Last night I went to La Gallera with my buddy Kelvin for a beer or two and tajadas--fried plantains and fried cheese. It’s become so natural for me to go to “the bar” and play with doggies and kitties and whatever other critter wanders through. Last night a mama cat laid down in the center of the back seating area and began nursing two kittens. It took me awhile to realize that though it’s nothing out of this world, it’s a bit atypical for a bar/restaurant.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what it will be like to be home again even though I’m staying another year. I suppose I’m thinking about leaving my home here in San Jose and being home for a whole month (around August, most likely). It’s both exciting and scary. I had kind of a moment Monday morning with my 5^th year class. We are studying human rights and equality. In class we listened to Phil Collins’s “Another Day in Paradise.” It was interesting to revisit that song and try to explain to Nicaraguans why it was written to begin with. Many people here think that there is no poverty or homelessness in the United States. I suppose they get that from the media or from hearing over and over about the richest, most powerful country in the world. Anyway, there we were listening to the song. The kids were sort of mumbling the words behind me as I stood looking out the window at 7^th graders jump over an outstretched rope in gym class. They were leaping and laughing without a care in the world and so I started thinking about “paradise”—what it is and where it is. You might not think it’d be in the “third world” but it could be. There was a song on the Dumb and Dumber soundtrack called “Where I Find My Heaven.” In that moment I knew I’d found a bit of my heaven here in San Jose de los Remates, Boaco, Nicaragua.

The beloved and infamous TEFL Manual for Nicaraguan English teachers is being revised! After a year of using our one and only “teacher textbook” material we’ve seen areas for improvement and we’re taking advantage of these last few months before the few remaining original authors (from TEFL 47) leave the  country to pass the torch to the new group of English volunteers (TEFL 51). Last Friday we had a tedious 6-hour meeting to discuss structural/format changes, additions to the appendices, making activities more communicative, and giving better instructions for all activities. Because I am so serious and orderly, I always assume the role of “scribe.” I prefer scribe to secretary though I’ll also accept “Keeper of the Flame.” At any rate, I take notes, clean them up, and send them out to participants and relevant staff. My role in all of this will be to revise and refresh the design of the manual with whatever new activities and exercises my colleagues create plus some new graphics ideally. It’s so funny how one job leads you to another. The tasks I was doing yesterday to copy all the text out of InDesign into Microsoft Word for my colleagues would have been impossible had I not worked at IPG. I don’t think I would have known where to begin but because of my production experience at IPG, I threaded text boxes, applied paragraph and character styles, and copied and pasted ALL DAY LONG. At first, it was thrilling and I remembered why I was drawn to design. Put on some trance music or anything really, because I literally go into a trance and cannot be pulled away from the computer. That said, six hours later, I remember why I joined Peace Corps. Had to step away from the mouse, the shortcuts, and the back aches!

And some stuff that cracks me up. I was sitting on the patio gossiping with Dona Sonia when she heard a friend call out from the street or the front of the house—hard to be sure. She lets out a high-pitched “WHOO!” to let her know she’s home. I’ve got to start doing that.

“Hola Erin?!” 

(from within) “WHOOO!”

On her way to answer the door she complained that her youngest son’s girlfriend is just “a little girl.” She can’t wash the clothes well—the armpits are all dark. I mean, what else would you want in a wife?