Land of Lakes and Volcanoes

This week began the official back-to-school round of teacher workshops to which we are also accustomed in the US. All the teachers have workshops (talleres or capacitaciones), but the primary teachers are split into two groups, 1-3 grades and 4-6. Since I work with 3-6, I had to split my time between the two workshops. Monday, I attended the 4-6 workshop, where I had the opportunity to meet some more of the teachers I may work with in my other schools. The topic of the workshop was, get this, cooperative learning. I'm not surprised in a condescending way, such as wow, people in Nicaragua have heard of cooperative learning. It was more that I take it as a positive sign of a fortuitous beginning that the first workshop I attend is something on which I have spent so much professional attention in the past, and something about which I can possibly offer some assistance or at least an exchange of ideas. We used a packet of information from something called "Proyecto Excelenci

With one week remaining until the start of classes, I am getting geared up (no pun intended) to go out to all my schools. As part of my preparations, here is a pic of my snazzy new bike. Yes, I know, it looks expensive. That's because it was a little more expensive than the standard model. But it was the only kind in the whole place that had a low cross bar. Four different stores and all they had was men's bikes with high cross bars. I can't deal with that. I fall over. I hurt my groin (already did it once on a borrowed bike). I was confused by how the Nicaraguan women do it, but the answer is they either start standing up or with their bike next to a curb, in front of someone's house etc. So I bought the low cross bar since I am much less skilled than they. They also must all have behinds of steel because I rode around for a bit yesterday and today it hurts to sit. The padded seat is not known in these parts and the roads are a mixture of dirt and very large

This has nothing to do with Nicaragua, but Trevor recently sent me the Complete Poems of Walt Whitman in the mail, and perhaps it has to do with certain events in my life right now, but he just seems so dead on. Here's a poem I found in the Inscriptions to the final edition: To the States To the States or any one of them, or any city of the States, Resist much, obey little, Once unquestioning obedience, once fully enslaved, Once fully enslaved, no nation, state, city of this earth, ever afterward resumes its liberty. Very accurate, I feel, concerning the current US political climate. But what is even more obvious than his apparent gift for prognostication is that Whitman truly loved America. It's so obvious in every poem that he thought the United States was building something new, and amazing, and wondrous. He saw a hope for true equality, for a nation truly constructed by the people, and capable of not only accomodating all of them, but rejoicin

Now that things have calmed down here a lot, I´m going to go back to writing blogs about my everyday stuff, which honestly, I often like more than blogs about cultural rituals with which I have limited experience (such as La Purisima). As such, you are about to be treated to a masterpiece on a chore that I once dreaded, but have now come to actually enjoy -laundry! Now I used to be the person who waited to do my laundry until it was all dirty and it was either go to the laundromat or turn my undies inside out (I never did that). But here, washing it by hand, it's different. Yes, it takes time, but there's something about that feeling of accomplishment when a week's worth of laundry is hanging on the line and it all smells so fresh and clean. I also enjoy washing my laundry outside, which I've done here at my host family's house. The new house that I may or may not be renting has the lavandero inside, which I'm a little disapointed about. First let me start

Haven't had time to post because this week I have been quite busy. I have been translating, if you can believe it, for a group of students here from a college in Wisconsin. Their school has what is called J term, and during January, a wide variety of classes are offered, including a lot of different trips you can take. This particular class is offered for biology or geography credit. The group raises money in the US, selling Nicaraguan goods such as pottery or bracelets which are donated, or just asking everyone they know to give to this good cause. Students and professors also solicit their doctors, dentists, churches, etc. for donations of personal care products (toothbrushes, toothpaste, shampoo, etc.) as well as any free samples from medical offices. With the money that is raised, and knowledge of what medication has been needed in the past, the professors order medication from MAP based in Amsterdam. This program sells medication for much cheaper than normal, with the co

First, some things that don't really scare me, although I feel like maybe they should. 1) Two nights ago there was a small scorpion in my bed. I always shake my bed out before I climb in, not because of fear of critters, but because so much dust blows into my room that if I don't shake it out when I start to get tangled up in my bed, I end up sleeping in a little pile of dust. It was about the size of the last two segments of my middle finger. I squashed it and before I had woken up the next morning the ants had carried it away for a feast. 2) I was editting the guia today and working on the section on volcanoes, and it kind of freaks me out how many times there were sentences that read, "And then this village was completely covered by a landslide." There's never been one here, but it's one of those things I can probably develop a healthy fear of, because you don't know it's coming until it's here. And honestly, if there was a landslide, where

I baked b read ag ain, well, I helped again. This time I was smart enough to take my camera an d my notebook. Let me warn you now that this is a very picture intense blog posting. That´s how I like my photojournalism. Special thanks to Doña Cruz and fa mily for the lesso ns and the infinite patience, both with all the photos and my initially quite ugly empan adas. 1. Measure fl our into enormou s bowl. This s cale she is using is the coolest thing ever. There´s a counterweight of 2 lbs, and then a series of strings you can hold it up by. Depending on which string you hold, you can measure diffferent weights. It works by moving the pivot point. It´s ingenious. So using this ingenious manual scale, we started with 7 lbs of white flour. 2. Add yeas t. It´s 1 Tb of yeast per p ound of flour. 3. Add water, little by little, stir ring with hands, until all flour i s incorporated. At this point, it should have the texture very thick pancake batt

From my site, I continue to be oddly unable to upload pictures. Not sure why, since everything else seems to function just fine. Ah well, I will continue to write, and pictures will be a once a week or week and a half treat whenever I go to Moyogalpa or Altagracia. I had a cool picture of a caterpillar too! Nothing much is going on here. Working on editting the guia, continuing to meet teachers, and reading a lot of books. Which brings me to my next thing. I have started another blog where I will be attempting to post book reviews. I used to talk about the books I read with people, but as that is less possible here, I'll just post my thoughts. If you care to read them, there's a link now on the right hand sidebar.

2008 is here, and as it swung in at the stroke of midnight I was sleeping like a baby, earplugs blocking the outrageous amount of noise outside as Mérida rang in the new year with much music, fireworks, and general hullabaloo. Unfortunately, I took them out when I woke up for my middle of the night pee, so Ana's watch (set oddly enough for about 4 AM) woke me up, but not her. Having been up quite late the night before, she was sleeping rather soundly at 4 AM. I didn't want to yell at her to wake up and turn it off because no one else in the whole house seemed to hear it either, and I didn't want to wake anyone up. So I snuck outside, and around the side of the house to Ana's window, where I shone the light inside and stage-whispered her name until she got up and turned her watch off. A propitious beginning to my new year! And no, there was not a fiesta last night. The fiesta was Sunday night. Tropicale, the radio station, was here with its disco movile, and there