Okay, let’s cut to the chase. Here’s what’s happening:

I’m wrapping things up here in San Jose. Today should be my last day of co-planning with Luis and my last week of classes at the institute here. The director says there will be some sort of goodbye party with all the students but I pray it falls through. I hate parties for me. This Friday will be my last monthly planning meeting—in San Jose that is. Of course, I’ll be attending and participating in my new school(s) in Jinotega.

As for when my new job officially starts . . . my boss says I’ll start making the big bucks (ha, Peace Corps humor) on July 1. I’ve basically already started several of the projects that I’ll be working on during my third year. More than anything as of late, I’ve been hanging out and enjoying time with friends in San Jose.

I anticipate some busy and possible stressful days ahead as I plan to move to Jinotega without having a place to live. I had a great lead on a studio apartment-sized place but the local business mindset got in the way. Let me explain. I showed up and showed interest in the place. After hearing all the details (rent cost, utility payments) and discussing a basic contract, I called to say I’d take it. I promised to call again with my exact moving in date. Two weeks later, at my boss’s request, I went back to Jinotega to sign the contract so there would be no hiccups when I moved in. The owner wasn’t there, just her son. I went back five hours later. She still wasn’t there. I talked to the 30-something son about the contract. He told me his mother was considering letting some Jehovah’s Witnesses live in the apartment for the first month of my proposed contract? First problem. You should not give your word to rent a house for 13 months and agree on a moving date only to enter into negotiations with other people. When I was finally able to talk to the owner in person, she gave me her word once again. She told me first so the place was mine.

Me : “Great. Terrific, now let’s talk about the contract. We’re all in agreement on $80 right? (and we discussed other basic services) Okay, we agree then. I will send a clean version of the contract to your son’s email account or I’ll have a local volunteer deliver it. See you on July 5.”

Three hours later I get a phone call.

Her: “Fijate que . . . (wouldn’t you know) but now my son won’t let me rent you this 10ft by 25 ft studio apartment for less than $120 a month. I’m so sorry. I’m really embarrassed."

Second problem.

Me: I’m sorry, ma’am but that tiny room with a bathroom is not worth $120. I don’t believe it’s worth $80 but I’m willing to pay $80 because it’s
safe and well-located. Do you recall that we agreed on $80 just three hours ago?"

Her: “Yes, well, I’m going to have my son call you directly.”

Me: “Oh wonderful. Your son who told me yesterday that he has nothing to do with the rental of the house? Yes, please have him call me straight away.”

So the son calls and now they want just $100. At this point, I wouldn’t pay $10. What begins in chaos traditionally continues in chaos, no? I feel I can no longer trust them. So, unfortunately for this nice family—and I’m sure they’re nice—instead of having a responsible renter for 13 months, they tried to boost the price by a third and lost me entirely.

It appears as though I’ll rent a furnished room from a sweet little lady near the center of town while continuing the rental house hunt. Ideally she’ll let me share her kitchen as well. The thought of eating all meals “out” for a few weeks makes me cringe. There just aren’t that many restaurants and I’d be significantly increasing my chances of getting a bacterial infection. Pass, thanks.

The thing about finding housing here is that there are no classifieds. Most cities don’t have realtors. You just have to talk to everyone you know. For example: a taxi driver who gave me a ride recently in Managua. He’s from San Jose but his wife is from Jinotega. He gave me some numbers to call and people to talk during our 35-minute pothole dodging adventure across steamy Managua. Second contact—a woman from the Canadian Red Cross who works occasionally in the north. Met her through an American friend who lives in Managua. Third contact—the same Jehovah’s Witnesses friends who recommended the studio apartment. They used to live in Jinotega and remember well the houses other foreigners rented. Fourth contact, Don Mario—my friend in San Jose who used to be the Vice-Minister of Finance. His buddy, a former Vice-President of Nicaragua lives in Jinotega and has a big farm. Perhaps he’ll know of something. Fifth contact—a teacher from my school in San Jose who have a niece and two nephews in Jinotega. I am not accustomed to putting a lot of faith in the friend of the wife of a taxi driver or even the nephew of a teacher who is mostly an acquaintance. Yet, these are my best options for finding a decent, safe place to live.  

The lesson for me in all of this is to treasure and cultivate every relationship. There are no insignificant meetings or people. Hopefully, I’ll have the chance to return the favor in the future. At the very least, I can pay it forward:)