Best Day Ever

There were two instructions my mother gave me prior to leaving on this trip. She still likes to instruct me on things, despite the fact that I am married, have traveled to many countries without her, hold a full-time job, and no longer live with her. The instructions were:

1) Make sure I do not show any unnecessary skin, so as not to solicit disaster, and 2) Never ever travel alone.

Rule 1 is no problem. I don't care to attract attention in my own country, let alone foreign countries. Rule 2 is more difficult. I came here alone, I will leave alone, so somewhere in there I will have to travel alone. Truthfully though, there are plenty of other volunteers to bounce around with and so there has been no need to travel solo. But I can't just sit around and wait for someone else to decide to go with me. So just the other day,  for the true first time, I ventured off on a chicken bus to a destination about 30 minutes from Granada. 

Best day ever.

Ehh....only bad thing is having other people take your pictures for you. 

I went to Caterina because it was easy to get to, and the view of Laguna de Apoyo from the crater rim was supposedly not to be missed.  I decided that was  a good place for me to spend a few hours. I arrived without incident, I found the mirador, I relaxed, and I chatted with whomever I pleased. I met Oscar David and Juan Nicaragua, two locals who have made Los Pueblos Blancos (the province) their home. 

And after a delicious meal, I decided it was time to head out. 

So I did. Because there was nobody else to consult with and I was the boss of me. Good feeling.  


That little adventure was a preview of this weekend, where I will head off to Leon (solo, but will meet up with friends in case you are reading this Mom), a city a bit north of here. I am currently trying to sum up the courage to hurl myself down a volcano wearing an orange jumpsuit, goggles, and riding on some sort of board. I have heard about these activities for a while now.


I should mention I am somewhat terrified.  

It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time

The following took place last weekend in Playa Maderas in San Juan del Sur. It was an otherwise lovely weekend, minus the bloody part and the fact that I still cannot sleep or sit on my left cheek. Enjoy.

What a nice rock, perfect to pose for a picture. Side note: notice all the smaller rocks around the one I have my eye on.

Notice the fairly large wave creeping up behind me. Also notice how oblivious I appear to be.

The dot in the middle of all the foam is my head after I have been unceremoniously swept off my serene pose. My friend Anneriet so nicely captured all of this on film for the world to enjoy. 

I will leave to your imagination the bloody trail that ensued. Picture were taken, but they are hardly flattering. Thank goodness it was just my rear and not my head-a head injury could have really put a damper on things around here.

When Did I Walk Into A Strip Club?

So the last two days have been a holiday here in Nicaragua. It just so happened to be Day of the Teachers, so I felt as if it was quite acceptable for me to enjoy it to is full and maximum extent (which I did with various activities including a boat ride to an island, a relaxing swim in a lovely pool, and a ride on the back of a motorcycle driven by a man toting a pistol in his waistband. More on that later).  After all, Teacher Appreciation Week at home was full of free food, nice gifts, and general appreciation for my profession. I was sure it would be just as nice here.

Boy, was I wrong. In fact, any answers or insight to what I am about to describe is welcomed.

It started off well enough. We got to school early and Karla and I got to work hanging streamers and generally making the place look festive. This took approximately two hours and as soon as the last streamer was hung, as if on cue, everybody swarmed in and took their seats. The ceremony began first with the national anthem, and a poem, followed by a few speeches from the students. 

That´s when the dancing began. 

The announcement was made that a trio of first graders would be doing a dance, and they materialized out of the crowd, wearing matching outfits and the cutest little smiles. I thought,  "Oh how cute!" and reached for my camera.

Then the heavy beat of reggaeton thudded like a hammer and before I knew it, these sweet angelic five year olds were droppin´it like it was hott. I mean, HOTT. They got low with moves befitting any stripper on my home town´s seedy Rt. 11. My mouth dropped. I looked around to see if anyone was concerned. 

Nope, just me. In fact, a few of the teachers were smiling happily at me, and checking to see if I was happy as well. I was certainly not.

I wish I could say it stopped there, but in fact, it did not. We moved right up through the grade levels, with each dance getting progressively more suggestive and me becoming more horrified. I took a picture at one point and then immediately felt like a pedophile, so you will not be seeing it. 

I don´t know which was worse-the blatantly sexual dancing of these young girls, or the crowd of adults, including teachers, who cheered, whistled and carried on with each flip of the hair and thrust of the pelvis. 

Apparently, I did not even see the worst of it. After talking with the other volunteers, it seems there have been other dances where boys and girls will simulate sexual moves and positions together, again, all while the crowd cheers them on. 

I do not have facts or statistics to back this up, but after a few conversations in the last two weeks, it seems that Nicaragua has an elevated rate of teen pregnancy. I am not surprised. Of course, my own country has its own alarming rate of teen pregnancies. Judging, I am not. Looking for insight, I am. 

Thoughts?

I´m a Survivor!

(Think: Destiny´s Child or Reba McEntire, whatever your musical preference).

The first week is just about to wrap up and I have survived.

What have I survived? Let us count the ways.

1. A false mugging: A bird landed on my head in Parque Central and I thought I was being mugged. Because he chose my head as a landing strip from behind, I could not see it was a bird, and was sure that after all these years of trouble free traveling, my time had come and  I was about to lose all my stuff. I let out a small shriek, but instantly realized it was a bird and attempted to contain myself so the locals would not think I was crazy.

2. Texting while driving: My taxi driver chose the most crowded street in all of Granada, to carry on a lengthy text message conversation. He did so while never looking at the road, bobbing and weaving around other cars, wild dogs, stray children, and large buses.

3. A less than clean house:  I have officially survived four nights in one of the more ummm....gross hostel type places I have ever stayed in. More on that later.

4. Going the wrong direction: I wanted to find a specific church that was mentioned in Blue for its colorful facade and the museum within. I pored over my map, looked at it from all angles, studied it once more for good measure, and feeling confident, began walking in the wrong direction.

Yes,  I walked the complete opposite direction for 5 blocks only to find out that the landmark was literally behind my house.

5. Several meals alone: no big deal.

6. One bout of loneliness: As I am sure there will be some more of these, I will just have to get over them. It vanished when I went to school and started working with the kids. Imagine that!

7. The weekend: ???? I must leave this one with a question mark. Not sure how survival will go. I had two choices for my weekend activities-go to the beach with the college girls who are all a decade younger than me and are ready to paaaaaaaaartaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyy. OR go to Isla de Ometepe with the Europeans, at least one of whom likes to indulge in a little herb.

I chose the herb lovin´ Europeans. I don´t think I can hang with the college crowd anymore, at least not without an ally. As for the herb, I have been just saying no to drugs for quite some time now, it will be fine. Plus, an island with two volcanoes towering over it and pristine beaches? Can´t beat it.

It´s been a good week, one with mixed emotions, new experiences, and old memories all coinciding together.

Would you have chosen the party lovin´ college girls or the herb lovin´ Europeans?

Goodbye Miami, Hello Managua, Hello Granada

This trip did not really seem too real for some reason, until I was ascending into the clouds away from the  Miami airport. As the man beside me crossed himself and sent a kiss heavenward, it finally set in: I am going to Nicaragua to do exactly what I have been wanting to do for the past five years.

So here I am, having safely arrived in Granada yesterday afternoon. I spent Saturday night  in Managua with a friend and her family (thanks Lisette!) who took good care of me and when they dropped me off at the bus station, I felt like a little kid being dropped at daycare. I was officially on my own.

Fifteen hours later I have already been to the grocery store, strolled through the mercado, people-watched in parque central, found an air-conditioned internet cafe, ate dinner solo (no tears), spent a fitful night on a questionable mattress, and promptly switched mattresses this morning. This 30 year old can no longer sleep soundly just anywhere. And speaking of things I can no longer handle very well, a future post will be dedicated to the slovenly habits of backpackers (some, not all). If you have ever backpacked or stayed in a hostel, you know what I am talking about.

Back out  into the surface of the sun I go. This is a three shower a day kind of adventure. 
Adios for now.

It's Tuesday, but Saturday is Coming

And Saturday just so happens to be the day that I leave for Nicaragua. I am pretty excited, but also slightly nervous-this is the first time I have traveled solo. Yes, there will be other people around, but they won't be MY people. Because of this, I have developed a lengthy list of irrational fears that have caused minor consternation over the past month.
Here is a sample:

1) What if I don't wake up in time every morning? (Aside from not being in charge of directions on trips, I am also not in charge of time)
2) Will I eat alone every night, crying salty tears into my rice and beans?
3) What if I get there and forget every conjugation of Spanish verbs that I ever learned last time I was there? 
4) What if the Nicaraguan kids think I am as mean as some American kids think I am?

and most middle school of all:

5) What if nobody likes me or wants to be my friend?
6) In the event that #5 occurs, does that mean I will be climbing volcanoes and relaxing on the beach solo on my off days?

Is there anything wrong with being alone? No, definitely not. I have just never, ever done it on a trip before. Ever. So this is uncharted water for me.

I think I can do it, and what's more, I think it will be good for me. 

If all else fails and I have no friends, I have my blog to update, trusty ole' Blue and a brand spanking new copy of The Lost Girls, 560 pages of three friends' journey around the world. I've been wanting to read it since I discovered it after venturing into the world of blogging three years ago.  I decided that I would wait until my next extended trip do that.

That trip is here, and the book has arrived today.

So that's all folks. Got my book, my passport, some clothes, a mix of excitement and trepidation (mostly excitement), and an adventure waiting to happen.


 Any thoughts on traveling alone?

A Natural Wonder and a Naked Stranger

No, the natural wonder was not the naked stranger. That's another post on another blog. Before we get to the nudity part of this post on this blog though, let's focus on the important things. I visited a natural wonder last weekend, and it was pretty great. You might get jealous.

Yup, you might. And nope, it wasn't the Great Barrier Reef, Mt. Everest, or Victoria Falls. And the Grand Canyon was soooooo last summer.

West Virginia, Wild and Wonderful, as it just so happens, is chock full o' wonder.

I decided to see some of it for myself a few weekends ago, along with the Mr,  in honor of one year of wedded bliss. Despite the fact that I was born and raised in WV, I have barely touched the surface of what my home has to offer. 11,000 miles to Beijing, China? Check. 80 miles to a popular tourist destination in my own state? Not so much.

A brief aside: 
Somewhere around middle school, I developed this intense dislike for West Virginia, allowing stereotypes to creep in and formulate my thoughts on where I lived. I wanted to exit the state so badly that I began calling colleges and universities while still in the 8th grade, requesting materials on their institutions, using my best grown-up voice possible. I was determined to get out at the first available opportunity. And that is what I did, jaunting off to the big city of Philadelphia for four years of college, followed by two years of AmeriCorps in Hotlanta and our nation's capital. I was officially a city girl-far removed from the hills and "backwards" ways of WV.

Then, when I had to move back here so I could save money to go learn Spanish in Central America, I had to come to terms with my mailing address once again bearing the WV postal abbreviation.

One weekend, I invited some of my DC friends to come visit and as we were riding down a country road, one of them mentioned how beautiful it was. That was the exact moment when I realized that I was living in a postcard and that I needed to wake up and let the appreciation begin.

Then, in one of those things the universe does to prove something, I was hired to teach 8th grade West Virginia Studies. A state I intentionally knew very little about. During the first week of school, I taught a unit on the natural wonders found in WV. Out of 20 that I taught, I had been to one. One measly little wonder. I was going to have improve this record if I wanted to be worth any level of expertise and credibility. I made it my mission to visit the closest one to me at the earliest opportunity. Bring it on, Blackwater Falls. Impress me. 
                                                                                                                                                                                  
It was exactly what I hoped it would be, and then some. Located in the stunning and lush Canaan Valley, I found myself wondering what exactly it was that I was so desperate to escape in the 8th grade. This place could certainly hang with some of my adventures abroad.

It was a perfect weekend, minus the naked man that ran out of the woods while I was looking for the perfect spot to take a picture. I saw him before he saw me, I gasped and turned to alert Adam who was trying to alert me, (you may be wondering why it was so important to notify each other of a person without clothing) triggering naked stranger to stop short, look up, freeze, and then do us all the favor of covering up his manly parts. Once that was all taken care of, I snapped this picture above, trying to capture the "black" that gives the falls its name while simultaneously trying to erase specific mental images from my brain. Educational moment: the abundance of tannic acid in the water gives it a very dark appearance. Not black, but certainly different and very pretty.   

The falls drop 57 feet into the river and you can stand on a walk-out, eye level with the plunging water, angling for the perfect photo and enjoying a nice misty spray.

It was the icing on the cake of appreciation for the Dubya V.

I had a blast. Crowds were minimal, scenery was spectacular, and most importantly,  it didn't take two days and half of my bank account to get there.

West Virginia, I think I love you. 

What about you? Any moments that define how you feel about your home?