Thanks

I cannot tell you how much it means to know someone is reading these posts.  I’m keeping a diary here also, but I can tell you that there is a big difference to me between recording thoughts which no one will likely ever read, beneficial as that is, and writing for an audience, even a little bitty audience.  People have been kind enough to post a comment or shoot an email and so I know someone is reading.  As I go about my business I am talking to a collective “you”, mostly people I love but maybe a few strangers who read these thoughts.  It’s a delight to have someone to describe things to. 

Anyway, a friend sends an email asking what I’m doing.  I thought I’ve given a pretty good account in the blog posts, but maybe the question really is, “How are your days?”  So here goes:  Just like in the states I get up early, 5 o’clock if I have to be at school at 7, otherwise 6.  I head for the latrine.  The latrine is not a great experience, but walking across the back yard to reach it is OK.  I like to check out the morning here.  If it’s early enough I can see stars and a little slip of a moon, which is, incidentally waning and I am looking forward to darker nights and mornings, ergo more stars.  If it’s a bit later I can see the mists on the mountains. 

Next I brush my teeth in the lavendero and make coffee.  I do that by scooping two tablespoons of coffee into a cloth bag affixed to a handle.  The bag goes in the mug.  I boil water in a tin can that someone has made a bit safer by attaching a small tin handle.  I grab the handle with a piece of torn t-shirt and pour carefully so I don’t scald myself. Then I let the bag steep in the cup for 5 minutes or so while I set up my room for a good morning read.  I have to borrow a chair from the front room which contains. In addition to a television, only a classic Nica rocker, 2 chairs made out of rebar and one of those ubiquitous plastic lawn chairs.  I usually go for that one.  I raise the mosquito net over the bed, gather up my blanket, grab my book and a flashlight if it’s early, my pills, and a watch to keep track of time. I open the window and pull back the curtain so I can see out.  I read and drink coffee snuggled under the blanket until I need to get going for the day. Then I make oatmeal with reconstituted dry milk. I take a shower—cold but thank God not as bad as it could be by some miracle that renders the water more tepid than icy, maybe the sun from the previous day. I dress and, God help me, put on make-up, a habit I haven’t been able to shake in 6 months here, although I don’t use the blow dryer I stupidly brought.

I fill my water bottle and I’m out the door for a 15 minute hilly walk through the campo to the high school.  The walk is strenuous but I love it.  I go past fields, cattle grazing, houses with giant outdoor ovens, shaped like bee hives, for baking rosquillas, and yards where people are making bricks just as the Isrealites must have done in ancient Egypt, packing mud into forms to dry in the sun.   I sometimes pass people on the dirt path, men and boys carrying enormous loads of wood on their backs or shoulders, men with machetes, mothers and kids.  Everyone politely bids me “adios”. At the high school I teach and maybe co-plan with one of my three counterparts.  School is over at noon.

The afternoons differ.  Sometimes I came back to my house and eat lunch, usually a tortilla warmed and spread with peanut butter, and fruit if I have it.  Since school started, I’ve been taking a short nap in the early afternoon. Once a week I walk 15 minutes to the cyber in town to post a blog and read emails. I often stop to buy a thing or two at a pulperia.  I walk through town and maybe buy an Eskimo. Sometimes I have to shop or take a Spanish class in Somoto, a 15 minute taxi ride. away. Sometimes I meet a counterpart to plan lessons or tutor.

In the evening I usually have the house to myself.  I live with a family comprised of a mom, her 7 year old daughter and her brother.  It is a really nice decent family.  They are evangelical and I’d say about 5 out of 7 nights a week they are either at church or visiting at the house of their mother.  So I have the house to myself.  I usually read or work on Spanish till 6 when I make myself dinner.  I put on some music from home while I cook and eat.  I make simple stuff.  Tonight, since I shopped today and the bakery had whole wheat bread, I made open faced sandwiches of tomato, onion and avocado with tea and a bakery cookie.  Good meal.  Sometimes I sauté onions, garlic, carrots, squash and tomatoes.  I can turn this into spaghetti sauce, soup or stew.  The last time I did this I added cilantro which grows outside my back door and a single really small hot pepper which added more heat than you’d think, but it was still good.  I make eggs with hash browned potatoes.  I make rice and vegetables.  I have a hard time with meat—I just don’t want to buy it here, and this house doesn’t have a refrigerator to keep it safely, but sometimes I use soy to add protein. I can make a kind of quesadilla with tortillas and queso.  In about a month I’ll be moving to another house with a refrigerator and I hope I’ll expand my eating options.  I’d like to include more Nica food but a lot of it is starchy or saturated with oil.  Sill I think I could learn to make it a way I’d enjoy it. The soups are great.

Usually I’m in bed by 9, but I admit to being tired enough to want to be there by 8.  The night ritual consists of my applying 2 creams my Nica doctor prescribed for skin, a last dark visit to the latrine, arranging the mosquito net, getting my flashlight and Kindle set up for a fall-asleep-read, and  brushing my teeth.  That’s it.   

Thanks