If I’m completely honest, I didn’t think I would shed a tear for Nicaragua but as I approached the gate towards security and said the rest of my goodbyes I felt my throat tense up.  Maybe it was the thought (knowledge, really) that I still had a bit more work remaining. Hmmmm. Regardless, it’s amazing how quickly 6 months pass even if you anticipate in advance that they will. What I’ve come to realize now about coming and going is that these types of tears are not so much for the place as they are for the people. Needless to say, I made some incredible friendships, something you don’t realize until they’re no longer there. Which I guess is how these things tend to go.

Work picked up quite a bit and, despite the sleepless nights of data entry and data analysis, I managed to squeeze in a few last minute beach excursions and some foolishly risky volcano boarding. While it was a semi-dramatic goodbye including dinners with friends, holiday parties with co-workers, and barbecue with tons of suya (mmm), it was a bit of relief to know that a cool winter with family was waiting. And boy is it nice! Not to mention that it’s something I certainly don’t mind experiencing every holiday season. A full house with the nieces and nephews (with one more on the way…WOOHOO!!!), and lots of good home cooking. And as far as that family movie night…this time we squeezed in two.

Unfortunately, some not so positive things are also managing to become routine during the holidays – I’m specifically referring to the suicide bombings in Nigeria – like all other things in the world. Life goes on. Good and bad. And with that said, I’ll focus on the good. At least for the remainder of the holidays.

Enjoy the photos.

Laguna de Apoyo

Continuous ridge of volcanoes, view from the top of Cerro Negro

The keys off Las Perlas, Atlantic coast of Nicaragua

Relaxing in the keys aka coconut paradise

Garifuna festival in Orinoco...and she and I danced all night.

Cerro Negro

Volcano boarding down Cerro Negro, moments before taking a nasty spill. Ouch.

I can’t believe November is already over!!!

So much has happened in the last month. From birthdays to more trips and vacations and visit from the very lovely Ugonna. It’s been a fantastic month. I can’t touch on every little thing I’ve done in the past month, but I will highlight a couple things for this post from each of the following categories: Work and Play.

WORK

They really have found a way to keep me busy. But in addition to learning a seemingly bottomless pit of things, I’ve also managed to teach a few things while here. I not only mastered a new data analysis software (not that there was much to master behind it), but I also got to demonstrate and teach some of my colleagues a couple things on how to use it. Exciting. Who says qualitative data can’t be as fun to manipulate as quantitative data? Me thinks yes! Although it’s a long road to get to that point. I understand now why it’s graduate school and not undergrad. Eesh. Why I’m still compelled to continue with this, I quite haven’t figured it out (No, T. I’m not a masochist). It very well may be the fact that I know that once I’m doing this for decent pay it will be that much more rewarding.

Working with the investigators and the funding agency these past couple of weeks has been tiring but just as stimulating. It’s nice to be able to see how the bureaucracy works at this level. But the really rewarding part of it all is seeing the data and the field work being put to use. You just gotta love it.

PLAY

Work hard, play hard. I am truly a firm believer in this especially if playing involves learning a thing or two. In my case it involved a bit more traveling within the country. Where to? Well, I finally made it over to Bluefields. Boy was that exciting. I was surprised as soon as I stepped off the plane. Why Managuans think I look like I’m from there has nothing to do with anything past my skin color. Which really gave me a tickle while there because for that same reason I was pegged as not being from the area. In fact, several people asked if I was from Honduras. One person pegged me as an outsider from much farther away.

Stranger: Y vos os?

Me: Los estados unidos.

Stranger: I thought so.

Me: How, what gave me away?

Stranger: Your glasses, no one here wears them. Not even if they really, really need them.

Interesting, eh? I thought they did.

I met up with a few friends and we hopped a speed boat over to Pearl Lagoon. As nice as it was to be able to walk around that community, that wasn’t the gem of our trip. We would take a speed boat the next day over to the keys. Beautiful little Caribbean islands and an endless supply of seafood run down, coconuts, y muchas vichitas. The Garifuna festival was nice as well. I couldn’t help but feel the music, perhaps because of the Garifuna ties to Nigeria.

These posts have been few and far between, I know. I imagine things will slow down soon enough.  I want to share so much.

And there are so many details that I’ll keep for story telling in person. There will be photos soon. (I know, I know, I keep saying this). I just need to work it out with the album.

Last week we packed our things and headed north to Matagalpa, a department north of Managua. Wow, was that interesting! With the exception of schlepping through heaps of goat poop (or as my supervisor informed me are also referred to as mines), the drive through the foggy, coffee bean coated mountains and a night in a refreshingly cold cabin for a few nights definitely a bonus to the fact that we were finally going out to interview the women for the cervical cancer screening project. And it was fantastic!

The view from the cabin.

Lunch: tortilla, cuajada, y crema. I'll find a sharper image.

Lunch kitchen. Don't 'dis' it. Turned up some pretty good food.

Two starches (rice and potato), beans, chicken, salad.

Nuestro equipo!

Maybe it seems a bit nerdy, but when you actually go to where these women live and enter their homes and ask them the interview questions in the context of their lives and their surroundings, it really gives more worth to, and puts more meaning into, their responses. What I thought was great about our survey was that we also were noting the little details such as the materials that the house itself was made of. One woman’s home stirred up some serious emotions for me. I peered over to find an old tattered throw carefully placed as dressing for the bed, a modest kitchen and 3 plastic chairs as furniture. I wanted to walk over to the central bank and slap the shit out of the man in charge.

The public restroom. Did I use it? Well, nature was calling.

We hiked (literally) up a few steep hills to look for women and find that they weren’t there. A couple of the records we had were for women that passed away. That, I think, deserves its own entry.

Get your pap info here!

Info board. I liked the decorations

Anyway. I spoke with T when we returned to Managua, and one of his comments stuck with me…”Wow…sounds like some work. I mean, wouldn’t want to do it…” For some reason this really made me proud of the research team here. They really know how to get the work done. From the driver and knowing the roads and exactly which 4×4 truck can and can’t make it, to the community guide (someone born and raised in the neighborhoods we were going to that could make sense of the addresses given to track these women down), to the investigators (physicians with clinical training, also trained in public health and qualitative research methods), the time and the energy. It takes a lot of effort that often goes overlooked. It’s impressive to say the least. The whole process really made me appreciate every minute of doing the work. It also made me appreciate the return to the city.

We got back Friday night and though I was tempted to go to a performance for some transgender women in Masaya. I chose instead to sleep in. Apparently that was a good call, because it rained…Hard! I opted for the wedding this past Saturday. It was interesting walking into the church that morning. I got some funny looks for not reciting the ‘chants’ with everyone else. My defense: 1) I’m not Catholic and don’t have those memorized 2) Even if I were Catholic and had those memorized in English, I don’t speak Spanish (Yes. I’m milking the second excuse for all it’s worth). Immediately after the ceremony we made a grocery run for drinks and extra supplies. The reception was about to go off at the finca! And boy did it go off! That is until the power went off as well. But that didn’t stop the Pinedas. I noticed people packing up quickly to head to the closest house a few kilometers away to finish what was started. The huge pots of food, and all the jumbo sized bottles of Flor de Cana went into the cars and trucks. We made a caravan to the next spot and upon arrival quickly set up shop. There was a mariachi band, karaoke, and lots of dancing. It was great. Too bad a few of us got sick. We suspect it was the salad dressing. So glad I didn’t plan anything for the next few days.

Yesterday and today brought with them antibiotics. Bleh! I think the only thing grosser than being sick is taking those pills. The up side I’m averaging upwards of 4 liters of water daily.

Stay tuned for more photos and a video from the wedding reception. I’ll be sure to add more info from last week’s field visits to this week’s field visits.

It’s been tough transitioning into the week after spending the weekend at the finca. I really do like it there but me thinks I had more than my share of corn products for the remainder of the year. Spending your Saturday eating, drinking, and laughing with family (even if their not your family) is always relaxing and so coming back to work Monday was a shocker. Boy did we hit the ground running.

We head out to Matagalpa tomorrow. So in preparation for this, we spent this afternoon going through bags filled with patient files to find addresses for our site visits (I won’t get into the state of the files themselves, but know there was bug spray involved). Addresses: this should be exciting mainly because there are no street signs here and so everything is described in relation to something else. Look up the address to one place and it references another place. Look up the place it references and it references yet another. Good luck finding your destination if you’re not from around here. After my first couple of weeks in Managua I had a new found appreciation for maps and street signs.

So, it is still a bit of a shock to me that I managed to drive my mum and I about when she was here. It wasn’t so bad if we look past an incident where I was driving towards a bunch of headlights. I should mention, that they were so impatient with the traffic ahead that they decided to drive on the wrong side of the road. BUT…I digress. I finally managed to get those photos off my digital camera last night, so here are a few photos meant for the last post. I’ll catch up. I promise.

In the process of looking for addresses, my supervisor said something to me that really stuck out. And I agree with her wholeheartedly. When you’re doing quantitative research you focus so much on counting that you can get caught up in a sea of numbers. And unless you get the numbers everyone else has deemed are benchmarks for success or failure of your project you don’t really see the impact you have. When you’re going through patient files and reading notes you realize how many lives were saved in the process. You see how many referrals, tests, and diagnostics, were done depending on what stage of illness/cancer the woman had, but because you’re not looking at numbers and counting this often is overlooked. But knowing that and seeing it is motivating to continue qualitative research and continue the programs that yield these outcomes.

Enjoy the photos.

Catedra de Granada.

Sacuanjoche or Nicaraguita...the National flower. It smells heavenly. (Yes, you can find better photos of plumeria on the web.)

Lakefront... Nice photo, mum!

We were tempted to go on the boatride but the rain helped us decide against that.

Mrs. and Ms. Ah-ha-oh

While some people may freak out at the thought of having to host a parent, I had a fantastic time with my mum. The reason I’m focused on this is because I’ve had friends of mine retell horror stories of having to pass any time at all with their parents. While I haven’t quite figured out why it is we seem to get on so well, I have taken a stab at guessing. And the top 3 reasons I think we do are…

1. She’s loads of fun and a very funny person in general. It’s really hard to not like her. As far as her liking you back…Best of luck!

2. We don’t get to see one another often enough during the year to really fight with one another.

3. She’s my mother. It takes a lot of pressure off thinking “geez, I wonder if this person actually likes me.”

So, anyways. The mystery guest was mumsy. If you think it’s crazy to get one person in my family in Latin America… try unleashing two. And the icing on the cake? ….the fact that she doesn’t speak the language. An absolute riot!

While I won’t get into all of the details of what we did and didn’t do, I will mention that she had a lot of lovely, kind, pleasant comments about the similarities between this developing country and the one we originally hail from (Nigeria). Come to think of it, there are a lot of more superficial similarities as well. Their names, their proximity to the equator, some flora and fauna, as well as the general disposition of the people…’tranquilo como camilo,’ as they say around here. I like to think of it more as ‘needing someone to light a fire under their rears.’

Anyways, we had a week-long slumber party and got to do some site-seeing. And while mumsy wasn’t very thrilled about the ignorant comments coming out of some people’s mouths when we strolled about Granada, she did get some perspective on my experience here. Which goes a long way when you’re trying to describe your day to some who is some several hundreds of miles away.

Long story short: it was nice to have her around.

I had a couple of lovely photos to share but, as my luck dictates, I can’t share them until another time…when either the cable is functioning or the computer agrees to accept the XD card. Bahumbug!

In the meantime, here’s a random photo…

Hiking in the muddy mud mud of Ometepe

This is because there were requests for a few more photos…Really, requests for a couple more blog entries. Actually, requests for more entries coupled with the fact that I keep saying I’ll post more photos but don’t. (Oops.) With the actual field visits for the Cervical Cancer project beginning this week I figured I should share a few photos from the past that I have mentioned were on their way because I’m only going to accumulate more. Rapidly. Enjoy.

And yes, I’m still thinking on that Picassa link.

The beach at San Juan Del Sur

Driving down the Pacific coast of Nicaragua..."Hmmm, left or right?"

Playa El Coco was very clean, too.

Playa El Coco...Que linda!

Fresh lychee

Operation: Consume Lychee. Mmmm

The Suzuki Alto wasn't going to make it through this...detour

Sunset at Ostional

Ostional...And we had the whole beach to ourselves.

Mr. Grumpy Boots didn't want to leave our second visit to Playa El Coco

With all the beaching we did, we managed to put together a pretty impressive rock collection.

And experimented with more local fruits...Guayabana

 

So I managed to get to quite a few places over the last few weeks.

1. Ometepe

Beachfront at Ometepe

The sky was amazing!

The kitchen.

That was great. I went with Anna, Patricia, Barbara, Lorena, and a couple others. It was actually a very large group. So while parts of it was incredible, parts of the trip felt like herding cats. We stayed in a cabana at a place called Zopilote. Our cabana was the Mariposa and there were tons of Mariposas! Great venue with the exception of a couple mishaps during my overall stay on the island. (The mosquitoes – I was eaten alive! The fish – food poisoning!) it was fantastic. The water was relaxing. It was really strange to be surrounded by island beach only because this particular island is a volcano island and these particular island beaches were all lakefront beaches! Calm. Beautiful.

Showering outside, outhouses for restrooms. Different, yes. But good for a change of pace. At least for a couple of days.

Getting closer...

Janet y Anna

The map of Ometepe, at the Zopilote

We rented bicycles and rode down to a natural spring water lagoon. So clean.

There was pizza night and organic breakfasts with homemade bread. It was nice to eat outside, with candlelight, under a tree…until it started raining. Anna celebrated her birthday and we enjoyed some Flor de Cana and long chats. I learned a lot, even from the people who were solely obsessed with showing off how many visas and stamps they have in their passports. There were a couple. It was a bit sad to ask “what do you do?” and hear “oh, I’m just traveling for 4 years.” Followed by “what have you done while traveling?” and “Wow! I’ve been to some really crazy parties!”

One of the two volcanos. Concepcion.

Good company. Mixed company.

But, I digress. Overall it was very relaxing and we got the chance to really enjoy ourselves and the company. I was completely blown away by how beautiful Ometepe is (and how many projects they have operating on the island).

2. San Juan Del Sur and then some.

T. was here! It was loads of fun! We had a few good trips in there. We went to Leon, Granada, San Juan Del Sur, Playa El Coco, Playa La Flor, El Ostional …and more. We basically, beached it up. There were a couple of events in Managua as well, but if I begin to write in detail I’ll be here for several hours. So I’ll just sum quickly. Renting a car and chatting about life while driving to the most breathtaking sites and witnessing some once in a lifetime events (like the baby tortugas being released into the ocean at Playa La Flor) is absolutely priceless. Eating fresh lychees under the tree at Playa El Coco was good fun, too.

We watched a thunderstorm off the shore in Ostional. Incredible! I was sick and in that moment forgot all about it, wide-eyed and drop-jawed. What was even more exciting was being thrown down near shore by the waves at Las Penitas. I’ve always had tremendous respect for mother nature, but the sensation of that, coupled with the scenery. Wow! Granada was great, too. Walking down the streets and feeling the soul and the flavor of that little town. We had some pretty fun encounters (though scary at the time), including a drunk guy in his truck who nearly ran me down and starting slurring insults and the two of us. It was fun to watch T’s expression. Not at all fussed. It might be because he couldn’t really decode what the guy was saying. I translated after and we eventually calmed down enough to laugh about it. My biggest thought then (and now) is: wow, there’s that much racism here, too? But it was nice to sit outside of the bar, sipping some Tonitas and laughing…until the rain came.

The moments we were confined indoors were fun, too. Playing scrabble and watching a films on my laptop. Which reminds me. I really need to bump up the harrassing with Don Jairo. While I don’t have a television (and rather enjoy it) I think it would be nice for house guests that want to get a feel for Nicaraguan broadcasting. Besides how am I paying for cable and not have a TV if the house is supposed to come fully furnished? Yes, many things here contradict themselves.

I should also mention that Managua was fun, too. The biggest laugh was a play we should have taken seriously. A one man act from Argentina. The topic was tango and love. I was reminded of a really bad flamenco show I was fortunate (or unfortunate) to catch in Mexico. That was so *funny* (Read: *terrible*) that the other person and I had to leave because we couldn’t stop laughing. I couldn’t believe I was sitting through the same experience again. Too funny. Especially since I thought to myself before we entered: “I hope this isn’t like that one flamenco show I saw in Mexico.” As soon as the lights came on T and I bounced. Laughing the whole time in the car. My cheeks were sore because I was biting myself to keep from laughing. Don’t you just love those moments?

I have so many more photos but I’ll keep them for next time.  I have to stop now anyway. On my way to the airport soon to get another visitor. Who is it? That’s a surprise!

I noticed that some of the searches bringing people to this blog are (in no particular order):

famine in africa, africa famine, child of africa, images famine africa

I don’t know who’s searching these terms but a couple of them are disturbing for reasons inherent in the search terms themselves. You can infer why that is later on.

But as far as where I left off on my last entry…Well, I think it’s sunk in.

Here we go.

How do you separate the problem from the solution? International development is the new foreign policy and foreign policy is what impacts governments and their people. However, if we’re going to place strict conditions (beyond accountability measures) on the help/aid that provided, and threaten to withdraw aid because the government receiving it doesn’t fit the government that the aid has been prescribed for, then how much good are we doing? We would argue in fact that a lot of damage is being done.

Then there’s the individual. There’s a certain level of guilt associated with what I do and aspire to do. If in global health, for example, the goal is to put ourselves out of work, why is it that in many of the projects we work on we pessimistically anticipate that we’ll be working on some of the most basic issues (dealing with disparities and inequalities) in 20, 30, 40, 60 years. This can’t be healthy. It’s as if the same sub-par ideas are being copied and dragged out for even longer amounts of time.

I had an interesting chat with a friend.  Another ‘neo-colonialist’ global health do-gooder as it were. How can you feel good about working in a system that you know is broken and that, in so many ways, perpetuates the problems? I mean, I think I’m working in it to change it, but how do I look past the possibility that I may be doing more harm?

I think Africa has become a kind of caricature.

I’m so touched by this famine because in many ways I’m inherently connected to it. Not because I’m stubbornly committed to the issues that flood many other parts of that beautiful continent, not because I was born on that amazing continent, but because I can’t imagine voluntarily detaching myself from a place that needs conscious involvement in it’s development.

I’m not imagining it’s permanent state of caricature-ness (for lack of a better word). It’s the ‘National Geographic’ syndrome. And yes NG syndrome is real. I know it’s real because I’ve had people close to me tell me that they have no interest in going to Africa, in seeing it, in feeling it. When asked why the best answer given is “I don’t know.” I guess I can’t really blame them, Africa’s paradises are rarely depicted in the media. Even if they were, how can you know Africa from afar? Because you know an African? Because you read news about Africa? It’s virtually impossible. No. It is impossible. While it helps it’s not the same. It’s no different from the person that views a documentary about London and has never been. They may know the history they’ve read in books or, heaven forbid, have seen in a film, but if they’ve never been then they can’t ever really know what it’s like. How it smells, and the sounds of the tube and the traffic, how the dawn rises and the sun sets, or the seasons and how they affect people’s moods.  You can’t really know what the man in the village feels if you haven’t gone to sit and talk with him about his feelings.

Everyone’s mindset should be on how we can have an impact that extends beyond merely good intentions. In the same way that money can’t by love or friendships, you can’t solve true problems by throwing a pile of money at them. Obviously. For example, the world is watching now as food shipments being thrown at the Horn of Africa are being stolen. And why are they being stolen? Because there’s a real problem of lawlessness. A problem that requires more than just money. A problem that requires conscious involvement. I’m not saying that funding is unnecessary. It certainly is. The problem I find with it is that not enough people, the right people, seem to be thinking ahead. To ensure that this doesn’t happen yet again. Rather than finding the causes and using the information to affect change, they’ve found some causes and this has become a type of blame game. And I too could keep ranting on about this but I am also a firm believer in the doctrine that talk is cheap. As I forge ahead with my personal goals – which I really do hope and anticipate will lead me in the path of doing something about these issues – I’m going to donate a bit more money and send some emails to some of the ‘right people.’ As soon as I figure out exactly what that means, and who they are.

What are you going to do?

In the meantime, I wonder how many people know where Somalia is, or was. I mean, how many can point out the affected region on a map?

Projections. On a map.

And a map with more detail…Somalia Food Security Outcomes.

For several decades we’ve seen images of emaciated people…children suffering from Kwashiorkor, only a few meals short of death. Development agencies are pouring billions of dollars into developing the African continent but for some reason food insecurity continues plague millions in a region where a failed state has somehow become a thing the international community (including these development agencies) brushes off as if it’s ‘normal’ in any other part of the world. I decided to look at what some of the largest donors to the continent and that region are doing to address the situation and almost every website I went to, from USAID to Save the Children and the United Nations, had a homepage soliciting for donations to feed Africa. Something is terribly wrong! This isn’t like an earthquake or a Tsunami…completely unpredictable. This is a famine; something you see coming way in advance. And why is there even a famine to begin with?…why is it recurring in the same region? And why isn’t more thought (I don’t mean campaigns for food or solicitations for donations) being put into this fact?

A came upon an opinion piece in the Washington Post. While it’s an admirable attempt to look for some answers, it stops shy of actually pointing some fingers at those who can easily be held responsible. Read it here: Behind Africa’s famine

.

I’m going to sit and devote some more time and thought on this topic because there’s something in it that has touched me…moved me, really. Not the fact that there’s famine, but that there’s STILL famine. I don’t know if it’s the contrast; Africa is moving forward yet Africa is starving. I don’t know if it’s the language; the Horn of Africa is just one portion of the entire continent. I don’t know if it’s the images; hungry babies who serve as poster children and symbols for what Africa produces and what Africa is – suffering. I don’t know if it’s because I’m African; simultaneously I’m from a specific part of Africa, Nigeria, and yet at times not enough from either place. Maybe it’s just because I’m human. How can you not feel something visceral from it? For now I’ll leave you with the piece so that it can marinate a bit with you all. We can get into it once it’s marinated with me a bit more as well.

Travel companions...

Sitting outside the Basilica

Oof!

It’s been a while.

So, I spent a good amount of time (a little less than a week) running about. Beginning with an impromptu trip back to Leon. What a beautiful city. It’s so nice to be able to walk around without the fear of being mugged at gunpoint. I met the two girls above at a send-off for a roommate of the one on the left. That was definitely luck! The three of us hopped a ride to Leon to meet up with some other folks traveling through Central America and while there we got to see a few sites in the city (when the rain permitted). We hit up a couple of museums, including the revolution museum before hopping rides on the back of pickup trucks to catch a dilapidated bus back to Managua. While I’m simply glad the bus didn’t tip over and crash, my back is still cursing me out. More incredible than how uncomfortable it was is the fact that there are people that make that route EvErY SiNgLe Day.

Just because it's hard to get a photo sans power lines

Mural at the Revolution Museum, Leon.

Rain and some writing on the wall.

Tired, in the back of the pick up truck...funny but very necessary.

When we got back to Managua we checked out the Independence Day celebrations. Not the prettiest thing in the world. I don’t have photos because it wasn’t the safest place to take anything with you. I’m starting to learn that either 1) nowhere in Managua is so secure or 2) everyone in Managua is crippled with fear. I didn’t get to see Daniel Ortega but we did see and hear a lot of the campaign messages/propaganda. While it was nice to be in an atmosphere full of solidarity, patriotism, and so much pride for its history and culture, there was something awkward about the event. Something more awkward than the sad sight of people vomiting in the streets, vomiting on top of one another, and passed out drunk on the sidewalks. Something awkward that I couldn’t quite put my finger on until a few days later. Why are there so many free days anyway? An entire week for Independence Day celebrations? Really? That can’t be good for anyone’s economy. While I admire the sentiment of Sandino, socialism, and the labor movements it was a little obvious that the images and sentiments are being exploited. The music and the messages are not about the people, they are about the person who wants to be re-elected. What’s so bad about it is that the average person is somewhat coerced into supporting this person. Who can reject the party that says “we support and idolize our national heroes”? It’s almost like blackmail. It’s almost as if anyone that says no to that party is effectively denying their history and renouncing these national figures. At least that’s the fear the average person has. Terrible exploitation. Dangerously clever. I also understand that I’m criticizing as an outsider. Yes, FSLN has done some amazing things for some of the poorest people in the population, but true development and true progress isn’t about handouts. It’s about long-term sustainability. Unfortunately, it seems the foresight ends at reelection day. Maybe I’m too critical but I couldn’t force myself to see past the false sense of development and progress and solidarity. I had to get out of there.

We left the wannabe communism fest and headed over to a neighborhood block party. Not after making it through crowds of people singing the most hilarious anti-extranjeros songs at us. And this is where I come clean. For those couple hours in the plaza I finally agreed that I was from Bluefields. You would too if you had a bunch of drunk men and women grabbing at you to ask where you’re from. Besides, I figured it was safer to be a foreign insider than a foreign outsider.  I know, I know. I feel a bit dirty about it, but I suspect that most people didn’t believe me anyway. The block party was our source for plenty of street food and music. We did  a good amount of dancing and eating, and left early in the night (while we were still ahead of the game). We learned later that a group of five or so that remained longer was assaulted and robbed. Eh! Welcome to Managua!

Less controversial…I went back to the finca. I absolutely love that place. My supervisor’s family is fantastic! We had a good laugh about my overly friendly neighbor. I had to report her to the landlord. When someone keeps barging into your home, taking your things without asking, and insisting that they’re your ‘Nicaraguan mother’ after knowing you for less than 1 week, you just have to put your foot down. I tried. I really did. I even sat her down to tell her that I wasn’t okay with it, but she just didn’t get it. How many times can and should you tell someone, “Please stop looking into my bedroom window, it’s creepy. In my culture we don’t do that.” Anyway…I went back to the Finca, had a good time playing with Ale, talking to some of Zaira’s nieces and nephews and cooking up some local foods. I learned how to make some fresh homemade tortillas and the most tender carne asada I’ve ever bitten into. Yay, Janet!

Ale and Janet

Ometepe in the middle of the lake

Being coached on turtle-egg shots. First you have to pierce the shell. It feels like a flimsy ping-pong ball.

Learning proper technique...bottoms up!

Fresh fruit stand. Look at the size of those melons!

Pineapple farm

Freshly picked pineapples

We visited Rivas, where we hiked through another very beautiful finca (yes, there were many farms these past couple of weekends). The walk was great – good cardio – and we ate some wild berries/fruits on the trail. I don’t really encourage walking through a pineapple farm, they’re rather thorny. We bought some helado made from local fruits that I can’t name. I even bought and ate some tropical fruits that I will probably never be able to identify on my own. Lunch was great, too. We had some fresh seafood in San Jorge, which is where you can catch the ferry to Ometepe. The view was fantastic (if you omit the hideous power-cables) and I received some coaching from Zaira’s dad on how to eat turtle egg. Mmmm. And it’s true, you’re not too eat them so I feel a bit bad about it. It’s illegal to catch them and serve them, but we had no idea that it was in the soup (it’s not like they wrote “w/ illegal turtle eggs” on the menu). I declined the bull testicles. Maybe next time. All in all it was a great couple of weekends. Saw so much and learned loads before being slapped back into reality by the news in Norway and Somalia. *SIGH*

Seafood soup.

Carne asada

But I’ll leave you with happy pictures and pleasant thoughts.

We can touch on Somalia’s sad history with politics and famine later (it’s actually a very interesting one). Such a huge contrast to these images, I know.