Fat City

Fat City

I moved into the house described in the last post, and my life has improved considerably.  It is so amazingly pleasant to live here.  I have a big room with a very comfortable bed.  I eat better already  because it’s easier to prepare food.  I still have to walk a lot, but I don’t feel so strung out from the effort to get places in the heat.  The cyber is 2 blocks away.  I can buy necessaries from any of the half dozen or so pulperias within a few blocks of my house.   These details, though, don’t explain the lack of tenuousness, the solidity, I feel here.  I feel safe and welcome.

I admit that before the move I was getting a little worried about myself.  I have dropped a lot of weight. And it kept dropping out there in the barrio, probably because of all of the walking.  I’m guessing I’ve lost at least 15, maybe 20 pounds in Nicaragua, and although I’m delighted (and wonder why the hell I couldn’t have done this 20 years ago),  I began to feel the weight loss should stop.  Here in town I think it will.

At my new house people drop by.  There is a porch and at 5 p.m., my “host mom”, aged 71, (let’s call her Indiana) and I sit out with the puppies.  We watch the puppies play (I play with them) and folks walk by and say hello and some stop to talk and it’s as pleasant as can be.  Indiana’s grandson stopped in the second day of my stay, an altogether polite and nice guy who just happens to be the assistant to the mayor in town, so we had a long conversation about the needs of the town and what the mayor’s office was doing to address them.  Do you know how long it would have taken me to get this information without my direct source?  He likes traditional Nicaraguan music and when I told him how moved I was by Nicaragua, Nicaraguita, he promised to bring by some CDs so I could listen to more. How did I get so lucky?

Since I wrote the above, about 10 days ago, my comfort has been further enhanced by the purchases I made from my site mate, a health volunteer who has finished up service and is heading home.  With half ($100) of the settling in allowance Peace Corps gives us to buy things we need for the duration of service, I got a little refrigerator, my own pots and pans, a plastic table and 4 chairs, a little book shelf a bunch of wonderful accessories like a garlic press and rubber spatulas and even a little tea pot.  I also got a  plastic chest with five deep drawers. And best of all (no, the refrigerator is the best) is a yoga mat which I am using 5 mornings a week. So, finally after 4 months in my site, I’m not living out of a suitcase.  I am settled, organized, eating right, exercising right and feeling great.  Am I the woman who felt guilt leaving the barrio?

  I have one more purchase to make and I’m done.  I need a fan. Fat City could use a breeze.