March 14-15

We are served fresh-squeezed juices at school
in the morning and in the afternoon.

Emma's 2nd grade class.

Caroline has an admirer.

Coloring is one of Ryan's favorite activities.

We visited the Augosto Sandino Museum
in San Rafael on Sunday.

The pool where we cooled off on Sunday.

Escorts to school this morning.

Alan (Braelyn's host dad) holds gym class in the street.
There is no inside space for gym and no fields or courts.

Some of us are more serious than others in
the class relay races today...

Sweet victory.

Love to win!

Our last "encuentro" was with the seniors
today. Hey, everyone danced!!

This is Ryan writing the blog for our Nicaraguan service trip. Yesterday was the second day of our trip to Jinotega in the north of Nicaragua. We were all excited because we knew that after breakfast and a short tour through the museum of General Sandino (a Nicaraguan revolutionary) we were going to go swimming. What we apparently did not know was where we would swim. At first we went down to a river, or rather, a place where two rivers meet (los encuentros). However, it was decided by our ever vigilant teachers that the river was too contaminated with garbage to be a good place to swim, so we took a short bus ride up a few hills to a local pool (filled with treated river water) for our excursion into Nicaragua´s watery 5 ft. depths. After a couple of hours of swimming, we returned to the house of Josefina, the semi-legendary "chepita" who was known in younger years for her banquets, where we had our Nicaraguan lunch of rice, plantain chips, chicken, and beans. After our lunch it was time for the ride back to Managua, a 2-3 hour ride that was spent by most sleeping or staring out into the mountains and valleys of Jinotega.

When we got back, it was time for dinner, and we happily dug into our (equally to before) Nicaraguan dinner. I personally reveled in the ability to choose my own portions, especially because of the Nicaraguan custom of eating literally everything on the plate. If one does not finish their whole plate, it´s an insult implying that the food was not of a good enough quality for the diner. (As a picky eater I also liked not having to take much in the way of vegetables.) After dinner it was pickup from our host families, and a walk back through the streets (since the sidewalks are never uninterrupted for more than twenty foot stretches). When I returned home I was greeted by my host mother, Carolina, and my host father, Guillermo. Instead of holing up in my windowless and eternally 95º F room I headed for the kitchen and enjoyed a refresco (drink) of mandarina juice with ice while my host family had some sort of after dinner snack thingamajig. It wasn´t quite a formal meal but everybody came and went from the table at least once and had something to eat. I was offered a fried tortilla with mozzarella cheese inside, but had to refuse because I was already too full from dinner to accept anything else. I did allow myself to accept a bowl of grape jello, which had been in the refrigerator and was therefore cold: a strange sensation in Managua.

My host parents and I took a walk out into the barrio (el Máximo, the barrio next to Barrio Riguero) after our small meal. I wasn´t quite sure what we were doing since whenever I asked my host mom where we were going she said that we were going to find me a girlfriend. Very strange since my host family knows that I already have a girlfriend. So we walked through El Máximo, greeting neighbors left and right with a "Buenas Noches" or "Mucho gusto" (goodnight or nice to see you, respectively), and eventually found our way to the Sorbetería. Ice cream. Good stuff.

After enjoying our frozen treats we headed to SIT, a school year abroad program that my hostmom runs. There I met college kids who are spending three or four months in Nicaragua in their junior or senior year of college. This was not our final destination. After walking another four or five blocks ("cuadros") we found ourselves at the house of one of the SIT students. Here was my supposed "girlfriend" - who was really just an SIT student from Pennsylvania who had come round my host family´s house to meet me the night before since I go to school in Pennsylvania, but had missed me since that night I had been in Jinotega. We had a short conversation in the alley where her host family´s house had its front door. It was enjoyable to talk to someone from PA, although we did our best to remain in Spanish instead of slipping into English (a bad habit that our group is a little guilty of at times).

Afterwards I returned and conked out after taking my contacts out and brushing my teeth. I needed my rest. Six o´clock is time to wake up and I usually get up before then from the ambient noises of Nicaragua: cats fighting on the roof, ducks quacking in the back courtyard, mangos falling on the roof, roosters crowing at 4 o´clock n the morning, tiny little lizards called perro sompopos that eat mosquitoes and make a sound like a dog whining, and of course the study hum of the fan that my host family so graciously placed in my room the first night.
The day was destined to tire me out. I´m only halfway through at the moment and I feel like I could go to sleep for about a week and wake up ready for a midday nap. That´s what trying to control/teach 35-40 five-year-olds does to you, especially when the kids are mumbling words in Spanish under their breath when they speak to you, or on the other side of the spectrum, screaming incomprehensibly in your ear when you repeatedly ask them to speak more clearly and louder. A lesson in patience? Yes, yes it is. Thankfully the teacher who I´m helping out is some sort of miracle-worker or demigod. With one barked word of spanish she sends a swathe of children to their seats from their previously screaming and standing states. I don´t quite understand how she does it, but it must be pretty convenient.

She´s yet another of the incredible results of Nicaragua. However, my favorite result is the idea that teachers should get a glass of ice-cold juice halfway through the half day of classes. Today it was the sweetest, coldest, purest, most delicious pineapple juice I have ever tasted, and I devoured it with relish. After a couple of hours of teaching it was time for the kids to leave, and we lined them up next to the door. Not as easy as it sounds. The fact is that five-year-old children do not like standing still, ever, and when they´re forced to stand still, they amuse themselves by pushing each other over or falling down on purpose or leaving the line or coming to me and hugging my chest in an attempt to get me to stop trying to get them back in the line... etc. Not helping was the fact that I had been informed by one of my darling teachers that I don´t smile enough for young education... but I did my best to be endearing and yet forceful. Once again, absolutely no idea how their teacher (Tania) does it.

After school it was back to Rafaela´s for a lunch of rice, plantains (that I avoid), and a mixture of beef and carrots in a savory sauce. I cleaned my plate and drained about three glasses of pineapple juice. All that I´ve eaten and all that I´ve done is very interesting, very fun, but at the same time, I could take a goodnight´s sleep right now.