Bulls, Corn, Elections (these things deserve another blog)

       There aren't many feelings comparable to almost witnessing death. We are currently in San Fernando’s “fiestas patronales,” which are festivities celebrating the patron saint of the town. Every community in Nicaragua celebrates their “fiestas patronales” for about two weeks once a year. When one takes into account the multitude of the communities in Nicaragua, this means that there is always a party happening in Nicaragua. Always. So anyways, there I was, at a “barrera” (bullriding event), watching drunk men throw beer cans at the ground as small, barefooted children run to pick the cans up (to sell for about two cents), and then watching these drunk men strap themselves to the back of an enraged bull. These men who had been drinking 10 cordoba liquor were not the trained professionals that come out of bull-riding unscatched. It was very plausible that at any moment a bull's hoof would crush a fallen man's head, and yet the crowds cheered louder with every discombobulated soul that attempted to get on the bull's back and louder still with every lurch, flail or fall.  I think I know now what it feels like to be a Roman peasant watching a gladiator fight. Barbarically exhilarating. 

       Depending on whom you ask, there is a birthday custom here in Nicaragua of pegging the birthday boy/girl with an egg. I am not sure how valid this claim is, but I wasn’t going to question it, and I diligently waited for the birthday to happen of someone who I could hit with an egg and not be scared of later. Jeison, the ten year old of the family I live with, was the perfect opportunity. I struck him with an egg early in the morning on the day of his birthday. I gave him a big hug, said “felicidades!” and crushed an egg on the top of his head while his mom, brother, and sister witnessed and laughed. It was a very satisfying experience to crush an egg on an unsuspecting child. Although, he can’t say he wasn’t warned, I’d been joking about it for the past week, and he had a good sense of humor about it. To make up for it, I gave him a cute picture, two t –shirts (which I picked out a couple sizes too big, every time I see him I am surprised by what a wee little guy he is) and twenty cords. Twenty cords is less than a dollar, which actually goes a looong way here, you can get a media libra de cuajada for 18, which is delicious, freshly made cheese and what I’ve been using as my main calcium source for quite some time. I don’t think Jeison will buy cheese with his twenty cords, but maybe he’ll put it in the bank?

       Speaking of Jeison, I like to think my presence here will enlighten him on the great-wide-world we’ve got out there. I was flossing my teeth the other day and he looks at my dental floss and asks me, “Haaaylaaayn (that’s how my name is pronounced here, in kind of a sing-song way, it’s cute, just ask my family), hay calzones de hilo dental?” Jeison just asked me in a sincere manner if there is underwear made of dental floss… Confused, I looked over to the drying line that had my and his mom’s underwear flapping in the wind. My underwear is by no means scandalous, but I could see where in comparison to underwear of “more coverage,” my panties cooould possibly resemble dental floss. I appreciated his critical thinking, but corrected him, letting him know that most underwear is cotton in different styles, and that none are made from dental floss, then retreated to my room before laughing to myself and writing this blog.

       I’m currently putting the results on an encuesta (survey) that I’m doing in San Fernando on suicide.  San Fernando the municipality with the highest number of suicide attempts in Nueva Segovia, which is a department that already has a high number of suicide attempts. My theory is that Nueva Segovia is the forgotten part of Nicaragua, it’s not the ritzy Granada, there’s no impressive volcanoes to see or board down like in Chinadega or Leon (although right now I am pretty happy that my site is, safely tucked into the mountains, and not in potential lava flow), and we have no famous beaches like Rivas or Managua, and therefore the people feel lack of opportunity and hope. The capital of Nueva Segovia, Ocotal, only has 40,000 people.  It’s a place that many Nicaraguans have not even been to themselves, it is a forgotten and neglected land where the people work hard, and when you hear about the wild “creencias” of Nicaraguan culture (such as taking a cold shower when you are hot can hurt you, reaching into a fridge if you have a fever can hurt you, apparently it’s bad to mix cold and hot), this is where a lot of them come from. If I weren’t placed in this Northern land, there would this whole other world of Nicaragua that I would not have experienced.  I wouldn’t be milking cows, traipsing through mountains that have just been declared “landmine free” from the war, learning the ins and outs of coffee farming, or trying “chica bruja” (the witch’s tit, look it up) while eating corn products. There's something to be said for this part of Nicaragua, and I hope to spread that knowledge.

      The life of a cell phone was lost yesterday. It was victim of an opportunistic crime. I went to Jalapa, one of the cities very close to Honduras and site of PCV Carli Dean, the hostess with the mostess, for their Corn Festival. It was the reunion of the Dolores Dream Team, which consists of PCV Natalie Pritchett, Carli Dean, and me, who were all in the training town of , you-guessed-it!, Dolores, Corazo. Jalapa’s “Feria de Maize” celebrates all that is corn, as if Nicaragua already does not embrace corn enough. The Dream Team conquered carnival rides that I’m pretty sure someone must have died on by the end of the night- just imagine the Gravitron without seatbelts. We also stomped around in the mud, and then semi-washed our embarrassing-muddy toes to go dancing in the name of corn. La Feria de Maize was a great time and comes highly recommended all AG (agriculture) volunteers, as well as the coolest volunteers of other sectors. However, my luck ran out when I played Russian Roulette with my cell phone placement. I had my phone out while waiting for the bus, talking to my many friends, while the bus quickly pulled up and immediately a lot of people crowded around the entrance to board the bus. I put my cell phone in my pocket, actually thinking to myself “Whoa, my phone is pretty vulnerable right by, but, hey lemme get a seat!” It was crowded getting into to bus and when I got to my seat I see my cell phone is not there. I called it immediately with my friend’s phone and found that my phone had already been turned offI made a distraught gringo plea at the bus, saying I’d compensate if someone could find my phone, I wouldn’t do anything, or please at least give me the SIM card with all my contact info. I got nothing but stares and a few whispered "gringrita." The bus driver tried to help me out and said we wouldn’t leave someone handed over a cell phone. After a few sad minutes, I accepted defeat and said “ya nos vamos.” I was more upset at losing my numbers than I was at losing my cell phone, I worked hard to find those friends and contacts! I know, I know, it was totally a crime that I had set myself up for, but things like that never leave you with that warm-fuzzy feeling.  However, after all is sad and done, being one cell phone down after eight months of living in Nicaragua is much better than my cell phone track record in Miami.  Either way, I won’t be getting an iPhone just yet…. unless they’ve come up with an app that can solve robbery problems. 

       On a final note, elections are coming up here in Nicaragua as well (for the mayor)! Election day here is November 4th, and depending on where in this country you live, the debates might be getting heated (the debates here are a little less official and may involve rocks). Go get educated on the political situation in your country, as well as other countries, and appreciate that although our governmental system is not perfect, your vote actually DOES count, and we've got an alright set-up in the great EEUU. 

Family Vacays and Special Needs Children

       Hello all! I just got done lunching on a challa (squash-like substance, pronounced “chai-ya!”) with egg and cheese cooked inside, a salad of chopped up cabbage, onions, and tomatoes with fresh squeezed lime juice (remind me to use lime juice on everything, it’s delicious) and of course, a side of rice and beans. Greetings five months into my site. Some things are different -we’ve had a few dog births, as well as a few deaths- while others remain the same, I’ve still got a small child army at my command if I choose to take over San Fernando.

       On a global update: The Schafer family has landed, conquered, and returned to their nesting grounds. July was the first month I was officially able to take vacation, so of course, my wonderful family came down July 20 to spend a few weeks with me. Dean was able to come from Turkey since he had summer vacation from school, so I got to see my big brother for the since we went out to Istanbul to visit him a year ago, the timing worked out perfectly.  It really meant the world to me that my whole family was coming down to visit, so I obsessively investigated, inquired, and reserved a solid two weeks of “planned fun” (shout-out to Caroline Deck with that one) for them. If anyone would like to see the itinerary of the trip, I would be glad to show them the “Folder of Fun” in which I kept all the reservation and excursion information. (True Story.) All of the planning paid off! Besides our car breaking down on the highway, no one besides me speaking Spanish, and an upset tummy or two, everything went fantastically.

For a country so small (geographically it’s the size of New York and has about 5 million people) there is so much to see. The clan got the full glimpse of that when they came down, I was determined to show them as much of this country as I could. As much as I would have loved to see my tall brothers and dad squeezing their bodies into the conglomerate mass that is the Nicaraguan bus system, I decided the best choice would be the Schafer-rent-a-car option. I highly recommend renting your own vehicle (with four wheel drive, aka “cuatro por cuatro”) if you want to make your own schedule and conquer the most remote beauties- such as the Maderas side of Ometepe, or make the horrible decision to take the “carretera vieja” to Leon. We were able to explore all aspects of the country, such as the touristy Granada, but then hopping on a ferry to the twin-peaked volcanic island Ometepe. My family being the adventurous bunch that they are did kayaking, natural reserves, but saved the last day for a hike up the Volcano Maderas, the volcano that is permanently shrouded in a cloud forest. ) We visited the city of Leon, an amazing city with it’s university atmosphere and as historical significance. Leon also has an active volcano, Cerro Negro, that you can hike up, them skyrocket down in a blaze of fire and glory. I like the test the limits of the people that say they love me, so I signed us up. They passed the test. Bringing them to San Fernando was a change from the well- beaten trail we had been tacking, my family went from visiting well known tourist spots to becoming the tourist attraction of the town. My town was amazed at these white giants parading through the streets, and I’ve never been been asked more in my little “Porque su pelo no es crespo” (“why isn’t you’re hair curly?”) and “como es tan chaparral?” (“how are you so short?”). I brought my family in my English class, they even became the subject matter. I am proud to say that a few words were exchanged between my students and my family, look at me, bridging the language gap! It was amazing having my family here at my new home. Now I know, that wherever they are, they will not longer picture their daughter/sister in some foreign, savage wasteland, but instead can see me where I actually am- in a good ol’ coffee farm town, surrounded by sweet kids with muddy clothes, mountain woman with gold and silver plated teeth, and me, handwashing my clothes in a water pila I just threw a cockroach out of,  in my room with my mosquito net with a poncho over it to act as a second roof cause my roof leaks….See Mom and Dad? It’s not so bad.

       So when my family left after two glorious weeks, I underwent a minor depression. I went into fetal position without my mother, lost and unsure of what to do, so I bought a guitar. I kept my business local and went with a man in Ocotal (the capital of Nueva Segovia) that custom builds guitars, and enlisted his services for a Nicaraguan handcrafted guitar… and I am pleased. I took lessons for three months before leavings for PC, so I picked up the four chords I’d learned before leaving, and man Lynrd Skynrrd’s “Free Bird” never sounded so good. I’ve also started practicing with a nun at the church, and she encourages me to listen to practice with songs that I know the chords for. I don’t think I’ll tell her that the only song I have the chords for that I also have on my Itunes is Tom Petty’s “Last Dance with Mary Jane.”

       I signed up for a 25 k this February on the island of Ometepe, which involved the racers scaling one of the volcanoes La Concepcion or Maderas. After hiking Maderas (the “less tall” of the two volcanoes, which took us 4 hours up and 3.5 hours to get back down), I realized that I need to be getting myself in gear. San Fernando has some beauitul mountain trails I like to run, as well as a soccer/baseball field if I don’t feel like scaling mountains that day. One little problem, however, is that when a run in the stadium, there is a little boy that looks out for me, and when he sees me out there running, he sneaks up on me and smacks my butt. Hard. Every time this happens, this fit of rage comes over me and I was to chase him and snack him back, only I can’t because this boy is mentally handicapped. Although, I’ve still come close. Maybe he’s just trying to motivate me to pick up the pace a little.

       I took a trip to the Atlantic Coast last week to be in Corn Islands for the Crab Soup Festival. This is the festival that celebrates the emancipation of slavery in the Carribean, I believe there were 99 slaves out on the Atlantic Coast when this emancipation happened. It is the crab soup festival because when the slaves were emancipated, everyone wanted to have a feast and cooked a giant soup of whatever was available, which was crab. To get out to the Corn Islands (there are two, Big Corn and Little Corn), one can take a 5 hour bus from Managua to El Rama, then take a lancha for a few hours to Bluefields, a town on the coast, then from Bluefields one takes a boat out into the Caribbean for 5 hours and they arrive on paradise. Or, one can take a one hour flight from Managua to arrive at paradise much more quickly. Boating is definitely more hardcoare. The Atlantic Coast is a neglected part of Nicaragua in the minds of many people, and the majority of PCV and locals do not make it over there, which makes sense because it is in its own world. The locals there speak Creole, which is like English, only cooler and sometimes I couldn’t understand. (Ex.”We are coming in Creole” is “We be reachin”). There is seafood galore, Renee, the PCV from Bluefrields, has warned us that “the only thing not more expensive on Corn Islands is the seafood.” One can get a two-tailed lobster dinner for $10 and some of the freshest, most delicious fish in the world. Even between the two islands, there are different feels to both. Big Corn Island, although caters to tourists, still has a very strong indigenous presence. Little Corn Island is only 3 km around, has no cars and mainly caters to the most determined travellers that have managed to make it out there. There is snorkeling and diving (if you are PADI or SSI certified and you don’t have your card, they can look you up, but bring your certification!) in extravagantly colored coral reefs. I’m not sure if I ran into some fire coral or something when I was snorkeling, but I now have a darker spot on my pinkie-knuckle on my left hand. Can anyone tell me what weird things there are in the ocean that stain your hands? (Note to audience: Nicaragua does NOT do wonderfuls for you skin. The “dewy” look I’ve got going on it actually just grease. Don’t even get me started on  After a glorious trip with good friends (and now we’ve got some new ones), I am safely home, tucked into the mountains of Nicaragua. Corn Islands was beautiful and the crab soup was delicious, but I thank God that I went last week and am not there right now, I’m not sure those little islands would be very fun in an earthquake-induced tsunami.

       Thanks for you time and participation, this is a thank you all that have been part of my life these past few months and been helping me with my trials and tribulations of living in and finding my place as a community health worker (and many other roles) in Nicaragua. I love sharing my experiences in Nicaragua with you, so keep up the good work of telling me what’s going on! Is anyone getting married? Are you having a baby? Did he finally get arrested? Rutherfordton got a real shopping mall?!?! Wait, is there an election coming up?

<3 Helen

Boiling Water, Best Decision Ever

        I am two months into my Peace Corps service (about to enter month 3!) and I would like to take a moment to reminisce on my first days here, and one of the best showers of my life. I was still a trainee in San Fernando on my site visit in March 2012. Site visit is one week where all trainees go to visit their assigned sites, they meet the families they will be living with, the people they will be working with, and the town they will be living in…for the next two years of their life. It can be a pretty overwhelming time and many volunteers have horror stories about their site visits; they got there and the family hadn’t actually yet agreed for them to live there and refused to feed them for the week or they had absolutely no colleagues to work with so they sat on a hammock and re-read the same book fifty times over wondering if this was going to be their life. Volunteers have told me they spent their site visit crying, convinced they would be going back to the states immediately. In my case, San Fernando is not the most happening place (it is comparable to Rutherfordton Country, except everyone speaks Spanish- with the Nicaraguan equivalent of a southern accent- and farms coffee), but I was one of the lucky ones who had a good health center staff that took me with them to the communities for the vaccination campaign, I was able to network the school directors and local leaders, and house I was assigned to live with had a room with a door. However, one looming factor remained. I was cold.

       Okay, okay so I know that Nicaragua is a tropical country, but I was not prepared for Nueva Segovia. Nicaragua has mountains? I was much more focused on the famous beaches and volcanic islands of Nicaragua to consider that my site would be a little more north. That was my first flaw, if I have learned anything from Peace Corps, you’ve got to be flexible. Creating expectations only allows them to be broken, and doing Peace Corps to learn how to surf isn’t exactly what it’s about. The job of a Peace Corps Volunteer is to do what you can, where you are and with what you have. Ok, so lesson learned, but I was still cold. The days in San Fernando would actually get pretty hot with the sun overhead, but it was the mornings and the nights that got to me. I would wake up in the middle of the night under my borrowed blanket and wish I’d packed more than my Miami bikinis (ha, kidding about that but I do wish I’d brought more layers). The worst thing was the shower. The family I live with has an outside shower, and like all showers in Nicaragua homes, there are two temperatures, cold and cold. Everyday of site visit I would come home after a day dropping vitamin A drops into the mouths of screaming Nicaraguan babies to a moral dilemma, to shower or not to shower. The thought of the cold icy water hitting my vulnerably body made me question how much I really needed a shower that day, or that week, but then I remembered PC telling us during training Nicaraguans’ appreciation for hygiene, not showering for a day could only further contribute to the “grungy American hippie” image than PC volunteers had acquired. Therefore, I showered, but I was not happy about it. So one day I came back, a little discouraged and dreading the shower ahead. I was in my bathrobe walking outside to the shower when Yesley, my first friend of San Fernando, popped up and asked what I was doing.

...(translations provided)

“Quiero banarme pero tengo frio!” (I want to bath but I'm cold!)

“Pues, porque no hierve el agua?” (Well, why don't 

       Boil the water? Why hadn’t I thought of that? The idea was so new and foreign to me. In the States, I would not occupy my time with boiling water for bathing, I’ve got a wonderful shower that does it for me. However, when you do not have a shower with multiple temperatures, if you want a hot (or lukewarm) shower, you’ve got to create it. Yesley and I lit the wood burning stove stuck a pot of water over the fire. A few pots later I had my shower bucket filled, and the result was delicious. While taking that shower, I remember thinking that this could easily be the best shower of my life and that there was hope for me yet. Since returning to site for service, I have been getting tougher and have not had to boil water again, but knowing that I have that ability warms my soul when I think about the colder months of November, December, or January.

       Before coming to Nicaragua, I had heard rumors about their diet of all carbs and no proteins, a body builder’s nightmare. I talked to current volunteers who warned to “savor my last moments with vegetables and food that was not fried and covered in salt.” I heard that peanut butter is a strictly American thing, so smuggled in two jars of crunchy- one of which is still half full (or empty depending on how you look at it). So, what did I find when I got here? Gallo pinto, which is rice and red beans in salt and oil, cooked together and served with breakfast, lunch, and dinner, sometimes as a side and sometimes as the main course. All kinds of meat, such as mondongo, which is cow stomach and is white with a disturbingly undulating texture (my host family in Corazo had given me this is few times before my friend Natalie told me what is was), hidago (liver, which is actually just ate yesterday, a little salty but not too bad) and some of the best chicken I’ve ever tasted. All the carbs you could ever want in rice and corn tortillas galore. And sweets. One thing that I have got to bring back with me to the States is the deliciousness that is known as the “chocobanano.” For 2 or 3 cords you (10 or 15 cents) I can buy a frozen bananas wrapped in cold crunchy chocolate. It’s delightful. It is very ingrained in the culture here to shun vegetables and gravitate towards simple sugars. Here in Nueva Segovia is some of the best coffee in the world, and I’m that girl that likes her “café amargo,” or without sugar. Families here have huge thermoses filled with steaming coffee for guests and family, prepared with about 5 cups of sugar per liter of thermos. With this hot, sugary coffee Nicaraguans eat “pan” which means bread but is a form of cookie, pound cake, or sweet bread glazed with sugar over it, which they then dip into the coffee. I do enjoy this custom and I have made it my own by joining my family or friends with freshly brewed ginger tea and “rosquillas” (which are little crunchy sweet cracker/cookie things that are meant to be dipped in hot liquids and I think are quite delicious, another thing that I’ve got to bring back).

       The point I want to make with all of this is that despite their not ideal diet of too much sugar-the majority of people in my town have large silver caps on their teeth- and not a good balance of nutritious carbohydrates/proteins to simple carbs/fats, there are not many obese Nicaraguans. Of course, a diet of tortillas and cheese paired with a dislike for running (most Nicaraguans do not “workout,” although this is changing one powerwalking woman at a time) does not give you a killer body, and many Nicaraguans I had not given this matter much thought until my neighbors had some American relatives visit, and they were big. By “big” I mean both stature and weight, these siblings towered over their Nicaraguan family members, as well as consumed enough gallo pinto for a small family. It just reiterates the statistics,we are big in America, in our size and in our consumption. We can have all of the gyms in the world and still be just as unhealthy as a developing country if we fill our bodies with large amounts of processed foods. Which is better, eating rice and beans followed by sugary coffee and cookies or eating some form of fast food that is wrongly labeled as healthy and then eating too much of it? Neither is that great, there is definitely room for improvement on both sides. The whole realization just made me step back and remember that even the United States, the most developed nation in the world, has its room for improvement and Nicaragua, even with it’s dislike for vegetables or love for sweets, the people are still holding in there. Although as someone who studied nutrition, worked as a personal trainer, and is now a health volunteer, I’m hoping to change the mindset of a few willing Nicaraguans -I’m not sure how long I can live without some vegetables and protein (“where’s my protein Ma?!!?)  

¿Death of a Blog?

...Never! It has been a long time and I realize that the great wide world of blogging is not one of my strongest characteristics, but I will still attempt to shed some light on what is Peace Corps and my experience with it here in Nicaragua. I definitely have much more to talk about now that when I was in training, and I defintely have had my perspective changed...

     Firstly, internet access in San Fernando is somewhat limited. Some volunteers here in Nicaragua have wifi in their houses, or can easily bring their computers to a cyber and enjoy the wifi there. However, here in San Fernando, the cyber of our town still has dial-up internet. It is a little ironic, because I can remember complaining to my mom years and years ago about what a hassle it was that we still have dial-up at our house in North Carolina. I am not complaining by any means, I am still able to write friends and family and this dial-up is actually pretty fast. I just can not use my computer, and there use facetime or other programs on my computer. Communication technology nowadays is amazing and I really would appreciate being able to see the faces of my loved ones once in awhile. Being able to talk face to face with my brosky Dean while he lives in Turkey is really an amazing thing. I guess people are just going to have to visit me then if they want to see this face!
       Secondly, being in site is way different than being in training. This is my second month in site and I have had my fair share of revelations, new friendships, feelings of worthlessness and incompetence, and breakthrough moments. At this point in my life I am almost completely self-directed, which is what makes the experience of each PC volunteer so different, we can shape our service into whatever kind of service we want it to be. One thing that I have discovered in my time in training and in my site is a newfound respect for people that move to countries that speak a different language. Never be impatient with them again, it´s hard!! Being at the University of Miami, one of the most international schools in the country, I knew students from all over, Columbia, Russia, China, Venezuela, etc etc. There would be times talking with someone from a different country and would notice them stumble over words or reference how they really are trying to improve their english. I did not appreciate how hard it would be to go to a university and take classes in a foreign language, and then have a social life on top of that! I have friends here in site, but I bet if I were in the university setting (let's say I'm studying at UNAN in Leon or La UCA in Managua) I would not be the coolest girl at the parties. So here's to newfound respect, I'm never going to make fun of accents again (I was always bad at impersonating accents anyways, everything I do sounds Irish.)
      I'll wrap this up with a little blurb about what I've been doing here in San Fernando. I'm a health volunteer, so that means I've been giving charlas (presentations) on subjects such as pregancy, chagas (a disease from a bug that poos in your eye and ends up causing cardiac problems 15 years down the road... this exists out in moral rural communties, San Fernando has had a few causes), HIV and AIDS (I am proud to say I've done such a good job on these charlas San Fernando currently has no reported cases of HIV!), higiene, nutrition and other health related subjects to rural communities, in my health center, and in schools. I have other secondary projects, I started a garden on my mom's birthday, so when I am eating my lettuce I feel like she helped me grow it (thanks Mom). It's great having a little garden of your own to nuture and see the fruits of your labor (or death, as in with my carrots, the little seeds just couldn't handle those heavy rains). One thing that Nicaragua has that we have lost in the United States is knowing where your food come from. People in Nicaragua (in the campo at least, I can't speak for people in the cities like Managua) eat the beans that come from their farms, or their neighbors farms, and they eat tortillas from corn that was cooked to mush (look at my facebook pictures) then ground in the town mill, and then hand shaped and cooked the next morning. In America, I would eat beans from a can from who knows where and would buy premaid tortillas with fun flavors mixed in. For the sake of time efficiency, I am not saying that everyone in America needs to sit around and cook their beans for hours over a wood burning stove (although it really does give the beans their best flavor), but I do appreciate knowing the origin of my food. With some packaged foods that we can buy nowadays, the orgins can be pretty shady. The cheese here is great as well! There are not as many flavors as I have been used to in the past, I've got the choice between queso seco (dry) or queso fresco (fresh) and I'm not quite sure what the distringuishing characteristics are. They are both white blocks, and is comparable the taste of a sharp provolone cheese. This month I have been cooking for myself, just to see if I could cook Nica food for myself and incorporate some vegetables into my diet. The family which I live with is great and the mother is a great Nicaraguan cook so I was very delicate in telling her I wanted to try out cooking for myself this month and assured her it was not because I hated her food. I hope she believes me and she seems to enjoy watching me attempt squishing beans or chopping cabbage with the speed and intensity at which she can do it. I am currently feeding myself for under seven dollars a week, if that gives you an idea of the price of things here... and my rent is 800 cordobas a month, one dollar is equal to about 22.3 cordobas, so you can calculate in my rent in dollars if you´d like. That's about equivalent to an apartment in South Beach, right? I am also in the process of fermenting my own saurkraut. Marcus, an agriculture volunteer, gave me a document titled "wild fermentation" which tellss PC volunteers how they can make their own wine, saurkraut, cheese, yogurt, and other fermentated foods. I´ll see if the saurkraut kills me before moving on to other foods. My host family probably thinks I´m crazy because I´ve had this chopped up cabbage submerged in brine sitting in the corner of my room for the past week. Other than the food industry I´ve been delving into I have also started up community English classes in San Fernando. There is an abandoned library that was built by a PC volunteer years ago that I now occupy Tuesdays and Thursdays for adults and Wednesdays and Fridays for kids. I´ve got a battered white board propped up by sacks of corn and I must admit, I was proud that I had managed to manuveur these giant sacks of corn across the building. I made the cut off 14 years of age for adults, I don´t know how I came to that conclusion but for my classes, adults are 15 years and up. I think I prefer teaching adults for the conversation, but the kids are most enthusiastic. It seems that "Nica time" (see older post) is a culturally learned characteristic because these 25+ kids are always on time, if not early. I have discovered that I enjoy teaching these classes and we will see where these classes go. A big part on the PC experience is community integration, and San Fernando is a community that is very open and accepting. However, it is possible that one could say this about any Nicaraguan community, at least that has been my experience so far. I have made some friends in the community, I am going to a wedding this weekend in Mozonte (cute little pueblo near me, it´s another PC site) with the woman across the street, weddings are always a good time with good music and dancing! I think that I am going to like dancing a lot more when I return to the US, its in their blood here. There is so much more to tell and if you would like to know more, email me, fb me, call me if you can find the number, or write me snail mail style! Other volunteers tell me mail to Nueva Segovia in´t thaaat slow, only two weeks or so.. The address is..

Helen Schafer
Correos Ocotal
Nueva Segovia, Nicaragua
Centroamerica

Every day is a new adventure and sometimes (well, lots of times) I wake up with no idea of how my day is going to play out. Stuff just happens here, or doesn´t sometimes, and you just have to go in with Plan A, B, C, and D.

-Helen

Halfway through entrenamiento

      We are rounding the end of week 6, the halfway point of our 12 weeks of training. This past week was "Practicum Week," where 10 of us (including me) went to the department of Esteli, and the other 10 went to Chinadega to get a glimpse of the life of current volunteers. I can say that I am now much more comfortable with "charlas," which are presentations. We gave health charlas in schools, a police department, health centers, youth clubs, and billiards tournaments. I can now talk about the process of HIV/AIDS more easily in Spanish than English. It was really great to work with current volunteers as I'm going to be one of them (hopefully!) in just over a month.

Our Esteli group got to take an afternoon excursion to a waterfall.

What my first half of training has taught me:
-it IS possible to fit five more people on that bus that you think is beyond capacity
-gallo pinto is a staple component of breakfast, lunch, and dinner; if it's not gallo pinto, it is rice and beans that haven't been mixed together yet
-there are a lot more fruits in this world than I ever thought possible, I still don't know the names of all of them, I just eat and enjoy them
-the chicken and eggs here are delicious (Schafer-farm caliber)
-pointing with your lips is cool, although it looks as if you're trying to kiss everything
-1 dollar can get you a ride to Managua from Dolores (an hour away)
-actually, 1 dollar can get you a lot of things (1 dollar = 23 cordobas)
-don't worry about being on time, no one else is worried either
-the flora in this country is just magnificent
-trashcans are rare and recycling is nonexistent :(
-Coco Cola Light is only sold in the department capitals or touristy areas
-fair rides can be even more unregulated than the ones in the US
-waste not, want not
-calling people "gordo," "negro," "chino," or "gringo" isn't meant to be offensive, they're just descriptive words
-if I need to shower at my house, I need to do so before 10am or after 3pm

...these are just some, I'm sure the other trainees could throw in a million more. So far, training has been a whirlwind. The language and technical classes are sometimes long, but every day has has a way of teaching me something new or giving me a little moment to cherish; I'm really enjoying every day.  I'm really excited about what the next half of training will bring, we just got our site lists last week and the PC Country Directors really did a great job finding great sites for us. There are 10 possible sites that I could live in for the next two years of my life and I must admit, some called out to me more than others but a lot more factors go into site placement than my opinion of wanting a surf camp near me (half joke). We find out a week from today, so expect to hear from me when I know my humble abode!

Peace out (or "paz afuera" for the direct translation, not sure if that has the same meaning)

Nica Time...

If there's one thing that I've learned in my three weeks of training thus far, it's Nica time. Oh I'd heard stories about this "Nica time," but now I've seen it with my own eyes. In America, we've got phrases like "time is money" and "early bird gets the worm." Well, in Nicaragua, it's "hay mas tiempo que vida.." meaning "there's more time than life."

My host family is amazingly social and loves brining me along for the ride, so I've already gotten to attend a baby presentation at the church, a baby shower, a wedding, a open house for Ferany's school. I'll use the wedding for an example of what a Nicaraguan's perception of time is.... I read this beautiful wedding invitation saying the time and date.

As you can see, it was Saturday at 5pm... So I was questioning our attendance around 5:30 when everyone's still just chilling at the house. However, 6 pm rolls around and we start meandering down to the iglesia and lo and behold, everyones still standing outside the church! It was a beautiful wedding (and the first time I ever got to throw rice at the bride, which is really fun!) and ended with all the wedding guests piling into the back of a big farm truck which took us to the reception.

Anyways, things just don't start on time here. The 3:30 pm birthday party started at 4:30, so I'm starting to see a pattern of anywhere between 30 minutes to 1 and a half hours behind schedule. Once you just learn and accept the pattern, the better everyone is. As long as it's not my wedding, I think I'll manage.

Estoy aqui!!

Hello all!

I have made it and am alive and well (No pops, I have not been abducted)!! If anyone ever needs to leave me a voicemail, just dial the magic jack... (513)334-8852 then dial the account number 0101115569.. otherwise, email works great.

We are in to week one of PST (pre-service training) which consists of lots and lots of language training and culture immersion with our new families. This has all been such a whirlwind of adventures since arriving for staging In Arlington, it was pretty amazing last Saturday to set all of my stuff down (plus the million and one other things Peace Corps gave us, such as my new handy mosquito net!) and look around the house that would my home for the next three months. I am living with a Nicaraguan family in Dolores, a pueblo of the department Corazo. Total immersion is the Peace Corps way of language and culture training, and that definitely what is happening now.

Here is new family! Donna Anita, her daughter Johanna and Johanna's 5 month old baby Hency...

This is only some of them, there is also Fernando, Henry, Fernanda, Gabriella, and the many other family members that are constantly coming by and introducing themselves and staying for some elementary conversations with me, which I greatly appreciate. It is me and two other "esperantes" (hopeful Volunteers) in Dolores, Natalie and Carly. We meet with our language facilitator every day for Spanish classes, where we have some informal classroom time and then explore the community in search of places and people for our health seminars, or "charlas." Training is full, full, full of information, meeting people, and establishing ourselves as part of this community, so I can't wait to get back to you with more to tell! Wish me luck!!

...chilling at the Holiday Inn

..is exactly what I'm doing right now. After an hour long battle with the TomTom in DC traffic, the Schafer crew made it to the Holiday Inn of Arlington, VA. Hooray!

We left Cape Cod bright and early this morning, I was sad to see it go but super excited to see my Aunt Anne, and cousins Sean, Rebecca, Dillon, and Celia. I hadn't been on the Cape in about 5 years, and man, have my little cousins Dillon (11) and Celia (8) grown since then. Dillon and I are about the same height, totally not cool. I just tried to upload a picture of a beautiful sunset over Martha's Vineyard but I failed.. So I'll leave it on that. I have some last important phone calls to make while I've still got a US cell phone, some final packing to do, and then I'll attempt to get a solid night's rest for tomorrow. I'm doing a birthday brunch with the fam, followed by an 8 hour orientation where I'll meet the approx. 20 other Peace Corps Volunteers that will be headed down to Nicaragua with me on Wednesday. Nighty night.

It's finally that time!!

     
       As I prepared to embark on a two year service with the Peace Corps, I thought that nothing would be more appropriate than this blog to keep my friends and family informed of the trials and tribulations that accompany  a Volunteer's life. Next Wednesday, January 11, I will be leaving the United States and flying to Nicaragua, peace out America!

                      A sign I saw in the Baltimore airport... had to capture the moment

       Joining the Peace Corps was an aspiration that floated around in my head throughout high school, and surfaced during my senior year of college at UM, which is when I began the application. It took about a year from the time I hit "submit" for the entire process to occur; first from the application to interview, then to nomination and medical review (which was a tedious, tedious prcess), to eventual placement. I found out in July while visiting my my big brother Dean in Turkey that  I was officially a Peace Corps invitee, and what a relief it was! I was terrified that with the government budget cuts, world peace would be the first thing to go.

       However, it was not (yay!), and I was officially invited in July to Nicaragua to work with the Nicaraguan Ministry of Health to promote community health. A big emphasis is being put on reducing HIV/AIDS, as it has increased in Nicaragua from .66 per 100,000 to 13.3 per 100,000 over the last 14 years (1987-2011). I have a general idea of my job title, but am really excited to see what specifically I will be doing in the field of healthcare. Before going to Nicaragua, I will first attend a "staging" event in Arlington, Virginia, on January 10- my birthday! What an appropriate 22nd birthday activity. Although staging is not until next Tuesday, today is the day I have officially said goodbye to Rutherfordton, the town in which I grew up and has become my home again after graduation between travel destinations, such a NYC, Yellowstone, Istanbul, Ohio, and of course, Miami. Rutherfordton has it's endearing "small town friendly" qualities, such as the wonderful friends that I grew up with that I said goodbye to today, and I although I'm excited about this personal adventure, I will miss them dearly.

                                                       Ben and me at my graduation, May 2011

       Peace Corps emphasizes the importance of enjoying the company of those closest to you before beginning service, and I have to agree with the importance. I am so grateful for the time that I have gotten to spend getting to know my parents on a peer level, we are practically bff since in Rutherfordton, there isn't much else to do on a Saturday night then go to your father's work party.

                                                    70s rager with the parents
     
       Seriously though, as slow of a time as it is in Rutherfordton, it has been an invaluable experience to me which I will cherish forever; it has been a time of enriching my relationships with my parents, family members, and others that I love most. I will be extremely sad to be so far away from all of these people, but I know that those most important to me with always be in my life, regardless of my location. I will keep you posted on my whereabouts once I get to Cape Cod (where Mom, Dad, David and I will be visiting our wonderful cousins Sean, Rebecca and their kids Dillon and Celia for a few days), or Arlington for Staging, or perhaps Nicaragua? The unknown factor is a bit intimidating to me, all I can say is thank you to the people that have given me their love and support, I love you, and remember, it's not goodbye, it's see you later. ;)

Talk to you soon!