Summer in León (yes, it´s summer)

I can´t get this computer to let me post any pictures on here, but most of them are on facebook anyway. I apologize to those of you who are a)still interested in knowing what I am doing, and b) don´t have facebook, because I am a traitor and I gave in to the facebook world. It seems that it´s been a while since I wrote any updates, so let´s see what I can remember of the past couple months.
December:
December 7th and 8th is a holiday which I´m pretty sure is to celebrate the immaculate conception of our lord and savior, Jesús Cristo. During this holiday, people run around the streets yelling ¨Quién causa tanta alegría?!¨(roughly tranlated as who causes all this happy craziness?!) and the answer is shouted back, ¨la concepción de María!¨(the conception of Mary...you get it). Kids (and adults, actually) run from door to door and the neighbors give out candy. It´s a little like Halloween except less pagan/satanic and more sacred Catholic. I went to the beach where there was a huge party and people came from all over the country. I drank too much national beverage (rum) and somehow lost my (second) cell phone in the sand. I now have the third cellphone I´ve bought since being here (the first was robbed) and even if I lose this one I will not buy another.
I had a wonderful birthday party, brought to me by my friends Sofie and Danny, during which we played guitar and went dancing. Christmas and New Year´s eve were pretty calm, actually, but included a lot of fireworks. That´s normal, though, because I swear these people are celebrating something every day.

January: I started work again after a holiday break, first at the Academia Europea and most recently at the National University of Nicaragua, here in León. I LOVE giving classes at the University, and it has just reinforced my belief that I should probably get certified to teach English so I can do it anywhere in the world (including the USA, which I WILL come back to eventually, despite what some of you may think). The last few weeks have been the usual León adventures, a few of which I will now elaborate.
-Took a short vacation to Estelí, a town in the north of the country where it is significantly colder and more importantly, is not León. It is really crucial to get out of here once in a while- León is a small town where you get to know everyone pretty quickly and yes, get sick of everyone pretty quickly too.
-I started learning Swedish, but have only learned the most important phrases, like ¨I slept with your ex-boyfriend¨, ¨give me a fork¨, and ¨nice to meet your Santa Clause, you whore¨.
-My friends Sofie and James strip searched a prostitute and her gay pimp who came to their house and stole a bunch of Sofie´s makeup from the bathroom. They vehemently denied having taken anything, but the stolen goods were found stashed behind a door in the room they had been in.
-I walked home to Sofie´s house with a guy who came to accompany us and as we approached her house, some dude on a bike with a machete came up from behind us and started punching the guy we were with. He ran, tripped and fell, broke his wrist and got a few minor machete scratches on his back. Sofie´s neighbors came outside because of the commotion and the machete guy ran away. We were unharmed. These are the stories my parents do not like to hear about.
-I had a fun couple of trips to Immigration, where I had to go to extend my visa which expired in December. As usual, I spent over two hours waiting in lines until I finally got the necessary form, filled it out, and paid my fine and the money to extend the visa. I can now stay here for 2 more months, legally.
-A couple weeks ago we went to a farm to swim and see some waterfalls and a cockfight. I mostly went for the swimming, but I will try (almost) anything once, so I watched the cockfight, too. We got a ride out to the farm on a truck with a big open bed and sped along the highway towards Managua, standing up and getting wind so fast in our faces that we could barely talk to each other. Once we got there, I watched the cockfight which consisted of 2 roosters with small razor/knife things attached to their feet (to more efficiently injure each other) fight it out until they were both bloody and one was barely moving. At that point, the one who could still move was declared the winner. In order to make this delightful spectacle last longer, the men in the ¨ring¨ would occasionally pick up the roosters and give them what seemed to be rooster CPR. They sucked some of the blood out of their mouths and gave them some more air. When they looked up their mouths and arms were covered in rooster blood, making them appear to be either vampires or some fucked up Jeffrey Dahmer-style rooster serial killers. While this was happening, the men around the ring were betting and the winner and cheering them on, while drinking way too much beer and rum.

Once I had enough of watching this ¨cultural experience¨, I went to a friend´s grandmother´s house and we sat around chatting and waiting for the swimming part. The driver of the truck we had ridden in on had gone down the road just to pick up some bikes and bring them to the house, and while he was getting the bikes about 8 children decided they wanted to come back for the ride. All of a sudden, we heard a vehicle screaming down the dirt road and a huge crash, as the truck carrying the bikes and now the kids veered off the road and hit a tree. After that I heard one of the most horrible sounds I have ever heard...children screaming and crying, mothers running in the direction of the truck shouting ¨mi hijo! mi hijo!¨. We ran to the truck and pulled off the children who were bleeding all over. I held a four year old little girl in my arms and felt her head- it was dented in two places and she had cut her arm. One guy was holding his head with a towel someone had given him. When he took away the towel for a brief second, I could see that part of his scalp was torn away and he was basically holding his head together with that towel. The driver was pulled out of the truck, holding his head which was covered in blood and screaming ¨estoy muriendo!¨(I´m dying). He fainted and was lying on the ground for what seemed like forever until a car finally came and took him and the guy with piece of his head missing to the hospital. We had called the ambulance and police, but neother had arrived, and someone later told me that you have to tell the ambulance you will pay for the gas (which is very expensive) or else they will take their time getting there. I called a friend of mine who has a van, and he came and we went with the rest of the kids to the hospital. As we were leaving the farm, already on the highway home, we saw the police arriving. The next few hours I spent in the hospital with a passenger who was in shock, and I was told my the doctor to take the prescription and go get some ant-anxiety pills for her at the pharmacy upstairs at the hospital. I went up there and gave the pharmacy the prescription. The guy working there looked at it and handed it back to me saying, ¨no hay¨(there is none). I had to go to an outside pharmacy to get the pills. The driver and the guy with the head were in surgery, and as far as I know, they both lived. The driver had had an entire liter of rum by himself at the cockfight, and was therefore wasted when the accident happened. He is now at home recovering, and will suffer no consequences for driving 8 little children into a tree.

I swear, my life is not all violence here, it´s just that writing boring recounts of being hit on by latin men gets old. Other than these stories, life here is great. It is 90 degrees all the time, I have some local and foreign friends, and I spend a lot of time teaching, playing guitar, and eating rice and beans. Even a boring day is not too boring- I can just go to the park and play soccer with the street kids or chat with the hippies who make jewelry. To cool off, I go to the bank, the movies, or the supermarket, even if I am not shopping. I have gotten braver, and now go into the pool halls which are typically reserved for men who look at me like I am insane for playing pool, as I am a woman.

I hope the next updates I write can include pictures and perhaps be even more uplifting than this one. I miss you all and hope to hear from you soon!

Chica CUUN and a Carnival

I don´t think this is really a carnival because I never see anyone there, but there has been a ferris wheel and merry go round set up in front of San Juan church for a week now. Fun, maybe not, but definitely beautiful.

These are some girls dancing on stage at the party after the Chica CUUN was elected. This election seems to have gone much better than that of the FSLN. Not even any riots! The last picture is Chica CUUN (I don´t know what CUUN stands for, something to do with the University). The guy with her is...drunk. Don´t know his name.

The party was interesting; I waited in line to get in for almost 2 hours, but it was worth it because there was a concert hosted by ¨Victoria Frost¨ beer, lots of said beer, dancing, fighting, and general mayhem.

In general, I´ve been working (teaching English), volunteering at a soup kitchen, and trying not to melt in the outrageous heat. I don´t know the temperature exactly, but I´d say at least high 80´s every day. But I´m not complaining!

Still in León

I don´t have any new pictures, but I thought I´d give a quick update for anyone who´s interested...
I´m now teaching English just outside the city one day a week, and I´m volunteering a couple days a week at Los Pipitos, an organization for kids with disabilities. I work with a psychologist who basically evaluates kids and provides help for the family and school. AND, I will hopefully soon be starting another English teaching job at ¨Academia Europea¨(I don´t know why they hired a gringa- I think they´ll take anyone who speaks some English). That should be for a couple hours a day during the week.

Other than that, I´ve been going to the beach, and hanging out with the few amigos I have so far!
Keep writing to me, it´s good to hear from you all!

My new place in León

I finally found a room to rent in the city, and it´s perfect. I couldn´t get any good pictures of the inside, so here is the view from
a) out my door,
b) across the courtyard. and
c) some month-old kittens nursing at the hostel I was staying at before. I couldn´t resist.

I just moved in today, so hopefully soon I´ll be settled down in my new city!

Back to the land of Gallo Pinto!

After more than 12 hours of straight travel, I finally returned to Nicaragua, the land of gallo pinto and Flor de Caña rum! (Gallo pinto, by the way, is this lovely rice and beans dish you see above. When you are a vegetarian, it is breakfast, lunch, and dinner.) I managed to pass through 3 separate cities on my way back here, since the flight from San José to Managua was cancelled and I had to take a different one to San Salvador and change planes to get to Managua. BUT- my backpack arrived just as promised (incredible) and I found a great room in Guest House Santos, where I had my own bathroom AND a TV!





Wednesday morning I set out to collect all the necessary documents to apply for residency so I can work legally. First, I went to a hospital to find out where I could obtain a certificate of health. They sent me to a Centro de Salud, where the man told me I need a receipt from BanPro for 70 córdobas ($3.50) in order to get the certificate. I had no idea what the bank had to do with my health certification, and I must have looked confused enough that he took pity on me and started the process without the ¨BanPro¨ paper. I hadn´t brought the papers stating that I had been vaccinated (this part was entirely my fault), but apparently they take your word for it, because after an hour and a half of waiting for someone to come back from lunch, they handed me a certificate stating that I have no communicable or mental disease, and that I am considered to be in good health. This whole process seemed a little too easy, since it only took the morning to get the certificate, but I took advantage of it and quickly left with my paper!





I took a break for lunch, and found a buffet place that had REAL salad and NO gallo pinto. This seemed to be my lucky day. After lunch I went to the police station to try my luck at requesting a criminal record, which I need to bring to Immigration in order to get residency. Outside the police station, there was a mob of people standing in front of the door, on which there was a sign reading, ¨abierto¨. It did not, however, appear to be ¨abierto¨, since everyone was OUTSIDE. A woman in ¨line¨ told me we had to wait outside and the captain would take in a certain number of people at a time. I waited, with the rest of the sweaty people, in the 90 degree heat. Finally, the captain appeared and I went inside and told him I needed to request a record. He asked me for my paper. When I asked him which paper he was referring to, he told me...the receipt from BanPro! Ok, so apparently everything you do in this fucking place requires a piece of paper from BanPro. I told him I would go get it immediately and bring it back, but the police station was closing in 15 minutes, so obtaining the receipt and making it back in time didn´t seem too likely.



I went outside to look for the infamous BanPro, and asked 4 police (who looked to be about 20 years old) sitting in their truck where it was. One of them gave me a mediocre explanation in broken english: ¨Down here, to right, 5 or 6 block.¨ I thanked them and started walking ¨down here¨, but then I heard ¨hey you!¨ and the police offered to give me a ride there; Nicaraguan men are so helpful! :-) BanPro went fairly smoothly and I managed to get the incredibly important receipt, which states that I paid 30 córdobas. I was sick of paying a whole $1.25 for cab rides around the city, so I tried my luck with the city buses- always a treat. I managed to find my way back to somewhere fairly close to my hotel, and only had to walk for about 20 minutes to get back.





This was more than enough fun for one day, so I enjoyed the internet access across the street, and the TV in my room where I watched old episodes of ¨Alf¨ dubbed into spanish. I really couldn´t have asked for more.





The following day was the most fun, and by fun I mean torturous and endlessly beaurocratic. I checked my email in the morning and found a message from the guy at the Language School saying that he needs me on Saturday, and that if I didn´t get the residency stuff set, he would give me a ride to Managua the following week. So I checked out of my room and went to quickly drop off the BanPro receipt at the central police station of Managua. You may have noticed the humor in this line, because you should NEVER, EVER say ¨quickly¨ and ¨Managua¨ in the same sentence.





I arrived at the station to find the same mob of people standing outside, and this time there was a mob inside too, but at least it was air-conditioned in there. Between the outside and inside mobs, I counted about 50 people. I went inside to try to give the paper to someone. A lady at a desk told me I need my cédula. This is an ID card, not a ¨cellular¨ as I thought she was saying. I told her I don´t have a Nicaraguan ID, as I am not yet a resident, but I do have my passport. She said this would be fine, made a copy of it, and told me to go back outside to wait. Confused as to what exactly I was waiting for, I did as I was told. When the captain poked his head out of the door, I went up to him and told him that I had been there yesterday, and that I had come back with my receipt and just needed to drop it off. I showed him my passport copy and the receipt, and he told me to wait in line to talk to another lady. Ok. Outside for an hour and a half, our group was finally let inside where I was given a number (51!) and told I could sit down and wait. Wow, I can sit down?! Thanks!




While I was waiting in my seat, I was harassed by a middle-aged guy who lives in California, but is from Nicaragua, and comes to visit his family once a year. He was eager to practice his english, and I learned all about his interests (¨Jessica, I like to make a lot of sport. As habit. Tennis, running, basketball, I invite you! You like tennis?...and I like Edgar Allen Poe. You know Mark Twain? Huckleberry Finn? I like very much.¨), his travels (¨I have been to all Europe- France, Italy, Spain, Austria. You like theater? In Austria it´s so nice.¨) and his family (¨This is a picture of my sister´s husband and the baby. I like someday get married. You?¨), and then showed me photos on his phone of his sister´s family and their trip to Disneyland. Fascinating. It helped kill the next hour of waiting.





When they called my number, I went to see the lady at the desk. There was apparently one woman for this job, whatever it was. I showed her my passport copy and BanPro paper and she told me...ready?...¨no, you need a cédula. I can´t request the criminal record with a passport. You need ID from Nicaragua¨. I told her I could not GET an ID from Nicaragua until I had the criminal record which I was TRYING to get right now! This was the first of several Nicaraguan catch-22s, whose irony seemed to be noticed only by me. I was sent to a different police station to apply for this damn cédula.





At the next station, I was prepared for the worst. Waiting, sweating, utter despair, the works. I told the woman at the desk why I had come, and gave her my passport. She wrote something down and made a phone call. After she talked for a minute or so, she handed me the phone. The guy on the other end told me that I was not going to be able to get a criminal record because it cannot be requested from here. It needs to be requested from the US. I asked him what that meant I had to do, and he told me I would need to go back to the states, just to request a criminal record. Logical. I argued with them about the silliness of this requirement, and they sent me to another building to talk to the Interpol guy. I thought that the job of Interpol was to be able to obtain information of this kind (records) internationally, but this guy handed me a paper stating that I need to send a written request to the FBI! This request should include name, date of birth, request for record, $18, and fingerprints. The man could not tell me where the hell I was supposed to get fingerprints done, so I thanked him (see? I´m still gracious!) and left.




I decided to get the hell out of Managua and worry about this all next week. I´m now happily in León, where I will stay, and I teach my first english class tomorrow!



Just one more thing: I BEG of you, citizens of the United States, APPRECIATE your customer service. UTILIZE and LOVE when employees open a new cash register because there is a long line for the others. When people give you accurate information, give them a hug! And never underestimate the beauty of never having to go to BanPro.

Medellín, Colombia

Just a few pictures from Medellín. It´s a nice city, and Saturday was el Día de Amor y Amistad, which meant the streets were so filled with people, cakes, and flowers that you could barely walk around. These people go crazy for amor and amistad!

The reason I wanted to see Medellín in the first place was really just because it is the setting of a book (La Virgen de los Sicarios) I´m re-reading. I read it for the first time about 5 years ago, and never imagined I would have the chance to walk the streets of Medellín (Junín!) and visit some of its many churches.

The first couple pictures are from the church in Sabaneta, in the outskirts of Medellín. A 40 minute, ridiculously bumpy bus ride may have been a little excessive just to see this church, but it´s the church of Maria Auxiliadora the virgen of Sabaneta, where the child assasins from the book ask forgiveness for their sins. After this intriguing imagery, I couldn´t resist:

¨Entramos en la iglesia, pasamos ante el Señor Caído, y seguimos hasta el altar del fondo en la nave izquierda, el de María Auxiliadora, la virgencita alegre con el Niño, flotando sobre un mar de ofrendas de flores y constelada de estrellas.¨

It´s more beautiful in Spanish (as are most things), but here is my translation:

¨We entered the church, passed in front of our fallen Lord, continuing on to the altar at the back left, that of María Auxiliadora, the happy virgencita with the Child, floating above a sea of floral offerings and covered in stars.¨

The final picture is from the Museum of Antioquia, where there was an exhibit called ¨destierro y reparación¨, which gave voice to thousands of people all over the world who were displaced or who disappeared due to wars, oppressive governments, and guerilla uprisings.

On that note, another quote from Fernando Vallejo, this one about Medellín:

¨Ya no nos queda en Medellín ni un solo oasis de paz. Dicen que atracan los bautizos, las bodas, los velorios, los entierros. Que matan en plena misa o llegando al cementerio a los que van vivos acompañando al muerto. Que si cae un avión saquean los cadáveres. Que si te atropella un carro, manos caritativas te sacan la billetera mientras te hacen el favor de subirte a un taxi que te lleve al hospital. Que hay treinta y cinco mil taxis en Medellín. Uno por cada carro particular. Que lo mejor es viajar en bus, aunque también tampoco: tampoco conviene, también los atracan...Que lo único seguro aquí es la muerte.¨

¨In Medellín there is no longer one single oasis of peace. It´s said that they rob baptisms, weddings, wakes, burials. That they kill in plain view or kill the living who accompany their dead to the cemetery. That if a plane falls they take the corpses. That if a car runs you over, charitable hands take your wallet while doing you the favor of helping you into the taxi that will take you to the hospital. That there are thirty five thousand taxis in Medellín. One for each car. That it´s best to take the bus, but not that either: that won´t work either, they also get held up...That the only certain thing here is death.¨

Days 1 and 2 of the Trek to Ciudad Perdida

-A rousing game of ¨shithead¨. Well deserved recreation after our first day of trekking!

-The end of the first day. The mud doubles as body art!

-First night´s accommodations. Hammocks are more comfortable than you might think!

-A toucan at the place we stayed.

-Yvonne and me, ready for our second day of hiking. Yes, I am wearing a skirt and knee-high socks.

-Before we set out, we took a tour of a cocaine factory, which consisted of a tent in the woods stocked with coca leaves and all the necessary chemicals. Diego happily surrounds himself with the goods.

-Started our second day of hiking. Some waterfall.

-Ok, I´ll stop with the river crossings...
-Some huts on the way.