Parasites

I haven’t posted in forever. The reason why? Parasites. Let’s talk about them.

Imagine the worst stomach pain you’ve ever felt. Coupled with horrible headaches, nausea, and the inability to stand up straight. Add to that emergency runs to the bathroom (I’ll spare you of the details). Now add to that 100 degree heat, bouts without electricity, and your only food options being rice, beans, and mystery meat. This is parasites in a third world country.

I encountered my lovely companions about two weeks ago. One would think that in a country like Nicaragua, parasites would be easy to diagnose. Wrong. I went to the clinic three different times and even made a visit to the hospital in Managua (keep in mind, you have to be DESPERATE to go the hospital in Managua). Not until 8 days later and a proper test (again, sparing you the details) did I find out that I had not one, but two types of parasites – worms (yes, you read that correctly) and ameba (not just any ameba, special ameba that were growing in cysts on the insides of my intestines). Sounds fun, right?

I’ll get back to my regular posts tomorrow. In the meantime, I thought I’d let you all share in the glory of the last two weeks here.

Meds. Nicaraguans love their meds. Someone’s sick? Just give them a pill. They’re not getting better? Give them three more. I received literally 15+ different types of medicines in 8 days…and then I took a photo.

My feable attempts at staying hydrated (keep in mind, I was only at my house at night. The rest of the day I was stealing air conditioning from the local hotel – this is just night time hydration).

Life in the Campo

One week's worth of dust in my bedroom. Gotta love it.

My People

So it’s been a while since I’ve written a blog post. That’s what three straight groups of 10+ American undergrads at a time will do to you. Things have been a bit hectic lately but the Spring break rush is over and I actually have some time to breathe. Therefore it’s time for me to introduce you to the people here that I love.

Mayella


Mayella is the town gossip. She owns the corner store in the center of Limon and sits on her porch all day long, partly working, but mostly gossiping about everyone and everything. She knows all the dirty laundry in town and is not afraid to share it…and is absolutely hilarious in the process. Mayella is also one of my many surrogate mothers here in Nicaragua. This works really well when she decides to cook me dinner (her food is amazing) and not so well when I decided to go out with some friends and didn’t tell her before I left. Needless to say, I had about 15 missed calls and quite a lecture when I got home.

Martita

If you’ve been reading my blog, then you likely know the famous Martita. She gave me my nickname (Super Ci Ci) and has also declared herself my mother here in Nicaragua. Martita is way stricter then Mayella…when she’s mad at me I become just Ci Ci…no super. That said, she is by far one of my favorite people in the world so despite the fact that I’ve written about her before, I can’t leave her out of the “my people” blog post.


Yolanda

Yolanda owns the best restaurant in all of Limon (ok, there’s only one other restaurant in Limon, but I swear if there were more she would still beat them out). Her restaurant (Yolanda’s…creative name) is basically on her front porch. She works every single night and refuses to let anyone sit down without first giving her a hug and a kiss. She calls everyone her “amor” and is seriously always happy. She usually wears a hilarious rag on her head and glasses, but when I asked her to take this picture she insisted on removing both. You don’t argue with Yolanda.

Marcia

Marcia is another one of my mothers. She’s best friends with Martita and since Martita adopted me, Marcia couldn’t be left out and hence adopted me as well. Marcia is one tough cookie. Her husband lives in the states – she hasn’t seen him in 12 years. He moved there so that he could make enough money to support his family. He sends money to them every month and as a result, she just sent her last of four children off to Managua to go to college (keep in mind in an area like this, it’s incredibly rare for one kid to go to college...sending four is unbelievable). Marcia takes care of her grandson so her oldest daughter can in school as well. And when you ask her how she does it – lives alone, without her husband and kids – she has one response only: it’s a sacrifice you make for your family so that your children can have a better life. Amazing.

Mr. Moto Instructor

I don’t know this guy’s name, but I had to include him. Mayella pulled him off the street when I first got here and told him to teach me how to ride my moto. At this point, I understood about a quarter of the Spanish he was speaking to me, so needless to say his lesson wasn’t very helpful. But every time I see him he gives me a huge smile and yells out “ahhhh you’re riding!” Three months later, he still seems shocked.

Clinic Staff

Ahhh the clinic staff. This is one motley crew.

Dr. Flores on the left. This guy is the one “in charge.” He’s absolutely hilarious, often times in an incredibly inappropriate way, but you still have to laugh. He loves me, only because when I first met him, he asked what I thought about being in Nicaragua. I told him that I was very excited to me here. I’ll just leave it at this: I used the wrong form of “excited.” He still won’t let me forget it.

Gustavo in the middle. He’s the clinic pharmacist. Gustavo is this giant beefy guy who acts all tough and macho. What he doesn’t know is that we can hear him singing to cheesy American love songs when he doesn’t think anyone is listening.

Manuel on the right. He’s the clinic administrator. Manuel provides the music for the clinic. Every day his computer is blaring something terrible…often times Spanish rock or metal bands. He let me play my music for the day once…that hasn’t happened again.

Martina on the right. Martina is the clinic janitor. She’s one of the flakiest people I’ve ever met, but in an incredibly endearing way. She walks around like a zombie most of the day and can often be found napping in our unused dental chair.

Martita on the left. Martita is the clinic nurse (different Martita than the other…there are lots of Martitas here). Martita is amazing as well. Incredibly sweet, except when she’s fixing someone’s wound. This little lady makes grown men cry. I fear for my life when I have to ask her to clean a cut or a burn. But hey, at least she beats you up with a smile on her face?

The Roomates

Crystal on the left. Crystal is the middle child. She’s 18 and absolutely hilarious. This girl is seriously always happy – I’ve never seen her any other way. She loves to sing and dance…at all hours of the day…and night…she doesn’t stop.

Kaleen in the middle. Kaleen is the youngest. She’s 14 years old and a little rebel. Kaleen has been grounded most of the time I’ve been here. Her mom caught her out with some boy and freaked out, took her phone away, and grounded her…for a long time. This is the source of much joking and prodding. Crystal will ask Kaleen if she wants to come somewhere with us and then remind her that she can’t. Poor Kaleen.

Heidi on the right. Heidi is the oldest. She’s 21 and by far the most serious (which doesn’t say much since this is a family of jokesters). Heidi taught me how to wash my clothes and burn my trash…next up, she wants to teach me how to dress like a Nica. This is frightening.

Alright, that’s the first batch. More to come – don’t even know where to start on the kids in the community that stalk me on a daily basis. I’ll get working on that one.

Only in Nicaragua

My friend Jen and I have been having a great time noting our daily “only in Nicaraguas” – moments when something happens and you’re pretty sure that it would only happen here. So when I don’t have anything to blog about, I’m going to share a few of my favorites with you.

Today’s treat: Only in Nicaragua would you come home from work to find your neighbor’s house set up as a makeshift church, where a religious cult is recruiting new members and current members are being “saved” by a man in a cheap suit…all right in your front yard. This was my after work treat on Thursday.

La Kukala

How can you not love a place called “La Kukala”? I’ve decided you just can’t.

La Kukala is a small village in the mountains outside of Limon. Now, I live in a small village. So if people here call La Kukala a small village, they mean SMALL. This place is in the middle of nowhere, accessible only by one small dirt road that takes you up through the hills, over rivers, between cliffs, and through five different fences that you have to get out and open before passing. The most acceptable ways to get there are either by ox cart or walking, but I convinced Don Felix, driver extraordinaire, to give our van a shot (he proceeded to swear in Spanish every time we went over a giant rock or had to get out to open another fence).

Martita, my favorite Nicaraguan woman of all time, visits La Kukala once a month to provide health consults and distribute meds (when she has them). Every month, she walks two hours to get there, lugging along bags of meds, a scale, and other supplies (keep in mind, Martita is about 225 pounds, five foot nothing, and does not own a pair of sneakers). The government doesn’t require her to make these visits – she does them because she loves the people that live there and wants to ensure they’re well. So I decided that she should no longer have to walk – instead, we’re driving her there every month (in the process, I’m learning quite a few nasty Spanish words as Don Felix still can’t get over why we are doing this).

About 50 people live in La Kukala, all of whom are related in one way or another. These people have next to nothing. They live in small shacks scattered throughout the mountains, sleep in hand made hammocks, and eat whatever they grow on their land. They hardly every make it into “town,” meaning where I live, so they have very little contact with people outside their community. So for them to see Americans trampling through their village, it’s quite the spectacle.

We spent the day conducting well visits with every single member of the community. A house in the “center of town” let us set up a remote medical clinic and the community members came down to be seen by Martita. When we were done, Martita packed up her stuff and pointed to the mountains – she knows every member of the village and knew exactly who had not come down to be seen – so we hiked up to their houses, listened to Martita grill them as to why they didn’t show up, and then provided medical care in their homes.

Some pics of my favorite little town in the middle of nowhere.
 

Martita talking to the community members about gynecological health. Love how the men come to hear as well - there's not much else to do there I guess.

 

Trying out the sling shot. The people in La Kukala use these for hunting and to knock mangos out of trees. One shot and they can pick out a mango the size of my palm from the top of a tree.

  

As opposed to hitting mangos, I was much better at slinging the rock directly into my hand.

  

A cow enjoying out mango droppings.

 

Mango drool.

The school in La Kukala. Donated by some European prince. Problem is that the government requires at least 12 students in order to pay for a teacher and La Kukala doesn't have enough kids.

One of the La Kukala elders. She's a sassy little lady and was going nuts chasing a cow out of her yard, whip in hand.

Costa Rica

For the first time in two months, I had a real “day off” – I know, I left corporate America to work more hours in a third-world country than I did in the States! As a result of this incredible good fortune, I took advantage of the time and made my first trek to Costa Rica.

This was also the first time that I fully took advantage of all of the rich Americans I meet through my work at the Beverly Hills of Nicaragua. I met a great couple here last week who have a lake house in Arenal, a really beautiful area of Costa Rica famous for its outdoor adventure activities, natural hot springs, and active volcano. When I found out I had a day off, I told them I was thinking about going there…and in turn, they handed over the keys to their castle!

The house was amazing – absolutely beautiful inside and on the outside, sat on top of a hill overlooking the lake, with a giant porch where you could enjoy the view and listen to the howler monkeys (for some reason, they’re more endearing in Costa Rica than they are in my back yard every night).

The House

On Saturday, we took the rental car over to the volcano…which was completely hidden in clouds. So instead of marveling at a big white blob, we snuck into one of the fancy hot springs hotels and spent the day in the springs. Several cervezas later, we were best friends with the owner of the hotel and had keys in hand for a night at quite possibly the nicest hotel I’ve ever seen in my life. So we decided to take a night off from our free lakeside house to stay in our nearly free hotel suite…tough life, I know.

Hanging out in the hot springs.

We spent the next day recovering from a slight hangover and then driving along the coast of the lake, stopping at local spots along the way to check out the food and art. And luckily for us, after two days of complete white-out, the volcano appeared out of no where just as we were driving away from Arenal.

The Volcano...finally!

My friend Jen risking life and limb for a photo with a rainbow. The cow was not pleased.

Now the fun part: the trip back. Trips from Limon are always interesting, mainly because the way back is almost always guaranteed to be a complete shit show. So for me to get back to Limon from Arenal it took the following:

- 40 minute car ride to the bus

- 1.5 hour bus ride to Liberia, CR

- 1.5 hour bus ride to border

- 1 hour at the CR border waiting for my stupid passport stamp

- 20 minute trek on foot from CR to Nica

- 1 hour at Nica border

- 30 minute cab ride to Rivas

- 1.5 hour wait for bus to Limon

- 1.5 hour bus ride to Limon

Tired yet? I left the house at 5 a.m. and ended up making it back to Limon around 3 p.m. Now the best part – had I been in the states, this trip was about the equivalent of driving from D.C. to New York. Gotta love Central America.

As promised, this time I took photos of some of the buses.

This is at the bus stop. Home base for the crazy women that sell everything under the sun.

Luggage assistant. You'd think he's just up there while parked. No, he rides up there and hops down into the bus when he needs to chat with the driver.

Typical aisle before departing. So many salespeople, so little room. The girl actually has bags of fried chicken, rice, plantains, and salad...all in one.

And my favorite. The guy who sells nail clippers, flash lights, and all other random items you would never think anyone would buy on a bus. This guy comes in a close second to the woman behind him who sells underwear.

So aside from my trip from hell back, overall impressions of CR are mixed. The country is certainly beautiful, but it doesn’t really have that Central Americanfeel that it should. It’s so Americanized that I had a hard time finding Costa Ricans that would even speak Spanish to me. They would see that I’m American and just automatically speak English – I seriously had several conversations with people where I refused to speak English and they refused to speak Spanish, so we went back in forth in both languages! That said, I’m not going to lie – it was nice to take a shower and five minutes later, still feel clean. But I was surprisingly happy to return to my little village filled with dust, pigs, and burning trash by the end of the weekend.

Fiestas

So I’ve been two four different Nicaraguan fiestas in the past 6 days…which means it’s time to explain the craziness that is a “fiesta” in rural Nicaragua. Here goes:

Fiesta 1: A Mi Casa

My roommates decided that me having lived here a month-ish was reason enough to have a party. So I experienced my first house party last Friday. House parties here are not like parties in the States…mainly because you’re not really in a “house”….more like a concrete/metal/whatever-material-you-can-find structure with some chairs and beds. But also because a party here always means a giant meal. I took a nap that afternoon and came into the house to find three of the local guys in our kitchen cooking a feast – rice, salad, chicken, plantains…and the always odd but always present loaf of white bread as a side dish. After three hours of prepping, the meal was ready and about 15 of us chowed down (keep in mind all of the food for this meal cost $20 total…and we had leftovers for a week).

There were of course adult beverages involved in this party…which led to dancing. Not at a bar or club…just in our living room. Another thing about Nicas…they dance EVERYWHERE. They’re trying to teach me how to “not dance like a gringa” – it’s a work in progress. They’re also trying to teach me how to wear makeup like a Nica – per the following photo, that’s a painful work in progress as well.

My roomates attacking me with makeup.

Our feast.

The "parking lot" outside the party. Only in Nicaragua will there not be a single car and only motos and bikes.

Fiesta 2: El Dia De Amor

Valentines Day in Nicaragua is more about a day of friendship. I’m convinced this is because no men here would ever take their significant other on a date or do anything even remotely romantic, so why not spend the day celebrating your friends, which generally doesn’t cost you any expensive dinners out. Either way, I’ll go with it.

In areas like Limon, there’s pretty much no where to go, nothing to do. So they bring the party to you on special days. This means that for Valentines Day, we all hopped in the back of a pick-up truck, drove three miles down the road, and encountered a massive outdoor “club” on the basketball court next to the government-sponsored daycare center. Ironic, I know.

You pay a “cover” (one dollar) to get in to the party and it’s basically an outdoor disco. They bus in speakers and a DJ, sell beers out of coolers, and dance their asses off. Highlight of my night: when all of a sudden the music switched from reggae to Shania Twain’s “I Feel Like a Woman” (I still can’t get over the music they listen to here).

Happy Day Disco...the provider of reggae, hip hop, and cheasy American music.

My roomates rocking out.

Fiesta 3: Feliz Cumpleanos

On Tuesday night, I randomly ended up at a seventeen year old’s birthday party (long story…started out as a date…then became a group dinner at a friend’s house…then my roommates grabbed a present on our way out…and shortly thereafter, I realized we were at a seventeen year old’s party with her entire family). So, here I was, the only gringa at a birthday party at some girls house.

Birthday parties here are a strange event. There were plastic chairs set up in a circle around the front porch. Everyone sits in a chair (girls on one side, boys on the other…very middle school). The mother brings out a plate of food and plops it in your lap. You eat the food because you don’t want to be rude, or in my case, you drop your mystery meat on the floor for your dog when no one’s looking. After you eat, the music starts and everyone continues to sit in their chairs waiting for the first person to dance. In the meantime, the little kids run around like maniacs, try to dance with the gringa (me) and play with the 50 dogs/cats/pigs that followed their owners to the party.

Once the kids go to bed (around 8, which is a late night for most) the rum comes out. A few drinks later, you have your own personal club on the front porch of someone’s house in the middle of nowhere. Good times.

Fiesta 4: Sorpresa

On Wednesday, I went to a surprise party for my favorite Nicaraguan of all Nicaraguans. Her name is Martita Romero and she is the head nurse at the government run clinic in Las Salinas. Martita has sort of taken me in as part of her family – I’ve been to her house numerous times, her husband has fixed my moto post-crash at least twice, and she is currently in the process of ensuring I eat every Nicaraguan specialty there is. She also gave me the nickname of Ci-Ci...mainly because she can't pronounce Stacey. At the party, Ci-Ci became "Super Ci-Ci" and now the entire community of Las Salinas is calling me that. I'm ok with it :)

Martita is one of those people that you feel lucky to know. She works her tail off – her life is her job – but she does it all because she cares so deeply about her community and the health of the people that live there. As a result, Martita is essentially a living legend in Las Salinas, so for her birthday, the town came together and threw her a surprise party.

The big surprise. You have to love Evelyn with her old school video camera connected to a gigantic extension cord for power.

Martita.