Friday, July 20, 2012

"Normal" Day

Another One of Those Days… xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxThat sort of leaves you breathless at the end…in slight awe of the day you just experienced even though it was “normal”. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Quick summary up to said day (which was yesterday): matt with dengue fever-recovered-friend from AK came to visit-vacation-julie fell ill with parasite/amoeba combo-return to our town-work on classroom—they finished putting in the floor-only missing the paint!-dinner party with Nica friends in our house-a couple days of class-practicing singing “The Rivers of Babylon” with some students for an English singing competition and then vacation again (sort of like a Spring Break this week in Nicaragua). xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Yesterday: we left town in order to visit matt’s old host family from training—about a ten hour trek normally involving 4 busses..our host brother in law offered us a ride in a truck for the first leg—which would normally last about 5 hours in an old school bus—we took the offer of course (-: xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx We left at 5 am. The roads are dirt and winding through the mountains that are covered with the morning fog—everything is green now—we also dodge herds of cattle, ox-driven carts,pigs, packs of dogs and straying chickens. Matt gets car sick. We pause about an hour into our trip to have breakfast with more family members that live along the way---fresh cheese, beans, cream and tortillas and hot mountain coffee. After about an hour, we continue in the truck—matt is now riding the in the bed of the truck with a young boy on his way to the clinic—it rains-matt gets wet. Inside the truck, the passengers include myself, a young woman, our host brother in law, his mom, another older woman, and a little girl. We talk all the way into town—I listen to stories about how the rainy season has changed and how it used to be that in order to dry your clothes you had to hang them over open fires… xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxWe arrive to the next big town about 3.5 hours after we left our town—this including an hour stop for breakfast. Our host brother in law refuses to accept gas money. Matt feels better. At the bus station we see another volunteer—he is finished with his service and heading back to the United States—we are getting on the same bus. On the bus we meet a man who asks if we are peace corps volunteers (it’s pretty obvious as you listen the 3 us ramble on…) Turns out, he was a volunteer in Nicaragua back in 1998—when Hurricane Mitch hit. He is also the author of the guidebook I have for Nicaragua—the book that almost all volunteers use…I had read his bio several times over and seen his smiling face in the back of my book for almost 2 years…he is heading in the same direction as us, and we change busses together. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx On the next bus, there is a flat screen TV connected to a DVD player, though it is a very old school bus. “Little Rascals” is playing in Spanish. The author continues his conversation with us until the bus is too full to chat across the aisle (people have filled all the seats and all the aisle space—elbows and feet pressing into my skin). He is super down to earth and fascinating to talk to—he returns to Nicaragua every year and still visits his old host family—though he is passing his guide book responsibilities on to fresh blood. I begin to talk to the woman next to me—turns out, she is a friend of matt’s old host family-where we are headed. Nicaragua is a small place. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx We arrive at 1pm to the old host family’s host. This is about 2 hours earlier than usual—only an 8 hour trip! And one hour was for breakfast (-: I immediately feel right at home—we are fed a huge lunch of gallo pinto, chicken, tomatoes, rice, and banana slices along with fresh juice. We talk and talk and talk—it has been awhile since our last visit. The kids are so different. People have new jobs—there is new news. I sleep a little but it’s hot. Matt stays awake. We don’t leave the house all day—different family members pass through-we sit in rocking chairs and stay up until 10 or so talking. Thursday is a holiday here—celebrating the Revolution—when the Somoza dictatorship was overthrown finally. Our host mom and aunt talk some about the civil war here—it is intense. They tell of times when there were gunshots fired next door and they had to lie on mattresses on their floor in the house where we sit in talking…they tell a story about a woman and her two children decapitated with machetes…they tell us about bullet holes we can still see in a hotel in the town center about lost family members and 6pm curfews….we listen. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx The conversation eventually changes…onto the future—and the possibility, narrow as it may be, of some of them visiting us in the United States one day…my heart fills up with emotions as we hug and kiss each of them goodnight and fall into the bed in the room they always give to us when we visit…Sometimes I wonder if they could ever know how much they mean to me…. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx And it’s days like these I absolutely love being a peace corps volunteer. Exhausted but content. A day filled with meeting new people and listening. Less than 4 months. I think the end will be intense.