and I arrived at the key shop, we were informed that the woman who normally copies them had gone on vacation for the summer. So, we went up the street to the only other place in town that copies keys. We showed them what we needed and were informed that they didn't have those blanks and we'd have to come by another time. Slightly frustrated, but with no other options, we headed on our way. Since my cell phone had gone missing and one of the people I needed to get in touch with had had their service disconnected, I headed over to their office to see if I could get in touch with them that way. On the way, I ran into a guy we'd met at the pool hall, who did an about-face and walked with us for awhile to chat. Then we came across one of the BSS boys who asked us to come by and say hi later. When I got to the office, the man I wanted to meet wasn't there. I left a message that I had come by and headed back across town. On the way, I passed a mechanic's shop with a pile of used tires out front. Since I may be needing a large number of tires for my construction project here, I stopped to chat with the thoroughly inebriated old man to determine how many tires he had and how much he would want for each of them. Then we noticed that the stationary store across the street actually had real books in the window, so we had to stop and take a look since I had yet to see a bookstore in town. Walking out of there, we ran into another friend who happened to be passing through. We chatted with him for a bit and then ducked back into the key store to avoid spending the rest of the afternoon with said friend. Since we were there, we figured it wouldn't hurt to ask a different employee about the keys we needed copied. He took one look, nodded, pulled a few blanks off the wall and started cutting. Who knows what the woman before had been thinking.
Nearly an hour later we emerged from the key store with a new sets of keys and headed down a few streets to get the food we had come for. Of course, this involved going down to the market to find nuts, to a different store for drygoods, to the only store in town that sells yogurt (when he happens to have it) and another stop at the only place in all of bluefields that sells real chocolate. In each store, we had to go through the same rigamaroll of small talk, comments on the weather, discussions of what we'd been up to recently etc. Then we'd pick out what we wanted and wait 10mins while they looked around the store for their receipts (a nearly unknown item that can often be a serious, but necessary process). Once they found their packet of receipts, we waited while they reverse-calculated the tax so they could write down the price they'd already told us as the final one. Sometimes, we'd also have to wait while someone ran next door to get someone else who happened to be literate enough to write out the receipt in the first place.
Walking out of the last store with all our goods in hand, we were finally ready to go, so we flagged down a taxi and hopped in back. Only, there was already someone in front, so we drove all the way across the city to drop them off in a different neighborhood before we could turn around, come back through the maze of one-way streets that make up the town center and head back towards our house. Only, on the way, we picked up another passenger who was only headed a short distance, but in the wrong direction. So, we drove across the bridge to Santa Rosa to drop them off, drove through the entire rest of the neighborhood just to be able to turn around, then got stuck in a line of traffic while someone stopped in the middle of the bridge to unload their truck and everyone else simply waited since they couldn't go around. 20mins later, we finally crossed the bridge and drove up to the house. Hence, what we had anticipated to be a short (hour or 2 at the most) trip into town ended up taking the entire afternoon.
Welcome to life in Bluefields. =) I have to admit, I'm starting to really love it. There's a pace to life there that forces you to relax enough that simple, personal interactions start to have more and more significance while the larger, stressful issues fade a bit. There's always quite a delicate little balance to be maintained between knowing how much to push to actually make things happen and knowing when to let things take their time. I think I'm starting to get the hang of it.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Seaside Sweetness
So, as most of you are aware, Sunday was my 24th birthday. Having kept up a tradition of memorable events to mark the occasion over the past several years, I felt that this year needed to be equally entertaining. Hence, Stephanie and I organized a BBQ on the beach. As you've probably picked up from previous blogs, organizing anything here is something of a challenge, but either the gods were in our favor for the day, or we're finally getting the hang of life in Bluefields cause the day went off without a hitch (well, without any major hitches to speak of). Having invited 3 very distinct groups of people to celebrate with us, we had a bit of coordination to do on Sunday morning. The night before, we had arranged a time to meet all the bE folks down at the docks, so Steph & I left our house sun morning to pass by M's place with our chicken for the BBQ that he had offered to help us marinade creole style. Floored to discover both him and his friend awake, showered and ready to go when we arrived, we caravaned our way through town with cooler, grill and supplies in hand. On the other side of town we didn't even have to knock when we arrived at the BBS boy's place (who had just come from a 2 month vacation to the States a few days before). They were up, dressed and ready for a day at the beach. Once again, we were thoroughly impressed having prepared ourselves to have to drag them from their beds.
We were getting close to the time we'd set to meet the bE folks, and we needed a few last min supplies, so Steph and I left M & company dutifully cutting up chicken while we went to check up on the rest of the party's status. Arriving at the docks, they were nowhere to be seen, but as soon as we'd finished buying supplies and returned, half the crew was already there. Wow. Once again, we were both impressed that everyone actually showed up at the time and place they claimed they'd come.
At that point, Steph headed back to the BSS house to commence herding her cats down to the dock while I awaited the stragglers from bE. A little while later, the majority of our crew was loaded into the panga, but Steph's group had yet to appear. Choosing not to hold up the rest of the passengers, we headed off across the lagoon. Arriving at the other side after a pleasant and thankfully event-free trip, we headed through town towards the beach. Along the way we passed by crowds of children happily playing soccer in the streets, mostly in their skivvies. We also wandered pass large petrol storage tanks, a very loud diesel generator and many small, brightly painted houses.
Arriving at the beach we were greeted with nearly vacant stretches of sand with waves lapping lazily at the shore. The few people we passed along the way were out to collect wood, sell coconuts or, like us, spend a nice relaxed afternoon on the beach.
Arriving at one of the cute little wooden huts that line the beach, we stripped down, dropped our belongings and headed into the waves. The next few hours were spent body surfing, swimming and enjoying being fully immersed in cool, refreshing water.
A few hours later Steph finally showed up with boys in tow and we set up the grill for a meal of exquisitely marinated chicken complimented by homemade cookies and plenty of rum. It was a fabulous way to spend the day.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Good Vibes
So, I'm gonna go ahead and skip a few really good stories for the moment in the interest of providing a more up to date blog entry. I promise to go back and write about the 2 different trips I'm currently missing, each of which has a plethora of good moments, but that will have to happen sometime in the near future.
For now, I want to tell you about a beautiful sunday afternoon. First, I need to back up at bit. About 2 weeks ago, two of the long time volunteers took off for vacation, leaving their house empty. Not wanting it to get robbed for the 5th or 6th time, Steph and I offered to move out of the now thoroughly crowded main house in favor of the 'pequeño casa' down the road. We couldn't have made a more perfect decision had we arranged it in advance. After a couple months of living in a bustling metropolis of people coming and going and never having a minute to ourselves, we suddenly found ourselves in the quiet of a private home. Immediately, we knew we had to take advantage of our new found freedom before we loose it again upon Seb & Juli's return. So, when our musician friend came by and offered to teach us to cook Rondon on sunday, we were happy to oblige.
Sunday morning dawned sunny and calm. Waking up and making ourselves a yummy breakfast of fresh mangoes, yogurt, fried eggs and homemade bread, steph and I waged bets on the probability of our friends actually arriving. We also set a time to commence our back up plan of heading out to the bluff should the boys not show (which is generally what happens around here). To our very pleasant surprise, the boys showed up 20mins early ready to hit the market for some supplies.
We strolled down to town, chatting and enjoying the sunshine the whole way there. Once at the market, we followed D & J around as they picked out the best coconuts, plantains, and yucca. Then we came to the fish counter and discovered that they were also offering conch, a delicacy that we just couldn't pass up. Fully loaded, we wandered the long way back through town and up to the house. When we got there, the boys took on the tricky tasks of peeling the coconuts with a machete and scaling and filleting the fish. Steph and I opted to work on the veggies.
I should probably mention at this point that I had tried a variety of different Rondons since arriving, but had yet to taste one that really knocked my socks off. In fact, I wasn't even sure I really liked the stuff, but considering that cooking Rondon is roughly equivalent to having a BBQ in the States, I wasn't about to refuse the offer. Man, am I glad to have made that decision.
Once the coconuts were peeled, we cracked them open, drained the juice and put chunks of luscious coconut in the blender to make coco milk. Three coconuts later, we had a wonderfully thick bowl of frothy cream-like milk. In the meantime, we had put the conch on to simmer and soften. Only, somewhere along the way, the boys forgot about that part... Suddenly the kitchen was filling with smoke and the conchs were beginning to fuse to the pot. Undeterred, we dumped some more water in, added the coco milk, veggies and spices and sat back to wait and see how much damage the fire had really done.
Not too long thereafter, the fish got dropped in for a few minutes and the meal was ready. We sat down to enjoy the fruits of our labor and each took a small sip to sample our concoction. Moans of enjoyment confirmed we had a done a fabulous job. Honestly, I had no idea that Rondon could taste even remotely as good as what we had created. I don't know if burning the conch helped, or if it was the fabulously thick coco milk, or what, but that soup was DELICIOUS!!!!! Cleaning out our bowls despite each being stuffed, we sat back thoroughly contented with fat, happy bellies.
For now, I want to tell you about a beautiful sunday afternoon. First, I need to back up at bit. About 2 weeks ago, two of the long time volunteers took off for vacation, leaving their house empty. Not wanting it to get robbed for the 5th or 6th time, Steph and I offered to move out of the now thoroughly crowded main house in favor of the 'pequeño casa' down the road. We couldn't have made a more perfect decision had we arranged it in advance. After a couple months of living in a bustling metropolis of people coming and going and never having a minute to ourselves, we suddenly found ourselves in the quiet of a private home. Immediately, we knew we had to take advantage of our new found freedom before we loose it again upon Seb & Juli's return. So, when our musician friend came by and offered to teach us to cook Rondon on sunday, we were happy to oblige.
Sunday morning dawned sunny and calm. Waking up and making ourselves a yummy breakfast of fresh mangoes, yogurt, fried eggs and homemade bread, steph and I waged bets on the probability of our friends actually arriving. We also set a time to commence our back up plan of heading out to the bluff should the boys not show (which is generally what happens around here). To our very pleasant surprise, the boys showed up 20mins early ready to hit the market for some supplies.
We strolled down to town, chatting and enjoying the sunshine the whole way there. Once at the market, we followed D & J around as they picked out the best coconuts, plantains, and yucca. Then we came to the fish counter and discovered that they were also offering conch, a delicacy that we just couldn't pass up. Fully loaded, we wandered the long way back through town and up to the house. When we got there, the boys took on the tricky tasks of peeling the coconuts with a machete and scaling and filleting the fish. Steph and I opted to work on the veggies.
I should probably mention at this point that I had tried a variety of different Rondons since arriving, but had yet to taste one that really knocked my socks off. In fact, I wasn't even sure I really liked the stuff, but considering that cooking Rondon is roughly equivalent to having a BBQ in the States, I wasn't about to refuse the offer. Man, am I glad to have made that decision.
Once the coconuts were peeled, we cracked them open, drained the juice and put chunks of luscious coconut in the blender to make coco milk. Three coconuts later, we had a wonderfully thick bowl of frothy cream-like milk. In the meantime, we had put the conch on to simmer and soften. Only, somewhere along the way, the boys forgot about that part... Suddenly the kitchen was filling with smoke and the conchs were beginning to fuse to the pot. Undeterred, we dumped some more water in, added the coco milk, veggies and spices and sat back to wait and see how much damage the fire had really done.
Not too long thereafter, the fish got dropped in for a few minutes and the meal was ready. We sat down to enjoy the fruits of our labor and each took a small sip to sample our concoction. Moans of enjoyment confirmed we had a done a fabulous job. Honestly, I had no idea that Rondon could taste even remotely as good as what we had created. I don't know if burning the conch helped, or if it was the fabulously thick coco milk, or what, but that soup was DELICIOUS!!!!! Cleaning out our bowls despite each being stuffed, we sat back thoroughly contented with fat, happy bellies.
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