"5 minutes" the driver of the five dollar "gringo shuttle" to the surfing beach tells me will be how long until we arrive. Exiting the town about five minutes into the ride the truck, loaded with Europeans and Americans with surfboards strapped above us, takes a hard left onto a dirt road. Thirty-five minutes of dodging huge holes in the road, cutting through a small river, and stopping every time another vehicle needs to pass and we finally arrived at the beautiful secluded beach. No electricity, no hotels, no vendors, just hills of trees surrounding a beach and a poorly built wooden shack with a tiny kitchen.
The waves were small, but perfect for me. The surprisingly cool water cleared my sinuses and just floating on the board past the tiny breakers was bliss. Staring back at the shore I could easily imagine the beach in ten years: hotels or condos taking the place of the hill bordering the water front, a Ron Jon Surf Shop takes over the character of the falling apart surf shack, and a Western style bar is where the outdoor disco consisting of nothing but plastic chairs, a table, and two locals with a microphone, radio, and two large speakers once sat.
The talk amongst the surfers is Madera Beach and the other surf spots just north and south of San Juan del Sur, look just as the Costa Rican shore did 10 to 20 years ago. The idea of investing in beach front property is exciting, but I have to deeply hope that whoever invests in the Nicaraguan coast does so with an attempt to preserve its character.
As the sun began to set the largest rainbow I have ever seen formed looping from the north side of the cove to the south (one after another surfers joked that a pot of gold was beyond the hills), and as the sunset in the opposite direction the sky was full of colors. The last time I saw such a beautiful sky was 5 years ago in Costa Rica and while I am full of wonderful memories from my two weeks there I have to hope Nicaragua stays just the way it is.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
Back in the Latin America I love!
I am back in Nicaragua. I met my friend Nick in Managua, he is traveling around Central and South America for the next four months. After one night back with the family in Managua we headed down to San Juan del Sur which is where we are now. This beach town is beautiful and packed. I went to about 10 hostels before finding one that had space and was affordable. Everything around here is more expensive now for the New Year, yet still far cheaper then anywhere in New Jersey.
The bus ride to San Juan del Sur was interesting. As Jorge (brother at the Managua home-stay) pulled got near the entrance of the bus terminal two men quickly approached the car yelling "Vas a San Juan del Sur?" - in seeing Nick's surf board they assumed that was our destination. Quickly it turned into about 8 men all competing to help us to their respected bus company. Two men jumped on the back of the pick-up, and at least another five ran along the side of the car yelling at their counterparts in competition and to us that they could take us to the bus for San Juan. The second Jorge parked the car they fought over who would untie the surfboard, quickly it was taken over to a bus and passed to the teenager on the roof organizing luggage. The same happened with Nick and my large backpacks. Out of mere faith Nick and I boarded the bus hoping our luggage was safe on the roof.
Entering the bus I new I was back in the Latin America I remember from traveling in South America two years ago - jam packed and no AC. As uncomfortable as the ride was - my butt was numb by the end of the 2.5 hour ride - it gave me a sense of joy to be back traveling as the locals do. This became even more clear as the bus stopped about a half an hour before getting to Rivas (the town near San Juan) to repair a flat tire - mushed against the people sitting next to me, sweating like crazy, it felt good to be back in the Latin America I love!
The bus ride to San Juan del Sur was interesting. As Jorge (brother at the Managua home-stay) pulled got near the entrance of the bus terminal two men quickly approached the car yelling "Vas a San Juan del Sur?" - in seeing Nick's surf board they assumed that was our destination. Quickly it turned into about 8 men all competing to help us to their respected bus company. Two men jumped on the back of the pick-up, and at least another five ran along the side of the car yelling at their counterparts in competition and to us that they could take us to the bus for San Juan. The second Jorge parked the car they fought over who would untie the surfboard, quickly it was taken over to a bus and passed to the teenager on the roof organizing luggage. The same happened with Nick and my large backpacks. Out of mere faith Nick and I boarded the bus hoping our luggage was safe on the roof.
Entering the bus I new I was back in the Latin America I remember from traveling in South America two years ago - jam packed and no AC. As uncomfortable as the ride was - my butt was numb by the end of the 2.5 hour ride - it gave me a sense of joy to be back traveling as the locals do. This became even more clear as the bus stopped about a half an hour before getting to Rivas (the town near San Juan) to repair a flat tire - mushed against the people sitting next to me, sweating like crazy, it felt good to be back in the Latin America I love!
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Leaving Sussy's
Well it has been a vacation within a vacation at Sussy's. Headed back to Managua now. I have a ton to report out on, hopefully I will get a block of time to sit at a cyber in the next day or so to write about it.
Here is a picture of Sussy's family and I
Here is a picture of Sussy's family and I
Friday, December 26, 2008
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Favorite Photos
Managua, Nicaragua
Tegucigalpa, Honduras
Tegucigalpa, Honduras
San Salvador, El Salvador
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Homestay
If a Bonner trip to Nicaragua, or another country, happens we will all most likely be staying in homestays. Homestays are in essence families that open their homes to a foriegner who lives as a member of the family for the time they are there. Homestays are truly a better experience then staying in a hostel or hotel in that it is a truly genuine way of experiencing the culture.
Below you can see pictures of the homestay stayed at in Managua. If we are to go to a delegation through Witness for Peace or the Center for Global Education one of the participants would most likely be staying at this families house.
Below you can see pictures of the homestay stayed at in Managua. If we are to go to a delegation through Witness for Peace or the Center for Global Education one of the participants would most likely be staying at this families house.
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| From Nicaragua-Honduras-El Salvador |
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| From Nicaragua-Honduras-El Salvador |
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| From Nicaragua-Honduras-El Salvador |
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| From Nicaragua-Honduras-El Salvador |
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| From Nicaragua-Honduras-El Salvador |
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| From Nicaragua-Honduras-El Salvador |
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| From Nicaragua-Honduras-El Salvador |
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| From Nicaragua-Honduras-El Salvador |
Centro Cultural Batahola Norte
Please excuse how shaky the footage is. I try not to hold the camera in front of my face and I don't like looking at someone through the lens, therefore at times I didn't notice where the camera was pointed.
Witness for Peace
http://www.witnessforpeace.org/article.php?list=type&type=112
I truly cannot add more then the above link. The negatives to this agency are no academic credit, the agency's center is only for staff (no student center), and they do not have as large of a long term staff as does the Center for Global Education. Witness for Peace is, however, much less expensive (about half), the cost of CGE.
The last delegation for Witness for Peace was a group of students from Monclair State.
Galen and Rebecca (pictured below) are the two interns who work to set up the delegations.
I truly cannot add more then the above link. The negatives to this agency are no academic credit, the agency's center is only for staff (no student center), and they do not have as large of a long term staff as does the Center for Global Education. Witness for Peace is, however, much less expensive (about half), the cost of CGE.
The last delegation for Witness for Peace was a group of students from Monclair State.
Galen and Rebecca (pictured below) are the two interns who work to set up the delegations.
Center for Global Education
As I mentioned in a previous post, the Center for Global Education (CGE) is without a doubt the ideal program for us to use in Nicaragua.
Pros:
- specializes in delegations for college students
- connected to Augsburg College
- academic credit can be awarded
- offer high level speakers and trainings.
- participants have the flexibility to shape their own delegation. For instance we could live one week in a rural town and the next week in Managua.
- students can stay in homestays
- it is encouraged that a faculty member joins the students
- can set up a long term relationship were students are returning to live, learn, and do service in the same community (rural and or urban) in Nicaragua.
Cons
- very expensive. Extra costs go to the quality of speakers and trainings in comparison to other delegations.
Above is a mural from the patio of the CGE Center, one of their classrooms (used for orietation) and the centers computer lab.
Check out there website: http://www.augsburg.edu/global/its/index.html
Delegations
As I have previously mentioned, during my first days in Central America I visited four different nonprofit agencies in Managua. Three of them are organizations that sponsor social justice delegations in Nicaragua. These delegations are intensive one week to semester long courses that teach groups about the issues surrounding poverty and injustice in Nicaragua. Students do a variety of activities, workshops, speakers, tours, and service. In a previous post I described an example of one of the common delegation activities - attempting to buy food for a family of four on the average Nicaraguan daily income.
Each of my next four posts will be a little overview, some video and photos, of each of the agencies I visited. All of them, especially the Center for Global Education, have websites that offer a better description and with more detail then I can offer. Therefore I am going to attempt to just list some basics and give you all a visual of their centers in Managua.
The forth agency I visited, the one I lived directly across - Centro Cultural Batahola Norte, is an example of a place we may visit during one of the delegations.
Also, the house I lived in is an example of a homestay a student would be living at throughout the delegation.
Each of my next four posts will be a little overview, some video and photos, of each of the agencies I visited. All of them, especially the Center for Global Education, have websites that offer a better description and with more detail then I can offer. Therefore I am going to attempt to just list some basics and give you all a visual of their centers in Managua.
The forth agency I visited, the one I lived directly across - Centro Cultural Batahola Norte, is an example of a place we may visit during one of the delegations.
Also, the house I lived in is an example of a homestay a student would be living at throughout the delegation.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
"Son Extranjeros?"
Traveling alone can be lonely. I have done it before but not quite under these circumstances. Hostels are typically a common place to make friends quickly, and even bus rides usually have at least a one or two other backpackers going to the same destination.
For the first time, in my experience, neither of these were the case. The two British back packers on the bus were headed to the coast. They tried to convince me to join them, stating I am crazy for wanting to go to Tegucigalpa. After staying there for two days I don't disagree with them, but we where both traveling for different reasons. I wanted to experience the people and culture, they were looking to relax on a beach for a few days.
In most Latin American countries, or developing countries in general actually, a huge portion of the population lives in the capital. In only a few days (even in a few months) it is impossible to adequately experience a new country, but if you are going to try, the capital is certainly your best bet.
Still convinced that I will make friends at the hostels I said goodbye to the English friends and taxied to the center of town. At the first hostel no one came to the door, and the second was too expensive, finally just wanting to put my bag down, I chose the disgusting place I talked about in previous posts.
Through all of this there were no tourists in site, and for the first time in my travels in Latin America I was not receiving a very warm welcome.
Walking around the town for the first time was strange. No tourist in site and only Americanized restaurants to choose from. Dunkin-Donuts every few blocks, Berger King, McDonald's, Subway, and numerous Latin American fast food chains the imitate an American style.
Its a strange feeling eating at a restaurant by yourself. The waitress asks how many and you just say "uno," already a reminder that it is just yourself you have to talk to for the next 20 minutes waiting for you food. It certainly makes you self-reflect more, and perhaps better. My mind more easily wonders, the only times I attempt to write poetry is when I am alone. I tend to think more freely when I am by myself.
Just as it was getting dark, my first night in Tegucigalpa, I notice two foreigners who appear to also be looking for a place to eat dinner. Craving companionship and conversation of any sort I approach them and ask: "perdon, son extranjeros?" They paused look scared and confused and then I ask "are you guys tourists?" They say yes but to my disappointment still seem on there guard and uncomfortable. I asked if they are looking for a Honduran place to eat, they say yes, but my attempt to invite myself didn't seem welcomed. Continuing to search in the same direction we find a place but I give up on waiting for them to stop being awkward, apologise for being creepy and go into the restaurant....They later come into the same place and sit behind me. We talk for about two minutes. I learn they are from Sweden and Malaysia and work in NYC. Any further similarities I find still doesn't break the awkwardness so after eating I wished them luck and left.
I will attempt to talk to anyone if I am alone. Socially I am clearly less daring when I am around people I know. But I guess this is common, what is there to loose, another awkward moment with someone I will probably never see again.
From 6am to 3pm the next day I taxi to the terminal and buy my bus tickets, eat breakfast and lunch, and walk for probably 4 or 5 hours while taking photos, all this without seeing a single other tourist.
Exhausted and just about to go blog, read, and then rest to wake up at 4am for the bus to El Salvador, I spot what appears to be two tourist. They pass me and I hesitate to say anything. Thinking it maybe best if I just rest-up anyway. They get about half a block past me and I take a deep breath and think "what do I have to loose." I speed walk up to the other side of the street to them and trying not to be creepy I act like I am just seeing them for the first time and again I ask "son extranjeros?" again a pause, but already more welcoming faces, "do you speak English" they respond?
No matter how improved my Spanish gets the four words "do you speak English" will always bring some form of relief. In essence it is sign that I can express myself naturally.
Twenty minutes later I am accompanying the British and Scottish girls to the Christmas fair they tell me is in front of the President's mansion...
2 hours later I am meeting their other European friends, all there to teach English or French, at the European school in the rich part of town...and...
4 hours later I am at their school meeting all the teachers during there Christmas party.
It is strange how quickly it feels you can get to know someone. Only an hour into the Christmas party and it felt as if I was a teacher there as well.
Traveling alone is certainly an experience. If forces me to write better, think deeper, explore places I may not with friends, but most importantly it challenges me to meet new people and break social barriers. Clearly I am here to learn about Central America and the injustices the people here face, I find however there is more here to learn about myself then anything else.
...
My story above does not include the the Honduran college student (he was my tour guide at a museum) I met and invited me out with his friends but my lack of a cell phone and poor timing in checking my email caused it to fall through.
For the first time, in my experience, neither of these were the case. The two British back packers on the bus were headed to the coast. They tried to convince me to join them, stating I am crazy for wanting to go to Tegucigalpa. After staying there for two days I don't disagree with them, but we where both traveling for different reasons. I wanted to experience the people and culture, they were looking to relax on a beach for a few days.
In most Latin American countries, or developing countries in general actually, a huge portion of the population lives in the capital. In only a few days (even in a few months) it is impossible to adequately experience a new country, but if you are going to try, the capital is certainly your best bet.
Still convinced that I will make friends at the hostels I said goodbye to the English friends and taxied to the center of town. At the first hostel no one came to the door, and the second was too expensive, finally just wanting to put my bag down, I chose the disgusting place I talked about in previous posts.
Through all of this there were no tourists in site, and for the first time in my travels in Latin America I was not receiving a very warm welcome.
Walking around the town for the first time was strange. No tourist in site and only Americanized restaurants to choose from. Dunkin-Donuts every few blocks, Berger King, McDonald's, Subway, and numerous Latin American fast food chains the imitate an American style.
Its a strange feeling eating at a restaurant by yourself. The waitress asks how many and you just say "uno," already a reminder that it is just yourself you have to talk to for the next 20 minutes waiting for you food. It certainly makes you self-reflect more, and perhaps better. My mind more easily wonders, the only times I attempt to write poetry is when I am alone. I tend to think more freely when I am by myself.
Just as it was getting dark, my first night in Tegucigalpa, I notice two foreigners who appear to also be looking for a place to eat dinner. Craving companionship and conversation of any sort I approach them and ask: "perdon, son extranjeros?" They paused look scared and confused and then I ask "are you guys tourists?" They say yes but to my disappointment still seem on there guard and uncomfortable. I asked if they are looking for a Honduran place to eat, they say yes, but my attempt to invite myself didn't seem welcomed. Continuing to search in the same direction we find a place but I give up on waiting for them to stop being awkward, apologise for being creepy and go into the restaurant....They later come into the same place and sit behind me. We talk for about two minutes. I learn they are from Sweden and Malaysia and work in NYC. Any further similarities I find still doesn't break the awkwardness so after eating I wished them luck and left.
I will attempt to talk to anyone if I am alone. Socially I am clearly less daring when I am around people I know. But I guess this is common, what is there to loose, another awkward moment with someone I will probably never see again.
From 6am to 3pm the next day I taxi to the terminal and buy my bus tickets, eat breakfast and lunch, and walk for probably 4 or 5 hours while taking photos, all this without seeing a single other tourist.
Exhausted and just about to go blog, read, and then rest to wake up at 4am for the bus to El Salvador, I spot what appears to be two tourist. They pass me and I hesitate to say anything. Thinking it maybe best if I just rest-up anyway. They get about half a block past me and I take a deep breath and think "what do I have to loose." I speed walk up to the other side of the street to them and trying not to be creepy I act like I am just seeing them for the first time and again I ask "son extranjeros?" again a pause, but already more welcoming faces, "do you speak English" they respond?
No matter how improved my Spanish gets the four words "do you speak English" will always bring some form of relief. In essence it is sign that I can express myself naturally.
Twenty minutes later I am accompanying the British and Scottish girls to the Christmas fair they tell me is in front of the President's mansion...
2 hours later I am meeting their other European friends, all there to teach English or French, at the European school in the rich part of town...and...
4 hours later I am at their school meeting all the teachers during there Christmas party.
It is strange how quickly it feels you can get to know someone. Only an hour into the Christmas party and it felt as if I was a teacher there as well.
Traveling alone is certainly an experience. If forces me to write better, think deeper, explore places I may not with friends, but most importantly it challenges me to meet new people and break social barriers. Clearly I am here to learn about Central America and the injustices the people here face, I find however there is more here to learn about myself then anything else.
...
My story above does not include the the Honduran college student (he was my tour guide at a museum) I met and invited me out with his friends but my lack of a cell phone and poor timing in checking my email caused it to fall through.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Videos and Photos
Again I have spent over an hour on the computer with no words written for a new post. Instead I have finally gotten videos and pictures uploaded. Soon I will have posts featuring certain pictures and videos, but for now below are two links, one to view all the photos I have uploaded (many more too come), and the second to view my YouTube channel with all the videos I have completed so far.
http://picasaweb.google.com/ToddEStoner/NicaraguaHondurasElSalvador?authkey=DbXZ_ZqK4Io&feat=directlink
http://es.youtube.com/toddestoner
Sorry for cutting yet another post off short. I am just too tired to stay awake any longer.
Also, note that I have not yet looked through all the videos and photos yet, so many may be unclear.
http://picasaweb.google.com/ToddEStoner/NicaraguaHondurasElSalvador?authkey=DbXZ_ZqK4Io&feat=directlink
http://es.youtube.com/toddestoner
Sorry for cutting yet another post off short. I am just too tired to stay awake any longer.
Also, note that I have not yet looked through all the videos and photos yet, so many may be unclear.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
San Salvador
I made it to Sussy's!
At 1:00pm today I arrived via bus to San Salvador, El Salvador. My friend, Sussy, who is a Bonner Scholar, is from San Salvador and her family has invited me to stay with them for Christmas. Already it is a relieve to be around a friend and no longer traveling alone.
I have a ton to report out. Will be posting soon more information, including pictures and video, about each of the agencies I visited in Managua. Currently however I am struggling to keep my eyes open. I didn't sleep last night. I randomly made friends the last night in Tegucigalpa and got invited to a Christmas party. In fear of not waking up in time to catch a cab to the bus terminal I stayed awake throughout the night.
At 1:00pm today I arrived via bus to San Salvador, El Salvador. My friend, Sussy, who is a Bonner Scholar, is from San Salvador and her family has invited me to stay with them for Christmas. Already it is a relieve to be around a friend and no longer traveling alone.
I have a ton to report out. Will be posting soon more information, including pictures and video, about each of the agencies I visited in Managua. Currently however I am struggling to keep my eyes open. I didn't sleep last night. I randomly made friends the last night in Tegucigalpa and got invited to a Christmas party. In fear of not waking up in time to catch a cab to the bus terminal I stayed awake throughout the night.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Consequences of Traveling Cheap
One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi - I literally start counting along with the snore that vibrates through the thin wall to my left leaving a frustrating pit in my stomach that I may never fall back to sleep. The snoring man is a refuge however to the sounds coming from the room to my right. Debating whether or not it was the man's prostitute or lover became the game I couldn't help but play as I tried over and over to force myself to sleep.
This is of course the risk I take attempting to travel as inexpensive as possible. 70 Lempiras ($3.5) was the cost of the hotel. I switched today to one twice this cost but it has a shower that looks as if it actually will leave me cleaner and feels a lot safer.
Friday, December 19, 2008
A Sodexo Apple and an American Flag Box Spring
The bus ride here was relatively pleasant. 8 hours on a pretty comfortable bus, far more space then Greyhound offers. They play two movies, old American bootlegs of course, Meet the Fockers (which cracks me up because of how much the Fockers remind me of my parents) and Meet Dave (which I found terrible but annoyingly kept me entertained enough to not read). Before entering the bus I handed my bag to a bus clerk who gathered all the bags in a room before placing them all under the bus - this bothered me so I waited outside until I found my bag in the mix of luggage ready to depart. A common form of smuggling drugs across boards is to stash them on someone else’s luggage and then, if it makes it to its destination, steal it back.
As commonly happened in South America the bus was stopped at a police agency, but bags were not searched, just each passenger exited and re-entered the bus after showing their passport to a guard.
The surroundings on the ride were mostly beautiful hills and a volcano or two in the distance of a kind-of dried out landscape.
The lady sitting next to me was clearly a native of Central America, I eventually discover of Honduras. Occasionally we exchanged a few words, but nothing complex. Away from the Mormon family, an older couple from Oregon, and myself there was truly nothing resembling the United States but the out of focused movies being played.
Then randomly the lady next to me asks if I would like an apple. Surprised at first, without thinking I say "si, gracias" to not be impolite. Immediately I regret my decision. She hands me a small red delicious apple that appears to have come straight from a week old Sodexo boxed lunch. Dry and with wrinkled skin I can tell it will not be enjoyable to eat but I feel obliged considering the kind gesture. Before I bite down I turn the apple to find a product of the USA tag. Literally the exact same apple Sodexo serves in the box lunches it gives to the Bonner Center. I was shocked! How did this lady get this apple? or just simply why is the apple here? For a moment I actually ask myself if we forgot to cancel boxed lunches for a huge event and shipped the apples to Managua? I struggle through a few small bites of the apple and after I notice she is attempting to sleep I slip the apple into the side pouch of my backpack to through away later.
The second irony of the day came as I arrived to the sketchy Hospedaje Sureno. The rooms don't have doorknobs just a hook that you lock to another to keep the door closed when you leave. Each room consists sole of a bed - showers, sink, and bathroom each outside and partly broken down. After I place my things down and get a handle for the area, I clip on my camera and just before I leave I notice the decor of the box spring. Clean, appears relatively new in contrast to the sheet filled with little holes that cover the mattress above it, and resembling the America Flag. As I pace two other open rooms I peek in to notice I am the only one with an American Flag box spring.
Tegucigalpa
Tegucigalpa makes Managua feel like an organized grid; not the confusing mix of weaving roads it is. While Tegucigalpa has street names the roads seem to be in a much more absurd system of organization. Twice on my ride from the bus terminal I saw what appeared as bumper to bumper traffic converging from all four entrances of an intersection. Insanely long impatient honking followed by a slow car by car swivel through the intersection.
Without a doubt, however, Tegucigalpa is much more walking friendly and city like. It feels like New Orleans and La Paz, Bolivia collided. A diversity of colorful homes line the blocks while the city is surrounded by thousands of houses that fill the mountain sides around the city, all with the same orange ceramic shingles.
Military and police presence is far more prevalent here. It seems I can never get completely comfortable of just the sight of a man holding a shot-gun at a store entrance; weapons have always made me feel uncomfortable though. As everyone told me in Nicaragua, this is the time of year when crime rises dramatically. People’s desperation comes to a pinnacle as they struggle to bring any sort of gift home for Christmas. I never take my camera or anything valuable out with me at night, but because of all of these warnings I have been extra careful.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
What does 2 dollars a day look like?
In Nicaragua half of the population lives under the World Banks measure of poverty: 2 dollars of income a day. One of the many activities during the delegations hosted by Witness for Peace (WFP) is students are put in groups of four to simulate a family then given 80 Cordobas (4 dollars), 40 from each working parent. The groups then are given an hour to navigate through a Nicaraguan Market and purchase enough food for their family to eat.
Today I attempted to complete this activity. I hired my Nicaraguan brother, Jorge, to drive me and help me navigate through the Mercado Oriental - the largest market in all of Central America.
Now in Peru, Chile, Bolivia, and Argentina I went to the public markets alone, or with other tourist friends, but in Nicaragua, at this time of year it was necessary to be accompanied by a Nicaraguan friend. The Market Oriental is where the poor go shopping and is by no means a place tourists go. The safer market, Mercado Huembres, is where the WFP brings there students, but I wanted to experience the largest market in Central America and where the poor go shopping.
I leave all my valuables with Jorge - camera, watch, wallet - and I enter the market with only 40 Cordobas. Imagining Jorge and I are a family - adult and child - with us making the average Nicaraguan salary: 2 dollars a day.
Other factors to consider: This is imagining that all 40 Cordobas (2 dollars) can be used for food. No one in the family is sick, no transportation cost to work, no rent, and assuming there is access to water, and a kitchen to cook with. Therefore, this experiment is far more forgiving then the reality.
Entering the market is a surprising experience. Arriving there you wonder, where is the market? But after following Jorge through a shoe store, that turns into a store of rice, to a store of socks, then one of fruit, then of dried herbs, then suits, dvds, hair products... (all of this easily within a 10 feet area), I quickly understood we were in the market. The maze of stores is impossible to navigate through, without Jorge I would be lost after 30 feet (as what happened to Neil and me in the open market in Mexico City).
Light beams in and out of parts of the market. Every dozen steps the scenery changes, not just the products but the roof, the walls, and floor. So many people are crammed in there. I get asked perhaps every 20 seconds what I am looking for. My hair gets pulled a few times, I stand out worse than a sore thumb. Finally we find an area that appears to have a variety of rice and bean stands. I scan for a cheap brand, ask how much is sufficient for two people and purchase a pound of beans and a pound of rice - 1 dollar. This is already the average per day income of almost a million Nicaraguans and over a billion people in the world (1 in every six people).
Starring at how little a pound of rice and beans feels I cannot even begin to imagine surviving on 1 dollar of food a day. It appears to be enough for the side of an average lunch for two - not the only thing to eat for the entire day.
Searching for vegetables takes sometime. I struggle to follow Jorge, who has less remorse to cut people off and speed walk through the allies hardly big enough for me to fit through alone. Each corner brings another surprise - a blind lady canning for change, a little person scaling a shoe rack for the correct size, a limping barefoot senior missing his right foot.
Walking in the markets is a constant paranoia. Everyone seems to be yelling. You are stared at intensely as the next savior about to make everyone’s big purchase for the day. The floor is filled with ankle breaking cracks so you are forced to constantly watch your step but you rarely can see more then 5 feet in front of you. And in the back of your head your wondering who the person walking so tightly behind you is.
Finally we find a vegetable stand. I buy 4 small tomatoes, 50 cents, and 5 small onions, 50 cents.
25 minutes of weaving through the chaotic market and Jorge finally finds our way back to the car.
1 pound of rice: 10 Cordobas (50 cents)
1 pound of beans: 10 Cordobas
4 small tomatoes: 10 Cordobas
5 small onions: 10 Cordobas
Today I attempted to complete this activity. I hired my Nicaraguan brother, Jorge, to drive me and help me navigate through the Mercado Oriental - the largest market in all of Central America.
Now in Peru, Chile, Bolivia, and Argentina I went to the public markets alone, or with other tourist friends, but in Nicaragua, at this time of year it was necessary to be accompanied by a Nicaraguan friend. The Market Oriental is where the poor go shopping and is by no means a place tourists go. The safer market, Mercado Huembres, is where the WFP brings there students, but I wanted to experience the largest market in Central America and where the poor go shopping.
I leave all my valuables with Jorge - camera, watch, wallet - and I enter the market with only 40 Cordobas. Imagining Jorge and I are a family - adult and child - with us making the average Nicaraguan salary: 2 dollars a day.
Other factors to consider: This is imagining that all 40 Cordobas (2 dollars) can be used for food. No one in the family is sick, no transportation cost to work, no rent, and assuming there is access to water, and a kitchen to cook with. Therefore, this experiment is far more forgiving then the reality.
Entering the market is a surprising experience. Arriving there you wonder, where is the market? But after following Jorge through a shoe store, that turns into a store of rice, to a store of socks, then one of fruit, then of dried herbs, then suits, dvds, hair products... (all of this easily within a 10 feet area), I quickly understood we were in the market. The maze of stores is impossible to navigate through, without Jorge I would be lost after 30 feet (as what happened to Neil and me in the open market in Mexico City).
Light beams in and out of parts of the market. Every dozen steps the scenery changes, not just the products but the roof, the walls, and floor. So many people are crammed in there. I get asked perhaps every 20 seconds what I am looking for. My hair gets pulled a few times, I stand out worse than a sore thumb. Finally we find an area that appears to have a variety of rice and bean stands. I scan for a cheap brand, ask how much is sufficient for two people and purchase a pound of beans and a pound of rice - 1 dollar. This is already the average per day income of almost a million Nicaraguans and over a billion people in the world (1 in every six people).
Starring at how little a pound of rice and beans feels I cannot even begin to imagine surviving on 1 dollar of food a day. It appears to be enough for the side of an average lunch for two - not the only thing to eat for the entire day.
Searching for vegetables takes sometime. I struggle to follow Jorge, who has less remorse to cut people off and speed walk through the allies hardly big enough for me to fit through alone. Each corner brings another surprise - a blind lady canning for change, a little person scaling a shoe rack for the correct size, a limping barefoot senior missing his right foot.
Walking in the markets is a constant paranoia. Everyone seems to be yelling. You are stared at intensely as the next savior about to make everyone’s big purchase for the day. The floor is filled with ankle breaking cracks so you are forced to constantly watch your step but you rarely can see more then 5 feet in front of you. And in the back of your head your wondering who the person walking so tightly behind you is.
Finally we find a vegetable stand. I buy 4 small tomatoes, 50 cents, and 5 small onions, 50 cents.
25 minutes of weaving through the chaotic market and Jorge finally finds our way back to the car.
1 pound of rice: 10 Cordobas (50 cents)
1 pound of beans: 10 Cordobas
4 small tomatoes: 10 Cordobas
5 small onions: 10 Cordobas
...editing
I imagine those of you reading have notice my abundance of grammar and spelling errors. I am sorry if they have taken away from my writing, as I am sure they have. I just went back through and edited mostly all of my posts.
More cases then not here I have been typing on a Latino Keyboard, and there has been no spell/grammar check (and those of you that know me understand that this is something I depend on)...
That said, I apologize for my annoying amount of errors. I will try and do a better job from now on to leave time for editing.
More cases then not here I have been typing on a Latino Keyboard, and there has been no spell/grammar check (and those of you that know me understand that this is something I depend on)...
That said, I apologize for my annoying amount of errors. I will try and do a better job from now on to leave time for editing.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
No se permiten a sacar fotos!!!
Throughout my two hour walking adventure it became quickly clear that Managua is by no means a city for pedestrians. As the cars fly by they throw into the air a layer of dust and after the first bus passes you it becomes clear there are less restrictions on car exhaust here then in the states (or, as is commonly the trend, there are but it is not enforced). The sidewalks are not at all friendly. In Valparaiso, Chile I had to constantly watch my step for dog poop, or sleeping dogs in some areas, but in Nicaragua it is a consistent puzzle of broken cement. Suddenly there is a hole then a drain in the middle of the walkway, then a step, and then a bodega of some sort blocking the way.
One of my landmarks for the directions of my second walking adventure was the US Embassy. Naturally it is a bulky, large, gaudy looking building that is totally out of place in to its surroundings. Uninviting, and actually a bit intimidating, the area is completely gated off and has a diversity of security surrounding it. As I begin to pass the mansion office building, which sits, on the side of a hill I pull my camera out and snap two innocent photos and keep walking. About ten steps later I notice the security guard in the front of the building is starring at me and talking quickly into his radio as if there is a threat approaching. It didn’t take me any detective skills to understand they were talking about me. About twenty meters later two other guards dressed differently come toward the road, now it is obvious they are discussing me. I can’t help but keep glancing over as I try to ignore them and keep dodging my way through the cracked sidewalk. Finally, as I am just about to completely pass the large gaited entrance and one of the guard’s steps to the edge of the road and starts to whistle me down. I hesitated to stop, thinking maybe I could act dumb and just keep walking, instead I stop hold both my hands out and point toward myself asking if it is me whose attention he is trying to get. He asks me to cross the highway, which is no easy task, this would be like crossing Olden Ave with no one following the speed limit, stay in lanes, and every car honking. Regardless I take my time and walk across the four lanes. After shaking hands I ask, as if I didn’t know, what the problem is. Did you take a picture of the embassy? He asks me. Yes I replied, esta una problema? Supposedly no one can take a photo of the embassy, not even US citizens. I ask why, and simply get that it is simply not allowed. I continued to pry into why this is the case while remaining as obedient as possible. Upon request I show them my ID, first I can get out of my wallet is my drivers license, then the copy of my passport. As they confirm that I am whom I claim I ask again why? stating that I can simply go online to get probably something close to the same photo that I just took, also consider that the location is surrounded by highway that is then surrounded by what appears to be jungle. Stopping everyone from taking a photo would be impossible. Finally I get the answer, por seguridad. De quien? I ask. La sugeridad de usted y la sugeridad de los personas de Nicaragua, is his response? I apologise and say, lo siento, pero eso esta rediculo?...... (didn’t realize the time, will finish later, everything wound up okay, they just took my passport number and i left)...On the taxi ride back home I snapped another photo!!) :)
One of my landmarks for the directions of my second walking adventure was the US Embassy. Naturally it is a bulky, large, gaudy looking building that is totally out of place in to its surroundings. Uninviting, and actually a bit intimidating, the area is completely gated off and has a diversity of security surrounding it. As I begin to pass the mansion office building, which sits, on the side of a hill I pull my camera out and snap two innocent photos and keep walking. About ten steps later I notice the security guard in the front of the building is starring at me and talking quickly into his radio as if there is a threat approaching. It didn’t take me any detective skills to understand they were talking about me. About twenty meters later two other guards dressed differently come toward the road, now it is obvious they are discussing me. I can’t help but keep glancing over as I try to ignore them and keep dodging my way through the cracked sidewalk. Finally, as I am just about to completely pass the large gaited entrance and one of the guard’s steps to the edge of the road and starts to whistle me down. I hesitated to stop, thinking maybe I could act dumb and just keep walking, instead I stop hold both my hands out and point toward myself asking if it is me whose attention he is trying to get. He asks me to cross the highway, which is no easy task, this would be like crossing Olden Ave with no one following the speed limit, stay in lanes, and every car honking. Regardless I take my time and walk across the four lanes. After shaking hands I ask, as if I didn’t know, what the problem is. Did you take a picture of the embassy? He asks me. Yes I replied, esta una problema? Supposedly no one can take a photo of the embassy, not even US citizens. I ask why, and simply get that it is simply not allowed. I continued to pry into why this is the case while remaining as obedient as possible. Upon request I show them my ID, first I can get out of my wallet is my drivers license, then the copy of my passport. As they confirm that I am whom I claim I ask again why? stating that I can simply go online to get probably something close to the same photo that I just took, also consider that the location is surrounded by highway that is then surrounded by what appears to be jungle. Stopping everyone from taking a photo would be impossible. Finally I get the answer, por seguridad. De quien? I ask. La sugeridad de usted y la sugeridad de los personas de Nicaragua, is his response? I apologise and say, lo siento, pero eso esta rediculo?...... (didn’t realize the time, will finish later, everything wound up okay, they just took my passport number and i left)...On the taxi ride back home I snapped another photo!!) :)
Finding your way around Managua
Woke-up today and was almost convinced I was sick. Extremely congested and with a bad soar throat. My Nicaraguan mother knocks on the door with a hot cup of chamomile tea at 5am because she hears me coughing. Just the gesture makes me forget about the possibility of being ill for a day. I sleep for another 3 hours and wake up just as congested as before but my throat feeling a bit better - I knew in an hour or two I would be fine.
Breakfast was the same as yesterday and still equally as interesting. A kind-of ground-up granola that actually appears to be a jar full of dirt with some raisons and peanuts. With milk and sugar and some bananas cut in its good enough to get me going in the morning.
My goal today was to visit two agencies headquarters and to do so by walking. Now this seems like a simple task, if there is no time constraint, but directions in Nicaragua are unlike anywhere else. There are no street names; commonly no house numbers, and walking and taxi directions are usually different. Directions will normally be told like this: walk arriba (up), which here means east (for the sun rising), until you hit the main road; make a right and walk until you find the Mercado Union; then turn left and walk to the Lenin Fonseca (this you don’t discover is actually a hospital until you get there), then 5 blocks al lago (to the lake, or north only in Managua) and 75 meters abajo (down, but here west). Once you finally get to the small neighborhood where your destination is you cannot tell what consists of a single block because there are small side roads in between some of the curvy main roads. In my case, for my second location you finally find the place after the fourth person you ask on the block tells you that he once saw a gringo (Yankee) enter the gate of the house he points at; considering I saw not one other person who looked at all like a foreigner during my entire two hours of walking through this part of the city I figured it was a safe bet to bang on the door.
Breakfast was the same as yesterday and still equally as interesting. A kind-of ground-up granola that actually appears to be a jar full of dirt with some raisons and peanuts. With milk and sugar and some bananas cut in its good enough to get me going in the morning.
My goal today was to visit two agencies headquarters and to do so by walking. Now this seems like a simple task, if there is no time constraint, but directions in Nicaragua are unlike anywhere else. There are no street names; commonly no house numbers, and walking and taxi directions are usually different. Directions will normally be told like this: walk arriba (up), which here means east (for the sun rising), until you hit the main road; make a right and walk until you find the Mercado Union; then turn left and walk to the Lenin Fonseca (this you don’t discover is actually a hospital until you get there), then 5 blocks al lago (to the lake, or north only in Managua) and 75 meters abajo (down, but here west). Once you finally get to the small neighborhood where your destination is you cannot tell what consists of a single block because there are small side roads in between some of the curvy main roads. In my case, for my second location you finally find the place after the fourth person you ask on the block tells you that he once saw a gringo (Yankee) enter the gate of the house he points at; considering I saw not one other person who looked at all like a foreigner during my entire two hours of walking through this part of the city I figured it was a safe bet to bang on the door.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
A few fun things
Fresas, or Strawberries is what they call Managua's young glamour girls
Gringo traps are what they sometimes call the huge potholes in the road
And the average bus (for public transport) here is a retired yellow school bus from a first world country (most likely from the USA)
Gringo traps are what they sometimes call the huge potholes in the road
And the average bus (for public transport) here is a retired yellow school bus from a first world country (most likely from the USA)
Cost difference
So put this into perspective:
Sandwich and small bag of chips in the Miami Airport = $9.78
Breakfast, lunch, dinner, my own room, a bathroom and shower = $15 per night (and I could have gotten it to $10).
Average cost of a cab ride in NYC = $9.65
Cost of a ride from one end of Managua to the other = 40 Cordobas = 2 dollars
Sandwich and small bag of chips in the Miami Airport = $9.78
Breakfast, lunch, dinner, my own room, a bathroom and shower = $15 per night (and I could have gotten it to $10).
Average cost of a cab ride in NYC = $9.65
Cost of a ride from one end of Managua to the other = 40 Cordobas = 2 dollars
Center for Global Education
The Center for Global Education is without a doubt the ideal program for us to use in Nicaragua. The organization specializes on bringing college students and faculty through, 1 week to month long, delegations on social justice issues in Nicaragua (they are also stationed in a few other countries). What is so fantastic about them is they are part of Augsburg College and have long-term connections within Nicaragua. And academic credit can be awarded for the experience! They truly can plan out the experience based on what you and your group want to learn. For example, with the CGE we could live for one week with rural home stays and the second week with urban. In any case they would set up numerous organizations, such as Centro Cultural Batahola, for us to visit, learn about, and even receive academic classes on the social justice issue at hand. Also, with CGE we could adopt a small community that we could live with and do service in each year that we return. (I have some photos of their center and images of where we could live if we went through this program). Check out there website at: http://www.augsburg.edu/global/latinamerica.html
The catch is they are more expensive then the other organizations. Serious fundraising would be needed. So Bonners!! Get thinking of some fundraising ideas!! And lets make it possible for us to have this trip every year!!
The catch is they are more expensive then the other organizations. Serious fundraising would be needed. So Bonners!! Get thinking of some fundraising ideas!! And lets make it possible for us to have this trip every year!!
Religion in Latin America
Religion in Latin America is amazingly different then in the United States (this is at least from my perspective).
As I arrived in Nicaragua and was waiting at the customs counter I started to talk with the Nicaraguan lady behind me. Asking her which taxi company I should take...the conversation quickly turned into whether or not I have accepted Jesus into my life. I nod to the question of whether of not I am waiting for his second arrival, trying to move the conversation on. I get asked if I am part of a church, which I regrettably say no. I then get handed a brochure on her church and small lecture on why preparing for Jesus is the most important thing in life. I keep nodding and saying si every few seconds...finally it was my turn at the entrance booth and my interaction with the perhaps 65 to 70 year old lady ends with her reminding me that a great way to practice my Spanish is to read from a bilingual Bible and that she will pray for my. She reminds me of both of those things a last time in English just in case I didn’t get it the first three :)
So there is certainly this type of faith in Latin America. Extremely devout Christianity. But to the average Latin American I have found their faith in Catholicism to be more a lifestyle and act of tradition then of fear. And more about liberation then obedience.
My second experience with Christianity in only day one comes at the Centro Cultural Batahola, the community center. The centerpiece for the organization is a large mural that is be backdrop of the stage they have (it appears like a small lecture hall). The mural is magnificent but at a quick glance alone appears typical. A few dozen people face a glowing baby Jesus with gifts. At closer inspection, and in my case a tour guide :) you notice much more. Who are the people following Jesus? Revolutionaries! The most obvious to me was Che, but next to him is Sandino (historic figure of Nicaraguan liberation and name of the Sandinistas movement which was a socialist moment following the fall of the US supported dictator: Somoza). Laura, my tour guide, then goes around the mural placing names to the faces. They are community organizers, guerrilla fighters, political scholars, people of the community that disappeared during the Somoza Dynasty, feminist leaders of the community... Each face is recognizable to the few thousand people that go through the center each month. The majority are local community leaders that have taken stands against injustice.
Christianity in this community represents something very different then in the United States. Rather then a construct for obedience it is more so a construct of liberation. Jesus is as a figure of the poor, a political figure, and his mission is viewed as being completed through people who have taken stances against imperialism and injustice.
While in the United States figures such as Che were perceived as atheist during the Cold War. In Latin America Che is viewed as a person who was following the path of Jesus.
As I arrived in Nicaragua and was waiting at the customs counter I started to talk with the Nicaraguan lady behind me. Asking her which taxi company I should take...the conversation quickly turned into whether or not I have accepted Jesus into my life. I nod to the question of whether of not I am waiting for his second arrival, trying to move the conversation on. I get asked if I am part of a church, which I regrettably say no. I then get handed a brochure on her church and small lecture on why preparing for Jesus is the most important thing in life. I keep nodding and saying si every few seconds...finally it was my turn at the entrance booth and my interaction with the perhaps 65 to 70 year old lady ends with her reminding me that a great way to practice my Spanish is to read from a bilingual Bible and that she will pray for my. She reminds me of both of those things a last time in English just in case I didn’t get it the first three :)
So there is certainly this type of faith in Latin America. Extremely devout Christianity. But to the average Latin American I have found their faith in Catholicism to be more a lifestyle and act of tradition then of fear. And more about liberation then obedience.
My second experience with Christianity in only day one comes at the Centro Cultural Batahola, the community center. The centerpiece for the organization is a large mural that is be backdrop of the stage they have (it appears like a small lecture hall). The mural is magnificent but at a quick glance alone appears typical. A few dozen people face a glowing baby Jesus with gifts. At closer inspection, and in my case a tour guide :) you notice much more. Who are the people following Jesus? Revolutionaries! The most obvious to me was Che, but next to him is Sandino (historic figure of Nicaraguan liberation and name of the Sandinistas movement which was a socialist moment following the fall of the US supported dictator: Somoza). Laura, my tour guide, then goes around the mural placing names to the faces. They are community organizers, guerrilla fighters, political scholars, people of the community that disappeared during the Somoza Dynasty, feminist leaders of the community... Each face is recognizable to the few thousand people that go through the center each month. The majority are local community leaders that have taken stands against injustice.
Christianity in this community represents something very different then in the United States. Rather then a construct for obedience it is more so a construct of liberation. Jesus is as a figure of the poor, a political figure, and his mission is viewed as being completed through people who have taken stances against imperialism and injustice.
While in the United States figures such as Che were perceived as atheist during the Cold War. In Latin America Che is viewed as a person who was following the path of Jesus.
Day 2
Unfortunately it appears again that the Internet connection is too slow to upload any videos, which is a bummer because I have a bunch of stuff to share.
This morning I woke up around 5am to sound of dozens of animals. Certainly not something you would expect in a city with over a million people. Around 6am you start hearing people yelling outside: Eggs!!, Bread!!, Oranges!!... Nicaragua confirms my believe that in Latin America you can pretty much buy whatever you need just by going to a street corner and waiting long enough.
Interestingly basketball and baseball are perhaps more popular here then soccer, which rules mostly every other Latin American nation. The center of the community I am living in is a basketball and soccer court that was filled with children playing on it all last night. Although few were playing basketball but the majority were climbing the basketball/soccer goals :)
Dinner yesterday was amazing! Simple, but so tasty. Rice beans and beef with tortillas and fresh squeezed mandarin juice!
My plan today is go back to the agency I visited yesterday to see it a bit more in action. At noon I have a meeting with the director of Witnesses for Peace, another agency I am hoping to get a tour of. They are a really interesting advocacy group that works to end economic and military violence. Check out their website: http://www.witnessforpeace.org/article.php?id=476
After this I’ll be walking to another agency: ProNica. To hopefully meet my contact, Lillian, there for another tour and explanation of the agency. Take a look at there website at: pronica.org.
This morning I woke up around 5am to sound of dozens of animals. Certainly not something you would expect in a city with over a million people. Around 6am you start hearing people yelling outside: Eggs!!, Bread!!, Oranges!!... Nicaragua confirms my believe that in Latin America you can pretty much buy whatever you need just by going to a street corner and waiting long enough.
Interestingly basketball and baseball are perhaps more popular here then soccer, which rules mostly every other Latin American nation. The center of the community I am living in is a basketball and soccer court that was filled with children playing on it all last night. Although few were playing basketball but the majority were climbing the basketball/soccer goals :)
Dinner yesterday was amazing! Simple, but so tasty. Rice beans and beef with tortillas and fresh squeezed mandarin juice!
My plan today is go back to the agency I visited yesterday to see it a bit more in action. At noon I have a meeting with the director of Witnesses for Peace, another agency I am hoping to get a tour of. They are a really interesting advocacy group that works to end economic and military violence. Check out their website: http://www.witnessforpeace.org/article.php?id=476
After this I’ll be walking to another agency: ProNica. To hopefully meet my contact, Lillian, there for another tour and explanation of the agency. Take a look at there website at: pronica.org.
Monday, December 15, 2008
So Much!!
Just half a day here and I have so much to share... I couldn't find an internet cafe so I using a neighbors computer so I am not sure how much time I have...Quickly though, Managua is already unlike anywhere I have every been. You can still see and feel the devastation of the 1972 earthquake, which leveled the city. Interestingly so many similarities to New Orleans can be made.
I am staying with a small family in a lower middle class area a few miles out from the center of the town. The community is surrounded by a community center called Centro Cultural Bataholas. I have an interview of Laura Hopps (the daughter of Professor Hopps, the director of the TCNJ WILL program) explaining the agency, which I will post when I get to a cyber with a better connection. But in short the agency is a remarkable success story of two Americans who were at first ignored in there attempt to start a knitting club (to spark community organizing) but after much persistence it turned from a knitting club to a full community center that does from local advocacy work to job training, literacy tutoring...
Check out their website: http://www.centrobatahola.org/
Also their blog at: http://bataholavolunteers.blogspot.com/ (the picture of the two girls on the right side are Laura and Christine, who have been helping me immensely already).
At arrival the temperature was 94 degrees and it is pretty humid. Roads are more insane then I have ever experienced. Zero signs, mostly all dirt roads, no street names, no house numbers, and potholes that get as deep 3 meters! and a hole 1/3 of the road! Extreme poverty was everywhere on the ride from the airport. Dozens of groups of children begging for anything. The sheer feeling of a desire to survive I experienced in South America is magnified here.
So much much more to add but I got to go...
I am staying with a small family in a lower middle class area a few miles out from the center of the town. The community is surrounded by a community center called Centro Cultural Bataholas. I have an interview of Laura Hopps (the daughter of Professor Hopps, the director of the TCNJ WILL program) explaining the agency, which I will post when I get to a cyber with a better connection. But in short the agency is a remarkable success story of two Americans who were at first ignored in there attempt to start a knitting club (to spark community organizing) but after much persistence it turned from a knitting club to a full community center that does from local advocacy work to job training, literacy tutoring...
Check out their website: http://www.centrobatahola.org/
Also their blog at: http://bataholavolunteers.blogspot.com/ (the picture of the two girls on the right side are Laura and Christine, who have been helping me immensely already).
At arrival the temperature was 94 degrees and it is pretty humid. Roads are more insane then I have ever experienced. Zero signs, mostly all dirt roads, no street names, no house numbers, and potholes that get as deep 3 meters! and a hole 1/3 of the road! Extreme poverty was everywhere on the ride from the airport. Dozens of groups of children begging for anything. The sheer feeling of a desire to survive I experienced in South America is magnified here.
So much much more to add but I got to go...
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Fear of Comfort
I am by no means poetic nor am I a confident writer, especially when it comes to journaling, but over the next three weeks I am going to attempt to write something everyday. ...
So I am about to take-off yet again. Leaving home and traveling to Nicaragua. It is a bazaar feeling when you look at a globe and see how far away you will be in just a few hours. Working at TCNJ and living in Trenton you tend to see the same people everyday. In a way your own little world gets created. News becomes artificial, not really connected to your life. Soon after a while of staying in the same place it becomes easy to forget how connected we are to those so far away from us.
Comfort can be dangerous. We all tend to be fearful of not being comfortable. Approaching strangers, eating different food, making new friends, going to different places...We tend to limit our actions, and our thoughts even, with the fear of losing comfort. But it's the moments when we are least comfortable that tend to force ourselves to grow the most.
It is the uncomfortable moments that I remember from when I lived in Chile. Hitchhiking, interviewing the homeless, and (for the first four months) just attempting to speak Spanish.
In New Jersey however, I have few moments where I do not feel comfortable. Awkward moments are much less common and I worry that by allowing myself to become too comfortable I have limited my will to challenge myself.
So, here I go off on a search to become uncomfortable. I will do my best to capture as many of the awkward moments as I can.
So I am about to take-off yet again. Leaving home and traveling to Nicaragua. It is a bazaar feeling when you look at a globe and see how far away you will be in just a few hours. Working at TCNJ and living in Trenton you tend to see the same people everyday. In a way your own little world gets created. News becomes artificial, not really connected to your life. Soon after a while of staying in the same place it becomes easy to forget how connected we are to those so far away from us.
Comfort can be dangerous. We all tend to be fearful of not being comfortable. Approaching strangers, eating different food, making new friends, going to different places...We tend to limit our actions, and our thoughts even, with the fear of losing comfort. But it's the moments when we are least comfortable that tend to force ourselves to grow the most.
It is the uncomfortable moments that I remember from when I lived in Chile. Hitchhiking, interviewing the homeless, and (for the first four months) just attempting to speak Spanish.
In New Jersey however, I have few moments where I do not feel comfortable. Awkward moments are much less common and I worry that by allowing myself to become too comfortable I have limited my will to challenge myself.
So, here I go off on a search to become uncomfortable. I will do my best to capture as many of the awkward moments as I can.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
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