Today was really exciting—for me. I’m quite sure none of the Nicaraguan folks were as interested or mesmerized by the process of making honey from sugar cane. Here’s how it all went. Celia and Jorge started walking to the farm at 5AM to get a headstart on fumigating and fertilizing the passion fruit patch. I took the 7AM bus with the kids (Jorgito and Hilary) and we arrived around 7:45AM. After collecting a few tools and saying hello to Celia’s family who live on the farm, we headed down the passion fruit and then to the sugar cane. The process is really not that complex but it’s amazing to see, if you ask me. After walking down a long path lined with sugar cane twice as tall as me, we arrived at a dirt patch where two oxen were tied to a post and made to walk in a circle by a 10-year old who followed behind smacking them in the butt and shouting stuff. The kid’s dad was in the middle feeding stalks of sugar cane through two metal wheels (turned by the movement of the oxen). The wheels squeezed liquid out of the sugar cane and into a 5-gallon bucket. When the bucket filled it was carried to a huge wooden trough with a metal bottom sitting atop a wood-fired stove dug into the ground. I have photos, don’t worry. They filled about 20 buckets in a six-hour period. Over this six-hour period, someone is stirring the liquid sugar and siphoning off foam. People from the area seem to know what is up and they start arriving to this area in the middle of the sugar cane field with Tupperware containers around 1PM. Around 1:30 the liquid has boiled long enough and the guys start filling tupperwares and setting them off to the side to cool and thicken. One guy makes “cucarachas” (cockroaches) by taking a small paddle, dipping it into the boiling honey, and immediately submerging the stick in coldwater. Moments later he produces a dripping, stringy, chuck of honey which is eaten or sucked on for awhile. The remaining honey continues to boil until it’s time to pour it into square molds to create “dulce” or something very similar to brown sugar (in a block form). People in town will buy that from Celia’s dad’s house or maybe at the store.

If you lived here long enough, you’d just know when it was time for certain products to be available. I’m still not really tuned into the growing, picking, or processing of lots of things but going to the store continues to be a favorite hobby of mine. There are two main stores in my town where everything under the sun is sold: bras, tomatoes, backpacks, serving plates, deodorant, coffee, homemade pineapple jelly, pasta, beer, bed sheets, and more. If they don’t have what you want they will sell you something else—no arguments. If the vegetable or fruit you want isn’t there it’s because it ran out but for sure they’ll have more tomorrow—definitely tomorrow. I’ve learned where to find what I want and I continue to take great pleasure in the fact that it came from someone’s farm near or in San Jose. If they don’t have it then maybe it’s just not the season for it, you know? We’re not eating apples from Washington or any other fruit/vegetable preserved by some chemical process and shipped thousands of miles. We eat what we have. That’s that. Today I got tomatoes, limes, bananas, oranges (from the trees at the farm), a few types of homemade bread, and a bottle of honey. I also got a headache—I think I overdosed on honey.

Por fin! I finally got to try “Baho,” a traditional beef and plantain stew. My friend Jessenia made a gigantic, cast-iron pot full—layers and layers of beef chunks, tomato, onion, plantain and yucca. She cooked it all night long over a wood-fire and this morning, after mass, she was selling it like hot cakes right outta the pot. $1 a plate and there must have been enough for at least 100 plates! That’s a good little haul for a Sunday morning in San Jose. It is very much like stew served with cabbage and spicy vinegar chile sauce on top. Bah-ow!

Recently I attended a workshop (3 hours) given by a fellow volunteer on the topic of classroom management. It all started with my reading The First Days of School by Harry Wong and realizing how important discipline and routine is in the classroom or order to be able to teach—anything at all. The workshop made me think hard about a number of topics and when I got back to San Jose I got busy creating what I knew my counterparts would never create but what may very well be the key to our success in the classroom. I wrote a long evaluation/reflection the workshop, some of which I’m pasting here:

“I have no trouble identifying problem areas, routines that need to be built in, consistent disciplinary tactics that should be implemented. I identified most of these things in my work environment before ever seeing a copy of The First Days of School. But knowing a problem exists doesn’t mean you have any idea how to tackle it. Given the fact that our time as PCVs is limited, we fall into the trap of wanting to start those communicative activities right away. Let me change here from “we” to “I” because I can really only speak to my experience. When I arrived at my site and at the beginning of last year, I came on day one ready to try new activities. I came ready to show my counterparts the kinds of new methods that would get students interested in English and improve their fluency. Yet, day after day, the classroom environment was so out of control and difficult. The idea of trying anything new made me cringe. More chaos than this? Okay, I’ll try. And when things didn’t go swimmingly, well, I halfway celebrated simply having tried a new technique, but I felt failure in the sense that I knew my counterpart was unlikely to do it again. I hadn’t successfully sold him on a communicative activity that was sure to work. The lack of procedures and routines in the classroom environment was clearly at the root of the problem yet I felt this was something my counterparts should be handling. I separated the task of classroom management and discipline from my role as an English volunteer. It just wasn’t something I felt comfortable sticking my nose in. Instead, I kept focusing on giving better, clearer instructions any time we did something new. Sometimes we achieved a small measure of success—it really depended on the group, the day, and how chaotic the start of class was. It has taken me a long time to “get” how a set of classroom procedures and a discipline plan could make MY life so much easier, not to mention that of my counterparts and the students. The confidence and enjoyment I wish for my counterparts each time they step in the classroom may very well be born not of any real change in their English fluency but from the installation of procedures and consistent discipline such that they can actually teach or play a game with interested students. The learning, joy, and understanding of personal responsibility that I wish for my students might also take place in an organized classroom where expectations are clear and discipline is consistent. But this groundwork must be laid before new methods and activities can be introduced. And now I know and I understand the “why,” and I see that this is part of my work too—it’s one of the most crucial things that we can do as volunteers in order to have the greatest possible impact during our service. And I firmly believe that once our counterparts grasp the concepts and start installing routines and plans, they will have found a classroom approach that will serve them for the rest of their teaching careers.”

For the past two days—the first two days of class—I’ve been sharing this notion of a discipline plan with my colleagues. In class with Marvin, he’s been talking about “values” and the importance of education and then I talk about rules and why they matter. Some of my favorite concepts related to this classroom management approach:

1. It is not the teacher’s personality that allows him/her to create a secure, predictable, consistent classroom environment. It’s through preparation, explanation, practice, and reinforcement that ANY teacher can install a discipline plan or a set of procedures to make her classroom environment healthy for students and effective for learning.

2. We don’t discipline to make students suffer. We have a discipline plan to help us be consistent and to prevent disruptions in the learning environment. The consistent and predictable environment that we create in our classroom may be the only one that a child encounters in his/her day-to-day.

3. Perhaps the most important thing a teacher and student can gain from rules, consequences, and procedures is a sense of personal responsibility. Students learn that to break a rule is to make a choice that brings with it a consequence. Related to procedures, professors who are clear about assignments, expectations, and objectives place the responsibility of completing assignments and meeting expectations in the students’ hands—where they should be.

I don’t like being the ogre in class or as we say, La Dictadora. I’m more likely to be La Amiga de todos, which is also very ineffective. But now I see that my personality doesn’t matter. I can be as pleasant and charming as ever, never raise my voice, never get angry, but simply re-explain the rules and apply the consequences. Tomorrow we have a PTA meeting of sorts and afterward I think the faculty (8 teachers) will discuss the possibility of implementing a school-wide discipline plan. It’d be awesome.

So far, Marvin and I have been doing pretty well with it. I find myself feeling far more useful in class and as expected the students look to me BECAUSE I’m consistent and predictable—and I like being that way. Marvin talks about how we have rules but he hasn’t really put them to use yet. It’s new and will take time, no doubt. Not sure how my other counterpart is doing with this same stuff in Cumaica. We’ll find out next week when I visit.

All in all, life is good. I feel like I fit in here. The mayor asked me yesterday to design an invitation. My student group from last year asked when we can start up again. I am hoping to start a conversation class to take advantage of the four native English speakers that live in San Jose (me, the husband of a Nica woman who just retired here, and two Jehovah’s Witnesses) and the number of people from San Jose who have lived in the U.S. at some time in their lives but are slowly losing their English skills because there is so little opportunity for practice. Obviously they could all be talking to each other or me but they don’t. It will take me facilitating a group to get the process underway--um, ideally.

So I went to the library today for the first time since being back and some of the teachers from the community were there. It turns out that the mayor got a guy to teach “internet” classes. Remember how I had this whole plan to do an intro to computers class with area teachers? I wrote the proposal. I showed it to all the important people. Right. Well, there was a line in my proposal about how key it would be for me to have a counterpart so that when I left the project didn’t just stop—it could be sustained by another person. I don’t know what happened in the time I was home but Dona Marta sent around a memo and ten teachers came today. When students from San Jose get scholarships from the mayor’s office to go to the university they are required to do a “social service.” Marlon, the guy who is teaching the class, is completing his social service. After my initial shock, I felt very pleased. I mean, of course, I take full credit for recognizing the utter lack of computer proficiency among teachers and bringing the issue to the attention of the MinEd delegate and the mayor—and now they’re basically collaborating on the class. The MinEd delegate communicates with the teachers and the mayor offers the free computer time for the class. I said to Marlon, “Hey, I’m here. I wanted to do this project but I’d be thrilled to be your assistant so count on me to be here for each class.” Now, I knew I couldn’t be present for each class and that was another big reason I asked for a counterpart in my initial proposal. At any rate, I’ve attended a third of the classes, more or less, and really enjoyed them. Nicaraguans have such a good sense of humor about themselves. I love to watch the teachers laugh at themselves or at one another. Usually they work in pairs with one trying her best to move the mouse smoothly and the other cackling with laughter right next to her. In the couple weeks of classes they’ve learned to use Google to search for something on the internet, highlight and copy text, open Word and paste the copied text, save to a folder, save to a thumb drive, and make a table (for their attendance lists) in Microsoft Word. I sent them cookies on the last day because I had to be in Leon working on a recording project.

Remember how I always do those voice recordings for my counterpart Luis? And remember how we have that brand-spanking new TEFL Manual for Nicaraguan English teachers? Well, after bouncing around ideas for awhile the volunteers in Leon enlisted the help of a teacher who has a band and recording equipment. Six of us spent a day selecting readings and dialogues from the manual and then making recordings of said dialogues, readings, and even songs. I did a sweet duet of “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes” that brought the house down and will, no doubt, live in infamy in Nicaraguan high schools for years to come. It was a great project to be involved with and something we think will aid teachers as they give class and practice pronunciation at home.

While I was in Leon, I did a really dumb thing. Well, it happened as the result of a very smart habit that I have. Okay, I was taking out money in an ATM booth near the largest cathedral in Central America. I took out 400 cordobas ($20) and stashed it in a hidden pouch in a secret pocket of my purse. It’s good to distribute your dough in case you get robbed. Unfortunately, I walked out of the ATM booth and left my billfold on the machine ledge. Twenty minutes later I realized it and went truckin’ back to the bank to see if it was found and turned in to a guard. No such luck and not really a big surprise. There are stories of people losing their cards and within minutes having their account liquidated by a person who goes to the grocery store and swipes the card in a debit payment. I knew I had no time to lose. I returned to my friends’ house and started making phone calls to cancel everything. I called Peace Corps to get the number for Bancentro to cancel my Nica ATM card. And I called my dad to ask him to cancel two credit cards. Then I had a beer to drown my sorrows. Mostly I was angry that I’d been so careless. In the grand scheme I’d only lost 210 cordobas, ($10) a thumb drive, and a cute green wallet. I still had my cellphone, my passport, my Nica ID card, and more money stashed in my purse. But wouldn’t you know, one hour later, as soon as everything was cancelled, I received a phone call from the Peace Corps country director. Someone found my wallet, called the U.S. embassy who in turn called Peace Corps, and he was calling me to give me the guy’s contact info. Moments later I was back in front of the cathedral waiting for Don Juan Trujillo to bring my wallet. He gave me wallet with everything, down to the last shred of paper, still in it. He tried to say no to a small reward but I forced him to take half of what was in my wallet ($5)—and I thanked him a lot. This was a truly remarkable occurrence. There are good Samaritans everywhere.

Other than a bit of work-related travel, I’ve been enjoying some semi-leisurely days. A few students have come to me for tutoring—the one who wants to get ahead and the other who is so far behind she has “reparar” (repair) her English grade by taking a make-up final exam. If she passes, she graduates though the graduation ceremony has come and gone. I have high hopes for her. We’ve been making good progress. Another of my former students is studying English at the university in Managua. Right now she’s on break and as part of her social service she’s giving an “Intro to English” class for students who will enter 7th grade in February when school starts. It’s kind of amazing how so many people are taking advantage of the month of January. She was over last week to get some activity ideas. I try to talk teaching methodology with her whenever I can do she understands that in addition to being enjoyable for students, all activities have a greater purpose.

Well, what better time to return to blogging than the start of the new year? I safely returned to Nicaragua on December 31, after 27 really enjoyable days at home in the Midwest. After a few hours of cleaning and unpacking I headed over to Celia’s house to see what was cooking—literally. Of course, I also wanted to see her and her family as they are the closest thing to family that I have here. The whole bunch was camped outside the house just chatting as they do. I got a round of hugs but found myself feeling a bit sad to be so far from home once again. I passed on a shot of rum but accepted when Jorge opened a bottle of white wine. We got as many glasses as possible and everyone had at least a sip while we were catching up. Celia’s niece, Noemi, got married on December 18. Most brides enjoy talking about their weddings or so I thought so I asked her to tell me about it. She said, “It was nice.” Wow, okay. So I said, “What’d you do afterwards?” Noemi turned red and Jorge started laughing his head off and then everyone else jumped in the gutter with him. I had to clarify, “No, I mean did you have a dinner or a celebration?” Geez. Eventually half the group went to church and Celia went to take money at a fiesta in the rec center. I was in bed by 11PM and slept soundly into the New Year.

My landlady’s son, Miguel, also got married. I brought him a set of knives. Doña Sonia praised the Lord when she saw the knives—she’d be wracking her brain wondering who’d give the new couple knives. My second day back I did laps to and from the clothesline with little Norma, Miguel’s wife. And then I went for an awesome hike/run/walk. The weather is really amazing right now--a constant cool breeze with bright blue skies and some afternoon rains.

To be honest, it did feel a lot like coming home. I was worried that my Spanish would totally suck but it doesn’t. I’ve been catching up with everyone I see including people I rarely even talked to before. It’s like people are genuinely interested and happy to see me. It’s not so much small town hospitality as it is Nicaraguan hospitality. Celia and Doña Sonia keep feeding me or giving me food to go. Jorgito keeps coming over to play my new portable Nintendo. Kelvin, my best guy friend, stopped over to share music and drink tea. I even had a nice chat with my neighbor, the Sandinista party leader.

On an incredibly low note, there was a terrible accident here in San Jose just days after I left. December is a month full of religious celebrations—La Purísima, La Santísima, La Navidad, et al. There are loads of fireworks and processions and 5AM masses with bells starting at 4:30AM. On December 7 at 7PM, they were shooting off the big gunpowder fireworks out of a metal tube on the steps of the Catholic Church. One of the fireworks exploded inside the metal tube and shards went flying everywhere. They tell me it was something you could only see in the movies. There were people everywhere for the procession. Several went flying through the air, some passed out, anyone close was blanketed with char and debris. Of the people at a distance, some went running away and some went running into the smoke to help. A third-year student named Franklin was killed. The metal struck him in the abdomen. He was transported immediately to Boaco but did not survive the night. Another man’s leg was very badly damaged. And there were many others still with smaller injuries.

Well, today Celia, Jorge, and the kids were going to the farm to cut old vines and clear away dead leaves in the passion fruit field. I jumped on the bus with them at 7AM and we worked until about 11AM. The passion fruit grows like a small tree about 5-6 foot in height. The entire field has a “roof” of criss-crossed wires. The trees grow up to the wires and the vines are laid out on top of them. In order for the new fruits to grow and drop down into view the dried-up vines collect as well as dead leaves must be cleared. I have to duck my head to walk under the thick ceiling of wires and vines where fruits dangle before me. When ripe the fruits are fist-sized and yellow. It was enjoyable for me because I like to work outside and with my hands. So much of my Peace Corps “work” is just thinking and planning. I can get into manual labor and let my mind wander. Plus, I think it’s really important to have first-hand experience in the kind of work folks do here to make ends meet. I hope to have a student/friend take me to cut coffee one day during break so I can understand that job too. After our morning of work we went to wait for a passing milk truck but it never came so we set off on foot. I’d estimate we were about 14 km from San Jose. After about 30 or 40 minutes walking we got picked up by a passing Toyota. In the bed there were a couple little piggies going to market. We five—one man, me, two petite ladies, and a boy—jumped in and rode standing up between the pigs and the rails of the cage in the truck bed. Every time we hit a bump the pigs squealed and then the kids squealed and then we all laughed. I’ve already got bruises to show for the ride but it got us home faster and we were starving! I think I’m almost back in the swing of things. Maybe next week I’ll crack a book and start planning our next teacher workshop but right now the weather is too beautiful to work.

Today is going to go down as one of those “typical” days to remember about Peace Corps Nicaragua. Got up at 5:30AM—oatmeal, coffee, all that. Went to class at 7AM. For the last week of class, Marvin had programmed some really important content-based teaching about HIV/AIDS with our 8th graders. It should come as no surprise that I had no idea and we did not plan how we were going to give the class. Luckily we had the TEFL Manual with some solid info and activity suggestions. I started with an activity where each student was given a card with an “X,” a “C,” or a black dot but told NOT to look at the card. Each student was asked to shake hands with three other students. Afterwards they looked at their cards and I asked that students with an “X” stand up. Once they stood up I said, “I’m sorry. You’ve been infected with HIV.” Then I asked that anyone who had shaken hands with these students also stand up. Each time I said, “I’m sorry. You’ve been infected with HIV.” I said it all in Spanish without cracking a smile so that the students would (hopefully) gather from my words and demeanor the seriousness of the subject matter. Believe me, I was the only person not goofing off. Then we introduced some related vocabulary and started some True/False exercises, for example, “T or F—There are no AIDS cases in Nicaragua.” “T or F—People who are HIV positive look different.” Marvin and I took turns translating the ideas. I was very conscious of making sure that students understood that you cannot get HIV by shaking hands with an infected person (like we simulated in the activity). They seemed very clear on that concept. Marvin, for whatever reason, felt it was necessary to try to explain anal sex to the students and why promiscuous homosexual men are in a high risk category. I was listening really close to make sure he wasn’t one of those people who are ignorant enough to say that AIDS is a “gay” disease. And he never said that but he did say some really over the top, graphic stuff that left me “con la boca abierta,” or dumbfounded. Only once did I get super angry. He also allowed a student to ask a question using the Spanish word for “fag.” I waited until her second or maybe third use of the word to interrupt and explain that “fag” was NOT an acceptable term and most definitely NOT at school. I’m still not sure if Marvin was going to handle that or not. In the grand scheme, I’d say the students understood more than I expected and it was a decent class.

After class I went to a community development meeting with an NGO from Managua that has been helping our tourism group. We’re developing a communication strategy to boost tourism opportunities in San José de los Remates, among other things. I am a liaison to the web developer at the NGO. I’ve also been working on a logo for the municipality of San José de los Remates. Today I think we settled on a logo design though the mayor hasn’t seen it yet. The web developer left with over 200 photos I’ve taken in the past 18 months and it looks like we may have a website yet this year! There’s a bit more information to collect and organize but we’ve got a small, dedicated community group working together.

After the meeting, I rushed home for lunch, washed some clothes, hung them out to dry, and toasted some cacao beans in order to remove the “shell.” Popped a blood vessel in the palm of my hand in shell-removal process and then showered up in order to go to the cyber and email some files to Peace Corps for next week’s all-volunteer conference. I left the cyber at 4PM because a student was coming over to get some help translating a song for her weekend English class. We worked for 1.5 hours on the translation and pronunciation of The Bangles’ “Eternal Flame.” And it’s hard to translate lyrics—sometimes you just have to focus on the main ideas. We did okay with “Close your eyes, give me your hand, darlin’,” but the, “I believe, it’s meant to be, I watch you when you are sleeping, you belong with me.” Well, the “meant to be” and “belong to me” were harder concepts to translate. I get the basic ideas right but then I always have to ask, “Okay, now does that make sense in Spanish?” Word for word translation just doesn’t fly but a native speaker should know what makes sense. Afterwards we practiced pronunciation. She wrote down everything phonetically—“Es thes bourning en iiternol fleim?” Gud kwestyon.

Okay so then I started making dinner and seeing lots of big ants on my floor. I hate bugs in my house. Third world, first world, I don’t care. I don’t like ants nor ant bites. I had two theories. A) It’s going to rain tonight or tomorrow. B) There was a “drive-by” fumigation this evening. Every so often, especially when there are lots of cases of dengue fever or malaria the local Ministry of Health will go door-to-door fumigating. Tonight, this truck with three or four motorized tanks in the bed started driving up and down the streets spewing smoke out of a tube pointed toward the houses. And since so many people live with doors and windows wide open ALL THE TIME the fumigation takes care of houses, areas of stagnant water, latrines—you name it. So my second theory is that the ants “got wind” literally of the fumigation and were trying to hide out.

As a final task of the day, well, among final tasks, I packed my day bag for tomorrow’s final hike to my rural school—last of this year anyway. I had plans to go to Esteli tomorrow to order another pair of hand-made cowboy boots. Let’s be honest—one pair just isn’t enough! Unfortunately, Peace Corps Nicaragua has issued a regional standfast which means we cannot leave our departments until Monday next week. There is a massive march being held on Saturday in Managua. Get this, two opposing political parties, same place, same time, same day. It’s hard to even think about. Why the national government would allow this to happen is beyond me. Just one more thing to add to the list of what’s “beyond me.”

A follow-up to the Managua March—it turned out well. Trucks full of people from San Jose departed around 5AM to get to Managua. Later that morning, the national government intervened and rescheduled the march of the FSLN (party in power) to the afternoon. Haven’t seen the papers but there was a nice headline this morning that read, “Civismo contra dictadura,” or “Community Spirit against Dictatorship.” It was an important event that many citizens attended even though they fully expected there could be violence.

It’s a lovely morning here. The laundry is soaking; I’m drinking a milk, banana, cacao shake; in my tank top I’m actually a bit chilled; and I’ve already gotten a great start on a couple presentations that are coming up. Another volunteer and I are planning a workshop for January that will focus on The Monthly Unit Plan in terms of a) elaborating the monthly plan, b) scaffolding learning objectives, c) varying in-class activities to reach all types of learners, AND d) using a corresponding evaluation method. Yes, our workshop topic is more than ample. I like to think of it this way, “No tienen que invitar el circo a su clase.” (You don’t have to invite the circus to your class.) You just have to stick to the basics and vary the types of activities that you do so that the kids who learn by speaking (or singing) get their chance and the kids who hate singing but love drawing also get to excel in class. Is this easy for a new teacher or a teacher who never really studied teaching? NO. And so I drew from my design background and made this super cool chart that teachers can fill in with objectives, activity ideas, and corresponding evaluation methods. It’s for a one-month period. In a single glance, teachers will be able to see if they have done enough activities for visual learners or for auditory learners. Also, teachers can see if their activities are geared more toward speaking, listening, reading, or writing. Teachers here rely heavily on reading and writing exercises because they’re easier to come up with, teachers don’t have to speak the target language (English), and such translation-type activities keep the kids busy. And this is why my students know lots of words but don’t understand them when I speak them aloud nor can they form sentences on their own.

I’m not sure if I mentioned that this was the last week of classes. Today Marvin was at school for the first 45 minutes and then we had to go to a meeting so I finished 9^th grade without him and did 90 minutes with 7^th grade alone too. Sad that he missed the last day of English with two groups of students. Anyway, in 7^th grade we made mini-books, which I collected, brought home, and made an evaluation rubric to show Marvin. It’s proof that unless a kid does not “do a task” he cannot be given a zero. And it also demonstrates that certain students who do not excel on certain types of exams that Marvin is famous for can do very well when some of their other intelligences are activated through drawing, making lists, following a model to create new sentences, et al. Rubrics are fabulous. I thank Peace Corps Nicaragua for introducing me—I’ll use them forever.

I went for what was supposed to be a 45 minute run/walk today toward the Millennium Cross on the hill. Along the way I passed the cheese-making place and there were some workers out there—mostly men. I got the standard, “Adioooossssss, Amor.” And I mumbled a few rude comebacks as I continued running. It’s just not something I’ll ever get used to. I went as far as I felt like and on the way back I felt the hills beckoning me so I took a new route. Where I live, no one seems to mind if you cut through their fields as long as you don’t do any damage to the crops. I found a few cow trails and a dirt road and then the creek but ultimately couldn’t find a through way to get me back to the main road to town. I wasn’t lost but I didn’t know how best to get back. So my 45 minute trip turned into an hour and a half culminating with me doing high knees through an uncomfortably tall grass field—the kind of grass where creatures hide out and the kind of high knees that scare things away. By the time I reached the road I had blood running down my thigh from some thorn bush I tangled with and I was just kinda itchy all over. I rinsed off good in the creek and made my way back to town.

Just finished a lunch of homemade refried beans—locally-beans blended with green pepper, onion, garlic, and a touch of salt. Now I’m drinking fresh-squeezed orange juice—oranges from some trees just a few miles outside of town. As I’ve said before, I’m really going to miss knowing the origin of almost every food I eat. The tortillas are made with corn from San Jose. The cuajada is made with milk that came from the cow maybe as recently as this morning. Last week I started going to the store in the early morning hours to get a liter of milk for about 10 cents. I bring it home and boil it for a bit and then keep it in the fridge all week long. It’s so good with coffee or hot chocolate or tea. And it’s good for growing kittens. This last kitten—the one I got in the surprise, leg-cream exchange—I’m trying to grow as big as a Rottweiler and as ferocious looking so no one will walk off with her. She’s in a chunky phase right now, but I’m sure she’ll triple in size very soon.

In other raw food news, I started thinking a lot today about cacao, which is produced in Nicaragua, in fact in the department of Matagalpa just north of my department of Boaco. While I was at the internets, I did some google searches about cacao—various types, health benefits, recipes, et al. You may already know that ALL chocolate is made from the raw cacao bean. Cacao is the seed of a fruit of an Amazonian tree that was brought to Central America during or before the time of the Olmecs. Cacao beans were so revered by the Mayans and Aztecs that they used them as money. (Yes, this is copied and pasted from some website) In 1753 Carl von Linnaeus, the 18th-century Swedish scientist, thought that cacao was so important that he named the genus and species of this tree himself. He named this tree: Theobroma cacao, which literally means "cacao, the food of the gods." Here’s why our friend Carl was so devoted to cacao:

1)       Cacao is the richest food source of magnesium of any common food. Magnesium balances brain chemistry, builds strong bones, combats depression, and is the number one mineral that assists and supports healthy heart functioning.

2)       Cacao seems to diminish appetite, probably due to MAO inhibitors. These rare MAO inhibitors actually produce favorable results when consumed by allowing more serotonin and other neurotransmitters to circulate in the brain. MAO inhibitors facilitate youth regeneration and rejuvenation and encourage natural weight loss.

3)       Dark chocolate has been touted as a source of antioxidants, but this raw chocolate (cacao) is way beyond that. Dutch researchers indicate that dark chocolate contains four times the amount of catechin antioxidants than black tea, which is suspected of having a protective effect against heart disease and possibly cancer, due to its antioxidant properties. With raw cacao it would be 14 times more than Red Wine and 21 times more than Green Tea.

4)       Doctors at Harvard found that antioxidant compounds called Flavonols in chocolate help the body to produce nitric oxide, a compound essential for proper heart function. Nitric oxide is also believed by pro bodybuilders to help increase muscularity and aid in recovery.

Pretty amazing stuff huh? I’ll give you a second. Go ahead and Google “raw cacao” and see what you find for prices ($15 a pound?). I just bought a pound here at the local store for 80 cents. It’s definitely raw. The lady told me I’ll have to toast it a little and then let it cool a bit in order to crackle off the skin with my bare hands. It has a paper-thin “shell” much like a peanut or a clove of garlic. I’m starting experiments this afternoon and will keep you posted. Could make a great stocking stuffer!

As if all of that cacao business wasn’t exciting enough, this morning I spotted four monkeys. Seriously. It is the first time I’ve seen “congos” here and the first time I’ve ever seen such creatures outside of a zoo. I did not have my camera with me but at least now I’ll know how to spot ‘em and where this family in particular likes to hang out.

The contents of this blog are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps.

Another Saturday night. Hmm. It might seem like I don’t have much of a life but I do. For example, yesterday I went on a long distance bar crawl of sorts. After the monthly TEPCE meeting, which I found really promising, I took off on the afternoon bus to Teustepe (25 km—1 hour). Analea, the Environment volunteer in San Diego is finishing her service and leaving Nicaragua next week. We had to squeeze in one last round of beers and Elotitos (bbq flavored-corn niblets, chips essentially). So we met at 3PM and were back on the bus to our respective sites at 5:30PM. I arrived at 6:40PM in my site and had plans to meet my Nica friend, Arlen, at 7:30PM at La Gallera—the neighborhood bar that used to host cock-fighting on the weekends. They have great tajadas. So it was me, Arlen, Arlen’s friend Sagrario, and this guy Don Mario who used to work for Banco Mundial (World Bank) or some such craziness. This is the fourth time that the four of us have ended up together randomly and shared a few beers. Don Mario and Arlen enjoy practicing their English so we always go back and forth between languages. Last night, Don Mario started telling jokes and I decided to try a Knock Knock joke in Spanish—the interrupting cow joke. It’s not going to turn out well if I type it but here goes:

“Knock, Knock”                  “Toc Toc”
“Who’s there?”                    “Quien es?”
“Interrupting Cow”             “La Vaca Interrumpiendo”
“Interrupting C--“                “La Vaca Interrump----
““MOOOOO!”                        “MOOOO!”

Get it? Okay I explained the form of the joke and then tried it in Spanish. It flopped big time. I kept having to tell them what to say and then I’d try to interrupt myself to show how the joke worked. Still not funny. Finally, I said, “Maybe the joke wasn’t very good.” And that got a big laugh. Anyway, between 3PM and 9PM I had five “light” beers and felt kind gross this morning when I got up at 5:45AM to catch the bus to Esquipulas (12km north) to go to the bank. I had plans to meet up with fellow TEFL volunteer, Stephanie, who lives in Esquipulas. I arrived at her house to find that she had some sort of flea infestation and after washing everything, she was still getting bites. Well, we had some egg sandwiches for breakfast and I took off for the bank. While in line at the bank I found two mysterious new bites on my wrist and decided I’d rather not return to the house. Instead I hit the cyber and caught up on some very disconcerting current events.

I’m really behind on current events. I know that Iowa football is having a stellar season because all my Iowa buddies are “virtually” high-fiving, chest-bumping, and doing end-zone dances via Facebook. What I didn’t know is that recently President Ortega and “staff” changed an aspect of the Nicaraguan constitution to allow Ortega to be eligible for reelection. Robert Callahan, U.S. Ambassador, made a statement “against” this maneuver stating essentially that the public had no voice in the matter. On Thursday, last week, thousands of protestors (supporters of President Ortega) showed up outside the U.S. Embassy in Managua and protested violently (against the infrastructure more than anything), i.e., broke stuff, graffitied “Yankee Go Home” messages, and launched some mortars (threw big rocks?). I understand it was mostly cleaned up by the next day. Ambassador Callahan appeared at an event at the biggest university in Managua the following day and had to be rushed away by bodyguards. While I am perfectly safe in San Jose and have no plans to go to Managua anytime soon, my concern is we’ll have a repeat of the Bolivia situation here. The U.S. Ambassador was kicked out and so went the Peace Corps with him. Thus far, President Ortega has not asked Ambassador Callahan to leave.

I do not speak of politics here in Nicaragua beyond asking, “What is happening?” and even that I only ask to someone I know and trust. Today, I asked Celia and Jorge if they were aware of all of this “news” and they were, but they are exceptional people—active in the community and aware of on-goings nationally as well. I think the vast majority of people are not so well-informed. Today Celia said, “We’re poor. It’s okay. We’re used to it. We’ll keep living.” I didn’t know what to say to that. I guess it made me feel a little sad to hear that statement because I want for all people to have opportunities like we have in America. It isn’t resignation on Celia’s part, its resilience (and faith in God) that eventually things will change for the better here in Nicaragua, but where will such resilience get her or any Nicaraguan if their voices are never recognized in the political process? Not even after the botched vote in Florida a few years back did I feel so strongly that every person deserves not only the right to vote but to have their vote counted in a fair election.

On a lighter note, I’ve realized that watching little chubby kids dance should be a Sunday night, family-hour program--especially if the chubby kids are three-year-old boys in silky pants with headbands who are trying to do “foot-fire” and shake their butts. It’s also funny if their dance partner is a larger, more developed five-year-old girl. Oh don’t you worry, I’m working a Nica dance video. In fact, it might be two minutes of only this little Gary Coleman look-alike (“Whatchoo talkin’ bout Willis?”) back when Gary Coleman was cute and drug-free.

Well, it’s Saturday night. I like to get the party started with some blogging followed by tea and crackers and maybe a Dove Promise before brushing my teeth, tucking in the mosquito net and reading until I fall asleep—around 9:30 or 10PM. So let’s cut to the chase . . .

The “Coping with Stress” talks (2) went off without a hitch. The Peace Corps doctors had their own little packet prepared with information about depression, physical symptoms of stress, and a survey for trainees to check off things that were stressing them out on that particular day. All fine and well but what about the coping part? Stress management strategies? It’s a good thing I went prepared with a list of eight. They went a little something like this:

1)       Circle of Control: draw a circle, inside it write all the things you can control. Try not to get too worked up about the things that fall outside your circle; focus on the one thing that you control—the one thing in your circle: YOU.

2)       The Grover Approach: “Now I’m near! Now I’m far!” When a problem seems overwhelming or too big tackle, it helps to get up close and identify some bite-size pieces you can break off and sink your teeth into. But when things get too hairy up close, it helps to take a big step back and see how little certain details matter OR how well things are going in the big picture.

3)       Exercise: even a brisk walk can take the edge off.

4)       Message in a Bottle: Send a letter or an email home but only when you are able to write in an intelligent, informed way about whatever is bugging you. Shooting off a scathing email isn’t going to make you or the recipient feel any better.

5)       Fake it ‘til You Make It: Fake whatever emotion it is that you’re lacking—confidence, security, optimism—until you really start feeling it.

6)       Pre-plan: sit down and write out/act out/plan out whatever meeting, event, or conversation you have coming up that has you stressed out. Plan the successful outcome that you seek. (Thank you Iowa Softball for numbers 1, 5, and 6.)

7)       Reward System: Reward yourself after a good day or take a break after a bad day. Be kind to yourself as you would to any friend.

8)       Nonviolent Communication: look within, identify what you’re feeling and what need of yours is not being met—which leads to negative feelings. Find a way to meet that need keeping in mind that there is always more than one strategy available to you.

Yeah, so I made a point to talk at length about stress management strategies. Volunteers undergo a lot of changes in the first three months and have to start building the support systems that will sustain them through service. And with that, I’ll get right into the presentation that Allison (fellow volunteer) and I did yesterday on Nonviolent Communication.

We’ve presented NVC in both English and Spanish to mixed audiences—volunteers and counterparts, a high school faculty, and groups of Nica English teachers. By far the easiest and probably the best presentation was yesterday’s. We only had one day to adapt and grow our presentation to fit the 2-hour block we were given and to address the needs of our specific audience, TEFL 51, the newest group of volunteer trainees in my program. We knew they would catch onto the concepts really quickly so we built in more difficult activities and some discussion questions in the form of “Coffee Talk.” Remember Linda Richmond from Saturday Night Live? “The peanut is neither a pea nor a nut. Discuss.” We had four topics, for example, “You suck! Vs. You didn’t come to my house last evening to coplan.” Discuss the merits of these statements. How would feel if either was said to you? With this question, trainees noted the importance of stating facts instead of name-calling. They said that hearing the first statement would make a person very defensive and probably ruin any chance of having a reasonable discussion afterwards. (Even thinking, but not saying, the first statement is going create an enemy image in the mind of the person who got stood up. See how important it is to refrain from making judgments! We’ve already identified a trainee/future volunteer who is interested in picking up the NVC torch when Allison and I depart. I feel really pleased and hopeful that NVC concepts are being so well-received by the TEFL program staff in Nicaragua.

If I may, I’d like to give you a play-by-play of the whole day of the NVC talk: 

5:30AM   Get up, shower, and leave hotel in Managua

6:30          Review notes for presentation

7AM         Depart office with my boss, two volunteers, and two trainees

8AM         Arrive in San Marcos, Carazo at Ave Maria College

8-10          Nonviolent Communication with TEFL 51 Trainee Group

10:30       Depart San Marcos in a Mini-bus

11:30       Arrive at Las Galerias, a shopping mall in Managua

11:45       Drink Iced Coffee

12PM       Get sushi with Allison to celebrate our successful presentation

1:00          Get a taxi to Peace Corps Office

1:30          Fill out travel reimbursement forms and change clothes for the ride home

2:30          Get cab to El Mercado Mayoreo, the bus terminal for travel north and east

3:35          Depart Mayoreo on bus to Teustepe, Boaco

5PM         Arrive at the entrance of Teustepe in time to jump on the last bus to San Jose de los Remates

6PM         San Jose bus breaks down 5km from Teustepe

7PM         New bus from San Jose arrives to collect stranded passengers

8:15          Arrive in San Jose de los Remates

8:45          Go to the bus driver’s house to collect the bags of cooked beans I left on the bus

9PM         Dinner of beans and a fried egg sandwich

9:20          BED

“My mama said there’d be days like this . . .” About that bus breakdown: I always wondered what would happen in this situation because my town is pretty far off the beaten path. There is no telephone signal for a stretch of about 24 kilometers. First, the menfolk got off the bus, circled up, and started repairs on the bus. After 20 minutes or so it looked like we were going to get back on the road, but the first time the driver tried to shift, it became obvious that we weren’t. It’s amazing how stranded you feel when you’re stranded in Nicaragua. We don’t have 911. We don’t have Triple A. I’m not even sure we have duct tape. We just have whatever off the cuff solution someone comes up with. Last night it was a guy who stood on top of the bus, held his phone up to the heavens, and got a signal! He put his cell phone on speakerphone, shouted our breakdown situation, and help was on the way. Oddly enough, both of my counterparts, Marvin and Luis, were on the bus. Luis is such a kind man. He stood with me outside the bus and practiced his English. When a truck came and people starting hitching rides, he asked me if I wanted to go. Then he said, “Wait me, please,” and went to ask if we could both have a ride. Thankfully, the bus owner thought to send a second bus to collect us in case the first couldn’t be fixed. Luis carried my bags when we transferred overJ We arrived two hours late but were very happy to be home. 

I came back from Managua with a ton of dirty laundry (literally, not the Don Henley kind) but just as I was getting jazzed to hand-wash all day, Doña Sonia’s son asked me if I wanted to go to the family farm. And I’ve been wanting to go so I dropped the soap and we hit the road. The farm was so quiet and peaceful. Doña Sonia was there and excited to see me. Her other son, Moises, gave me a tour of the farm and get this, I saw petroglyphs! I tried to help shuck some corn after lunch just because sitting around doing nothing seemed silly. And the work reminded me of being at home when mom and grandma were canning tomatoes. After about 30 minutes, Doña Sonia called me out to the front porch to relax in the hammock. Apparently shucking corn is not for ladies or guests. My thumb was getting kind of raw anyway but, boy, did they have a lot of work to do! The corn will get stored in a mini-silo in the house and over the next year it will be used for tortillas, tamales, and various other Nica dishes or drinks. Nicaraguans do A LOT with corn but don’t give quite so much of it to the cows NOR do we use that awful High Fructose Corn Syrup in our Coca-Cola products. No ma’am. We have real sugar in our Coca-Colas albeit 17 spoonfuls per can. (That 17 spoonfuls part I heard on TV. I don’t really know) Anyway, Nicaraguan cows walk around and eat grass. Pretty novel idea, huh? By the time I got back to the ranch, my ranch in San Jose, I had quite the craving for my staple dish: gallo pinto (beans and rice). Doña Sonia gave me some eggs and a cuajada seca (smoked Nica cheese). I had my own little feast of farm-fresh items. I’ll miss knowing exactly where my food comes from. I will not miss sweating through all my clothes on a daily basis and sometimes twice.

At the end of the day, I was able to find time to change my mosquito net—those things collect a lot of dust over time—and I washed my ropas interiors (underroos). Now that tea time has also ended, I’m off to teeth-brushing and Bedfordshire.

Here’s to the monthly blog update, eh? Well, whenever “people” promise to write me or write more often and then don’t, I always give them the benefit of the doubt. I say it’s fine. I completely understand—“Life gets in the way.” And that notion I stole from a Clint Black song, “No matter how hard we try life gets away from us all.” I modified it a bit but you get the point. Believe it or not, things can be wildly busy here too.

Okay, so what’s the what? Well, I haven’t reported on the TEFL Manual Talleres that we’ve been doing. Here’s the jist—the Teaching English as a Foreign Language program (TEFL), which is my Peace Corps sector, has only been in country for a few years. I am in the third group. Groups 1, 2, and 3 collaborated, formed a committee, solicited lesson plans, and created a textbook for use by Nicaraguan English teachers. The Ministry of Education put their stamp of approval on it. Washington, DC, gave us some money for materials development and training and now we’ve got a product. As it so happened, the “training” monies came very late in the fiscal year such that volunteers were asked to pull together department-wide (state-wide) training sessions in their capital cities in a matter of days/weeks. It was pure insanity. There, I guess that’s why I’ve been so busy. These workshops we did in teams of 3 or 4. I played banker in each case reimbursing transportation to and from and lunch for each participant. Two weeks after the Boaco workshop for 24 area teachers we did a Matagalpa workshop for 34 teachers. But let’s talk about the contents of the TEFL Manual and our workshops. The manual contains brief essays about classroom management, evaluation techniques, and creating daily lesson plans. There is an appendix of communicative activities for classroom adaptation. And the big deal—and this is a huge deal—the book addresses every “content” programmed by the Nicaraguan Ministry of Education for each of the five high school grade levels. Finally teachers have a “text” that supports their curriculum. Each “content,” for example, “Plural Nouns,” is broken down into “Target Vocabulary,” “Target Grammar,” and some activity ideas or written examples for classroom use. It’s really a beautiful thing. In the workshops, we teach teachers about the manual BUT more importantly how to use it. We strongly discourage copying daily lesson plans from the book. Each class of students is different and learns differently. We teach the notion of “Scaffolding,” as in determining what needs to be accomplished in class that day and then planning the small steps that will help the class meet that goal. You wouldn’t believe how foreign a concept that is—that young people need to be taught each step of a process and that they need to repeat it several times using the different skills (reading, writing, speaking, and listening) to grasp it. September truly was the month of workshops and trainings and travel! Exhausting I tell you but simultaneously rewarding. I work directly with two Nicaraguan teachers in San Jose. Luis and I are a good team. We have never missed a planning session. Marvin does not meet with me. The end. Therefore, I am doing sustainable work with one teacher. In our training sessions, we come into contact with so many more teachers (24or 34 in one day) and we identify the tools and techniques they need to be successful. That is sustainable development. I would like to add that many teachers are already doing a wonderful job and when they come to the trainings they share their ideas and successes. It’s a very positive environment for everyone present. And then we get lunch.

This week I travel to Managua to help out in a “Coping with Stress” charla (talk) for the new group of volunteer-trainees. Next week I’ll be in Managua again at a booth in the “La Feria de Sitios.” Site Fair is when trainee groups learn about the possible open sites—one of which will be their home for the next 2 years. I will be presenting on another municipality in my department. Right after Site Fair, we’re presenting again on Nonviolent Communication for the trainees. I think it’s fair to say that October is pretty busy too. I suppose it’s the perfect time to talk to others about managing stress.

Recently, in a very unfair trade, I gave a lady some cream for her leg and she gave me a kitten. Anyone who knows me knows that I adore cats, I really do, but I’ve had a series of very bad animal experiences here. I don’t want a kitten. I’m perfectly happy making friends with strays here and there but having no real attachments. Ugh. Anyway, I named her La Gitana after the Beyonce/Alejandro Fernandez song “Amor Gitano” or “Gypsy Love.” She’s a real screamer and she may yet get taken out to my landlady’s farm but for now she’s here shrieking and scaring the mice away whether she means to or not.

And now I wrap up my day of rest. My goal for today was to do as little as possible—I needed a day like today. I also tried to eat the contents of my fridge so I could turn it off tomorrow when I leave town for a couple days. That said, I ate 2 large beets, half a large squash, homemade refried beans (so good), cream, cuajada, two plantains, and a smallish tomato. Well, some of it I’ll be finishing in the dinner hour. It’s about that time:)

Remember that scene in Bridget Jones’ Diary when she’s shagged her boss and is out on the job hunt? One of her interviews is with a kids’ science education television program—the exact name escapes me. The interviewer asks Bridget what she thinks of El Niño and she replies something to the effect of, “It’s glib. I think Latin music is on its way out . . .” I used to think of that scene whenever I heard “El Niño” but now I just think of sitting in my house in mid-September sweating my buns off. We are experiencing near-record high temperatures and NO wind. We’re talking 88 to 91 degrees during the day and not much of a break at night—and I live in the mountains. I soaked through a pair of jeans on a three hour bus ride the other day. Oh yeah, I’m well aware how gross that is. It’s hot all over and the people in the south and on the coasts have it all-year-round, but with a bit of a break during the rainy season. Question is, where’s the rain? Well, as I understand it, the El Niño phenomenon originates with the heating of the surface of the Pacific Ocean and this in turn affects the atmosphere and prevents clouds from forming, but I’m not much of a scientist. I just know that it’s abnormally hot and we need rain and the mosquitoes need to find somewhere else to live.

In recent weeks, I’ve spent a good deal of time in Managua. I was asked to be one of four greeters for two new groups of volunteers (English and Environment). Just like when I arrived, they got here and stayed for a couple days of orientation meetings somewhere in Managua before being delivered to the host families they’d stay with for the next three months. When I came, we stayed in a hotel with a sweet pool but that was because there was a transportation strike and it was almost unsafe to be out on the roads. This time around, the trainees (as we call them), stayed at a conference center with decent food and air-conditioned meeting rooms but incredibly stark accommodations with zero amenities. Anyway, as greeters our jobs are to answer questions in a realistic manner and present reasonable expectations for PC service. We sit in all of the trainee sessions, make friends, and keep an eye out for people who seem really homesick or quiet or what have you. I, of course, had to double-check with my boss when she asked me to do it. I had to be sure there was no “cheerleading” involved—that doesn’t suit me. Anyway, it was a lot of fun and then just a short week later we reconnected with all of the trainees at NicaTESOL, the 17^th annual conference of Nicaraguan English teachers, also held in Managua.

Okay, so NicaTESOL: there were 1000 attendees, the vast majority Nicaraguan English teachers at the high school or university level. All TEFL 47 volunteers (that’s my group of 19) were required to present on the topic of our choice. We’re still riding the Nonviolent Communication train though we titled our talk “Effective Communication in the Nicaraguan Classroom.” We did two sessions with 40 participants in each one. Let’s face it, it’s an abstract topic. We didn’t present any games or activities—we talked about giving clear instructions, clarifying objectives, addressing superiors with regard to your classroom needs, and so on. All presentations at NicaTESOL are in English though some people use Spanish to clarify ideas, etc. Anyway, that makes four times that we’ve presented on this topic—each time a bit different hopefully better.

One of our afternoons in Managua was spent in a “future planning” session with our Assistant Country Director, a former college career counselor. Though people have been asking me since I signed up for the Peace Corps what I’ll do when I come back, it’s only now that I am really starting to think about it. She gave us some great advice about doing “Informational Interviews” with persons who have jobs we think we might like to have. A lot of volunteers start looking at graduate programs and GRE testing. Boo. Well, boo to the GRE. I haven’t made up my mind about graduate school. I went once before, it was cool though I wish I would have spent some time in the real world beforehand. I guess it’s useful to look back over your life—jobs, education, extracurriculars—and identify the things that were most satisfying. And then identify what those things have in common and where they present themselves in the job world. I’ve never read “What Color is My Parachute?” but I’d guess that mine is puse. Not puss. Puse—that reddish, mud color that you get when you mix a bunch of colors together. I like lots of stuff. I’m right down the middle in that right brain/left brain business. Anyway, things to think about over the next 10 months:)

Sitting here with a muffin-type thing and a cup of tea. The muffin costs 2 cordobas which is about a dime. It vaguely reminds me of my mom’s “Grapenut Muffins” and it is quite filling. I also bought some tortillas. This is an activity I’ll never repeat in the states. The lady lives about a block away. I walk over there and say, “Hello, Are there tortillas?” And usually they say, “Come on back.” In the back of the house there are always several ladies performing some step of the process unless of course the power is out and then the answer to “Are there tortillas?” is NO. They can’t grind up the corn at the mill if we don’t have power. Anyway, tortillas cost 1 cordoba each. I could buy 20 for a dollar but there’s no way I could eat 20 before they got stale. Anyway, you’re supposed to take a towel or a baggie but I always forget so I just walk home with my handful of tortillas. It’s like that scene in “The Wedding Singer” when the old lady wants to give Adam Sandler some meatballs but doesn’t have any tupperwares. “Just put out your hands!” You know how it goes. Tortillas are obviously less mess and they are the “real thing.” That’s pretty cool.

So, it’s about five in the afternoon and my legs are still tired from the hike I went on this morning. I’ve talked about hiking to the first waterfall or the second or the third, but this time I just kept on going. It was just like “The Sound of Music” really except that I’m way more stylish than Julie Andrews. The hills were alive and they kept tempting me to go just a bit further to see what was next. I think I hiked over the mountain because I started going downhill again and that plus hunger convinced me to turn back. Dios mio, it was breathtaking though.

Overall, this was a busy, busy week that included a Nonviolent Communication presentation in Esquipulas, Matagalpa, a trip to Managua, regular classes, student group, and a Friday afternoon meeting—aren’t those outlawed?

The NVC thing in Esquipulas was pretty cool. We had to do it all in Spanish because it was for the entire faculty (15) of the high school. They’ve had two strikes and lots of missed school and now they’ve decided they’d like to learn some new communication strategies. And boy are we happy to help! We began by stating that we were NOT there to talk about the past. Instead we wanted to share a new way of communicating that helps conflicting parties find shared strategies and solutions. Our presentation always begins with a group activity related to Evaluation and Observation. We ask them to form groups of three or four and then we pass out some statements. The groups attempt to distinguish between evaluations/ judgments and observations. For example, “Gloria is a gossip.” The group thought that was pure observation along with “Kevin is lazy” and “Prof. Milton always complains.” So we have to try to explain why all of these statements are judgments. And why judgments should be avoided. For me, it was a great success because a few short months ago, I really couldn’t speak in more than one verb tense. But for the teachers, it seems it was helpful too. The feedback we received after the session proved that at least some really enjoyed the new ideas and intended to put them into practice.

In Managua I was returning to the oral surgeon guy who had made a nighttime mouthguard for me. There was this one day not so long ago when everything I ate caused my jaw to spasm as if I’d just eaten three  bags of sour patch kid candy. Not pleasant. I guess my jaws are out of whack or I grind them in my sleep. It can be related to stress, too. So I leave at 6AM on the bus, get to the PC office around 9:45AM and then go to my appointment at 11AM. They told me the doctor wasn’t there and I should come back in the afternoon. So I go back to the office and wait three more hours knowing that I’m going to miss my afternoon bus and won’t get back to my site that day. I go back at 2PM and wait for another hour. Of course, by this time, I’m furious and trying really hard not to take it out on the receptionist. I make a plan to express my “feelings” and “needs” to the doctor himself. Finally, I see him and the stupid mouthguard doesn’t fit. They have to make another and I will have to return. Wow. But I say what I came to say. “Doctor, when I come here and you aren’t here or you arrive an hour late, I feel very frustrated. I’ve spent a lot of time and money (albeit the American Government’s money) to be here. I also need to maintain my work schedule and get certain projects done. Would you be willing to call me or the PC offices to tell me when you aren’t going to be here?” And at that point he laughed and told me the truth—which he should have done from the start:  The Peace corps medical receptionist had misinformed his office. He knew he was going to see a PCV but he didn’t know it was me. So while he was in the office that morning, the mouthguard wasn’t ready. Not his fault, as it turns out so I’m glad I didn’t rip into him. But as a result of being really honest about my feelings and needs, I got the truth; I didn’t feel guilty afterward for not speaking up about something that really bothered me (his tardiness); I didn’t feel like a jerk for losing my temper with the receptionist who really has no control over anything; and I no longer have a negative image in my mind of this doctor. You see, good communication can make all the difference:)

Some days just feel good and today is one of them. We’re preparing to present on Effective/Nonviolent Communication in a neighboring town this Wednesday. And in this presentation there will be no falling back on English—we’re talking to the entire faculty (17) of a high school that weathered a strike to get rid of the director, some months of chaos and indecision, then the same woman was put back into the directorship (by the superintendent who did not consult the faculty nor the PTA), and then there was another strike plus a whole bunch of side-taking and gossiping for good measure. So, I’m really excited to meet this group and at the very least try to present some new ways of viewing and handling conflict. Definitely will let you know how it turns out.

I can’t believe August is coming to an end already! My adult English class is starting up again on Friday nights. I know, I was reticent, but by this time these people are my friends and who else do you spend Friday nights with but friends? I think I’ll feel more relaxed doing the class at the end of the week. We’ll treat it like a nice little social event in which we use English as much as possible and laugh a lot too.

Doña Marta and I continue to meet when we are able. Her plate is really full. And what she doesn’t have in scheduled meetings for past, existing, or potential projects with possible funding sources or outside groups, she’s got in people who’ve walked 5 miles to get to her office to talk about getting a latrine or something. It’s insane. I really respect her dedication to practice English at least 2 hours a week with me. Today we talked about some common words that she fears using in conversation:  “sheet” (of zinc, for example) and “focus,” to name two. She asked me a lot of questions today about what the local government and the tourism committee of San Jose can do to create a concrete plan that will attract visitors to our little pueblo. And, I think it really depends on the tourist. Those who want to feel adventurous will navigate the buses, hit the local watering holes, stay with a family, bathe in ice water, try the new foods, and fall into bed at night under the cover of mosquitero. Here’s to ya. I had to come around to those things. Other types of tourists probably aren’t cut out for this “vacation.” We’re not offering Cinco Estrellas (5 stars) but for sure an unforgettable experience of sights, sounds, smells, and cultural difference. I recommend it anyway.

Last week my student group did a really fun activity called Shopping List. There were just four of us but we each had a store: NewsAgency, Greengrocer, Butcher, and Bakery. And we all sold certain items. And we all had a shopping list to manage. One by one we’d go from store to store to ask if they sold pencils or lemons or beef. And then we’d ask “How much,” and they’d ask us “How many,” and there were some short but authentic exchanges where the kids experimented with the language. That stuff makes me really happy. Sweet little Matilde, every time someone came to her store and said, “Do you have oranges?” she’d interrupt and say, “HELLLOO!” As in, how dare you be so rude in my store. It was great. I hope to try the same activity in my adult class this week.

I made the trip to Kumaica today with Ada Ninet, a worker from the Ministry of Education. We walked into the little community and some 5-year-old told us to “F*%$ off.” Ada had no idea what was said but it sure did catch my attention. I gave him the Nicaraguan “No, no, no,” finger wave and said very curtly, “No, those words, no.” The kids usually don’t know what they’re saying but it sure catches me off guard. I never know if I should tell them why they shouldn’t repeat things or just leave it at “No,” and give a very stern glare. I have a feeling that they’d use the word with even greater frequency if they knew it was vulgar. Anyway, I took it as a we’re-excited-to-see-a-new-person-in-our-pueblo remark and we continued on. At the institute, the older kids don’t get all that excited by my presence but the 7^th graders do as does Professor Luis, my counterpart. Usually he says, “Did you bring something? Or didn’t you bring something?” I’m really trying to turn over the reins to him and follow along—helping as much as possible—with his planned lessons. He’d still rather that I take over, as in, I walked all that way, shouldn’t I get my money’s worth and do all the teaching too? Um, no. The classes were okay considering that 10^th grade wouldn’t talk at all and getting 7^th grade to do anything is like herding cats. Dios mio. The highlight of the day was going around the circle saying the months of the year and the days of the week and numbers up to 60! There were two students, Roger and Urañia, who clearly had been studying English—which is saying something. I said to Urañia, “My you’ve been studying, haven’t you,” and I say her go over to Luis and say, “She said that I’ve been studying!” It was pretty cute. And Roger is this tall, fair-skinned kid straight off the farm. He wears rubber boots and blue jeans to class—it’s a surprise to me that he comes at all because he’s probably needed pretty badly at home but there he is spouting off the months of the year.

Ada told me that a number of kids have left the Kumaica area recently with their families to go to Costa Rica and cut coffee. I’m so glad my parents didn’t make me have a really laborious seasonal job when I was 8. I suppose this is as close as I’ve been to child labor. It’s sad and eye-opening. As I always say, the better my Spanish gets, the more aware I become of the things that aren’t so obvious in my quiet little corner of Central Nicaragua.

I’ve found myself trying to explain to friends (teachers or coaches in America) about this feeling I have as of late. In the past, I have found that one year on the job is generally enough time to feel “in the know” and very able to do the work. One year teaching here, jumping through the hoops, missing planning sessions with my counterparts, recording small victories, getting to know the kids—all of it—and it’s still tough. Every day in the institute in San Jose tries my patience. As much as I try to focus on the kids and their enjoyment of school, I can’t help but curse under my breath at the missed opportunities with my counterpart, Marvin. But I always have hope for the next class. To steal one from Emily Dickinson: “Hope is a thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all.”

 

Perhaps you remember me talking about our new mayor—the first female mayor in the history of San Jose? She was elected last November. She’s the person who always corrects my Spanish because learning to speak really well is my “reward” for living in Nicaragua these two years. Doña Marta is her name and she’s my newest English student. Now, normally I wouldn’t do “private” tutoring but in her case, well, it’s nice. She approached me because a) she’s super-motivated b) she’s always telling people to take advantage of my classes while I’m here and 3) she might be invited to a conference in Washington and she’d like to be prepared. We are meeting twice a week for one to two hours and let’s face it, I’d be happy to give either of my English teacher counterparts that amount of my time and I do, with Luis, but Marvin doesn’t have time so I’m happy to spend it with her. The first day I took a couple different magazines because I really wasn’t sure what her level was. Let me tell you, she’s one smart cookie. Like all non-native English speakers, the pronunciation gives her trouble sometimes but she’s quick to adapt and has a very good grasp of grammar already. As the mayor of our small town, I have a great deal of respect for her and the goals she’s working toward while in office. Most recently, a new office was opened within the mayor’s office where the public can come and solicit information about projects, public moneys, etc. It’s all a part of her mission to be as transparent as possible—something that hasn’t been true of many governments here, especially the national governmet. Anyway, today she impressed me again by telling me of her appreciation for our President Obama. She says she only understands about 50% of what he says during his speeches but she watches how he talks and has learned a lot about body language. Specifically she referred to his Martin Luther King, Jr. speech and the remarkably different way he spoke to the African-American community. Well, I didn’t see it (though have since downloaded a transcript) but was happy to hear her version. She said she once attended a training here in Nicaragua about “Resistencia Pasiva” and heard all about Dr. King and Gandhi. We are focusing on Business English and will also spend some time on Nicaraguan history and current events because she’ll probably have to speak about her country and her interests. Today we were looking over some business vocabulary and came across Deming’s 14 Points—yeah, I had no idea—but she proceeded to tell me what she knew about Deming and quality control and management philosophies. Like I said, she is one smart lady.

Wow, I just heard a rain cloud move in or maybe it was the footsteps of the people in the street who saw the thing and started running—yes, old ladies too—for shelter. When it rains it pours! I’ve got to put on jeans and a sweatshirt and close up some windows. Adios.

Oh you won’t believe this: last night I woke up around 1AM because I had to go to the bathroom. I guess that’s not so hard to believe. Anyway, I switch on the light and look first on the table, then in the box, and lastly to the bookshelves to see if my new kitty (a friendly stray) has come in through the pet door to sleep over. What I saw when I looked to the bookshelves was a gross, skinny, greasy tail that I knew did NOT belong to a cat. I was so disgusted. My heart started pounding. I went outside to the bathroom—because that’s where it is—and I tried to come up with a plan. Normally, I’d get Miguel, my landlady’s son. He killed that spider the size of my face not so long ago but I didn’t want to wake him. I grabbed some brooms, put on my cowboy boots, and went back in—alone. I’m a wuss though. I could not bear to imagine the face of that critter under my bookshelves. I stood frozen for awhile and then, though this may seem absurd, I decided to go back to bed. I felt pretty confident that the critter wouldn’t come into my room and I prayed that it would leave in the night. It took me forever to fall asleep even with the pleasantly loud hum of the fan in my room. At 5:45AM this morning, I put on boots and jeans immediately and went outside to see if Doña Sonia was awake. She was and I told her the story. The critter no doubt entered through my homemade “pet door” so yes, it’s my fault. Thankfully, it also left through the pet door sometime in the night and I’ve since boarded it back up. Even after poking all of my books and boxes with a broom to see if I might rouse some gross animal thing I still didn’t feel relaxed. I went out front to see if I could borrow my neighbor’s dog. She said I could but let’s face it, if there’s a damned possum in your house during the daylight hours don’t you think you’d know? I mean, really, it’s not like it curled up to read a book and nodded off. It’s a wild animal! Lorena, my neighbor, explained to me the difference between the “zorro” or fox and this other animal with the slippery tail:  the possum. I can’t remember the Spanish word. I guess her nephews killed one in the house about two weeks ago. So gross. Kind of an anticlimactic ending there—the initial horror was the worst of it, gracias a Dios.

It’s breezy and cool and sprinkling rain right now. I love it. This is my second time experiencing “winter” I the tropics. Sometimes the wind blows so strongly and the zinc roof tops lift off the houses. Sometimes the rain pounds so hard on the zinc/tin that I can’t hear anything inside the house and sometimes it’s just sunny and warm. Every hour brings something new. It really breaks up the day: when it’s sunny we wash and hang out clothes. When it’s rainy, no one leaves the house, i.e., no one comes to my house. When the power goes out as it did last night, most people just go to bed, I think. I go to bed with a good book. I like the changes though—they’re something I’ve come to count on here whether it’s the weather, class, student interest, extracurricular activities, friendships, et al. 

There are some professors visiting from Spain right now. They are participants in a program that annually sends professors from Spain to Nicaragua or Guatemala for one month. They come, stay with a local family, visit the communities, take in the culture and sights, and at the end, give a two-day conference for teachers. They also give money to the schools. We planned a hike to the waterfalls yesterday and I decided to invite my student English group. Here’s how it worked out: Eros, a 7^th grade boy, had no trouble getting permission and arrived on time. Sandy, an 8^th  grade boy, got permission from the woman he boards with during the week but she made sure to tell me that I was responsible for him since his parents live way out in the country. Matilde, an 8^th grade girl, got permission from her grandma pretty easily. Oswaldiñia, the poor thing (and not just because of her name), her father wasn’t home to ask permission and while her mother was there I guess she didn’t have the authority to do so. We all went to her house to ask if she could come and it looked like she’d been crying. She said she couldn’t come without her father’s permission or he’d hit her. So much for being the smartest kid in 7^th grade—doesn’t exactly afford her any privileges. Anyway, we picked up one more 8^th grade girl, Adamaris, who wore a hat and tennis shoes--very sporty vs. little Matilde who wore her penny loafers. Ouch! My friend Danya came too. She’s 19 and therefore took over as Assistant Brownie Leader. I, of course, was the Head Brownie and at times I did feel nervous knowing all those parents were relying on me to get the kiddies home safely. Overall, it was a great experience to do something different and active with the students. They all get along so well and are NEVER mouthy or rude to adults. We visited a waterfall that I’d never been to before, ate mangoes and cookies (everyone brought stuff and shared), and the Spanish professor took lots of photos. [Oh yeah! I just got three avocados for fifty cents from a lady selling door to door.] Many of my students live in this beautiful, mountainous pueblo but have never seen the sights: the waterfalls or the canyon, which I just found out is known as “El infierno.” “Oye chicos, vamos al infierno la proxima vez!” (Hey kids, let’s go to Hell next time!)

I don’t know why I am writing so infrequently these days. I have been busy and sometimes I’m just tired of hearing myself talk. Anyway, how about an update on our recent conference in Matagalpa and our first presentation on Nonviolent Communication (NVC)? It went well! We arrived thinking it had to be all in Spanish—and that was definitely a source a stress for me—but then we noticed that lots of other speakers were using more English or only English so our presentation turned bilingual. We still wanted to use Spanish to make sure our Nicaraguan audience—half of the group of 45--understood this new style of communication. What we learned is that we needed more time. One hour is not enough to discuss the differences between an evaluation (You’re a bad student!) vs. observation (You forgot your English notebook twice this week.) plus how to express our feelings and needs, and finally how to make a clear request of another person. And that’s only half of it! After “expressing” our information we also want to “receive” information from the other party. Well, we did our best and some great conversation was sparked about using humiliation or embarrassment to punish or motivate students. NVC says NO! This is violent! But it’s often the way we’ve been taught or what we’ve heard from other people. It looks like we’ll be presenting on this same topic at “NicaTESOL,” a yearly conference for all Nicaraguan English teachers, not just those working with PCVs at this moment. If you’re at all interested, I highly recommend the books Nonviolent Communication: A Language of Life and Speak Peace in a World of Conflict. For teachers, I recommend, The Compassionate Classroom and Life-Enriching Education.

So I had this coach who used to say “Take care of the little things and everything else will take care of itself.” Good thinking, huh? It fits well with my improved approach to teaching here in The Nic: support the students, maintain a positive attitude, make class fun simply by smiling and laughing more with the students, et al.

And some more little things: I asked a teacher friend of mine to help me with my Spanish studies. She happens to be in my adult English class so it’s a nice trade-off. I try to remember the questions that I have in my day-to-day conversations because while people seem to get my point, I know I am saying things incorrectly. Profesora Daysi clarifies things and looks over anything I’ve written. Already I am feeling more confident about my ability to communicate.

Doña Sonia and I split the cost of a dustpan this week—something we will both use for sure! She sweeps the back patio almost daily and I take over when she goes to the farm. It cost $2.00. In other domestic news, I recently played the “girl card” when I saw a spider the size of my hand in my house. I took a good long look at that spider, stood up, walked out my door and over to her house, and said, “Help!” She called to her son Miguel who grabbed for his machete thinking I had a snake problem. As if! I told him it was just a spider the size of my head. He smashed it with his flip-flop and swept it out the door leaving a trail of guts—that’s how big it was. Ugh. I don’t even think that type of spider is particularly dangerous, but I couldn’t go on with it just sitting there looking ominous on my wall.

Overall, I’m surprised at how quickly I’ve readjusted to life here in San Jose after my vacation in the midwest. I say again that it’s the little things. My student group continues to meet on Tuesdays and by golly, they’re improving! I took cookies to my favorite class (8^th grade) last week. We had just finished a food unit so it was well-timed. I happened to mention that my birthday was coming though we wouldn’t have school on the actual day. That sure got the kids going. They proceeded to sing me the birthday song and they applauded three different times--first for my birthday, second for the cookies (Oreos, Chips Ahoy, and Nutter Butters), and lastly for how tasty the cookies were. Easy to see why they’re my favorite class.

Next week, Prof Luis (at my rural school in Kumaica) is coming to Matagalpa with me for the Peace Corps’ second In-Service Training for TEFL volunteers. As you may recall, Marvin attended the last IST we had. Anyway, having not seen Luis in action for over two months, I felt compelled to get back to Kumaica last week regardless of whether I had to travel alone or not. I made sure people knew that I was going and when I’d be back. As luck would have it, I got off the bus with a woman about my age. When I asked she said that she too was walking to Kumaica. I said, “What luck. Now we can go together!” She agreed and off we went. Well, about 15 minutes into the walk a guy came on a motorcycle to take her to Kumaica—that had been her plan all along. However, and this is something special about the Nicaraguan culture:  they always stick together; accompanied is always better. She gave the guy on the motorcycle her bag and said, “We got off the bus together and now we must stay together until we arrive.” And so we did. It turns out that her oldest brother married a former Peace Corps volunteer. At the upcoming IST, I’ll be presenting on the topic of Nonviolent Communication with another volunteer. We are really excited and hopeful that it will be well-received by PCVs and Nicaraguan teachers.

Well, it’s been quite awhile since I last wrote. Let me tell you why . . . I didn’t really have anything nice to say and I make an effort to not complain or whine when I blog. I try to tell the truth though sometimes I have to wait to tell it so that I can do so in a non-judgmental fashion. So let me give you the facts, briefly, before I move on to the breakthrough that I had today. Okay, two days after my white kitty (La Blanquita) was poisoned, I happened upon a kitten who’d been squatting in my friend’s shower while she was out of town. If you read signs the way that I do, it seemed obvious that this little furball was destined to be my new kitty. I named him Bubbles, that’s Burbujas in Spanish (Boor-Boo-Has) and took him right home. He loved me like all cats love me—I dare anyone to dispute this fact—and for two weeks we coexisted peacefully in my house. I made a kitty door that allowed Bubbles outdoor access while I was at class or wherever. I broke with Nica traditions of tying kittens to large furniture for several days until they learn their new home. I simple took care of him and hoped for the best—what kitten would leave the comforts of food, shelter, and companionship? Well, long story short, Bubbles did wander into the backyard—best I can tell—and after two weeks he was simply gone. Someone saw him and up and carried him away. And that’s all I have to say about that. Maybe one day Animal Planet TV will address the great disparities between cultures in terms of treatment of and respect for animals. I could use some insight.

In addition to losing my kitten I guess I also was losing motivation and hope. Lucky that I had a trip planned to the great U.S. of A. While my vacation lasted a mere seven days, I saw many friends and family members and got recharged a bit. What mountains and nature are to my town in Nicaragua, concrete and skyscrapers are to Chicago—such different environments to make a life. That said, I feel pretty at home in both places. I hadn’t exactly forgotten how lucky we Americans are what with our fancy restaurants, transportation, shopping, fully-stocked grocery stores, et al., it had just been awhile (15 months) since I was able to take full advantage of it all. Man, do we have options. I say that as a good thing, but I know sometimes it’s the opposite and we’d like to simplify life. Grass is always greener.  

So I came back with better perspective about my place in the world and in Nicaragua. My former employer, Independent Publishers Group, graciously donated some books that I requested on the topic of Nonviolent Communication. Last night I read a booklet called Teaching Children Compassionately. And today I started school with a new attitude—and this is my “breakthrough.” I have said to different people that in the Peace Corps you must change all previously-held notions of success. I say it but I realized I wasn’t doing a very good job of letting go of my American ideas. Today I stopped looking for results in the classroom. I went to school to support the students, to enjoy myself, to improve the classroom environment. I’m still teaching but what I’m thinking about is the students’ enjoyment and motivation NOT their success or accomplishment. The same goes for my counterpart Marvin: instead of thinking of the Peace Corps goals that we aren’t meeting, I’m focusing on how I can support him in class. I find that after just one day, I’m a far more understanding person and a better teacher.

So my boss gave me permission to change my work schedule and look for the other types of projects to “make my life wonderful.” I think we’re all clear on the fact that I didn’t come here to sit on my hands, but sometimes “life” gets in the way. As it turns out, my seasonal allergies didn’t just evaporate with the scorching sun, they settled in my head and chest and I found myself back in Managua for three days this week. This morning I read the list of symptoms for the swine flu which has recently made its way to Nicaragua (around 56 confirmed cases, mostly in Managua) and I found that I had many of the symptoms:  headache, cough with phlegm, sore throat, sinus problems. I really appreciate that the PC doctors never brought up the flu though. They played it really cool and kept checking for the major symptoms:  fever, chest pain, and cough with blood. So I never really felt alarmed and there was no reason—just a mild bronchial infection. But I will tell you, with so many people using public transportation: students, workers, tourists, travelers, families of four all in one bus seat—sure does seem ripe for the passing of a virus. I did the usual with my time in Managua—ate different food. I had two Quiznos subs, two McFlurry Twix sundaes, three iced coffees, and some pepperoni pizza. We get 125 cordobas for per diem when we have to be in Managua. That’s about $6 to eat three meals. I filled out a questionnaire recently about how much I typically spend in Managua on food and it’s closer to 250 or 300 cordobas. I go to the closest and usually the healthiest places and it costs money to live “safe” in Managua.

Before I ran off to Managua I had a talk with Marvin where I tried to use some Nonviolent Communication. I don’t know if I did it very well. Marvin’s wife has lupus. My friend Shannon had lupus. She died at age 27. I told Marvin these things because I do understand the difficulty and the questions and to some extent the changing face of the disease. I asked him if perhaps he felt he needed to take care of his wife and wanted more time at home. I agree that life is bigger than work and family is more important than a job. I expressed to him my feelings as well. I feel overwhelmed and frustrated when we don’t plan. I have a need for organization, creativity, and a job well done. And then I tried to name some ways that both of our needs could be met: he could have time with his wife and I could prepare for class in a more thorough manner. He started listing off the umbrella themes for next week’s classes and it became obvious that there would be no co-planning for at least another couple weeks.

It was just yesterday that I returned to San Jose—dirty and exhausted from the three hour bus trip. I’d no more than stepped off the bus and crossed the street when some lady approached me and asked if I had a white cat with a red collar. I said yes. She said my cat was dead in the street yesterday. I asked what happened. She said she didn’t know. And I walked away unsure because sometimes the gossip here has no basis in truth. I hoped that would be the case. And in since no other strangers or neighbors approached to say the same thing in the block and half that I walked to my house, I hoped that lady was just crazy. The cat wasn’t there on the patio waiting for me like usual. My landlady (Doña Sonia) came over about 30 minutes later and said we’d had some bad news. The cat was dead. And she was taken away by the street cleaners before anyone had the chance to strip off her new flea collar—it’s worth $1, you know. I was just disgusted. But she couldn’t leave it at that. You see, she claimed that “other people” would ask her what the cat ate and she would always say the cat ate only Pedigree and that it was Erin’s cat. Then she presented me with this whole long conspiracy about how the cat had been poisoned. Somebody went out and bought Pedigree cat food and put the rat poison in it to kill our cat. And she saw the cat had vomited Pedigree in the patio before making her way to the street where she was found. And they did it because they knew I wasn’t home—I had put a sign on my door to let some of my students know that our student group couldn’t meet for a few days. And I just stood there and listened to all of her BS which actually kept me from crying because it was just getting more and more absurd by the moment. And yet I sit here now wondering which neighbor went so far out of his way to murder a scrawny little white cat with a jingle on her collar. Doña Sonia said we’ll get another cat, a boy cat, and we’ll get him fixed so he won’t wander and we won’t put any signs on the door when I’m not home. Now, that comment, just so you know, was not her way to make me think it was my fault. That comment was so I’d know that it was in no way HER FAULT. Got it? FYI, if you ever know a person from another country and culture whose cat dies, don’t tell them that some mean-spirited local purposefully poisoned their cat when they were out of town. It’s just not a good way to improve cultural relations.