Melissa's Travels

My room in Sontule is Lovely, with blues walls and red trim and a bed with a nice yellow comforter, and a yellow plastic closet and cement floors and a dresser. Slmost like a real room. SUCH an improvement. And its bigger now. As for Esteli, I will be moving in with Jane soon, to save on rent even if just for a bit, until she finds a more permanent house, but even then I still might rent a room from her. It will be nice girl time and I can play with the baby! Although I am so little time in Esteli these days, I dont know if its worth it, BC I could leave my stuff in Isabels house here, and stay in a hotel, but I pay for convenience I guess. And its worth it. I do like comfort. and it will be half the price of my current house.

Dead birds
I was bummed because two birds died in the nets this week. It happens, but its rare, so lets hope these are the only two birds of the season. But to be fair, the first bird, which was a beautiful species, happened to the Frontiers people who are volunteer students who were working nets at the same time as me and I was helping them since they were inexperienced bird netters. I didnt take the bird out of the net, so who knows. It possible was injured before it fell in the net. Other bird being a cool hummingbird which I just cant identify. Nicaragua is hard because so many species look different from their descriptions in the guides because they are not described for nicaragua and there is geographis variation.
Same stuffed one of the birds. I wacthed, it was pretty grisly, and we left it by the stove to dry, so lets see what happens. It might not work out, but he gave it a good shot.

I have other stuff to do, but sometime I will write he long story of FORO and Frontiers, and self interested comanagin cooperative of the reserve who wont help you get permits unless you work with the, ie they are going to try and make it impossible for groups to work through the UCA, and it looks like they want to sink the UCA. Why do people have to work in competition?




Link

So much has happened in so little time!!!!

Good things first.

After many weeks of preparation, and going to the primary school once or twice a week, and after school rehearsals, we have sucessfully completed the environmental kids day. It turned out. Really nice, and I was very happy because so few parents came ot the planning meeting, but loads came to the event. First graders presented their posters on why trees are important, and second and third graders did a little skit about bats, and four fifth and sixth graders we did a skit about organisms that live in the grounds. My family helped me a lot, making popcorn and mango refresco, and generally helping with organization. Isabel and Henrry along with Nelson and Ivan and another friend Dona Rafaela did another skit on the environment, Nelson organized a few games, Juancito, a parent of a really sweet second grader named Darwing played guitar and sang, as did Francisco. We had a piñata, and all the kids went crazy, as always, getting way too close to the kid swinging the stick, and ready to lose an eye or punch out a competitor just for a piece of candy. The kids in 4-6^th grade had all made masks during class time with me, which was super fun and they loved it. It was great because I just let them choose their organisms and do their masks however they wanted, just bring creative. A big shout out to my friend Julio and Shion and their friend kirsty who helped me make masks for 1-3^rd grade. So now that the kids are all motivated, I am just going to keep working with 4-6^th grade by combining environmental education with the natural sciences lectures they have, and hopefully making sure Prof. Mercedes comes along and helps me out and maybe learns a few things. I want to give a BIG shout out to my friend Sara Scvronick, and Coralie from England for lots of help, advice and materials!

Second cool thing was my friends Shion and Julio visiting from chinanadega, where we had met while I was traveling with my friend Peleus. They are really cool and fun and I took them around Miraflor, and with Shions help, /I am going to try and make a compost toilet in Sontule at my house and maybe we can start some sort of project for it. He lent me a book, so Ill try making a muestra on my own first.

Third cool thing is that Sam and Njal are my new field assistants and working out great. Both really cool laid back guys, Sam more tranquilo and njal more payaso. Njal has all sorts of personality quirks, like making “um chikka” disco sounds and speaking in French when he means to speak English. He makes people laugh, and then they have started picking up his habits, like the disco sounds, and saying “boo-yeah”. Sam plays guitar and so does Njal, so they have been jamming a bit with Fran and Henrry, and otoniel wants to invite them to play with his band. Sam is a sporty guy and so has started playing soccer with the Sontule jovenes. One day all the guys working for me had an impromptu soccer game with Henrry and moncho, and they were all so cute and being boys and bouncing soccer balls off their heads. Only they didn’t have a soccer ball, just a semi deflated basketball they used like a soccer ball. Santos is really into soccer and was getting along really well with Sam until…..

The bad things

Santos basically freaked out on me and last week on the patio after I critiqued him three times on something to fix in his paperwork, and suddenly, he just handed me all his papers and binoculars and quit. Just walked out. Without showing me where his nests were, without saying why, and all super pissed. I guess I just criticized him one too many times, but I have been much more chill this year, and he worked for me last year, and he knows how it is, but I have decided hes a spoiled brat, who is too orgulloso to handle being wrong, all the more difficut since so much criticism comes from a woman. Swear to god, if it had been a man giving him so much trouble, he wouldn’t have walked out like that. Im the freakin boss, you know? I have to correct them. He said something to Lesbia on his way out the door about how hes tired of people who have a lot treating poor people badly. Now that just straight up hurt, because, its just not true. Like he had to quit work because I am insufferable and prejudiced. But somehow this was all ok last year. Njal thinks he probably wanted to quit and go back to Costa Rica to work and was just looking for a pretext. And maybe so, but even after Francisco rode to his house, an hour a way to ask if he could come back to show us the nests, he refused. So now hes a vindictive jerk, because he knows how important it is to me to know about the nests, especially since we have collected some data already, and spent time on these nests, and that I cant use them unless the information is complete. And I was paying them to find nests anyway, so we have lost some and so its like I paid him for nothing. On top of it, I now might lose the whole area he worked in, and at the very least will be behind because he worked that area all last year, and knew where the bird territories were and knew where to look for nests. The good side is that another former worker comes back from Costa Rica in two weeks, so hopefully he can work. Because at this point, I just don’t have the time to train anyone. But I just cant lose that area. It’s the only part with good forest. I almost wanted to cry.

In more bad work related news, Eduardo says we cant work on his farm. Says we damaged the fences. Thats BS, hes just being difficult. Maybe he wants money. Maybe he didnt like that Santos was working. Which, apparently, was suddenly a big issue this year, since I could have hired someone from the community. But Santos worked last year and NOBODY said anything. I had a meeting with the coops and asked about probelms, suggestions, etc, and NOONE said anything. Just all chatted behind my back until word gets around. Maybe now that Santos has gone he will let us back on.

Sad things.

Nando, the sweet old man who lived at Doña Lucias and Don Rogelios, is in the hospital. He has been there for two weeks and they just operated. Only I found out, they did not operate to do a biopsy on the stomach tumors he has, they just did a bypass so that he would be able to eat something, and there for be more comfortable until he dies, which seems inevitable at this point. So hes dying, and he knows it. I am sad. And I am angry because I don’t think hes getting the best care possible for the medical people. The good thing is is that he has lots of family and friends visiting him and caring for him. Even his errant son, with whom he doesn’t have much contact, has come back to be with him. I have gone to visit him. He is very thin, and hasn’t eaten in two weeks, they haven’t even given him anything, just glucose drip. But he seems in good spirits.

I have told many stories a out Nando, hes the one with the teeth he puts in for special occasions, and the halo of white hair with catches the light at celebraciones when he takes his ever present baseball cap off. Hes the old man that like to give the chele girls big hugs, and I was never sure if it was just wanting contact, or slight lecherous, or just that he fancies cheles and likes to hug us because we are fat and soft, and friendly. I will keep visiting him, and hope he feels better and is comfortable and not in pain.

Look how I spend way too much time on bad things…..

More good stuff

I have been getting up every day at 3:30 or 4:00am, and while that is not so fun, there are some benefits. For instance, one morning, Sam and I ate breakfast on a hillside, watching a beautiful sunrise deep red and clothed in hazy clouds breakthrough into full yellow light and bathe the valley in that lovely tropical glow

Last night I went out with Otoniel and Juanita and baby Zaira to Semaforo Rancho Bar. It’s a lot bigger now, with HUGE rancho roofs thatched with palm leaves. We saw an awesome band called Café, which was a pianist and two guitarists and a bongo player. There is just a rule that any band with a good bongo player is a good band. Just lovely, and such good interpretations of meringues and romantic songs with a more acoustic feel. Like MTV Nicaragua Unplugged. Made me think of the great band I saw with Ashley in Mexico, at a Nautical themed bar with dark wood and low lights and good tequila.

More fun Nicaragua expressions:

De plano?- Seriously?

Simon- yes

Enhuevado- angry

Ahuevado-sad or upset

A huevo- with a lot of effort

Clarin or clarin de Guerra: claro, which means yes or of course

Baño de zopilote- when you only have enough water to dunk your head, or bathe very quickly, like a how vulture bathe

Events

I think global warming is going to screw hard time with tropical countries. All anyone can talk about right now is how the rain is late, and there might not be rain until June, and what are they going to eat. The people who planted right after one rainfall, think more would come, but didn’t, are going to lose their crop, which means no food, and also losing all the seeds for next year. Major problem.

In other news, deforestation is so widespread in western Africa, hat the Saharan winds are carrying thousands of tons of topsoil over the Atlantic Ocean. This dust storm is going to make landfall with Nicaragua and Honduras next week, and its going to “rain dust” and people with respiratory problems should go outside and no one should play sports. Should really only affect the Atlantic coast and here in the north we shouldn’t get anything too bad. This is the first time I have heard of this, so I am thinking there just must be a LOT more dirt, so that its not all lost in the Ocean, and some makes it this far across away. Sometimes I wonder whats the point of what I do. Sometimes I think we have irrevocable F***ed up the Earth, and now just wait for all the suffering and demise of our species. Depressing. But maybe if everyone got the picture and started trying.......like dont buy wood from Africa....

Link

ok
So I have been very remiss in my blogs, but here is some email news to
get you through


Have you ever been awoken at 4am by a mariachi band outside your
house? No? well, I HAVE!! Arent you jealous. they were singing
Mañanitas, which is a trad birthday saong, and I was like, its not my
birthday! But when I peeked outside the window, they were serenading
the house across the street! Well, I guess i will have to wait for my
chance to pretend I am in a Vicente Fernandez flick ( my fave es
Muerte de un Gallero- Death of a Cockfighter)


And guess what!!!!!!! We are redoing my room!!! otoniel and Henrry
have put up new panks for the walls, so the wind doesnt blow through,
and taken down all the nasty 4 year old newpaper which mice love to
eat and is the hiding place for chinces and spiders!!! And a new
plywood division between my room and the lab so I have some more
space. and best of all...(drumroll) CEMENT FLOORS!!!!!! Im telling you
folks, lap of freaking luxury! i can do yoga!
So when my mom comes to visit, she will be like, what have you been
bitching about Missy, this is beautiful! And then she will visit the
rotting letrining with rusted walls, a door that doesnt close, and
half burned used toilet paper outside. Lovely. and she will take it back. Still working on that
one. Yeah, and trying to get Kevin to NOT drink water straight out of the
water filter. I mean, he puts his mouth right over the tap. Kids are
germ factories. I love them, but there are two sacred rules in
nicaragua...Never touch the dogs, and if you touch the kids, wash your
hands as soon as possible.

I have been hangning out a bunch with a swiss girl named Beatrice who
has been working on a project for some months, and stays at Danelias
house when in Sontule. She is doing interviews in the community. she
and me and Oto and Leo and Juanita went to the river to go swimming
one day at a beautiful little spot, with a rock bed in the river where
we sat and a lovely deep part to go swimming. She Lots of fun and sweet, and she went
out dancing with me and Oto and Leo and Juanita after the river
picnic and got her cell phone stolen. I swear, I have seen more things stolen here in Esteli.......

I went to Maggie jos despedida (head of English project). It was at
Erickas house, where I used to live. Oh, it was fun, we danced till
late, so I didnt even mind missing Guradabarranco which were playing at Rincon LEgal.. I am going to be
famous now bc MJ put me on the English recordings to go with the new
teahcing manual. I guess my pronunciation was good enough that she
even forgave my horrible American accent. Must be all the theater
training.

I then wen the next day with her and Maxine and Mike (Australian
english teachers in coyolitos who now do community projects and are
going to buy a farm!) and people from the UCA to visit another UCA
with an ecotourism project in the south, near Granada (UCAs are
cooperatives formed after the revolution and during the land reform).
It was great fun, and we went swimming in pools of soft warm volcanic
water.

I have been reminiscing my trip with Peleus, and as in all things, I
will put little vignettes. What I was thinking about today was playing
soccer with kids on the beach and making sand turtles. They were obviously experst at making sand turtles, bc they even used their hands to make the little trail turtles leave when coming up onto the beach. and more correctly, Peleus played soccer, I didnt do to lousy foot eye coordination.And how me and
Peleus walked down the beach to a forest of dead standing trees rising
right out of the sand. It was really beautiful in this part of Nicaragua. The lake in the crater was blue blue blue greeny pretty. Supposedly your could climb down a trail into the crater, but since we could see and hear rocks falling down the walls while walking around the top, it did not seem advisable. We followed that up with a trip to Padre Ramos and Jiquilillo, a GORGEOUS beach and beautiful estero, where I looked at more birds, saw traditional fisherman, saw the destruction of industrial shrimp farms (BOYCOTT SHRIMP!), found a dead baby hammerhead shark and tons of sand dollars, saw beautiful sunsets right into the water (just like California!!!), and ate so much fish, I couldnt have been happier. We stayed at this Rancho crun by this guy Nato, who works on community projects. One night when we were there, his friends came to visit for his birthday. There was also at the time a cool old German socialist (seriously, lived in bolivia for years publishing a workers magazine, like hard core radical socialist!)who was thinking about moving to nicaragua, his girlfriends, another German guy with complete lack of control over his 5 year old kid who destoyed things and picked food off your plate.( he was also the one who gave me the really bad cold!) one other American and one nicaraguan,one Japanese guys also working on social projects. So we drank rum, Nato did a cool Fire dance display, we danced a ton( Shion the Japanese-american, and Julio, the nica taught me some great Merengue moves which I have since forgotten-no one dances Merengue here in Esteli..boohoo all reggaeton, so I dont have lovely dance partners!)And to top it off, went swiming in the ocean under an almost full moon!

We also spent a few days getting the city vibe in Leon, where I played tour guide and visited churches and even caught a film, which was nice, in a real movie theater with air conditioning ( I just recently missed Babel here in Esteli, bummer bc I really want to see it. We got to eat good food (my god, I had a salad!) and hung around chatting with Peleus and taing in the sites. Very cool.

To see his pictures, here is the link. I have yet to post mine.
only on
Internet Explorer: http://www.peleus.net/Nicaragua_files/frame.htm

Oh, but so you dont think its all fun and games, things progress with
the education project, we are organizing a big community wide activity
for Earth Day. And I have started field work. It will only be more
work from here on out....twice as much with half the staff!! fun!!

chau
melissa!


Link

hi all
Just got back from travelling with my friend Peleus, and a long lovely blog is overdue about moonlight ocean swims, almost dying climbing a volcano (ok, figurative statement, its just excessive heat and an internal parasite, made me FEEL like I was going to die), playing soccer on the beach and in the ocean with little nica kids, bonding time with Peleus, plus eating falafel and hummus!, looking at pretty churches, me playing tour guide. But right now I am working on my taxes and downloading bird songs off the internet, so not much time. And recovering from the worst cold ever.

So my friend Annie told me that when I feel bored with esteli, to remember that from a newbies eyes, its lovely and interesting, so I took her advice and was cheered by three recent facts.

I can buy bananas, individual pieces of gum or candy or cigarrettes(which I dont bc I quit!-its good to have a cold), or newspapers at any time of day or night until 10pm from a little cart in the park.

At this same venta, buying bananas for next morning pancakes, five mariachi band memebers rode by....on their bicycles..... each clutching a different instrument. smile inside

I went to a new karaoke bar in Esteli with friends to celebrate Otoniels birthday...there were two big screens, and three smaller TVs. Best two improvements over US karaoke bars is that they bring the microphone to your table, so you dont have to sing in front of everyone (and you can drink and sing at the same time). And if it a popular song, everyone else sings along and drowns the main singer out. Especially fun are the rancheras, where there is lots of ayyyyiiiiing and ahhaaaaing and arrrrriiing.

My house in Esteli



I like my house. Its pricey for here, but its right in the center of town, so banks, internet, post office, markets, and restaurants are right here. It can be noisy sometimes because on the corner is Gallo Mas Gallo, and appliance store that uses loud music emanating from enormous speakers on the weekends to attract customers. I assume the goal is to overwhelm the sensory capacities of passerbys, so that they become disoriented and inadvertently veer into the shop, where shop employees congregate en mass "Como le sirve?" until finally, exhausted, the victim buys a new stove, exercise bike, and blender on a pay as you go plan which will have them making payments until 2010.



Anyway, my house is a small house, with three rooms right in a row: living room kitchen/bedroom/bathroom. The best thing is that the roof is covered, so it doesn't get as dusty as my old room, and that the floors are all tile. I have ac actual closet in my bedroom, and the bathroom has theoretical hot water, but the electric hot water heater keeps breaking. I think my landlord after the second time thinks it is my fault and has not sent someone around to fix it. I think it just needs to be replaced. Better than my old room with squealing pigs next door. Seriously, always check the nieghbors houses for signs that say Se Vende Cerdo...... before renting to avoid problems

In the yard are two fierce dogs named Princesa and Muneca. They are very barky but they have grown used to me. They seem to hate all dark-skinned men though, and so they are tied up during the day, and let loose at night to dissuade burglars. Of course, if Otoniel comes over and wants to put his bike in the yard, he has to be careful.

I like my not so landlady, Antonia. She is not the landlady, but the woman who cares for the house next door where my landlord is. He is old, and nice and friendly, but a bit of a drunk, and so she insists I give the rent money to her. She is in many ways typical of a certain kind of older Nica woman. Straight forward, doesn't mince words, a harsh sounding voice, well versed in the polite niceties of nica culture (saying hello on the street, greeting good morning), but just as easily yells to the workers in the yard, or just as easily scolds her boss. When I first moved her, ooh, the look she gave when I asked if she was his wife. But when I said I just thought that to be the case because of the way she scolded him, she laughed. So she has a sense of humor. A somewhat caustic one. And she loves her animals. When the dogs bark, she will shout "jodida, callate, que perra mas necia!", but then at lunch she will bring them food, and chide them if they do not eat. She has a sweet orange tabby who is bien jugatona, who plays with the dogs, and they pounce on her. She is fearless, like her owner, and will come in my house if I leave the door open. She tells me of how she raised all of them from being small., and tells stories about them; she obviously loves them very much. I suspect she may have no children, but I don't want to ask. She never mentions them. She was sad when two of the doves outside dies because she normally feeds them bits of tortillas in the morning. So for all her rough edges, she is soft inside. She in a way, reminds me of my grandmother. She is very considerate. The yard between the houses is used as a garage for cars, so if I have laundry hanging out, she will move it so it doesn't get dirty. Likewise, when the cars move out again, she will move my laundry so it gets the most sun. We have water shortages in Esteli, so she will fill up the pila in the lavendero to make sure I will have water for washing or cleaning if I need it (a lavendero is a big cement tables with raised edges divided into two sides. One side is a large sink, pila, to hold water, and the other is used for washing and so is inclined, has ridges for scrubbing, and a drainage hole).

MEMORIES OF HONDURAS
As I have not taken any trips lately, I was thinking about the dive trip I tookj to Honduras with Sadie...so here is one story


I have arrived with Sadie on a desert island. Our only companion, Renegade Ron, an unlikely adventurist, who seems solely driven to do things precisely because someone told him not to. A man who never sleeps, preferring to down tropical alcoholic drinks. Who chain smokes cigarettes until he straps on his scuba tanks and dives into the water. A man who arrives to scuba class in the morning hung over, eats cheesy chocolaty pastry while the boat slams across the water at 40 MPH, a man who vomits TWICE over the side of the boat, and STILL goes on to dive. Hes a trooper, Ron. We have decided to take a break form aforementioned scuba class to visit a cay island that is supposed to be the bounty island form the TV commercial. Which, it is, but after the production crew left ad before the cleanup crew got there. So if you ignore piles of trash, yes, it was beautiful. We managed to find a shady spot free of debris, when a small girl appeared out of nowhere. She was soaking wet, in a shirt and shorts clinging to her thin angular adolescent body. Big blue eyes, some freckles and straggly blond hair. Considering we could see no boat of any kind, we concluded that she must be a mermaid. When she asked us to pay the fee for using the island, well, that seemed fair enough. I must assume that overfishing has affected local mermaid economies, by reducing the workforce. She introduced herself as Ariel. To be honest, I cant remember what her name was, but Ariel seems fitting enough. She claims to have boated herself over form the very nearby cay with the house on it. A ruse to prevent mermaid enthusiast from swamping the island and creating a more dire litter problem.

After taking our money, she disappears. Sadie then decided she wants to eat coconut, despite signs warning that this is forbidden. But Sadie will not be stopped. She has coconut lust. So the coconuts on our island are too high to reach. Luckily, there is another island closeby, that we can swim, walk to. It has a boarded up house with a lovely pink shell on the porch, which I almost steal, but decide its bad karma. And it might be some sort of trap……

We find good brown coconuts, with water swiching around, like in the movies, and cart them back to our island. Lacking machetes, Sadie attempts to bash it open on the rocks. I remember the Discovery Channel videos of chimps opening hard shelled seeds, and tell her she should find a sharp rock and a flat rock and chisel a hole. She sits, crouched on her haunches, a face a serious concentration, not too unlike the chimps from the television. She beats and beats and is making little progress when the mermaid reappears. Speaking in her pigeon English (some claim it is a Creole developed form the early residents of these islands, being French, Dutch, English, Irish, and other sailor pirate type-but I know its because it is her second language, MER being her first)



¨"Tats forbidden, ya know. ´sides, dat coconuts too old. I ken get ya some green ones if ya want"



And she then grabs hold of a leaning coconut tree, and climbs up, walking up the trucnk on her feet while her skinny arms propel her up. She brings us two coconuts, which Sadie (who has by now perfected her rock awl and chisel technique) deftly opens, Sadie screams for joy, and we drink coconut water and eat fresh coconut meat. Just like in the bounty commercial. And the mermaid stays with us for a good part of the day, telling us stories of her mother, her mothers boyfriend, life on the populated island, her drunk father who one time gave her money for school clothes. Her little brother who has got a different dad…..

Fiestas Patronales, Diriamba, Jan 19^th and 20^th 2007

All the time that I have been living in Nicaragua, I was always struck by how devoid the country seemed of a cultural history, in comparison to Mexico and Guatemala. I always assumed that this was mostly due to the fact that indigenous peoples on the Pacific slope of Nicaragua, were mostly wiped out or assimilated, and there are no present day indigenous communities of the Nahuatl speaking people (there are, of course, the indigenous Ramas and Miskito peoples on the Atlantic coast). Now, the Nahuatl speaking peoples of Central America were located from Mexico to Nicaragua and include such tribes as the Aztecs. Here in Nicaragua, the most prominent groups were the Nicarao and the Chontales. After attending the fiesta in Diriamba, I realize that there is a strong and vibrant connection with indigenous roots here in Nicaragua, it is just more hidden, and widely variable from region to region. Here in the north, the cowboy culture is much more common, with celebrations including mariachi bands, hipicos (horse parades), rodeos, etc. However, all the children do learn dances in schools and all Nicaraguans know the words to the most common national folk music.

But the celebration in Diriamba was the first time I had seen the grand mestizo celebrations that mix indigenous and Spanish culture. The highlight of this festival is the performance of El Gueguense, a play written by an unknown author in both Nahuatl and Spanish. The main story is of El Gueguense (in Nahuatl in means something like grumpy old man) and how he is detained with his two sons by the Spanish governor as he crosses land without permits. Through clever wordplay and deception, he gets off the hook and manages to marry off one of the governor’s daughters to his son. The most important part of the play is not the story, but rather the undertones of mockery the indigenous have for the Spanish lords, and of how El Gueguense uses the Spaniard’s stupidity about the Nahuatl culture and language to trick him. Now the whole play is 2 hours long, and only once during the festival do they perform the whole thing.

Santiagos day in Jan 20^th, but festivities have been going on for the whole week before that day. On the eve of the 19^th, San Sebastian meets up with hi buddies San Santiago of jinotepe and San Marcos of San Marcos at the road into town. They are all marched into Diriamba together, where they spend the night in the church, no doubt catching up and sharing a little gossip and a few tall tales. On this ngiht, everyone was crowded into the plaza to see the saints arrive and for the performance of Carlos Mejia Godoy y Los de Palacaguina and the fireworks display. This included a man who moved about the crowd, holding a Picasso version of a bulls head, all angles and stretched canvas, with rockets affixed to the points. He would stop at a place in the crowd, a signal rocket would go up, and the bulls head would explode in color and light, as the man danced around, terrifying and electrifying people in the crowd. Now and then crowd members would jump away in panic, pushing back into people in the crowd, in a panicked domino effect so that I feared a little of being trampled on. But it never got out of hand. Everyone was well behaved, and compared to Esteli, quite sober and polite. During the saints day (20^th), everyone seemed to be on good behavior, until the day after, when the hipico would begin. Nothing like horses to bring out the borrachos!

As the Dia de San Sebastian begins on the 20^th, everyone is gathered in the plaza in front of the cathedral. Little by little the groups of performers arrive, and as they do, they each set up their own small space within the crowd, so that within the mix of people, are holes where musicians and dancers perform. One group performs El Toro Huaco, where lines of costumed players from old to young snake back and forth, to the tune of drums and hand held shakers, in a slow rhythmic pattern, while another player holding a representation of a bull moves in counter movement to the dancers. All the players where tall peacock feather hats, painted wooden masks of European faces with blond hair and blue eyes, velvet capes, rainbow scarves hanging from their forearms and multi colored sequined panels on their trousers. This is apparently an intact traditional Nauhuatl dance, with costumes modified by contact with the Spaniards. Another group performs El Gueguense. There are many characters in this group. One part of the players wear peaked hats of many colors and mirrors, with the same European face masks. El Gueguense is a large man with a different mask, with black hair and a beard. There are two maidens, a princess, a prince, and a small boy dressed up as some type of official, all without masks. The other players have horse masks, painted black, with the most beautiful headdresses made of 20 or more long colored braids, topped with a short cropped mane-mohawk and roses or many colors. The braids and mohawks are made from dyed straw that comes from a palm and it is called PITA. The colors are red, yellow, blue, purple, bright pink, orange, and turquoise. The horses wear vests with colored beads across, like old fashioned watch chains. They dance in between parts of the play, to the tunes of a fife, drum, and again, the shakers. Then there is el Viejo y La Vieja, an old man with a cane, a wooden mask of a pale old face and a large cigar, who dances around wobbly and lecherous with the women in the crowd. His wife, La Vieja, is played by a man, fat, with hairy arms, an ugly face, and the largest bum you have ever laid eyes on. To the tune of the marimba group, she shakes it and dances with the old man until you think her bum is going to fly off into the crowd! Now in addition, there are at least 5 separate groups of dancers, each with their own costumes and musical groups, each performing different traditional dancers of the region. All these groups, playing at the same time, with the crowdmembers weaving in and out and about, in some kind or organized chaos, keep going for about 2 hours, until the main members file into the church for the special mass. Then amid deafening bell ringing and rocket firing, San Sebastian is brought out of the church, festooned in ribbons and all tarted up for his day out on the town. But what saint would want to take a day off without a few buddies to enjoy it with? So San Sebastian is joined by San Santiago and San Marcos, the patron saints of neighboring towns, and they are marched around the town, preceded by all of the groups mentioned before. In every barrio, the procession stops for a bit to perform their dances and acts, and there is much music playing and revelry. The whole thing takes about four hours. Now just to be fair I should mention that San Chago and San Marc are good friends, and invite San Chago to their shin-digs as well. The three musketeers of Nicaragua. Now the night ended with the most AMAZING performance by Balet Folklorico Nicaragua. Now, I have seen the Balet Folklorico of Mexico, and this was just as good if not better. Hopefully they will tour the states some more and you can see them. AMAZING! More than 12 different performances from all the different regions of Nicaragua, beautiful costumes. I really, REALLY finally got a taste of how diverse and interesting Nicaragua culture is, from the cowboy themed dances, to beautiful full white dresses and marimba music huarachos, to indigenous dances of the Miskito, to the sexually charged may pole dance of the slave descended Garifunas. It’s only a shame they don’t do more to promote it. And I don’t mean for tourism, but within their own communities. Instead of such fascination with reggeaton, if only every weekend there was a performance by local dance groups of something similar in the plazas. What they need is more money for the Ministry of Culture.

There were also a ton of food vendors, a carnival that made me think of a Stephen King novel (I’m sorry, the Ferris wheel did NOT look safe), and lots of rabble rousing and carousing and good fun. There were very few fights, and the whole thing was just lovely and fun. I could only stay for Friday and Saturday and left on Sunday, missing the big hipico and more cultural events and music groups that would perform Sunday night. I think they must celebrate for the entire month of January, since they were announcing all of the things that were scheduled. I give a lot of credit to the city council because the whole thing was really well organized and pleasant. HIGHLY recommended if you ever travel to Nicaragua. So much so that I am planning on going to see pretty much the same thing all over again (I guess some performances are different) in Jinotepe at the end of July. Its San Santiago’s day and he’ll team up with his buddies to tour that town. Maybe this time it will be less windy. Seriously, I always think of the south as hot, but since Diriamba and Jinotepe are up in the mountains a bit, there is a lot of wind, and in January, that means cold! Like 50 degrees cold, but when you only have capris and a little sweater, it feels freezing!

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MEXICO FLASHBACKS

When I think of my trip to Mexico and Guatemala in October, I think in imgaes, colors, scenes, and it is because of this that I mourn the loss of my camera and all of the photos. But then, perhaps, this is an opportunity to recapture what has become a lost art in current times: writing. And so, from time to time, as I am writing entries in this blog, I will enter in images as I remember them. The chronological order of the trip is not so important, but for those who are interested, it went like this: Three days on a bus from Nicaragua to Veracruz, ten days in Veracruz at a bird conference, a day on a bus to San Cristobal, Chiapas, five days in San Cristobal, five days traveling through Chiapas, five days in Guatemala, 2 days on a bus back to Nicaragua. And people of importance, for those of you whom it angers when I just mention names:

Ashley: old friend whom I met again at the bird conference. He taught me how to band birds in Louisiana in April of 2004. That site was completely decimated by Hurricane Katrina

Daniel: man I met in Veracruz, very nice, he is from a town nearby on the coast

Alex: tour guide and friend whom I met in San Cristobal. Originally from Monterrey

Alonso: archeoastromoner, part Mayan, part New Yorker, incredibly knowledgable of many things Mayan. And a good cook

Melanie: German girl I met while traveling in Guatemala. Invited me to Octoberfest where she promised to introduce me to a tall cute German

French-Canadian:FC for short. Also met him while traveling in Guatemala, but his name escapes me now- Sebastian? This is why I should write things down.

MIMES

The zocalo in Veracruz is very beautiful, a large plaza with a cathedral on one side, the government palace on another, one side is the street, and one side is all hotels with restaurants that put tables all along the outside, a wonderful place to sit and just watch the people pass. One day, after the end of the conference, I was walking along the zocalo,watching everything. Little street vendors selling cigars and candy, some with large bouquets of balloons and foams animals for children. Indian women setting up stalls where they would sell cloth, clothing, ceramics, and jewelry at inflated prices to Mexican and foreign tourists. I was walking, absorbed in my own thoughts, as I often do, when I began to realize that people were smiling at me. I was confused for a bit, until I realized I was being accompanied by a mime, a small balding man with a bit of a panza (belly). He was pretending to be my boyfriend, and I laughed right out loud when I saw him. I think he thought I looked sad. So we joked, silently of course, and then I went on my way. I sat in a café, watching the foot traffic, again those ubiquitous girls in party dresses, staring. I drank my café con leche, which, it is true, is the best I've ever had, when I realized something was going on in the plaza. I walked over and watched quite an impressive display of dancers, tall beautiful women in large yellow and white skirts, dancing to the music of live marimba, while the master of ceremonies described each dance before it took place. The men in impossibly white pants and shirts, with straw hats and yellow scarves, dancing that fast paced stompy tap dancing footwork that makes everyone applaud. Again, absorbed, taking films, when a man to my right spoke to me. It was the mime! I was surprised that he was vocal, but he informed me that he was off the clock. He spoke well good English, because he had lived in the states (who hasn't?). I think he tried to ask me out, but it was a confusing blend of teasing mixed with flirting. I suppose mimes aren't very suave when it comes to picking up women. With words, I mean. Maybe if he put himself inside an invisible box and pantomimed us having dinner I would have understood better. Or perhaps my English is now worse than my Spanish. Anyway, we did not end up going out, mainly because short bald men in stripey shirts with facepaint and white gloves don't appeal to me.

TIRES

I am walking down the street of a small dusty Guatemalan town, the streets full of very small people, the women in the most amazingly beautiful huipiles I have ever seen. Intricate, and I mean intricately embroidered white animals densely populating bands of green fields and black earth. I walked by a car repair shop, with its open garage facing the streets, oily bits of cars and dirty rags littering the floor. In front stood a man, leaning against a wall, grease stained clothes, smoking a cigarette, engaged in an animated conversation with a little old man sitting in a pile of tires. Sitting IN five tires stacked up, and he, like a miniature king on a throne, sitting such that his torso sat sticking erect from inside the tires, while his little legs splayed haphazardly out as well, as though someone had stuck a puppet in a cup. A wrinkled old man with coke bottle glasses, the gummy inward sucked lips that old men without teeth have, chattering away, waving his hands about, long and brown and hardened and angled and knobbed by years of hard work. He looked so comical to me, that I laughed, in spite of myself, at how sometimes life feels like a surrealist painting.

LANGUIDITY

Ashley and I are walking down streets, attempting to find the mythical alley where music is played live outside. We follow the strains of a mambo, and turn down a narrow alley, that opens up upon a small plaza, strung with lights and surrounded by tables chairs scattered without a sense of order. Across the plaza, up a few steps, to a concrete platform are six middle-aged men, framed by crumbling colonial walls. A band, a group of friends, playing with an ease and precision only seen in those who have played together a very long time. In the center dance the couples, slowly, gracefully, with an ease and precision seen only in those who have danced together a very long time. The music stops, and very carefully the couples return to their tables, chatting with each other and their neighbors. They sit, the men sip from their beers, the women open their fans and cool themselves. Only does it seems the break has begun when the music begins again, and with the same grace the couples put down their drinks, close their fans, and return to the center. Like a well orchestrated waltz, the pauses as much a part of the performance as the dancing. A single word comes to mind: languid. The air dense and humid. There is nothing rushed here. There is no sense of urgency, no looking about to see who is watching. It is not the planned display of bodies and skill that you see at hip discotecas. The dancers are immersed in the music, and in each other. And I think, it is not so bad to grow old, to enjoy the small things that life brings you, to still get dressed up, to still preen and flirt and show off, but with a confidence not seen in young people. As if, at the end of the night, the shell falls apart, and all that is left is the music and the touch of your partners hand. And then you see the solitary old men, still living in their youth, in flashy shirts open at the chest, maritime chains and charms of saints who guard sailors flashing amid the white hair. The wiggle, they prance, they entice lithe tanned tourist girls from the audience of watchers to dance with them. They try and teach the dance to the smiling girls, who are charming in their gracelessness. But then they are so amused with themselves these men, the proud bantam roosters of the night, that their bodies betray them, and they too dance to be seen more than they dance for the music. And I think, maybe we don't change that much as we grow old. Well, perhaps not men at least.

Snake Oil salesman

Literally. Well, not quite, since I guess he was selling snake POWDER. The point being that in a dusty plaza in a small Guatemalan town of Nabaj, a man stood, surrounded by a crowd, handling snakes. He proceeded to wrap them around his wrists, let them slither on the ground, batting them into place by tapping them with a stick. All the while spinning his web about the power of powdered snake venom. He placed the snakes in a bag, and brought out the product. His sales banter consisted of many dirty jokes. The audience was mainly old, small men, of indeterminable age, with young boys off all ages, poking in between the stoic adults. The older boys stood with arms crossed and one hip flung out in a cool detached manner, belied by their eyes on the snakes, apprehensive, mesmerized. The younger boys, all smiles and nervous energy, jittery movements between the legs of larger men. While the older men stood, as if they had seen this all before (as might well they had since it’s a weekly performance), weary, and afflicted. And if they bought the product, it would be because where there is pain, discomfort, and poverty, there is always hope that a miracle cure can be bought for less money than the pills at the pharmacy.

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hi all

well, i planned my trip to return to NY in time for a meeting on the 19th, to which no one showed up. Salt on the wound is that I had a very uncomfortable journey up to Sontule in the back of a pickup truck to be there. Now, the coffee picking has started so I can excuse the community members, but the organizations and universities signed copies of the invitations and still no show. bugger

anyway, I had great fun on the 21st, since Ana and Aracellis andKevin and I went around on horseback, delivering gifts to people. Some of them were things I bought, and some were the donations from Lucy's class, although I could not bring all of them. So picture me in a Santa hat, with 5 year old Kevin on a brown mare, with Ana and Ara on the white horse, with bags of presets, and Ara getting off the horse at the different houses and giving the gifts to the kids.

Ana and Ara and Isabel and Lesbia helped me for three hours the night before packing the gifts in paper. Just so you know, I used part of the money all my aunts and uncles gave me, plus some extra help from Aunt Joan to buy cute fleecy shirts for my immediate nica family and good friends (which is still like 25 people). I told them the gifts were from me and my family and they say THANKS!!

Lesbia had a little Xmas tree with ornaments she put up in Isabel's house, and Kevin washed all of his toy cars and put them under the tree. The night before last I p0ut their presents under the tree and after dinner we opened them. The cutest thing was that after everyone opened their gifts and looked at them, they very carefully packed them up in the paper again and put them under the tree because it looked so pretty. They all said they would unwrap them again after Christmas.

CHRISTMAS

So christmas here mainly centers on the 24th, with everyone gathering at a family house, you go to mass, stay up all night, and then there is a big buildup to midnight, when everyone celebrates the birth of christ, hug s and kisses, kind of like new years, and then there is a big dinner.

Well, I went to someones house for a little bit, and then went dancing at a really nice club all night. Its called Semaforo, Ive been there lots. Its a nice Rancho bar, which means its all outdoors, with thatch roofing and a big bar with a sort of western cowboy theme, a stage for live performances and a dance floor which is kind of small. We drank medios de Flor de Caña, where you get a bucket of ice, a cup of limes, a bottle of coke, and a half liter bottle of rum. Oh, and lots of cups to share. And i had tostones with cuajada which are twice fried plantains with farmers cheese. Yummy!

And so, like everyone else, I stayed up until 4am and spent oall of xmas day recovering. I went and had a nice lunch with Juanita and Leo, baby Zaira, and some of her friends

For the actualk night of the 24th, I went out with juanita, Leo, baby Zaira, Otoniel, Elizabeth, and Ervin, her boyfriend, to a discoteca. But its a rancho bar, so with a nice open area with tables under palapa, or thatched roofs. While the babay slept, we drank and danced the night away (well, no one drank too much, and Jane not at all, since shes breast feeding). At midnight everyone hugged and kissed, kind of like our new year

I hope you all have a very good holiday!!

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hi all

just wanted to let you know that I arrived safely in esteli. I went to a christmas fair (complete with selling of cows, bull riding, street food, and a disco) that was after the ipico. i missed the ipico, boo hoo.thats basicall where cowboys ride their horses in a big parade and the get drunk and people might get injured, but its fun!

my friedn picked me up from the airport, and i had my first cold shower, and it was chilly here last night and this mornin. deceber is cooler, like 60-70 degrees apparently

well, ill try to catch up on my blog soon, but I have to prep for a big meeting tomorrow

love
melissa

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While on the bus through the many countries it took to get to Mexico, I saw the following sign:

Sala de Belleza Jesus Cristo

Please vote for your favorite explanation:

1. Jesus has opened a beauty shop in El Salvador. Maybe he has a few. How much does the son of god charge for a trim?

2. The salon specializes in giving clients the wavy chestnut colored locks that Jesus sports in all your favorite church fotos.

3. The salon owner is very religious, and the name seemed an appropriate homage to her favorite holy man.


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hi
So, when I planned this trip, I had packed a million and one things into a month. And as I only have a week left, I realize I have DONE very little. I think I will have done half in three weeks of what Paul and I did in 10 days in Venezuela.But thats ok, because I have enjoyed it. ITs been awhile since I have taken some time and just chilled and not tried to jam pack my regular life or my vacation. Its been very revitalizing. Part of it has been that I have met some cool people so I kept changing plans. And now, after 5 day in San Cristobal in Chiapas, I am ready to leave. I mean to stay here one day at the most, but in trying to organize where I wanted to go into the jungle, I thought a tour would be better. But it was onlyl me, so the tour guy was like, wait a few days and maybe we can get more people. And now those days have passed and I am itching to go, and so was going to go on my own. But you know, travelling in a new place without knowing anything takes more time, so now I will go with the tour guy Alex, and one other guy, although it will end up to be really expensive. I guess partly because he will have to pay his food and lodging and stuff too. But he probably gets lodging and stuff freeish. Oh, well. But the cool thing is is that he has planned out with me how I can get back to Nica via regular buses through Guatemala. And although I have a ton of stuff, in no small part because I went crazy shopping here in Chiapas, I might do it. And then I can go to Tikal and maybe Copan, and see more ruins and birds!!!!

Veracruz conference was rad and fun. I ran into the guy, Ashley, who taught me all about banding birds, and we hung out a lot. We went dancing three times. Once to this great open air plaza in an allety, where the band performed on a raised cement staircase in front of an old colonial building. It was salsa and rumba, and all older epople, who danced the whole time, with little breakes between songs, when the women all fanned themselves. I also saw a beautiful exhibition of regional dance in the plaza one night. And another night went dancing at Mambo Cafe, which is like Salsa Disneyland with an amazing band of all HOT men, who wear tight clothers and dance and shake their butts and pretend to hump the speakers. But play rslly well too. And between sets they play reggaeton and techno and give out ballons and glow bracelets. I love it!!1 We were out till 4am and I was danced out!
I went scuba diving too. Not the best reefs, but still nice. I met a nice guy Daniel, who took me and two other people to a cool place called Lago Catemoc, and there were birds and monkeys, and we stayed at his aunts house in Alvarado, a fishing town. I ATE THE BEST SEAFOOD OF MY LIFE!!! I couyld live there just for the eats.

I stayed and hung out with those people for a few days, nothing exciting but really chill. And here in Chiapas, ALex the guide took me birding on Saturday morning and made me breakfast and we chilled. And Sunday we went rock climbing with an American friend of his josh and josh´s 7 year old daughter Kambria. More to the point, they went climbing. I tried, but man, it was HARD. And it seemed so much harder than when I tried it years ago. My hands are really weak! Even Kambria climbed for longer than me:)

Later that night I drank my firt Mezcal, which was really nice, which you drink with worm salt. Really, ground dried worms, chile, and slat, mixed together. But yummy. We were going to leave today for the jungle and Palenque, but plans changed and we go tomorrow. It will be fun, but expensive. But I think worth it because I think it would take twice as long for me to do it on my own, what with figuring everything out. And it will be pretty flexible. Really expensive, because like for three days he is charging me, but not including food or lodging or entry fees or gas. Really just pays for ALex to take me around. A little too much I think, but normally it would be that much, including everything if four people were going. But I guess I am also paying for convenience, because I could arrange it myself, but I would lose time, and maybe it would be like half the price anyway. And it will be nice to go with people, more fun and stuff. I will let you know how it goes.">Link

Teeth
Nando, the sweet old man who works for Rogelio and Lucia Villareyna has got a new set of teeth. Dentures. But they are too big. And he loves his new teeth. And hes so afraid fo losing them, he wont open his mouth all the way when he speaks. It was really hard to understand what he was saying when he had no teeth, but now, its near impossible. This is also the sweet man who really loves to hug the chele girls when they come to visit (myself included). Hug and a kiss are par for the course for greetings in Sontule, but Nando really gets a good hug in and a big smack on the cheek. I don’t know if its because he’s a bit of a lonely old man, or if its because he likes the ladies. Especailly the young ones. Either way, its harmless so the hugging continues.
PoemsNicaraguans have a golden literary heritage, beginning with Ruben Dario, the father of modern Spanish literature. So even in the campo, people have an endless supply of love poems, dirty poems, funny jokes, dirty jokes, and their favorite rancheras memorized, ready to entertain a crowd with a few short lines of wit. And the occasional dirty word. The poems don’t work well translated, and the longer chiles (funny anecdotes), are too long for me to remember, so I will leave you with a few short poems that the nephew of el grán escritór de coplas de Terrero (the great couplet write of Terrero), Carlos Ariel Talavera Flores:

Del gallo me gusta el canto
Del caballo la carrera
Del toro la vuelta en el campo
Y de la mujer, la trasera

Dame tu mano paloma
Para llegar a tu nido
Anoche dormiste sola
Esta noche dormirás conmigo

Cuando pase por tu casa
Me tiraste un limón
El limón cayó por el sueldo
Y el sumo mi corazón

En el patio de mi casa, hay una planta de maíz
Si mi suegra no me quiere
Yo le rompo la nariz

En el patio de mi casa
Hay un palo de higuera
Los besos de mi boca
No son para cualquiera

Por ti suspiro
Por ti me muero
Por ti en las clases
Me saco un cero

Dos palomitas
Sentadas en un florero
Un le dice a la otra
No hay amor como el primero


Mañana me voy
Mañana es mi viaje
Un beso de tu boca
Será me equipaje

Entre espinas nací
Entre espinas moriré
El nombre de mi amor
Nunca lo olvidaré

Aquí paso una palomita
chiquíta y voladora
En las alas lleva flores
Y en el pico voladores

Las muchachas de este tiempo
Son como café molido
No han cumplido quince años
Cuando quieren tener marido

Los muchachos de este tiempo
Son como plátano asado
Quieren tener mujer
Pero no quieren ser casados

En la clase de matemática
No se es dos por dos
Pero en la clase del amor
Hasta le gano al profesor

Corriendo, corriendo
Pegué un trompezón
Por dar me en la frente
Me di en el corazón

La rama del tamarindo
Se une con la del coco
Si mi amor me desprecia
A mi me importa poco

En el patio de mi casa
Hay un palo de algodón
La novia que tenía
Me rompió el corazón

El amor no es poema
El amor no es canción
El amor el algo que se lleva
En el corazón

Que triste es encontrar
Espinas en vez de una flor
Que triste es encontrar
Odio en vez de amor

Naranja dulce
Limón francés
Si no te gusto
Porque me vez



Cruelty

Humans can be cruel people. At my house in Sontule, there are three dogs, duke, yoyer, y mimi. Yoyer showed up at the house one day with a bloody tail. Someone cut off about 4-6 inches off the dog’s tail, leaving bone is exposed. WTF?!?!?!? Yoyer is the most mellow dog, he hardly barks, and he’s not vicious or bien bravo like other dogs who try to bite you. Best I can figure is that he wandered over to someone else’s house and they ‘t want him sitting on their porch or around their house, and people here are not nice to dogs, they and kick them and yell at them to move. Well, they have fleas, which jump off the dog and live in the floor of the house. But that’s no reason to HIT, because the dogs will leave if you tell them too. Except maybe Yoyer. He’s one of those tail wagging constantly seeking approval kind of dumb dogs. And lazy, I have to physically push him off the porch sometimes if he’s in the way when we need to work. So he was probably sitting on the porch and someone yelled at him or kicked him and he still wouldn’t move, so they probably grabbed a machete, or had one in their hand, and whacked the dog’s tail with it. I can only hope that maybe they were drunk or did not mean to cut the dogs tail off, because to actually, with a clear head and cold heart, think “stupid dog, get off my porch”, and then cut off the tail. God. Even drunk or angry, no excuse. People suck sometimes. Seriously. And its true here, people who hit dogs hit other people to, like their wives or their children. I knew I liked Otoniel from the start when I noticed he never hit the dogs. Ever.

Privacy
I had a bad day yesterday. I got home as someone threw a note through the roof of my room. Wait let me explain. My room that I rent in Esteli. Which is at the casa of Erica and family. Last year I had a room in the house. This year, I rent one of two rooms Erica’s brother, Victor, built in their big backyard. Private bathroom, pretty nice. But right up against the wall of the neighbors yard. So anyway, the note said all sorts of disgusting things, and from what was written in the note, it was clear, that they had been WATCHING ME or spying into my room somehow. Freaked me out! I showed it to Victor, and he said it was probably the kids next door, who throw things onto the roof. I knew that they threw things, and that the chickens walk on the roof, but it must also be that the kids (teenagers, really), got up onto the roof and peeped in through a gap between the roof and the wall. So Victor went over there and showed the dad, and he took the note to compare it to the kids handwriting to see which one it is. But now I am completely embarrassed because I know the whole family next door, which is two houses, has probably seen the note. I think I might move. Victor is going to fix the gap, but seriously, I didn’t even want to take a shower because I kept hearing noises on the roof. I was planning on moving anyway to get a place with my own kitchen, so maybe this will be the catalyst for a change. I was worried at first, but since I am pretty sure its just kids, I don’t feel unsafe. But I am still going to look for another place.

Cleanliness
There are times when dirt floors in the house in Sontule really bug me. Like when the cat uses the floor underneath my bed and dresser as his own private litter box and my room smells like cat shit. Or like when I drop a contact lens on the floor and it gets covered by dirt. But you know, they sweep the floor everyday and mix water into afterwards to make it hard and packed down well. It may be dirt, but you can always tell a clean dirt floor from a dirty dirt floor. And well, think about it: You’re cooking, and you spill oil or water or eggs or milk on the floor. Who cares! Its dirt! It soaks right in! The chickens shit in the house. Who cares! Sprinkle a little ash on it and sweep it away! Coughed up phlegm and need to spit? Who cares! Do it on the floor! Your kid is not quite toilet trained and needs to pee? Who cares? Let him do it on the floor! Drunk man passes out at your house after a party and vomits on the floor? Who cares! Dirt soaks up the liquid bits, and you just sweep away the solid chunks! Whoever thought linoleum was a boon to housewives everywhere, clearly never studied the marketing implications of DIRT floors. I’m gonna make a fortune. All I need is a catchy slogan………….


Health
Here are some more folk cures in case you decide to practice alternative medicine:

If you think someone might have given your baby the evil eye, take a swig of rum and spit in the baby’s face. How does one get the evil eye, you ask? Apparently it can be done with mal intent, or just by someone looking at the baby with affection or envy for too long. This can also be prevented by tying a red string around the baby’s wrist.

Entertainment:
We have television in Sontule. I hate the TV. Its loud, and the picture is bad and fuzzy, and everyone has this running commentary during the shows because you cant hear everything that the characters say. And sometimes they watch it when its just loud snow. you cant even SEE nor HEAR anything. But cant turn it off, its like it has a life of its own. And its almost always telenovelas. Just bulla. Noise from 5pm until 10:30pm. And I like to go to bed at 9 or 10 pm. And sometimes for a few hours during the day when Kevin likes to watch cartoons. Sweet, he always asks me first, since the TV doesn’t work right (correction, works even less well) when the battery charger is on. But of course, if I say no, he throws a fit. I could just hit him with a belt, like what all good moms do, but no, I just let him scream, and just THINK about hitting him with a belt. And sometimes he throws things at me. You know, like rocks, or a machete. And sometimes he brings me papers I left outside, or just comes up to me for a hug with a shy smile on his face. Manic bipolar autistic, my pop psychology dictionary says.
Ethan syas I should pull a Sound of Music move, and take some parts out, and so when it doesnt work, tey will just think te signal is bad, ofrthat the TV is a piece of crap. It is, they bought it from this guiy, and its a running joke that its bits from old tvs held together with string. And thats not even my joke. My other favorite part is that the TV is conncected to a long thick wire,which runs from the TV, up through the roof and is rigged up to a giant pole (an old piece of my equipment-little did I know I would contribute to the creation of my tormentor) that is about 25m from the house. So when the signal is bad, someone take a broom and go about pushing and pulling the wire until they get SLIGHTLY better reception. Oh, and you have to use a pair of pliers to turn the TV on and off. And I think the volume is either set to mute or superloud. Nothing in between. Its so bad, that I have considered getting them a TV for xmas, just so at least it will be trashy tv noise without the static.

Chickens.
Chickens are evil. And dumb. I know I study birds, but chickens are evil. I was identifying insects with Julia on the porch when I heard this frantic squeak. I look up and a chicken is holding a big white tree froggy frog by the leg in its beak, which is sqeaking in panic. His cries bring a swarm of chicken (20 to be more exact) around the main hunter chicken, all with crazy bloodlust in their eyes. The main hunter chicken is snapping his head around, looking for a way out of the group, and takes off running, the frogflapping bak and forth in the chickens death grip. I chase down the chicken to try and free the frog (I have a soft spot for frogs), but they outrun me and they convene in a crazy circle of bloodletting (anyone remember the scene in the vampire theater in paris in Interview with a Vampire?) and all I find a stringy sad frog bits, and chickens darting in to gobble up the last pieces. I always say I don’t eat what I can’t kill, but maybe I can start eating chicken, because I don’t know that I would feel that bad about killing one of these.

Positive note:
I feel I have entered in a number of negative entries. You always reflect what you feel inside, so I guess, yes I am feeling a bit negative at the moment about the scientific merit and worth of my project. I mean, sometimes I feel I have been working for 6 years on crap, but I am sure its just normal ups and downs of being a grad student, but that doesn’t really make me feel any better.
What does make me feel better is to start working on the environmental education project and to go traveling with my friend Sara in Mexico. I am going to present at a conference, and then take the time to travel. And it makes me feel better that I am dating a really nice guy who always is around to help me any way he can, which is unfortunately not enough when, lets say, I need to do a complex statistical analysis or want an opinion on data collection or sample size. But is always there for me when I need someone to talk with. And he is good for doing favors and giving back rubs and just giving hugs when need be. Also good for hugs are my nica mom Isabel and friends Ana y Lesbia. I have good people here, just no good science geeks to talk to. Ok, enough mush, gotta a talk to write!

Concert
I went to a big rock concert last night with Otoniel. Freakin rocked!!!! I went and splurged on the more expensive tickets (its all relative, still only 18$ a ticket), and we were right up next to the stage. Only problem was that there were tons of young kids (15-17) in the audience, and all the grls went all stupid and jumpy and screamy during this one band Miranda. Which I was not impressed with because they were trying to hard to be cool. Like a New Order-Tivo-blondie-80s eletronica throwback. I mean, good, but not worth getting all crazy over. And a bit poserish all in different colored sequins outfits and posing and dancing and the guy singing doing his best impression of Mick Jagger crossed with The Cure crossed with Mighty Mighty Bosstones. But the we saw Quinta Estacion, Julieta Venegas, and Elefante, which were all amazing. I went for Julieta Venegas, but I ended up being most impressed with 5th Estacion. They were amazing live, all very good and talented folks, something I at times consider a rarity in Latin pop music. Or any pop music for that matter. Only other deal was is that everyone in the audience insisted on singing along to their favorite songs, so much so that the actual singer could not be heard. The singers seemed to like it or love it and encouraged it. I am sure it is very flattering, but jesus, you can sing along to your radio at home! The whole point of a concert is to hear the group live. Nicas do really love to sing along to the radio though.
Anyway, it had been a long time since I had been to a big concert like that, with five groups and all very good, when youre standing for 8 hours, but the music is so good, you stop caring. (except during the set change breaks, when I thought I was going to die). We had planned to take the car, but, surprise, surprise, its broken again. So we went for 2 ½ hours on the bus, planning to stay the night. But the concert lasted until 2ám, and the first bus back to Esteli is at 4am, so we just hung out at the Texaco Starmart (open 24hr!!!!), ate Sopa Maruchan (you know, cup a noodle soup-sidenote, when they prepare it for you there, they put mayonnaise and ketchup in it. I hate mayonnaise, and mayonnaise in soup is the worst! I scooped it out and put it in Oto’s cup. He loves it), and drank lots of water for about 1 ½ hours, and then left for the bus station. Three and a half hours later, we were back in Esteli. I slept from 8am-3pm, and not I will have to go out dancing for a friend’s birthday tonight. Kinda don’t want to but I have to. Ahh well, life is hard. Need to start working on my presentation and stop partying………………

Pinche
I’m not going to say which family the following story pertains too, because they are nice people and a good family, its just sometimes they can be so cheap! Like they have this old man who works for them. Very sweet, but also very old. He wanted to go away for Semana Santa to see his family. In fact it was a time when all of his family would be together (pity factor-old, may die soon, family lives far away, he doesn’t travel much). For this family, it was too inconvenient that he leave during Semana Santa, so they REFUSED to pay him until the week after so that he would have to change his travel plans. Even though he still got to see some of his family, he didn’t get to see all of them at the big party like he wanted to. Definitely pinche move on the familys part. Second pinche move. This family has a lot of cows. And theay also have a married son with a little boy about 4 years old. SO every morning, the little boys mother goes over and gets a free liter of milk from he mother in law for the kid. But if the kid wants any more milk throughout the day, the mom has to PAY for it. Now maybe not so bad, but it is the son who freaking milks the cows in the morning, and the daughter in law is always over making tortillas, helping with dinner etc. They never get paid for this work, and then the mother goes ahead and charges them for milk. Sheesh, you think free milk for your own grandson, especially when you son and daughter in law work around the house, would not be a big deal. And this family is not super poor either; they do ok.

Females
Families here don’t value girl babies. Even my friend Lesbia agrees with Fran that girl babies are more work. When I ask why, she says, well because you always have to be watching out after them, and not letting them go out with boys, and keep them out of trouble(pregnant). But, I said, aren’t boys just as much work, making sure they don’t get into gangs and start drinking in the street and hitting their wives or getting girls pregnant (notice that getting a girl pregnant is not really that big of a deal, while getting pregnant is)? It seems that bad behavior for men is expected and tolerated, but a girls bad behaviour ( getting pregnant or running off young to get married) is a really bad thing. I also point out to Lesbia that maybe boys are more work, because if you teach them to treat women better then you wouldn’t have so many worries about your daughters
When Esther, the daughter of Rogelio and Lucia was in the hospital after she gave birth, I went to go see her. She was a bit disappointed that her baby was a girl. Mainly since the father had wanted a boy. Men always want boy cildren, and apparently by as many different women as possible. Children are used as pawns in some weird relationship game often. Men get women pregnant to keep a hold over her, often coming back to her again just for sex instead of a relationship,and also some weird proof of virility thing. The woman has a baby to keep the man around and interested, and he is more likely to do that if the baby is a boy. Anyway, this was Esthers third baby by three different men. And he is married. And they PLANNED for her to get pregnant. WTF?!?!? She knows all about family planning and all that, too.
Worse still was the woman on the bed next to her whose baby just lay by her side and she didn’t even have an interest in it. Turns out her husband showed up and yelled at her for having another girl (third one), and then left outraged. Only the poor women’s old mother and 6 year old daughter were there to take care of her. And she look just so depressed, staring blankly off into the wall, not even responding to the baby when it cried. I feel bad for mom, but that child will have a hard life too. And its MEN who make the sex of the baby anyway, how stupid.
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DONT EAT THE SARDINES
There are times in life when you should be polite. And there in times in life when you must put aside politeness in order to do what is best for yourself or for the greater good. I was recently confronted with Duch a situation. I was aiting for my car to be fixed by the dad of the best friend of Otoniel, my mas o menos boyfriend. Now, Don Armando is a trustworthy fellow, but his way of fixing things is for you to wiat around so he can show you what he is doing and so you can go with him to buy parts. All in the name of transparency and good faith, but makes for quite a waste of time, which I have been doing a lot of recently (see next entry). Well, alter about half an tour, Armandos sweet wife Justa (Justita) sat down and starting talking to me (in metal chairs in the outdoor workshop). She had been making Armando lunch, which he never got to eat because I showed up at 1pm and he started working on my car. We went to get parts and when we got back around 3pm. Justa, with whom I had now covered the topics of deforestation, politics, and the status of my pregnant friend, asked if I had eaten lunch. Well, I had not, but I feel bad taking peoples food becuase well, I just do. So I said I ate at like 11am so I was not very hungry, and she insisted that I must be. She invited me into her humble ranchita, as she called their connected house, to eat. It was partly the way she said it, kind of shy, and embarrassed for me to see their house, yet wanting to extend the most hospitality she was able. She further dismissed the meal as nothing, just a bit of rice and beans. She asked me a bit if I was used to eating the food in the campo, and I heartily replied that I love eating rice and beans and eggs all the time. Its good, I love it. Which, although sometimos I do have intense cravings for super fried eggs and salty rice, is not entirely true. But what do you say to someone who so very much wants to share something with you? And she was very nice to sit and talk with me for two hours, and proceded to Chat with me for another 2 hours that remained in the never ending saga of repairing my car (sidebar-and here I thought owning a car would SAVE me time-hah!). Now, with my huge plate of rice and beans and eggs and two giant tortillas, she handed me the remote so I could watch tele. Out of politeness (here, not a bad mistake), I left it on the novelas, even though channel flipping revealed Seinfeld (the episode where George moves the frogger machine, a favorite of mine), in case she wished to join me.
Now, she returned into the kitchen and asked if I wanted sardines. The sardines that come in a can with spicy sauce. As much as I love tuna, there is something TOO fishy about sardines. Whats more, I had eaten them from a can 5 times or so and been sick twice. The odds were against me. I demurred, insisting that she had given me so much food already, there was no way I could eat it all. But she kind of held the can in her hand and looked at me, in a way the seemed to seek approval, and shyly said something about having gone to the pulpería to get them for me. Now here was a woman, the mother of a a good friend of my boyfreind, who had spent many a night at her house when the boys were young and both perfomrming with the church music group, who had pitied me, bored and waiting for my car, had taken it upon herself to Chat with me, and then, worried that I might be hungry during such a long wait offers me food. And, feeling that her humble meal was lacking, and this no doubt exacerbated by my existence as a gringa, and the girlfriend of her friends son, tp whom under other circumstances she would have liked to present a more delightful meal, offers sardines. How could I refuse? (this embarrasment over the inadequacy of the meal confirmed later by her describing the delicious chicken soup she made for her son last Sunday, and her asking me if I had tried a dish similar to nacatamales, and me having to quickly state that although it sounds lovely, I dont eat meat for fear of a second awkward dining experience). I took an aceptable amount, and ate with gusto. We chatted quite a bit more, from abortion to religion to her experiences during the war to birth control, and the relative dfifficulties of raising sons or daughters. Very interesting. Very Catholic, very anti abortion, but yet very in favor of birthcontrol. Anyway, upon my leaving, she apologized again for the long wait, and said she hoped it wasnt too boring, and I assured her that with good company and good food, time is never wasted (it was quite a good improved line I must say). And to them both I hoped thatat the next time we met it would be a social call, and not about the car. I resolved in my head to get some chilote or a chicken from the farm for them as a present, then rethought the chicken, because she would be compelled to cook it for me to eat. There is a strong Nica tendency to take any gift, and somehow turn it around and give it back in some way to the giver. But thats another story
The sad ending to my tale is that I am suffereing as we speak the consequences of eating sardines in a can out of politeness. Sick all of last night, but not to an extreme degree, and persists today with nausea and stomach cramps. This on top of having to stand in lines all day (see next blog). Well, off for now, to get some pepto and then go stand in line again. Just please, whatever you do, if you come to Nicaragua, dont eat the sardines in the can, even if dancning girls in hotpants are advertising them (see previous blog). They are bad. Very very bad. My tummy hurts

AN EXERCISE IN PATIENCE
we all hate the DMV, In fact, it could be said that going to the DMV is one of the most odious tasks to befall beleaguered Americans. Now, try to image going through the same process in Nicaragua. Feel the pain and pity me, oh yes, I deserve much pity.

DAY ONE AUGUST 21, 2006
Step 1-go to transit police and ask them what you need to do. Now, waietd at the windo (20min), Was helped by a nice emough policewoman who did her best to explain the process and even wrote down what I neede to do (more or less).

Step 2- Turns out car is registered in a different district, so I cant get new plates until she does a transfer. So I need to go to the bank and deposit Money for the transfer. While I am there she says, take advantage and make deposits for the other fees. Then I should go to the renta office and pay a tax, and then go to the alcaldía (city hall) and pay some other mysterious fee. Byut first I should pay at the bank and then come back so she can start working on the transfer, which takes half a day. So I goto the bank. We open the doors and it is a packed zoo of people. I waited for about 45minutes and moved not an inch. I decide it might be calmer after lunch, so we went to eat and then I go back while Oto is kind enough to run some errands for me.Now, the policewoman said that the deposit slips would be there at the bank. I found the only deposit slips that said POLICIA NACIONAL on them. I filled out five and waited in line (2hours). Then, when I presented he documents to the cashier woman, she said they wwere not the right ones. I told her that they were the only slips there. Now, she says to go talk to the woman sitting at a desk. Keep in mind theback is still a zoo, with multiple lines and people as confused as I am, because the keep going up to the tellers to find out which line to stand in, which makes the lines go very slow. So I head back to the woman at the desk, who is fully occupied in what looks like a complicated process and there are more people standing around her desk, implying some sort of line to talk to her. With my espert eye I look around and finally settle on an authoratative woman giving instructions to some other woman, and as their conversation closes I shove my way in with the ubiquitous "disculpe, pero si ud. Puede ayudarme" and my best pathetic look. I explain to ther my confusion, she reviews the deposit slips and says in the ubiquitous nica entre to bad news "fiajse...", these slip wont be in until tomorrow. But, I cry, I have waited here for more than two hours, and you are going to tell me I have to come back and wait again tomorrow just because you dont have a slip of paper? I mean, there must be something you can do, I need to have this done today or the police are going to fine me (total lie). So, she drafts another desk woman to fill out the slips, who hands the task to an underling who knows nothing, so we begin a painfully slow process of her filiing out one line, and then seeking her superior for verification For five slips (30minutes. SO back to the teller woman. I stick with the pushy tactic, and stand right be her window, other customers privacy be damned and hand her my slips. She finally attends me after it is done, only then tells me one slip is wrong. SO while she puts the others into the computer, I run off to do it right, and the come back, only to find irritated people in my place, thinking I had left. Well, I push through them to my spot, hwhere she is still processing my slips and hand her another one. I get dirty looks. But hey, everyone seems to either be getting or giving dirty looks. Or blank confused expression looks. And I get my receipts(15minutes)And I think about poor older campesinos coming to town to do therse things and feel bad for them.

Step three : So slips paid, back to the Transit police and wait for the nice policewoman (20minutes)To do the transfer, she needs some information filled out by this inspection polieman in a shack. Oto and I go there, papers in hand. We wait (30minutes). A nice woman asks us if I have insurance. I do not, and knowing that I Hill need to get it anyway, I follow her to her shack. Keep in mind, although the nice policewoman has griten down what I need to have, she was rather vague on the ORDER in which things need to be done. So it is now starting to become obviuous that it might be a game of waiting only to be rejected because you didnt have some necessary paper befote proceeding to this step.
So, I get insurance (45minutes), have to go make fotocopies(10minutes), finís insurance process(10minutes). Wait again by shack as inspection man does his thing. For fear I am in the wrong place, I stop him on one of his ventures from the shack, and say “I have to do a transfer”. He looks at me and says, ok, wait. As if to impla, yes, he can do this for me. Now meanwhile, people are all crowded around the shack, you dont know whose queued up and so people keep forcing their way into the shack and I am getting agitated like maybe I should be more forceful, is this the way things are done, or Hill I only piss him off because he already told me to wait. And you dont want to piss off a policeman. Especially not this one, who was clearly in a bad mood.So we wait (1 ½ hours). Finally, mean policeman asks us what we want. I repeat to him the vague instructions given to me by the policewoman, which were for him to fill out the inspection form to do the transfer. Now, I was pretty nuclear about why to do this, but so was Otoniel, so it wasnt my spanish. Nasty policeman asks for my papers, and when I show him what I have, he gets all annoyed. Starts almost yelling about how I dont have thr right papers, I need to do this and this and this, and why dont I read the sign, and I try and protest and say that the policewoman sent me, its for the transfer, but hes already started in on some other hapless souls, so I stand there with my papers and feel like crying. Otoniel says, okay, so lets go do the things this guy said. And I was like, no, wait, she sent us here for a reason. So back to policewoman who was outside chatting (the lights went out as part of the periodic rolling blackouts now standard in Esteli). We explain to her the problem, and so she finishes the paperwork she was doing and comes with us over to the shack. She is obviously a superior, because she explains to him what to do and he saya ok, but when she leaves, he continues to help everyone else but us first and finally gets another nice policeman to fill out our paperwork. We then drive rapdily over to the car inspection place, but they inform us at 4:45 it is too late t start an inspection since they close at 5pm.
And so ends day one in the saga of getting your car registered in nicaragua JUST DAY ONE, mind you from 10am-5pm.....the story continues....
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Hi

I am way behind on the blogs, so I Hill just have to drop in a few stories at a time.

First….
EMILYS WEDDING

I was recently in Ireland for my sisters emily´s wedding. It was nice because I arrived about a week and a half before the wedding, so I got to spend some time with the Emster. I went to her hen night, and met a bunch of her cool and funky friends, being a mix of Irish, English, and New Zealanders. So typical hen night in England/Ireland involves making the bride war some sort of headband with bobbly pink penises and a big learners permit sign, and all of the hen night friends is slightly less obnoxious and embarrassing garb. We did not do this. And I am not sorry. Instead, we went for dinner and a swanky parlour restaurant, and actually got good table service, which apparently is a rarity in Ireland. This is because they don’t work for tips. Yet neither do bartenders, and they are generally pleasant. Go figure. We drank MUCHO VINO and then headed out to Samba night at some undisclosed location, where we danced the night away and ogled beautiful sweaty shirtless men doing displays of capoeira, a brazilian martial art done to music so it looks like dancing. It was developed by slaves in Brazil so that their masters would not know they were training.
Anyhows, between hangover and jet lag, Emily and I spent a pretty tranquilo following day, shopping chatting, visiting museums. It was nice, and I like cultural stuff, yeah, and I a cultural sorts gal I am. And in between times I helped Emily out with things for the wedding, which mainly involved small tasks and just being a supportive voice during decision making. Emily and Des showed me funny comedy videos. And animation from where Des works. I like Des, he is a funny man with good taste. Obviously, he married Emily.

I managed to get away for a few days and visit the Aran Islands, where I rode a bicycle around and looked and sheep, and ponies and rock walls and didnt talk to anyone. And a big giant rock fort on a high cliff overlooking the ocean. It probably doesn’t sound that fun, but it was, its just its so hard to describe the tranquility and beauty of the place I wont even try. Just go. And I met a little Irish boy who showed me around a cemetery and shouted “Hullo Mummo, hows heaven?” at his grandmothers grave. He was cute as a button and I wanted to take him home with me. But I figure if I was to steal someones child I should do it in a country with less law enforcement.

Back in Dublin, I met up with my friend Sadie and we boozed and toured for a few days. I love Sadie. You should all love her too. We had kabobs, where some Irish witch tried to correct my pronunciation in a not too kind way. I told her I wasn’t making fun of the way she speaks and she said its pronounced kabab, welcome to Ireland. To which I replied, yes, that’s exactly what you want, planeloads of American tourists doing their BEST irish accent while visiting your country. That would be WAY less annoying than them talking in the nasally American accents. Right.

Then the fam arrived, and we chatted until the cows came home, and it was so good to see my family, at least those who could come. Especially the cousins, who are all so big now, its crazy. I went with the cousins to go see Pirates 2. I was disappointed, which is hard to do in a movie with both Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom. BTW, I respect Johnny decision not to change his name once he moved into ADULT roles. That shows hutzpah. I got to see all the men folk together at the pubs, and give a special shout out to my home boy Ray, who my mom dragged all over Paris, and probably walked more in a shorter space of time that is recommended by the Surgeon General

Anyways, the days before then wedding I got to spend some time with my mom and Sara, which was nice, and we had some girl talk, and I am sure I just said things that make my mom worry more, but it was the truth that’s all.
I also got to hang a bit with Allie and Sara and Emily, just the girls together, which was nice and yes, we bonded, I wont go into details, but I liked it.
I also got to take a little tour with Lucy and Paula and co. all whom I haven’t seen for a very long time. We went to Kilmanean Goal, which is where a bunch of important people were interned or executed. Very interesting. On the way home, Lucy and I brought home two servings of fish and chips which fed 6 people as my mom made us fruit salad, to combat the grease, and we watched gaelic football, which is the best game, because there are no rules, just get the ball to the other side. violent

I spent Emilys last night of freedom with her, and we got strippers… just kidding….. all we did was eat pizza and make some CD´s for the DJ. Which was good, busy time to keep distracted, although she kept saying “I cant believe I am getting married tomorrow”.

The day of the actual wedding Emily and I made an awesome fruit salad and Emily had bread and juice and coffee ready, and Mom and Sara and Allie, and the hairdresser came over. It was nice, we all got ready in a very leisurely way over the next three hours, and at the end of it all we LOOKED GORGEOUS. The bridesmaids all had a very breakfast at tiffanys hairdo, with a little less poofiness, which looked very classically elegant with our simple black dresses and embroidered shawls. My mom looked so lovely in her dress, a long soft lilac gown with beaded shawl, and professional makeup and hairdo. I never get to see her dressed up like that and it was beautiful.
Emily of course, was the crowning feature, and with her ruched silk gown, she looked every bit the film siren. As a surprise, Emily had arranged for us to arrive in a horse drawn carriage, and although the skies threatened rain, it held off until we arrived.

The ceremony was lovely, although we walked down the aisle a little quickly, that being my fault since I was holding hands with a nervous ringbearer, the ever cheerful and sweet Christopher, and we were both anxious to get up front.
The ceremony was short and very couple centered, with three very different, yet appropriate readings, which really set the tone for the whole thing. I know it was difficult for some very Catholic members of des´s family, but I thought they did a good job of keeping the emphasis on the couple, which in the end, love ruled the day. I started to cry. And I am not usually a crier.

After the ceremony and some quick pics and salutations, off we went in a wedding bus to the hotel, just outside of Dublin, where the reception was held. We were met inside at the drinks reception by a great jazz duo, belting out the Django classics, and good finger foods…AND…wait for it…. A CHOCOLATE FOUNTAIN. Will wonders never cease. You could dip fruit or marshmallows or giant meringues in there. It was wicked awesome.

I was running around a bit in the beginning, making sure the tables were all done up nicely, and that people knew where they needed to go. Then I calmed down and enjoyed the whole thing. My cousin Stacy and her husband John were there, and it was nice to see them too, especially since I hadn’t made it to their wedding.

We had a super dinner, before which Emily and Des were ushered in with bagpipes. Not too much conversation at the head table though, since they had set up pretty far apart, maybe with the anticipation that more people would show up, forgotten members of the wedding party, but it was still cool to be up front and gaze around Emilys wedding empire.


We had some great speeches, some funny (Uncle Mike, best man, Ger), some touching (Ray, Ger Sr.) and some weepy (mine, or course)
After dinner, we did take a mandated break to watch the end of the world cup, wedding be damned, and were back in time for the first dance, which was to a great Sam Cooke Song.

Then, details be damned because this blog is too long already, we danced like crazy people until 1am. At which time I was forced onto the bus, but some very hardy souls drank the night away in the bar until 330 am

The next day all the family went to the Wicklow mountains and Powerscourt, which you can look up in your guide book, and the following day we went and saw Riverdance, all of which were very cool, very irish things to do. In a nutshell, my family is rad, and I love them and miss them, and it was a great time to see everyone.

I will maybe write more details later, but right now my fingers are tired.


Love
Melissa
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