(If only I had been as faithful in return).

Of course I’d meant to write a reflective entry or two upon my safe and grateful stateside return from Nicaragua in August, but, as always, there were things to do and people and places to see once I returned, so it seemed to fall by the wayside. It’s roughly five months later and I’m still here, though a few things in my context have changed considerably, one being that I have enjoyed hot water and central air conditioning (as well as so… many other US “luxuries” that I had previously taken for absolute granted) since the last time we talked. I’ve also enjoyed a vibrant fall semester back in Austin with so many loved ones that I had missed dearly. Finally, I’m blessed to have a job lined up with Deloitte Consulting where I’ll do strategy and operations work starting at the end of July based in Dallas, precisely the work that I want to do with, you’ve guessed it, lots of travel.

And as the straggling days of 2009 make their way in, I can only think back to where I was a year ago this time (in giddy anticipation for four months in Barcelona to come). Oh, a year it’s been! I plan to make a list of some of the most memorable happenings of 2009 when I’m on a 17-hour flight tomorrow to…

India!

A dear friend of mine in the business school grew up in Houston but has parents from India (as well as a large extended family presence in the country). Narayan usually goes there twice a year, speaks Hindi, and has many contacts in the country through family, friends, and his father’s steel business.

What began as a half-joking conversation online one night around 3AM after I had just gotten back from Nicaragua has turned into a 9,000 mile journey awaiting me in mere hours. Narayan spoke to me having spent the entire summer in India and mentioned that I should come along for Christmas break. I, of course, was all for the idea, and was pleased to see that the whimiscal prospect was met with only minimal opposition when I proposed it to my parents the next morning. Two other buddies (also in the Business Honors Program) are going as well, and the three of us are meeting Narayan in Delhi who’s been there all winter break. In addition to Delhi, we are visiting Mumbai, Goa, Agra (where the Taj Mahal sits), Jaipur, and Banaras (or Hisar). We’re staying with his family and friends in Delhi and Mumbai. With accomodation provided like that, as well as the amazing advantage of having someone who knows his way around so well guiding you, this really seems to be an incredible, unique opportunity!

Consequently, we’re flying Northwest (operated by KLM, thankfully) with a layover in Amsterdam (precisely the airliner and point of departure of the recent terroristic attempt).  All fingers are crossed that the very recent heightened security measures established in response to the said attempt warn off any future schemed malice!

We’ll be there for a little more than 2.5 weeks, returning on the 15th of January (just in time for classes to begin the following week!). This means that we’ll be catching a (hopefully victorious on behalf of the Horns) 6am viewing of the National Championship!

I plan to update a few times while in India and then complete the journey’s documentation with photos upon my return. I’d been eyeing a Canon SLR camera for years and finally caved in and purchased one (I got a great deal). Hopefully the auto-focus and clickity-click promise of quality pictures will not disappoint.

Well folks, as usual, I have no idea what I’m getting into… but haven’t many great expeditions started that way?

Love always.

Alavidā,
Adriane

If this blog were the only medium of communication between me and my dear family, I believe they would have long ago concluded that I too was taken captive by a stealthy  coup from neighboring Honduras (there’s been no such thing, nor has my daily life been affected by the current turmoil over there) and written me off. However, we’ve become masters at the daily paragraph sum-up, so they know that I’m here: safe, sound, and incredulous to the fact that I’m heading back to ole Tejas in a mere three days.

How quickly a journey like this rushes by, even when the individual days can often feel so unimaginably long. Yesterday I walked down the main street and was passed by only taxis, bicycles, and horse-drawn carriages (used for one of two things: transportation of novice tourists or grain/feed), and I felt a tinge of dismay that I was soon to return to, among other things, an recent-model SUV with far more space than I needed. Funny, I was recently saying to good friend Melissa, to grow up in a society fortunate beyond belief and, for 20+ years, to not even comprehend magnitude of that chance happening.

I am not sure to what degree I have felt change here – whether you want to call it changes of heart, or changes of mind, or changes of the degree of warmth, fondness, and camaraderie that I now know that I’m capable of feeling toward others whom I initially deemed to be ‘so different’ than myself. While I haven’t been able to quantify this change, I know it exists because I feel it in every footstep I take down that main street. For a country so gosh darn poor (2^nd poorest in the western hemisphere, second only to Haiti), they’ve shown me that they are certainly not lacking in size of the beating, persevering, grand and giving heart of the people.

The last two weeks have consisted of things like the following:

• A Viva Nicaragua intern group volleyball game against a team of recently released convicts in an “acclamation back into society” recreational event – they smeared us (though all parties were released unharmed)!

• Ometepe! A figure-eight shaped island with twin volcanoes in the heart of Lake Nicaragua. This weekend trip with the gals consisted of horseback riding (then hopping off for a 20 minute hike up to the most incredible view – “The Devil’s View” – overlooking all of the island, lake, and inland Nicaragua), a local rodeo (quite primal with the taunting of the bulls, then releasing it to have 40 boys my age to try and rope it, not the fairest of fights. We were absolutely the only gringos for miles), and renting bikes to ride to a peninsula-like point which served as grounding for a tiny beachside pueblito. The exfoliating black sands and gentle, splendidly cold fresh water current were invigorating, though we were a bit cautious of the supposed hammer-head sharks that had impressively evolved in the vast water that used to connect to the Pacific Ocean. Some of my most dandy afternoons whilst traveling have consisted simply of a rented bicycle, a gal pal or two, my camera, and a sunny afternoon; this was no exception (though the dark clouds did momentarily taunt us).
  
  

  

  

• Work, work, work… The primary business and marketing plan for Don Lorenzo is now just short of the ribbon sealed “complete” status. (‘Don’ just means Senor here – don’t worry, that took me a full week to figure out why everyone was ‘named’ Don and Dona). The logo, signs, etc., are being printed and laminated and will be delivered on Monday. I’m very excited to leave him something tangible that has proved effective through extensive market research. In addition, recent emphasis has been placed on his pricing strategy (a fusion of cost-based and competitive-based pricing) within the cooperative, as well as educating him about the microfinanciera options that are available in Granada

• I’ve taken on a secondary project that involves creating a business template set within the cooperative context, complete with all of the questions that we had to ask Don Lorenzo to analyze his business and get to the plan that we have now. I’m also designing the overall cooperative logotype, as well as brochure for the 16 members regarding co-op best practices/benefits/challenges that I’ve researched. In addition I’m going to bare-bones the business template and have it just in the general Nicaragua context (specialized for the common problem of low cash-flow, informal employment environment, etc) for other entrepreneurs to use after I’m gone. My supervisor and I thought that the more tangible stuff that I could leave behind, the better, especially since I had already researched so much with the primary project. The ones who will get the most out of the templates that I leave behind will be the ones that took the initiative to try helping themselves, and that’s a sector that I don’t mind putting in the (wo)man-hours for!
• Adoring my family! Here’s Maria Haiti, my captivating (until she raids your room and plays with your contact solution, glasses, power cords, etc, etc…) 2-year old host-niece. She doesn’t live in the house, but always comes over with her mum, Coco’s daughter, during the day. Here she is, absolutely delighted, using my i-Pod for the first time. I put on Abba’s Dancing Queen, as that’s always a hit for the niñas at the orphanage (it seems everyone in this city has gotten around to watching Mamma Mia).
  

  

• (Somewhat) conquering a mild fear of heights with guided canopy tours amongst the towering trees up the Mombacho Volcano. On some of the 14 ziplines I went alone, braking for myself (having to hand-over-hand pulley myself to the other side if I braked too soon and running smack into a tree if I braked too late!), and other times I went attached to a professional guide, where he’d do the braking work while I Superman’d underneath him and even upside down at times. What a rush!

• A slightly irrational but incredibly fun trip to Managua. Basically, Graham had been living the dream and surfing all along the Costa Rican coast for a week, though we were missing the constant interaction that the previous month and a half had entailed. On Saturday late afternoon, he was heading back through Granada, only to pack up and hop a shuttle to Managua, the capital city an hour away, for his 7am flight the next morning. Fresh off the Tica Bus, he stopped by my house to say hi/bye on the way to his house.  Suddenly, I had a great idea – why don’t I just go to Managua with you for the evening? He thought it was a crazy, but very sweet, idea. He headed off to buy us both airport shuttle tickets, and we soon found ourselves in Managua at a hotel across from the airport with – gasp – air condition!? It was so fun to catch up/say goodbye, and it was a sweet cap to an amazing summer. At 5AM he headed out, and I caught the buses to the nearby Masaya markets for family gifts a few hours later (but only after an incredible continental breakfast).
• The breathtaking Laguna de Apoyo… one last time.
• Joining a swanky gym, Pure, founded by some health-nut ex-patriates here… and actually 4-5 days/week for the last 2 weeks. It feels so centering and nice to sweat it all (all seven months of it!) out, and their kick-boxing classes have been incredible, and incredibly exhausting.
• Renting bikes and traversing through the city with good pal, Tina. (We’re planning on doing the same again today, heading to a nearby butterfly reserve that we’ve read about. Packing it in these last few days!)Pics from around town:
  

  

  

  

  

  

• The great fruits of Nicaragua! Here’s a batido of patilla, a kiwi-esque cactus fruit that is the deepest fushchia that I’ve ever seen. The fruit is second only to a new-found love of mamones that grow high on trees, peel back to reveal a juicy, tart center,  and are sold on the streets for 25cents per bouquet.

That’s all for now. Enjoy your Sunday – and see you soon!

Well, this past weekend fooled me: with all the signs in English, paved roads, Papa John’s + Burger King + Cinnabon “Food Malls,” and Greyhound buses (rather than the usual donated US school bus), I was really led to  momentarily believe that I was in Ole Am’urica.

Graham and I met up with old friend Colton currently living in La Cruz, Costa Rica doing his second stint of a two-country medical internship, but this wasn’t until we got off our Tica-Bus three times during the most inefficient border transfer that I’ve ever experienced (once in Nicaragua, twice in Costa Rica 20 and 30m away where they stamped your passport and then “checked” your bags).

It was great to see Colton, and quite miraculous that we found each other in the first place, as we were sans functioning phones. We then hopped on the swanky vans that serve as general public transportation en route to our final destination of Playa Grande near the town of Huacas.

We found a great hotel (with a pool, bar/restaurant, pool table, rock’n'roll-filled jukebox – what more could you want??) with great rooms and a private kitchen for only $13/person/night. It was nice to finally be able to cook/prepare food (chicken spaghetti! ham sandwiches! cereal/milk for breakfast!), but the real highlight was the beautiful beach.

Colton and Graham both went surfing while I splashed around, sun-bathed, read, played with stray dogs, etc. The beach surprisingly wasn’t completely over-run with tourists (though still much more than the Nica beaches I’ve seen), and the green mountains and majestic rocks made for breathtaking views, especially at dusk. I got some good ones of the boys in action, too. Check it out!

While overall it was a splendid, relaxing vacation, our final night there cast a dark shadow over our days on the beach there. Sunday evening we headed down to the beach (we had been there just 45 minutes before and headed to the hotel as we thought it was about to rain), and there was no one in the water, though 30 or so people were crowded around the police that he just arrived. We asked another set of baffled tourists what was going on, and they replied that they thought someone had drowned.

Suddenly the foggy haze over the empty beach seemed so looming and ominous, and our happy-go-lucky mood sobered into one of gravity. The police were calling for local, experienced surfers to take their boards into the water and look for this person. About 10 minutes later, five men pulled a fit man who looked around 40 years old out of the water, where two CPR-certified American tourists (who merely thought that it’d be just another day at the beach) intently tried to resuscitate him for 10+ minutes. To no relief, it was soon obvious that this man had lost the ultimate fight against the brewing high tide.

He was on vacation with his girlfriend, both of whom had flown down from Spain. My heart so deeply went out to her as she stood there, watching the whole ordeal in shock.

I had never experienced anything like this uttery heavy moment, and it really changed the weight of the next few days. This guy appeared to be as healthy as they come and seemed around my dad’s age. I suppose I’m still a bit under the childlike illusion that my dad is Super-Man and can never get hurt. While I know it’s irrational because we’re all simply human at the end of the day, I think it’s just the way little girls, especially those who have been lucky enough to have such a spectucular father figure in their lives, are wired.

My first desire when I went home was to call my family and let them know how much I think of them. We even did that silly through-the-phone hug that we’ve had to do these last seven months while I’ve been a thousand miles away. Okay, I’ve officially overshared. The realization of it all was that we don’t know when just a seemingly regular day changes our entire existence.

So, love the ones that you’ve got, enjoy the little pleasures each day brings, and try to give your best self to this complex, fascinating, maddening, beautiful universe each day.

On another note, Graham gave me permission to post one of his neat, beachside lightning pictures that he took the other weekend in the W. Nicaraguan beach. Note, this picture was taken around 2AM!

Speaking of Graham, we’ve become such sweet pals this unprecedented summer together, and tomorrow is our last day in Granada together! He’s concluding his research project and going back to Costa Rica to get some supple surfing in, and I’m heading to Ometepe, a supposedly beautiful pair of volcanos on a coastal island for the weekend. I’ll miss that kid living just down the block and exploring nearby Nica together!

Work is going just splendidly. This morning I finished the (9 page – single spaced!) business plan for the primary artisan that I’ve been working with, and I’m meeting him on Monday to take pictures for designing a logo and an English brochure for the tourists to learn more about him and the product that they are potentially buying (my surveys showed that people are “buying the feel” when purchasing directly from the artists at these cooperatives and many are willing to pay a small premium in these situations. They are also often moved to purchase after a conversation with the artist/learning about the product’s history).

After I wrap up his specific plan, I’m crafting business templates for the other 15 artisans to use that are fit to their shared cooperative context. Finally, I’m writing a proposition to the forming cooperative’s overall officials with some co-op “best practices” that I’ve researched, as well as a cooperative-wide marketing model and logo. I’m so excited that everything’s rolling so well thus far!

Have a blessed weekend; talk soon.

Adriane

So I figured I’d throw everyone a curve-ball and post a week more frequently than usual this time. Lately I’ve snapped some neat shots of the world around me so I thought I’d add them to this photo-journal-scrapbook of sorts.

Last Friday, Graham, Tina, Chrystal, and I experienced the all-around circus that is the Nicaraguan baseball culture. Deeply-spirited fans, an in-stands band, a beer concessions stand, local vendors (walking around with pizza, ceviche, toys, horns, whistles, you name it), and comic relief in the form of a limber, 50-year old ball boy that emerged from the Granada “dug out” (just benches on the sidelines in the hot sun) and did a sporadic little jig… this game had it all!

Granada was playing Rivas, Nicaragua in what was game two the seven-game series national semi-finals. Granada won viciously 10-6 (and had won the first game as well). Fans were going wild (a rambunctious few, escorted by the riled up Nica police force, had to see themselves to the parking lot). As I said, it was quite an experience, and I’m looking forward to attending game four (possibly the deal-sealer!) this Friday.

Pictures below: (1) The in-house tuba player taking a few short breathers between spurts of rocking the stands; (2) The silhouette of a few young fans watching the game near the fence as the sun was setting behind them.

Early Sunday morning, Graham and I went on a three-bus-changing expedition to the beautiful beaches near the historic city of Leon in West Nicaragua.We rode in high style in the first two buses (read: oversized vans with functioning windows that allow for adequate air flow) and paid a premium (40 cordobas instead of 20 corbodas) and thought that the extra $1 was indisputably worth it.

Here I need to note: something about this trip has made me crazy for little kiddos. I’m not sure if it’s because they’re all so tan, dirty, sweaty, and barefoot (a resemblance of my sweet childhood), they speak at or around my level of Spanish, or (God forbid) my biological clock is starting to go tick-tick-tick (if that’s the case, it can just keep ticking, unattended to!). In either case, Graham and other friends can attest that I’m perpetually oohing and ahhing over how darn precious they all are.

Exhibit A: This darling little three year old Curly Sue (enter Spanish name equivalent here) sitting on her dad’s lap. If you look close, you can see the chicken that is also in transport. Every now and then, this little girl would get bored and just start, without much interest, poking at the chicken’s head. It was obviously domesticated (until the family gets hungry enough, I suppose) and didn’t seem to mind too much.

This next little girl was on the ‘chicken bus’ on our third leg of the trip. Graham and I, without (traditional) seats, were sitting on a giant tractor tire, when this little girl and her younger sister and brother came over to stand (standing room only). Now her little three year old brother was among the dirtiest little kids I’d seen walking around and just had the saddest eyes. The bus started and the little kids are flying around, and he kept holding on to my legs to stay standing. I held his little body, hoisting him up on the tire to let him see out the windows.

I gave the three siblings a piece of gum, and the oldest girl (pictured) was interested in my camera. I asked if she wanted me to take a picture of her, she nodded and gave me this wise, somehow-understanding half-smile.

The beaches were amazing. Graham got great waves to ride, and I had fun splashing around (save for three scary under-currents; these waves are powerful!) and getting some sweet reading in.  We were some of the only gringos around. We didn’t have running water two days and electricity went out one night (so, so hot), but we had the rolling water outside, as well as bucket showers, to take a dip in. The sunsets were magestic (the picture hasn’t been touched up!), and in the morning, everything looked some fresh and crisp. Surf shacks and abandoned homes on the edge of the water made for great photo-ops. On our last night, the area got its first big monsoon of the season. Graham and I both couldn’t sleep so we sat out on the hammock chairs undercover and watched the brilliant, thrashing sky. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen lightning of that frequency and intensity. It was so, so beautiful. G got some good pictures/videos that I may have to post on here. A lovely, lovely time had.

Graham’s mom had sent up great toys for kids here, like bubbles, Play-Doh, nail-polish, etc. Since he doesn’t get much kiddo interaction (researching the Sandinista government), he let me take lots of goodies to the girls at the ophanage. Seriously, every week there gets better. I came home so uplifted after being in the presence of their joy. Whether it was their shrieking laughter at the bubbles, the makeshift hamburger (and of course, gallo pinto) Play-Doh factory we set up, or the “I love you! I love you!” goodbyes that I got, something about that afternoon was so good for my soul. Have a look!

I’m busy, busy, busy with work, now crafting the marketing part of the business plan for the co-op artisan; it’s been pretty exciting to see it all come together. I’m meeting with Don Lorenzo this afternoon with some additional questions (trying to figure out which variables were most responsible for the fact that in the ’80s, business was up 400% – was it a change in leather exporting regulations? change of croc skin perceptions? change of demographics? change of resource abundance?). Once boiled down, we can properly offer best solutions for the future.

Tomorrow early morning, Tina, Chrystal, Graham, and I are heading to Costa Rica for two nights to visit the beaches and our pal, Colton. Tonight there’s the 4th Granada v. Rivas, where hopefully our boys will seal the deal and come home with a title! Amazing how quickly you can feel the loyalty of a fan in the most obscure places and situations!

Have a lovely 4th of July weekend! I’ll be celebrating in CR, where things will likely, relatively, feel like my Estados Unidos home.

Love to all

Since my last post (one that could have been concluded with an adieu from Debby Downer, I know), I can now truthfully state that I have contracted a momentarily crippling case of influenza in a developing country – and have lived to tell about it. The moderate throat and body soreness seemed to ride a crescendo wave until they were full-blown debilitation. Amidst the perpetual humidity and outlandish heat, it’s difficult here to ever really discern between the normal sweatiness and the notoriously clammy discomfort of fever, but I began to know that something wasn’t right.

At the eternally crowded pharmacy I was waiting in line (#45 or so in a long line of other enfermos) to finally see what my temperature w as, but the Spanish equivalent of this temp-telling device completed escaped me. Termometria? Was that it? I called Coco just to see if she had one (she didn’t), but my phone call’s intent was lost in translation for the first five minutes, “Que? Necesitas un medico??…” (What? You need a doctor??) Finally a morsel of clarity entered the conversation, and she realized that what I wanted was a thermometro (oh, that’s what it was). Okay, now only 38 people in front of me now. A fusion of the nuisance of the line’s wait (exacerbated by people cutting in line) and the intuition that the flu was looming inside of me spurred one, then two, tears to stream down my sweaty cheeks. I immediately was ‘that girl’ – the only gringa in the room, feeling like momentarily but completely helpless, and now crying! But hey, I figure we’re all entitled to a moment like that every now and then.

It turned out that I had 102º temperature (only determined after I remembered the 9/5X + 32 6^th grade science algorithm, as everything here is in Celsius) and later that night I went to the doctor (Coco’s other daughter is married and lives with her husband’s family. Her father-in-law is a pediatrician here in Granada. From Coco’s house I hopped on the back of her husband’s motorcycle, held on tight, and blazed across the town until we were at the doctor’s house). The doctor quickly ruled that it was the flu and prescribed antibiotics, acetaminophen, and Benadryl.  The cost of the house call was the equivalent of $9.50. Not too shabby.

The next few days entailed sleeping, waking up to eat a bit, and reading. Though I was unable to go to the beach trip that I had planned with Graham, it was relaxing and nice to devote time to get healthy. I finally finished the 600+ page “East of Eden” by Steinbeck (excellent. In fact, it’s the title that made Oprah start her book club years ago) and Truman Capote’s “In Cold Blood.”  Come Monday, I was feeling 95% back to normal, and Tuesday greeted me with perfect health recharged. The healthy days following days of puny sickness always are accompanied with a spirit of thankfulness and rejuvenation, and this week was no different. With as much that go wrong in the human body, achieved health (and the body’s balance of homeostasis) is pretty incredible.

And speaking of books, I cannot stop reading! When I’m not working on the business development project, tutoring English, hanging out with my host family or fellow interns, or just taking in the world around me, I’ve got my nose in a book. I’m almost done with “Banker to the Poor” by Mohammed Yunus, the incredibly motivating founder of India’s Grameen Bank, which revolutionized effective micro-credit and lending. It’s inspiring to see that this man has made a sustainable, positive mark (and then some) to alleviate world poverty. I’m also in the middle of Fitzgerald’s “The Great Gatsby” and Vonnegut’s “Slaughterhouse Five.”

There’s a great little lunch spot, Garden Café, that has the tastiest salads (when I’m in need of a little green fix – not such a staple of Nicaraguan diets) and used books that you can both check out and buy. I’m not sure when in my immediate future I’ll be able to get a lot of reading in, so when there’s a bit of time, I’m blazing through these. Marquez’s “100 Years of Solitude”, Hemingway’s “A Farewell to Arms”, Golding’s “Lord of the Flies”, and Hosseini’s “The Kite Runner” are in the pipeline of ones to come. Once you get to reading, it’s all so infectious! This has certainly already been such a summer of learning.

Other happenings:

• Going to the Masaya markets to do vendor and consumer research for the business development project. I was scoping out position, price, and origin of products from Don Lorenzo’s direct or hybrid competitors (stands selling solely leather goods and stands selling both leather goods and other artifacts). In addition, I was giving surveys to fellow gringo shoppers to gauge the perceptions of both democratically run artisan cooperatives, as well as crocodile leather (among other things).A very telling day of in-field research, and I think that we’re going to find that Don Lorenzo’s target audience isn’t the 20-35 year old backpackers going through (whom I originally thought was our key consumer), but the good number of 65+ year old ex-patriot American men, living and retired here (at least temporarily). These guys, in relation to the backpacking audience, have a bit more disposable income, as a general less liberal outlook when it comes to environmental issues and animal rights. As one put it, “if the crocodile leather is employing people and allowing self-betterment, I’m all for it. I think people are worth more than crocodiles.” Ahh, I love the frankness of old men.The bus pictures below are from the Masaya bus yard. The principle means of transportation is bus, more specifically, elaborately painted, old donated American school buses. The bottom picture is a common site. With 60% of the population not formally employed, many resort to selling cut fruit, fruit juices, food similar to tamales, etc., to support their family’s livelihood. These people walk around and through the school buses selling their food, usually to fellow locals, for a cordoba or two (5-10 USD cents).

• Climbing up to the bell tower of the La Merced church around sunset and overlooking the city with Graham. The view was just splendid – we were able to see all the way past the cathedral to Lake Nicaragua. The unique stacked tile roofs made the brilliantly colored city seem a lot more uniform than it does when walking through the streets day to day. Also, the setting sun and the mountains in the horizon were such a neat backdrop behind the statue of the Virgin Mary above the church.

• Tutoring English and math with the weekly niñas – but not first without playing the “Candy Lady” upon arrival. These girls were extra-affectionate this week and definitely gave me intrinsic motivation for coming back. I try to stop and say ‘hi’ when I walk past their house during the week.

• A monsoon in the house! Two nights ago, Coco was having a birthday party for one of her Bible study girl friends. There was Coke, birthday cake, bean dip, traditional Nicaraguan party music playing, and so much dancing. All this time, torrential downpour was brewing and finally burst through the clouds. Our cement gutters (about 8-10 inches deep) under the section of the house sans roof quickly filled up, and water was running through the house, namely into my room! The 15 or so guests pitched in with the brooms, as Pedro (Coco’s son-in-law) worked on clearing the drain to the streets with a rebar pipe. It was so wild that I pulled out my camera to film brother Chris sweeping the water out of my room, and uploaded it, found here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K5h9WbXR3Vw .

• Another monsoon last night! A group of us were at Café Nuit for our weekly salsa dancing, and the sky broke again. Everyone ran to the covered dance floor/bar area, or under the tarps provided. Pretty soon, the water was everywhere, even the covered parts, at least three inches. I had to call the night early to go home and make sure my room wasn’t flooding! Luckily I caught it in time and was able to wedge some towels beneath and stay dry. I think the rain kept up for a few hours though, as the streets were still a little flooded this morning.

• Upcoming plans include going to the national semi-finals baseball tournament here this afternoon, as Granada plays Rivas (town about three hours away) here for game two of a seven-part series. Also, tomorrow morning Graham and I are leaving to the Las Peñitas beach of the Leon province and staying Sunday and Monday night. He’s a surfer, so is excited about the waves there (supposedly the best in the country), and I’m looking forward to lounging on the beach and, you guessed it, reading. We’re planning to visit our buddy Colton who is now interning with medical clinics in Costa Rice next Saturday and Sunday. We’re heading here via the usual school bus, but apparently the bus drops the tourists off right at the border but doesn’t cross it. You then walk across the border by foot to insure that Nicaraguan citizens aren’t illegally crossing to use Costa Rica’s free health care, which apparently has a much higher standard do to much more of the population formally employed and therefore paying money in ‘the pot’. Colton’s posted some breathtaking pictures of the area; it should be neat!

Hope this finds you healthy and happy, wherever you are!

God bless! A

Oy! ¿Qué tal, amigos?

This morning finds me in the breezy (hey, it’s all relative) cyber café near Tres Mundos, the city’s cultural mecca. I’m researching past Central American artisan co-ops, both ones that worked successfully and those that weren’t as successful, trying to establish which variables make up the ‘tipping point.’

True to form , I haven’t posted in awhile,  but I hope to compensate with some neat pictures. The photos – particularly of the poor neighborhoods – have a way of being romanticized when uploaded onto our two-dimensional computer screens, but I find it necessary to note that it isn’t the exact case when walking through them. While the colors of the “houses” in these neighborhoods are strikingly brilliant and mountains in the background are majestic, the actual living conditions of a lot of these places are enough to make your heart hurt.

We toured the Solitaridad barrio (neighborhood) that has a history of land squatters. Many moons ago there was unclaimed land in the Northwest of the city, and these then-homeless people started building shacks for shelter in the area. Over time, the title of the land became their own. Living conditions here were the worst of the city, with about two or three feet of the home built underground (though I didn’t understand exactly why this way. I suppose that building part of the infrastructure underground gave the part that was above ground its needed support). During the mojada (wet) season, these people would live sometimes thigh-deep in unsanitary water. This little ‘factoid’ mid-tour was enough to make me step back and think, “Woah…”.

In the last five years, this neighborhood has gone through a vast reconstructing, starting with its main road running through it. The road is now, for the most part, elevated about three feet, making it less susceptible to the lluvia (rain). Afterward, houses started being lifted up onto two foot or more cement blocks, providing more adequate elevation against the rainy days. However, about 1/5^th of the homes still remain below ground level, as the families weren’t able to pay enough for the labor help and the stones.

The little niño pictured below lived in one of the homes about to undergo the home elevation process. He was sitting on a pile of the cement blocks, playing with rocks and a little twig. I’m not sure whether it was his fascinated little grin or his dirty knees/feet combo (the way I remember my childhood, perpetually sans zapatos (shoes), on the ranch), but something about this little fellow really captivated me, and it’s one of my favorite photos that I’ve taken while traveling.

Other Solitaridad photos include two kiddos playing a game in the dirt, one wearing an old kitschy XL tourist shirt from somewhere he had never been, and a makeshift little video game & Playstation arcade. Here kids that didn’t have televisions or game consoles at home (and no one here does) could come and play their friends. And finally, there’s a shot of what the neighborhood looked like when the elevated road ended and the flat, dirt road resumed.

On Friday morning I went to practice English with the little niñas at the orphanage again. I enjoyed my time there thoroughly, though quickly found that the age group of the girls that day (6 to 8 years old) was much more excited about looking through my purse, playing with my hair, sitting on my lap, and learning the version of their names in English, than they were about learning anything else in English. Okay, understandable. We had a lovely time, and it was surprising (due to all, all the neglect that they’ve been through, majority of which I’ll never even know) how quickly they warm up to someone and become so affectionate. This was just another instance where I was convinced of the immeasurable resilience of the human heart.

While I’ll continue to come and play with that batch of gals, I requested to the head nun that I would work with an older group on Thursday afternoons (who has school all morning but is off for the afternoon) to try improving these girl’s English. I could hardly be upset at the little ones though – I know exactly what it’s like to have an attention span of a hyperactive puppy, as I think that most days I still have that problem myself!

One other sweet moment was when one very shy girl who was a bit older finished sweeping the floors and sat down by me, asking if I could teach her some things. One of the first things she asked was how ‘Te amo’ translates. I told her that it meant ‘I love you’ and showed her how it was written. Since English and Spanish are pronounced a bit differently (Spanish pronounces absolutely every letter, and generally each letter only has one sound. For instance, instead of our pronounciation of “A E I O U,” they say “ah eh e o ooh), she was having a hard time how to say it. Below is a photo of her notebook, “I love you, suena como (sounds like) Hay lov yu”. She got down how to say it, and I could tell that she considered it a sweet accomplishment.

Saturday a big ole group of us (9 interns in total) trekked to the Mombacho volcan, which just happens to active enough to warrant ¡Peligroso! signs – even in English! This was probably my favorite weekend adventure taken thus far. The views of all the city (and then some) were absolutely spectacular, and you could see, feel, and smell the sulfur and other minerals that were gurgling beneath the surface of the volcano. We hiked up around another, inactive volcano and, when we weren’t so out-of-breath, talked about existentialism, the fleeting nature of life, etc. Afterward we took a bus to the Masaya markets, and I bought some goodies. A lovely, lovely afternoon.

Sunday we all went back to the breathtaking laguna (my third time!), and brought our own food this time. Before catching a bus, the nine of us went to a supermarket and stocked up on loads of great food that we had been craving. At the Monkey Hut ‘resort,’ they let guests have free reign of the kitchen, so this resulted in fantastically grilled chicken, broccoli, tomatoes, onions and red peppers, as well as corn on the cob and fresh pineapple… all for about $2 per person!

Other memorable parts of the week included:

• Torrential downpours! Two or three afternoons this week have been peppered with wildly strong rains, usually from 2-5PM or so, and sometimes at night (which has been great because right before and after the rains, the weather is so nice and breezy). With the outdoor part of the house right outside my door, it’s been putting me to sleep – as well as sending some pretty interesting bugs and lizards running up my walls in my room. Ma, Dad – your gal is getting acquainted with a bit of her primal nature!

• Going with my pre-med friend Colton to shadow doctors in the very rural villages in the Southeast of the city. The clinic consisted of three rooms – a waiting area, examination room, and a ‘pharmacy’ of shelves with various supplies (gauze, bandages) and basic medical equipment (stethoscopes, blood pressure pumps). The ‘doctor’ was actually a girl who was in her 3rd year of medical school, but I was told that here, after the first year in university, the student has the same prescribing and diagnosing power as a regular MD.That day, we saw everything from a little seven year old with an inflamed penis to a young mom who couldn’t lactate, to so many girls 15 years and younger that were very pregnant (and some that had a little nino already by their side) to a guy who had what I imagine leprosy looks like (who I must note, was the only man that came in all morning, largely due to a culture of machismo - the men never wanting to show pain or be vulnerable). In addition, we saw lots of minor ailments, like headaches and stomach aches. This is because health care here is free if the medicina is prescribed by a doctor (though going to the pharmacy to purchase acetaminophen, for example, would be an out-of-pocket expense). I also noticed that almost every patient was prescribed Amoxicillin, regardless of the illness. This worried me because I remembered back to my dad’s old mantra when I was growing up – “Only take antibiotics when they are absolutely necessary, and take them for the entire prescribed time span.” These women leaving with the medicine weren’t being educated with instructions concerning the necessary timeline of taking the drugs, thus were likely stopping the doses once the symptoms ceased.One darling little kiddo named (nicknamed? not sure) Nacho kept wanting to play with Colton and me, as we waited for the taxi in the high heat of the day for 1.5 hours. He play-boxed with Colton (more than triple Nacho’s size – Colton is 6’9″ but let the little chap win!) and then informed us that he had ten brothers.

  

• Experiencing my first extended power-/water outage here and consequential (freezing) bucket shower. The city’s lights and water went out for about 12 hours, and I was informed that this used to be a regular thing a few years ago, but that the electrical system had been greatly improved. The interns went to a nearby hostel where one of our buds is staying (for $5/night) and hung out in the courtyard on the hammocks talking with a few candles around us. It was simultaneously neat and annoying (as we had plans to watch Mystic River a group that night!). As far as the bucket shower goes, because Nicaraguans are used to long periods without running water, most showers have a cement basin on the side that resembles a water-trough when a faucet above it. When there’s water, they make sure that the basin is full, for a ‘rainy day’.

• Brother Chris discovering that I had an i-Pod and laptop and loving to play on them. “Where/when did you get these? Where they gifts? Where they very expensive??” He shyly knocks on my door and asks if he can play pin-ball (Reagan – he just may be your ‘high score’ by the end of this all!). He and I have become such buddies, and when I talk to other interns who don’t live with kiddos at their home stays, I realize how lucky I am to have this playful, spirited little boy in my life for the next two months. He loves practicing the 50 or so English words he knows with me and never seems to mind when I ask him – for literally the tenth time – Como se dice “fan“? It’s ‘abanico‘, by the way. Something that, now that I know it, I’ll likely never forget after my stay here!Here’s Chris, enjoying his regular treat: my chocolate!

Things have been going splendidly – except for a few tummy incidents – but yesterday seemed to be a bit of a hiccup in itself. I woke up with a minor sore throat with was amplified as the day went on, along with some body aches. I suppose that it was bound to happen, with the regular rains and sleeping with a fan on my body full-blast every night. I started on some antibiotics that my dad had packed along for me (don’t worry – I’ll follow the dosage instructions!) and gargled with the classic vinegar and salt water (this old remedy really confused my host family!), and I’ve started feeling a little better.

In addition to the physical aches, my heart started really hurting for this country yesterday. I don’t know if it was the primal healthcare I witnessed or being approached at night another countless time by a kid trying to sell me candy or something woven out of reed, or the kids that come to the door every evening and buy 1cordoba (5cent USD) shampoo samples from Coco because they never have enough cash flow to ever buy the whole bottle, or the homeless man that was defecating in the street. Whatever it was, the ‘newness and excitement’ of this experience was stripped away a bit, and I started comprehending – through a bit less of a tourist, more of a local’s eye – all the pain that exists here. Someone told me, “Nicaraguans don’t live, they survive” – and I’ve started to understand.

To maintain energy, purpose, and optimism, a volunteer here has to change his or her mindset. Problems are startlingly deep-rooted, so one’s mission can’t be to completely turn the system around, though it seems so easy to try applying text-book answers A, B, & C, and “Wala! You magically have a safe, sustainable, and civil society!” One has to start relishing in the little silver linings of the day – the niña making up extra English homework because she wants to keep learning and doesn’t want you to leave, the passion and commitment of the 20 year old local kid giving the tour of his Solidaridad barrio and then watching his documentary of the neighborhood’s conditions that was made to raise awareness, or the handshake concluding an interview with an artisan, as he looks you in the eyes and sincerely thanks you for embarking on the creation of a business plan for him. It’s these little moments – and you’ve sometimes got to actively search for them – that are what is going to sustain the energy and motivation needed for a meaningful and productive mission.

To change the world/start with one step/however small, that step is hardest of all. - Dave Matthews Band

Love you all, Adriane

Okay, first things first.

How the heck did I find myself in Granada, Nicaragua for the summer?

Well, I suppose it was a fusion of the following:

• The job market for interns in the States currently resembles an epic hangover,
• While in Spain I was bit by the notorious travel bug, resulting in an itchy, antsy case of wanderlust for the world around me,

and

• I was adamantly opposed to another unfulfilling summer of cubicle work (see Summer 2008) where the amount of positive externalities contributed to greater mankind fell near absolute zero on the Kelvin spectrum.

It didn’t hurt that logistics worked out so well. There was no (Spain-esque) two month wait time for a visa while my passport floated around between the countries. Nicaragua simply required a $5 visa, purchased at airport customs upon arrival. I tried using the “ease of country entrance” on my pros/cons list when trying to convince mis padres that this is where I needed to be for the summer. That ‘advantage’ didn’t necessarily get counted in my favor (“Oh. So it’s that underdeveloped.”), but I think by now they are getting used to slightly less proverbial proposals from my end!

And so, I find myself – perpetually soggy in my own sweat – here. I am interning/volunteering with the non-profit Viva Nicaragua, wearing a number of hats this summer. These include (1) business development/creating a marketing plan for a small business enterprise (a local co-op of artesans that creates and sells art here in Granada), (2) researching various micro-finance options available and educating small business owners and prospective entrepreneurs about their best options from a business standpoint, and (3) tutoring English and playing with niñas of Jr. High age at a nearby orphanage.

In addition, I am taking 1-on-1 Spanish classes, usually daily, to amplify the effectiveness of projects #1-3, as well as to make the experience with my dear host family more meaningful. As far as the housing situation goes, it’s been absolutely terrific thus far. I live with Dona (Mrs.) Socorro (She says to call her Coco as it’s easier), her husband, and her daughter’s family (spouse, daughter Andrea (15) and son Christopher (9)). She’s an absolutely brilliant cook, serving me three square meals a day. While other interns already complaining of boredom from the gallo pinto (beans and rice dish, a cuisine staple here) that they are solely served day in, day out, Dona Socorro is whipping up some marvelously marinated beef slabs, baked chicken, fried plantain bananas, avocado slices, chile juice soaked cucumbers and tomatoes… as well as the classic gallo pinto. Incredible.

On top of the heartiness of the gastronomy here (which, in all honesty, I wasn’t preparing to love), the Socorro family has been so incredibly warm to me, especially the grandmother and little boy. Coco’s got this terrific maternal quality, sitting by me when I eat and patiently talking in slow Spanish, never getting frustrated to clarify, cleaning my bedroom (this ‘amenity’ comes with the host families, but I told her wasn’t necessary – she, however, insists!), washing the family’s clothes, etc.

Chris has this wonderful spirit of playfulness – loving sports, and hating to study (hmm… sounds like another hermano that I know – RSM!). He loved it last night when I played soccer with him on the street in front of the house as the sun was setting. We used a plastic lawn chair for the makeshift goal; he was Manchester United, and I was of course FC Barcelona. He kicked my butt. He (and Andrea) has loved the University of Texas gear that I brought for them, wearing it the day that I gave it to them. In addition Chris loves when I sneak him a piece of the good chocolate that I brought from home right before dinner, even though his mom gives him the lightheartedly disapproving look.

One of the loveliest evenings was just sitting outside in the (rare) evening breeze on the front steps with Coco and Chris, among other (central and extended) family that would come and sit for a bit. The Spanish language flowed easier than usual that night, and they made me feel like I was truly part of their family for the next nine weeks. Carrie, the program instructor for the nonprofit, had assured me that I’d be in good hands (and would have a satisfied tummy) with the Socorro family, but I hadn’t expected this kind of warmth and hospitality.

First noted differences between Nicaragua & The States:

• No A/C. Anywhere. There is a fan propped up near each bed and in each main room in the homes. Internet cafes (cibers) have one primary fan to circulate air for the customers. I have quickly gotten used to being eternally sweaty. In the States, we rarely reach the point where we’ve sweated so much that it actually does it intended job of truly cooling us down with its wetness, but here, yes. It’s a great biological science.
• Each home has a portion of it that is outdoors overlooking the clothesline.

  

  Unfortunately this translates the lots of flies in the house, so bedroom doors stay shut but the living area has no exemption from these insects. Now, day in and day out, Marc by Marc Jacobs parfum bit the bullet and has been replaced with Off! Deep Woods Insect Repellant. I’ve begun to get used to perpetually smelling like summer camp.

• It’s common for three or four generations to live together. I’m not quite sure how the system works, if one exists at all. For economic reasons, it makes sense for the grandparents to stay at the home, cooking, cleaning, and looking after the nietos while the parents go off to their jobs in the day.
• The showers are very, very cold. Our shower has a pretty simple PVC pipe coming out of the way with a makeshift showerhead at the end. It comes out the way a garden hose works and – who would have guessed? – feels incredible in this tropic heat. The thought of a hot, steamy shower seems unfathomable already.
• Speaking of working, less than 40% of people here are formally employed. The rest are either totally umemployed or work as street vendors at all hours of the day and night. This means the government here can only collect taxes from about 2/5th of the population, if that. That’s pretty difficult when it’s being juxtaposed with a free health care and education system. These translates into the schools being way overstocked (kiddos have to choose whether to go to the morning or afternoon session) and in locals trying to sneak to Costa Rica where they too have a free health care system, but it’s much more efficient as CR’s ”informal” employment – street vendors – have been outlawed.
• Things are wildly inexpensive. They’ve got a pretty sweet system with the cab rides: if you’re travelling anywhere within the city limits of Granada, the rate is a flat 10 cordobas (50cents USD). This certainly beats the 7euro cab rides that I had grown accustom to.  The interns have been meeting up at a touristy sports bar to watch the Magic v. Lakers playoff games (new friend Graham from Georgetown Uni is originally from Orlando, so games have been pretty devastating on our end!), and the mojito special was 2 x 25 cordobas ($1.25 USD). Wowzers.

Activities and photo-ops thus far:

When I went to the nearby orphanage to tutor the girls in ingles, I instantly connected with the girl in the picture, Tania. She was so big-hearted, affectionate, and excited to learn. I could tell that, after the three hour marker,  she didn’t the lessons to end, and kept making up homework and things to translate. That was pretty endearing. Mom, if you’re reading, the girls loved the Jolly Ranchers you sent, and I’ll likely soon be known as La Mujer de los Jolly Ranchers considering the bag you sent was 7lbs!

The orphanage is funded by donations from the Catholic Church and is run by nuns. Midway through the less, one of the nuns pulled out a guitar and sang a few beautiful songs while the girls joined in or just watched and smiled.  One thing I’ve noticed is that Nicaraguans love having their photo taken. They get very excited, which makes me think that they may have had only limited exposure to that kind of technology.

Laguna de Apoyo

We took a chicken bus (converted, decorated old US school bus) about 45 minutes away from town (literally going < 15 mph most of the time) to the Masaya crossroads, got off and then hitchhiked to the water. The resort we stayed at was called The Monkey Hut and since the area hadn’t been compromised by excess tourism (at all), the cost for the day stay was only 6euros. This included free use of the kitchen, hammocks, floating tubes, canoes, etc.

We swam out to a floating ‘dock’ on the water as we relaxed and met the few other tourists that were there, some guys from Holland that had been travelling for a few months through C. and S. America. I loved hearing and sharing travel stories, both about here and Europe.

In the distance on the edge of the lake, there were locals washing their clothes in the water that we were splashing around in. Most of the laguna’s perimeter is home to just locals.

Volcan Mombacho

We took a dayyy trip to Mombacho. Starting with the chicken buses (a usual mode of transport here) to the base of the volcano (that 30min trip cost about 30cents USD) and began hiking up the steep 3km hill. At a fairly steady pace it took about 1.45 hours and I was amazed, amazed that we made it. I’ve never survived such incline and predict that my bum will continue to ache for the next five days. Half way up was the land of a local, organic coffee farmer, and we were able to stop and have some samples and to check out the farm. Once atop the (inactive) volcano, there were views for miles and miles, and lots of untouched coves, orchid fields, and rainforest trails.

The way back down proved to be nearly just as hard, as you had to concentrate very hard and go very slow not to slip on the slick, steeply declined algae and leaves. One always feels especially accomplished after days like that. Counting steps: 1, 2; 1, 2… somehow the resilient human body keeps going and can carry far more than it often gets credit for. A tiring, fantastic day!

La Fiesta de Los Cabellas

The bi-annual horse festival was underway when we got back from the volcano. As far as I can understand, the festival is to honor the noble horses that were killed in the wars during all the country’s history. Hm, cool.

Goats in a neighbor’s yard, spotted on the walk home. You never know what you’re going to see.

So there, that’s week one.

Intern comraderie, staff support, and family hospitality have been better than I imagined, and the experience has already been so different than anything I’ve ever been a part of. I think this may be the making of a grand summer.

Love to all,
Adriane

Shall I get to business?

Morocco, Africa

Cities Casablanca and Marrakech in Morocco, Africa

Longtime pal (you know, 3 months) Simon and I had been looking forward to dipping into this captivating, very Islamic-influenced North African country for some time. We flew into the famous Casablanca for the night and caught the next evening train ride to Marrakesh, Morocco’s market hub.

Highlights included:

• Visiting the world’s 3rd largest mosque (the two largest being in Medina, Saudi Arabia), called the Hassan II,  in Casablanca. Only finished in 1993, the surface of it lay over the Atlantic Water, inspired by the Qur´an´s passage ¨the throne of God was built on the water.¨ All materials used, except for the columns and chandeliers from Italy, were taken from Morocco, the tour guide boasted.  It was the only mosque in the country open to non-Muslims, and we were only able to view it during strict hours (this likely had something to do with financing it!).
• Traditional Moroccan meals of tagine – savory beef that’s simmered alongside potatoes, carrots, and plums for hours. We had this divine dish every. night.
• Our first taste of Moroccan bargaining on the streets of Casablanca (just a taste of what Marrakesh held), buying great leather handbags embellished with beautiful woven designs and silver metal, and coin purses.
• The raw excitement of a street full of running schoolboys, ages ranging from 8-16, throughout the Casablanca streets as they waved their soccer team’s flags while on their way to the awaited match against the town’s sport rival. There were over 50 boys, and not a girl to be found. Most women that we did see that women were in full berka dress.
• Reading A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini during the four hour train ride between the cities. Though this novel took place in Afghanistan, it was a gripping read that amplified what I got out of the Muslim context around me that weekend. (He also wrote the famous novel The Kite Runner, actually on board with me now to Managua).
• Moroccan tea. This quenching drink held its own at every meal (and between meal) sitting. Sometimes it consisted of no more than a cup of smashed fresh mint leaves, hot water, and loads of good ole azucar (sugar).
• Negotiating. Most everything – from taxis to (some) meals to services to goods on the street – was bargained for. I blended in a little bit so I did okay, but Simon, with his very fair skin and hair, didn’t fare as well with the merchants giving in!
• The street performers and merchants in the marketplace willing to do just about anything for attention. There was a flurry of henna artists (I rocked a brown ‘bracelet’ for about two weeks), snake charmers, and animal owners that would grant you a photo (see below) in exchange for a few durham (their currency, exchanging at about 10 durham to 1USD at our time of visit).
• The fantastic riad (old Turkish mansions converted for hotel use) that we stayed at. Boasting a blazing sunroof, dazzling inside pool, and complimentary Moroccan breakfast every morning – all amenities proved to be a real treat.

Morocco was grand!

When Andy came to Barcelona

Remember Andy from the prior posts (our serendipitous meeting in Lagos, Portugal during Semana Santa and the subsequent, (second) whirlwind trip to London)? Well, the good fella was able to come down for a lovely, lovely stay during my last weekend in Barcelona! I had to study study study during the days before he came due to an unfortunate final the Monday after he left, but once he arrived, the adventures were on!

For a late dinner we went to my absolutely favorite restaurant in the city, Cervesaria Catalana, and were upped to VIP status (great table, 15 minute wait when we were initially promised 1.5 hours worth!) thanks to my by-association acquaintance with their head hostess (she and roommate Elyse were chummy). He had his first taste of (unbelievably good) tapas, and then we went to the swanky 5-star hotel near the water for their Jacuzzi spa.

That next morning we strolled La Rambla and sat down for some traditional breakfast at a restaurant stationed in the midst of the street’s bustle. That day we saw a lot of Barcelona’s standard sites: the Boqueria marketplace with its wildly elaborate displays of fruit and veggies, the iconic (and still in the worlds) La Sagrada Familia cathedral by Antoni Gaudi, the Tibidabo amusement park/city overlook (also commissioned Gaudi work), and a romantic evening watching the famously colorful Plaza Espana Fontana Majic (magic fountain show) at Montjuic. The latter was paired with good Spanish cava just to make it ultra-cliché. We soon found ourselves alongside the beach enjoying classic seafood paella with its notoriously huge servings. That and a little paired wine had literally waddling down the beach afterward because we were so full!

The next and final morning we found ourselves in the classic Barcelonan dilemma: what to do on Sunday because everything is closed? The choice of breakfast was not spared from this limitation: most restaurants were, too, closed for the day. We stumbled upon a quiet candy shop with a French croissant and coffee stand in back, and enjoyed a light but tasty breakfast. His lovely stay was concluded with a trip to Gaudi’s Parc Guell. It was especially special because it was the first site of Barcelona I saw on my first day in the city, and this was nearly the conclusion of my days there. He loved it and was such a trooper the whole weekend as I drug him all around, like a kid showing off his parents’ new home. Andy was a darling, and who knows? Maybe I’ll see him in Country #4 sometime in the future!

Barcelona Last Days

Wow. Had it really already been four months?

Sweet highlights of the week:

• Finally checking out the MACBA contemporary art museum with Andrew M. We had promised each other months ago that we were going to go to that funky site and we finally got around to it one rainy afternoon.
• Further checking off what had become a bit of a Barcelona ‘bucket list’, best mate Eva and I went down to the Barceloneta beachside and rented bicycles. Needless to say we were a bit rusty after months of only walking, metroing, or cabbing! It was a splendid four hour rental and we stopped for a snack at our favorite little organic wok stand. Toward the end of the rental time, we had gotten pretty confident with our coordination skills and began doing tricks involving using no hands, taking pictures while riding, and just general tomfoolery. It was all fun and games until we entered a cement playground of some schoolkids, riding around saying ¨hola, ninos!!!¨ and doing showy figure-eights. I cut the bike too quickly and fell – absolutely slow-mo – first the front tire, then I slowly started slidding off, sunglasses off my head, camera out of my, well, sports bar, and then, bam, I was all the way down. The ninos watched in horror, and one cautiously approached me, ¨¿Esta bien??¨ ¨Ah, si, gracias. Este es mi primero vez en una bicicleta!¨ I lied. We trekked back to the rental stand like puppies with our tails between our legs. A hilarious afternoon.
• On my last night there, FC Barca team won the King’s Cup, heralding their name as the best team in Spain (They’ve since one the Euro-cup after a splendid Manchester United defeat since I’ve been home.) Felicidades, hermanos!
• Alongside winning La copa del Rey came absolute mayhem – talk about going out with a bang. There were thousands of people flocking to Las Ramblas for the makeshift festivities. There were banners waving, horns honking, people climbing atop lampposts and street signs, and a massive bonfire in the center of it all. My naivety was apparent when I caught myself wondering, “golly, who brought all the wood for this fire?” I was soon informed that those were burning street signs and city bikes. Dios mio!  Our night was cut short when the riot police rode through town (and in Spain, these riot patrollers find themselves called to a ‘higher duty.’ Instead of a traditional cop’s role of preventing disorder, these guys take it upon themselves to actively ‘promote peace’ – and this usually entails them making a point with their night stick. Scary business.). The fifteen of us got split into three groups when the riot police came through with a new weapon of choice: tear gas. Needless to say, we got there heck out of there, and I took the roundabout way home to prepare for my 9am flight home the next morning. What a memorable cap to all my Barcelonan experiences!

Will write soon from Nicaragua! Got here safe and sound. Everything´s fantastic but it´s so hot. I am literally, perpetually soggy in my own sweat. On that graphic note, I´ll bid you adeiu.

Talk soon. Love, Adriane

So much has been going on post-spring break that I can hardly keep everything straight!

Spring Break (Semana Santa), in short:

We led a nomadic existence for ten days while trekking through Southern Spain and then up the Portuguese coastline. We visited Granada, Marbella, Sevilla in Espana and Lagos and Lisbon in Portugal, respectively. Amazing times.

Granada, Spain: My favorite Southern Spain city that we visited. The Turkish influence was infectious, giving the city a great small town, artisan-esque feel. During the first hour that we were there, Dave, Eva, and I took a guided ‘cave tour’ where we hiked up and saw where a population of over 1,000 (mostly gypsies) live. We visited a ‘cave mansion’ which was a splendid half-normal home, half-plastered cave hybrid. We had tapas on the upstairs terrace. The temperature stays around 70°F all year round, and the cave-dwellers seem to have quite the close-knit community.

Also that evening we went on a tapas tour through four different tapas bars. Southern Spain (particularly Granada) is unique in that it gives customers a free tapas atop of the alcoholic drink that they order. For instance, order a beer and get a little bocadilla (sandwich, usually pork) on top. It’s a tasty combo and a great way to pace yourself. One of the little bars had a Spanish guitar band, something also largely unique to the South, and they put on a fabulous show for us.

The next morning, Dave, new pal Bashima, and I toured the ever-famous Alhambra, a Moorish palace and fortress complex. It had once been the residence of Granada’s Muslim rulers and was conquered by Christians in the 16th century. Jaw-dropping architecture and tile design.

Marbella, Spain: My least favorite of the Spanish cities visited, this overly-Westernized place felt like flashy Miami, Florida. Despite the culture shock, we had unbelievable pizza at Picasso’s Pizzaria, as recommended by Elyse from an earlier trip, and a rowdy night out at the Dreamer’s Disco. Though pricey pricey pricey, things were.

The next day we cut our trip short and decided to head to Sevilla for one night extra, though not without soaking up some rays on the popular beach.

Sevilla, Spain:  My 2nd favorite of the Spanish cities that we visited. We were there in the middle of the Semana Santa festival, on the main day actually. This was the American (?) version of Palm Sunday, but in Sevilla there is an approximately 12 hour procession around the city in celebration. Hundreds and hundreds of parade participants dress in costumes that resemble Ku Klux Klan uniforms (the uniforms in Sevilla, though with nothing in common with the organization, they actually inspired the way that the KKK dress. More about it found here.) with candles and giant crosses and follow the band (playing the eeriest of tunes, at least in the mind of this outsider!) and giant platforms depicting scenes from the stations of the cross.

Spaniards flock from near and far to watch this, and with such reverence! We joined them in the watching, and all was well and good until we were in the 11th hour (figuratively speaking), trying to go find some dinner and nightlife, and it was taking us over an hour to go five  blocks over!

While in Sevilla, I felt that I really got a taste of the Spain that I had previously imagined. On Sunday afternoons, most everything was closed and we (Dave, Eva, Mark, Joel, me) sat on a lovely patio enjoying an extensive lunch while just people watching the many families on their way to and from church.  Each person was dressed in a monochromatic outfit. If their dress was violet, so was their hat, shoes, handbag, and so on. Furthermore, most families were all the versions of the same hue. And by families, I mean the grandparents, aunts, uncles, kiddos, the works. Big families encompassing three and even four generations.

The loveliest of afternoons was just spent taking a siesta on the courtyard of a university with a small fence separating us and the streets flocked with locals on their way. The steady bustle of it all acted the way “Sounds for Sleep: Ocean Waves” cds do. I wrote a journal entry (that I’ve since misplaced) on the back of some map I had. I can’t recall it all, but it had something to do with the description of the lavender Keds and mismatched socks tossed aside, Eva faintly snoring next to me, and that this was going to be the moment that I returned back to when I was old, grey, and remembering when.

I pray that I am blessed with an intact memory as I approach a hopefully ripe old age. One of my favorite quotes is by Isamu Noguchi and he says, “We are landscapes of all that we have seen.” Moments like the one described above in the Sevilla courtyard are small and trivial when looked at secularly, but holistically they are part of a giant mosiac of what makes me, me, and you, you.

Lagos, Portugal: Ne’er have I witnessed such beachy paradise as I did here! Four languid days spent here all run into each other, and a splendid time was had. We found a private cove of a beach that only a few locals were enjoying, and we truly had to stop and catch our breath.

Our hostel was terrific and homey, with a great Portuguese house mum who affectionately went by “Mama”. Every morning all 30-40 people staying there would go in shifts to breakfast where she whipped out crepe after crepe, and boiled some fantastic “lemon tea” – simply boiled water and lemon rind. 10-12 people at a time sat around a big kitchen table and got to know each other and, if necessary, shared stories from the days and nights before.

Other highlights include cliff-jumping one afternoon. From the comfort of our beach towels, we watched some locals on top of a huge cliff, hesitating as to whether or not they’d actually jump. Finally one did and the rest followed, and they all made it safely down, save for a few belly and back flops! My bud Joel suggested that some of us go and try it, and on an impulse, I agreed. Five of us in total did. Half way up, I had second thoughts. I looked down – terrible idea – and now can say that one of the worst feelings is to realize that it’s much more dangerous to try going down than it is to continue going up! Looking down, I saw a conglomeration of steep rocks and shallow water.  Above me there was no stable ledge to step, and I had to use every bit of strength in my arms/fingers to hoist/claw. Finally I had made it to the top and now for the ‘easy’ part – actually jumping.

Joel told me to remember two things: 1) jump as far out from the rock as you can, and 2) jump as straight as you can to avoid an ugly smack at the water surface. In retrospect, I was much more concerned with the second piece of advice than I was the first. Though I jumped with perfectly (mas o menos) straight form, I sincerely thought I was going to hit the edge of the mountain on the way down. I hadn’t jumped far off at all! With a  splash, I was both full of relief and logged with water in my nose!

The last night there was most memorable I met a fantastic fellow, Andy (though that’s not him in the Lagos picture below). We were in a bar near the hostel when I ran into him and some of his friends. Somehow we got to talking and had great chemistry. It was his first of four nights visiting in Lagos, and he and his friends had rented a villa in the town. They were all from Australia originally and now living in London. He’s 28 and living in London Town practicing law. We talked for hours about different travel stories. He had only lived in Europe for 1 1/2 year or so and had taken a break after law school to travel the world for a year. From working six months in a heli-skiing lodge in the Canadian Rockies to surfing in Indonesia to backpacking while zigzagging through Central America, he had some terrific tales! We had so much fun that we decided to meet the next morning for breakfast early before I left. Since the trip we corresponded by e-mail and enjoyed getting to know each other more.

Lisbon, Portugal: With only one night here, we didn’t get a true taste of what the Portuguese capital was all about. It seemed a bit confusing: much poorer than Spain, the streets were kind of run-down and shaddy in parts, and then all of the sudden, you’d see a swanky Louis Vuitton store, for example. There was a lot of odd juxtaposition with both poor and rich, regal qualities while still having that complicated inferiority complex that they hold against more developed Spain, but we had a great night out nonetheless. The next day we went on a city tour and enjoyed the street markets before heading back to sweet Barcelona.

Post Semana Santa

Sitges, Spain: One afternoon, Elyse, Eva, and I ventured back to an hour away Sitges, Spain (where Carnaval was earlier this semester, the night that I lost not one but two cameras). It was a lot less sketchy during the day, and we enjoyed just lounging on the beach until it got a little too windy.

Figueres, Spain: The following day, Michael, Stefan, Eva, and I went to two-hour away Figueres, whose main claim to fame was the famous Salvador Dalí. The museum in itself was the biggest piece of surrealism art in the world. Quite the self-promoter, Dalí built the museum before he died. Narcisstic or not, it didn’t fail to impress!

Misc:

A party with kiddos from France, The Netherlands, Sweden, and Switzerland where I was the only Americana. A great time, they all wanted to take a picture with me at the end like I was some sort of novelty! Haha.

80′s Theme party at Mark’s!

BBQ and Pool party on Jay and Eva’s terrace

London, UK: Good pal Ashley went to London to visit her friend, Kelly, who studies abroad in Lond.  She arrived on Saturday afternoon and told me about the trip, saying that I was welcome to come up and stay with her and Kelly at Kell’s residence, and on a whim that evening, I bought a flight.  All in all, it was a splendid, spontaneous, and whirlwind complete with the London Tower, true-to-form British High Tea, Kennsington Palace (with Diana’s dresses on display), and … Andy! We were able to hang out every evening after he got off of work where he treated me to delicious dinner and drinks (and he’s trying to visit here before I’m gone!).  An amazing trip!

I’m leaving to Morocco, Africa tomorrow morning, so I must pack! Only a few more weeks left in this fairy tale, and I’m just trying to make the most of it.

To all those reading, hope this finds you happy and healthy.

Much love,
Adriane

I’m smack in the heart of finals and having more work than I’ve had in the last four months (which isn’t necessarily saying too much!) but still having one hell of a time. Spring Break was an epic success. Updates to come soon, but here’s some pics in the meantime. Respectively, these are Granada, Sevilla, Lagos (Portugal), Lagos, Lagos, Lisbon.

Much love, A