I think I am now able to write after buying this new pen at a supermercado earlier today. I have wanted to write a lot more these past couple of days, but that last pen just didn't work.
Well, I'm writing this while taking a break from trying to help this family get their pick-up truck out from being stuck in the sand. We have had no luck so far . . . A woman in an Isuzu Trooper came by to provide a hitch. Another man and I pushed from behind while the Trooper pulled. For the most part (other than getting stuck again just for a second), the operation went smoothly.
Now since I'm looking forward to getting back in the water soon, I will keep my re-cap as quick and simple as I possibly can. To pick up where I left off with my last entry in Granada, the gangster-looking Nicaraguan guy came back to sit on my bench. After beginning a conversation, I realized he was essentially homeless, but thrived and enjoyed the friendship of tourists. Perhaps its sounds a bit fishy, but after I explained my financial situation, he offerred to buy me an enchilada. He said that he could get it cheap, and his philosophy - in my rough translation - is that what goes around comes around. So he happily helped me out. It was a really nice thing for which I was very grateful. Immediately after buying the enchilada, he left to find another friend who was to give him a shirt.
Then, one after the other, I had conversations with three more people who came to sit next to me on that bench in el parque central; the first two were men and the last was a woman.
The most interesting conversation was with a man of about forty years in age. He analyzed the failure of the Sandinista revolution and its preceding and following events very well. He said that, before the revolution, each town was run by a "terrateniente", who was in turn run by Somoza from the top-down. So, in essence, Nicaragua was operating under a feudal system which had altered very little since the early colonial encomienda system. Certainly taking note of the international liberation movement in the 1960s, especially Cuba, the people of Nicaragua felt repressed by the feudal system and resentful of the Somoza regime.
The man said that the ideals of the Sandinistas were the opportunity to realize a dream of overcoming that system of Somoza. Hence, the popular support, and eventual victory, of the 1979 Sandinista revolution. However, with the Contra war of the 1980s, funded by the Nicaraguan elite, and also funded and supported by the United States government, the Sandinistas could not put the full, necessary energy to their program. Instead, much man-power was needed to fight the Contra war. In other words, the economy of Nicaragua sufferred greatly because its most-able men were fighting a war, not strengthening an economy. So the people lost faith in the Sandinistas; in the end, some even blaming them for the poor economy.
This sentiment was witnessed in the 1990 election when the Sandinistas were voted out of office. Since then, they are seen as just another political party, lacking any kind of revolutionary front. And now, in 2003, Nicaragua is poorer than it was before the revolution. It is a shame. My conversation, though, was quite informative and enlightening.
I returned to the Bearded Monkey to meet up with Toby to discuss dreams of travelling the world. Then I went to bed early to wake up early the next morning at about 6:15am. By 7am, I was walking to the Granada bus station, where my day-long journey began. I rode five buses yesterday. From Granada to Rivas, from Rivas to Penas Blancas, from Penas Blancas to Liberia, from Liberia to Nicoya, and from Nicoya to Samara.
When I left Granada I had only 41 cordobas and 2000 colones. When I arrived in Liberia, I had only 300 colones; I had not taken into account a $1.00 municipal fee and a $2.00 exit tax to leave Nicaragua. Those, in addition to bus fares. With the 300 colones, I bought a grapefruit soda and then went straight to the bank in Liberia to exchange my next traveller's check. Afterwards, I immediately went to a restaurant to devour a casado con chuleta; that was delicious after not eating a full meal since the morning before, about 28 hours earlier.
Without wasting any time then, I went back to the Liberia bus station to continue my journey, hoping to arrive in Samara to meet the North American girl. When I arrived in Nicoya, I had to walk a few blocks to get to the bus station with buses for Samara. I had to wait for about ten minutes for the bus from San Jose to Samara. When I walked onto the bus, I was surprised and happy to see Ronald, my Dutch friend. He was travelling with a Swiss guy and a German guy. We finally arrived in Samara at about 5:30pm, a long day of travelling for me.
After quickly checking back into Cabinas Magaly, I changed into my bathing suit and treated myself to a relaxing dip in the ocean, just as the sun was setting. Also, the half-moon and the first stars were out. It was a sight which was absolutely beautiful.
Later, after eating a tuna and crackers and pineapple dinner with Ronald, we got the other two guys to go to the bar where the language school students always hang out. I had a great time playing pool (and learning Tico rules). I also met some nice people, including a cool kid from Tennessee named Marcus. He's friends with Tony, the Canadian. All in all, it was a very good night.
To finish it off beautifully, I walked back alone (to the cabina) along the beach; the night-sky was totally clear so the view was beyond words; it was that which inspired me to write my last entry.
Today, after getting up late (about 10:30am), I walked alone to Carrillo to meet Ronald and the other two guys. The beach here is quieter than Samara, and the water is somehow more clear. Its really very nice. Now I will look for a bite to eat, and then get in the water again. When I return to the cabina, I will see if the North American girl has arrived or not.
Showing posts with label Nicaragua. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nicaragua. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 11, 2003
Sunday, March 9, 2003
Granada, Nicaragua -- night
Well, since that last entry earlier today, I have had a good afternoon and evening, which has almost coincidentally dealt with the topic of the last entry.
After the conversation with the vendor on the shore of el Lago Nicaragua, I was soon after surrounded by a bunch of tiny little green bugs. So I decided to leave to head back to el Parque Central. I sat down at a bench and in a little bit the parade of bench-partners began.
Perhaps there is humidity now or perhaps it is the pen, but this ink is very faint. I think I will try to write again later. And hopefully I can finish this entry . . . ok, so let's give this a try.
I had been sitting on the bench by myself when a young Nica walked by with a bandana rolled and wrapped around his forehead. He looked like a gangster, but we made eye contact, so I nodded as a form of greeting.
After the conversation with the vendor on the shore of el Lago Nicaragua, I was soon after surrounded by a bunch of tiny little green bugs. So I decided to leave to head back to el Parque Central. I sat down at a bench and in a little bit the parade of bench-partners began.
Perhaps there is humidity now or perhaps it is the pen, but this ink is very faint. I think I will try to write again later. And hopefully I can finish this entry . . . ok, so let's give this a try.
I had been sitting on the bench by myself when a young Nica walked by with a bandana rolled and wrapped around his forehead. He looked like a gangster, but we made eye contact, so I nodded as a form of greeting.
Granada, Nicaragua -- afternoon
Its a little bit windy as I sit here on the shore of el Lago Nicaragua. I think that the wind comes off the mountains to the east and then picks up speed as it comes across the surface of the lake. There are a number of locals swimming in the lake, but for me there is little appeal to take a dip.
My time in Granada, and Nicaragua for that matter, will end tomorrow morning when I leave for the border. I have little choice since I am left with only about 45 cordobas right now, at least 23 of which I will need to pay bus fare from Granada to Rivas and from Rivas to Penas Blancas. Unfortunately, it appears I will have to fast until I return to Costa Rica.
In many ways, it is a shame that I must leave here so soon. Granada is a beautiful city. Although it is not as big as Leon, the added features of its lakeside location, and the volcano so nearby overlooking the city, make Granada an attractive city to visit. Also, similar to Leon, its colonial architecture and lay-out make it quaint and comfortable. However, without a doubt, I prefer Leon; this is due to a few initial experiences here in Granada.
First, there seems to be little contact between tourists and locals. The locals have generally been cold to me, and the only ones really initiating contact were the guys pushing to sell marijuana and other drugs. And that is very annoying because they push so hard, that they nearly accost you or else accompany you practically into the bathroom. In a couple of words, they are very insistent. The other locals here seem a bit cold, and even resentful, to the foreigners. And I don't necessarily blame them.
To provide an example, I went with Toby to a local bar last night. My first impression was that it was very touristy, but in that negative pseudo-bohemian sort of way. I went to the bar to order a gin and tonic, then I asked a second bartender when the live music was to begin. And of course I asked in clear, fluent Spanish, as is natural since we are in Nicaragua, a Spanish-speaking country. The small-statured, pseudo-intellectual-looking brat responded in clear, fluent American English by demanding "English," meaning that he was ordering me to speak his language of English. The cultural superiority exemplified in that act sickens me. It is exactly that sort of condescending attitude that brings the United States a bad name all over the world. To a great extent, it was that cultural inflexibility that impelled Osama bin Laden to make the statement (as horrible as it was) that he did. I remained cool last night in that example, and quickly got my answer in English. That was probably the most peaceful reaction possible. But in retrospect, I almost wish I had punched that ass in the face, and told him to speak Spanish.
As a final observation on this point, Granada seems very touristy, but unfortunately in the sense of tourists who come to get high and have little interest in any sort of true, authentic, respectful intercultural/international experience. And there are many more tourists here than in Leon, making the whole spectacle a zoo of pseudo-bohemians believing that dreadlocks or long hair or beards or rags or ganja or coke or not showering for months will automatically show them or bring them to el camino real. Little do the fools realize that their attitudes and behavior are disrespectful to the culture and to the people here. So it is little, if no, surprise that the local people of Granada are now only interested in contact in the form of money changing hands . . .
Well, incidentally after writing that last sentence, a street vendor walked by with his cart and we started a conversation. He essentially said that the people of Nicaragua simply want to work, in order to eat. In response to my question, he said that Bolanos has done nothing to improve Nicaragua's economic situation. I told him the story above and told him how ashamed I am of those who bring a bad name to the United States, or tourists in general. I also said that it was important to have conversations like ours, between Nicaraguans and foreigners, to open the minds of both and to create a true intercultural exchange.
However, I realized quickly into our conversation that he had a heavy Nicaraguan accent, which tends to slur words by speaking very fast. As the conversation got deeper, it became more difficult for me to remain involved due to his accent. But I did understand a quick story he said later about how a group of bandits attacked a police officer, and did some real damage, about two years ago. He said it was a general response to police brutality, which is common here in Nicaragua.
I told him that the Nicaraguan government should promote more tourism. But I warned of a risk that I have witnessed especially here in Granada: it is not good for the Nicaraguan economy if the tourists only invest and/or spend at foreign-owned businesses. (I now feel a little bad that I'm staying at the Bearded Monkey). And as I said, here in Granada, there is little contact between tourists and locals. Leon, however, seemed much more integrated, therefore positively effecting the Leon economy.
As a final point, it probably seemd hypocritical that I didn't buy a hot dog from him. But I do need to get to the border tomorrow, and I'd rather arrive by bus than by hitchhiking.
My time in Granada, and Nicaragua for that matter, will end tomorrow morning when I leave for the border. I have little choice since I am left with only about 45 cordobas right now, at least 23 of which I will need to pay bus fare from Granada to Rivas and from Rivas to Penas Blancas. Unfortunately, it appears I will have to fast until I return to Costa Rica.
In many ways, it is a shame that I must leave here so soon. Granada is a beautiful city. Although it is not as big as Leon, the added features of its lakeside location, and the volcano so nearby overlooking the city, make Granada an attractive city to visit. Also, similar to Leon, its colonial architecture and lay-out make it quaint and comfortable. However, without a doubt, I prefer Leon; this is due to a few initial experiences here in Granada.
First, there seems to be little contact between tourists and locals. The locals have generally been cold to me, and the only ones really initiating contact were the guys pushing to sell marijuana and other drugs. And that is very annoying because they push so hard, that they nearly accost you or else accompany you practically into the bathroom. In a couple of words, they are very insistent. The other locals here seem a bit cold, and even resentful, to the foreigners. And I don't necessarily blame them.
To provide an example, I went with Toby to a local bar last night. My first impression was that it was very touristy, but in that negative pseudo-bohemian sort of way. I went to the bar to order a gin and tonic, then I asked a second bartender when the live music was to begin. And of course I asked in clear, fluent Spanish, as is natural since we are in Nicaragua, a Spanish-speaking country. The small-statured, pseudo-intellectual-looking brat responded in clear, fluent American English by demanding "English," meaning that he was ordering me to speak his language of English. The cultural superiority exemplified in that act sickens me. It is exactly that sort of condescending attitude that brings the United States a bad name all over the world. To a great extent, it was that cultural inflexibility that impelled Osama bin Laden to make the statement (as horrible as it was) that he did. I remained cool last night in that example, and quickly got my answer in English. That was probably the most peaceful reaction possible. But in retrospect, I almost wish I had punched that ass in the face, and told him to speak Spanish.
As a final observation on this point, Granada seems very touristy, but unfortunately in the sense of tourists who come to get high and have little interest in any sort of true, authentic, respectful intercultural/international experience. And there are many more tourists here than in Leon, making the whole spectacle a zoo of pseudo-bohemians believing that dreadlocks or long hair or beards or rags or ganja or coke or not showering for months will automatically show them or bring them to el camino real. Little do the fools realize that their attitudes and behavior are disrespectful to the culture and to the people here. So it is little, if no, surprise that the local people of Granada are now only interested in contact in the form of money changing hands . . .
Well, incidentally after writing that last sentence, a street vendor walked by with his cart and we started a conversation. He essentially said that the people of Nicaragua simply want to work, in order to eat. In response to my question, he said that Bolanos has done nothing to improve Nicaragua's economic situation. I told him the story above and told him how ashamed I am of those who bring a bad name to the United States, or tourists in general. I also said that it was important to have conversations like ours, between Nicaraguans and foreigners, to open the minds of both and to create a true intercultural exchange.
However, I realized quickly into our conversation that he had a heavy Nicaraguan accent, which tends to slur words by speaking very fast. As the conversation got deeper, it became more difficult for me to remain involved due to his accent. But I did understand a quick story he said later about how a group of bandits attacked a police officer, and did some real damage, about two years ago. He said it was a general response to police brutality, which is common here in Nicaragua.
I told him that the Nicaraguan government should promote more tourism. But I warned of a risk that I have witnessed especially here in Granada: it is not good for the Nicaraguan economy if the tourists only invest and/or spend at foreign-owned businesses. (I now feel a little bad that I'm staying at the Bearded Monkey). And as I said, here in Granada, there is little contact between tourists and locals. Leon, however, seemed much more integrated, therefore positively effecting the Leon economy.
As a final point, it probably seemd hypocritical that I didn't buy a hot dog from him. But I do need to get to the border tomorrow, and I'd rather arrive by bus than by hitchhiking.
Saturday, March 8, 2003
Leon, Nicaragua -- morning
I'm now sitting at a cafe on the parque central, with La Catedral to my left-hand side. Its a clear, blue sky with only a few rare clouds.
The weather was the same when I went yesterday to Las Penitas, a beach on the Pacific Coast about half an hour from Leon. I spent the afternoon with a German named Marcos and a Swiss named Toby. We had a lot of fun boogie-boarding, but since I didn't wear a shirt, I had two red friction spots on my abdomen this morning. It hurts a little bit, but it was definitely worth it for the fun of riding waves.
However, I really didn't like Las Penitas that much. There were no trees on the beach to provide any shade. There was a wicked wind blowing from the south; this helped to create some often vicious waves. But the wind was terrible because it blew sand in one's face if facing south. Also, there were strong currents pulling one quickly toward the north, which made it more dangerous because of rocks (hence, "las penitas") lying both on-shore and underwater.
On one occasion, I had been pulled to the north without realizing it. Toby, who was on-shore, whistled to me to advise me of my position. I had to swim hard to make it straight back to shore without getting pulled any farther north. To speed my efforts, I rode a wave in, but landed on a rock that was unseen underwater. Quite luckily, I landed with one leg on each side of the rock, so that I was straddling it. As soon as there was a break in the waves, I quickly swam back to shore, and to safety.
Another highlight was eating a whole fish marinated with sweet-and-sour sauce and vegetables (onions, red peppers, etc.); on the side, there were platano chips. It was very delicious.
Right now, I'm sipping on a papaya con leche while writing these words. Only Toby and I returned to Leon from Las Penitas; I bid farewell of Marcos. I hope we can keep in touch.
Later, last night, I decided to hang out with Toby, and two other Swiss guys: Gianni and Richard. We went to a quaint restaurant, La Taquezal, to hear live music: a man on a guitar and a woman singing. It was nice. The guitarist was very good, and the woman had a nice voice. I drank my first alcohol in over a month. I drank a 'capuccino taquezal,' which was simply a capuccino with rum. It was good, but strong. I had to ask for more coffee to weaken the rum.
Afterwards, when two Dutch girls had joined us, we left to go to another restaurant closer to Via Via, called El Camaleon. We continued good conversation with many jokes and much laughter. I eventually went to bed at 3am. It had been a while since I hung out like that, so it was a good experience.
I woke up early this morning, at about 7:30am, to go to el Museo Insurreccional, but it was closed. However, it was good that I walked around, because I stopped at a bookseller on the sidewalk to buy two small books, one by Carlos Fonseca and the other by Fidel Castro.
I leave soon with Toby to go south to Granada. As always, I'm very excited to hit the road, especially to a new destination. Nevertheless, I will miss Leon. It is a beautiful city in so many ways.
Last night, while at Via Via, I was standing at the bar, waiting for a lemonade. I started a good conversation with a beautiful Nicaraguan woman. She is 23 years old and a third-year law student here in Leon. She asked me if I had a wife or girlfriend, and then said that I should stay more time in Leon. I explained that I had to move on, but that I, too, would have liked to stay. We exchanged email addresses and will certainly keep in touch. I invited her to the United States; perhaps one day we'll meet again.
All in all, my time in Leon has been wonderful. I leave here with a positive attitude and some new friendships. So, speaking of leaving, the time has come to enjoy the rest of my papaya con leche. And then I will go to Via Via to collect my things, to return to meet Toby on the main square, then hit the road once again . . .
As a postscript, I have to note that I just observed two young boys pissing on La Catedral in broad daylight, now at about 10:30am.
The weather was the same when I went yesterday to Las Penitas, a beach on the Pacific Coast about half an hour from Leon. I spent the afternoon with a German named Marcos and a Swiss named Toby. We had a lot of fun boogie-boarding, but since I didn't wear a shirt, I had two red friction spots on my abdomen this morning. It hurts a little bit, but it was definitely worth it for the fun of riding waves.
However, I really didn't like Las Penitas that much. There were no trees on the beach to provide any shade. There was a wicked wind blowing from the south; this helped to create some often vicious waves. But the wind was terrible because it blew sand in one's face if facing south. Also, there were strong currents pulling one quickly toward the north, which made it more dangerous because of rocks (hence, "las penitas") lying both on-shore and underwater.
On one occasion, I had been pulled to the north without realizing it. Toby, who was on-shore, whistled to me to advise me of my position. I had to swim hard to make it straight back to shore without getting pulled any farther north. To speed my efforts, I rode a wave in, but landed on a rock that was unseen underwater. Quite luckily, I landed with one leg on each side of the rock, so that I was straddling it. As soon as there was a break in the waves, I quickly swam back to shore, and to safety.
Another highlight was eating a whole fish marinated with sweet-and-sour sauce and vegetables (onions, red peppers, etc.); on the side, there were platano chips. It was very delicious.
Right now, I'm sipping on a papaya con leche while writing these words. Only Toby and I returned to Leon from Las Penitas; I bid farewell of Marcos. I hope we can keep in touch.
Later, last night, I decided to hang out with Toby, and two other Swiss guys: Gianni and Richard. We went to a quaint restaurant, La Taquezal, to hear live music: a man on a guitar and a woman singing. It was nice. The guitarist was very good, and the woman had a nice voice. I drank my first alcohol in over a month. I drank a 'capuccino taquezal,' which was simply a capuccino with rum. It was good, but strong. I had to ask for more coffee to weaken the rum.
Afterwards, when two Dutch girls had joined us, we left to go to another restaurant closer to Via Via, called El Camaleon. We continued good conversation with many jokes and much laughter. I eventually went to bed at 3am. It had been a while since I hung out like that, so it was a good experience.
I woke up early this morning, at about 7:30am, to go to el Museo Insurreccional, but it was closed. However, it was good that I walked around, because I stopped at a bookseller on the sidewalk to buy two small books, one by Carlos Fonseca and the other by Fidel Castro.
I leave soon with Toby to go south to Granada. As always, I'm very excited to hit the road, especially to a new destination. Nevertheless, I will miss Leon. It is a beautiful city in so many ways.
Last night, while at Via Via, I was standing at the bar, waiting for a lemonade. I started a good conversation with a beautiful Nicaraguan woman. She is 23 years old and a third-year law student here in Leon. She asked me if I had a wife or girlfriend, and then said that I should stay more time in Leon. I explained that I had to move on, but that I, too, would have liked to stay. We exchanged email addresses and will certainly keep in touch. I invited her to the United States; perhaps one day we'll meet again.
All in all, my time in Leon has been wonderful. I leave here with a positive attitude and some new friendships. So, speaking of leaving, the time has come to enjoy the rest of my papaya con leche. And then I will go to Via Via to collect my things, to return to meet Toby on the main square, then hit the road once again . . .
As a postscript, I have to note that I just observed two young boys pissing on La Catedral in broad daylight, now at about 10:30am.
Thursday, March 6, 2003
Leon, Nicaragua -- night
Earlier this afternoon, I walked over a kilometer from the center of Leon by way of la Calle Ruben Dario to the indigenous area of Subtiava. From there, I walked just a few more blocks to arrive at el Barrio Felipe Santana. Of course my memory served me well, and so I arrived with no problem at the home of Don Clemente and Dona Maria. They were very surprised to see me. And I was nearly as surprised that Dona Maria remembered my name without a second thought. I gave their 9-year-old grandson, Jairo, his gift, a basic but complete world atlas. Later, just before leaving, I wrote my Spanish name ('Tay'), his name, today's date, and an inscription of Marti's lyric from Versos Sencillos, to perhaps impel the boy to one day chase the horizon.
I stayed for a little over three hours, telling stories of my life and job in the States, as well as stories of my adventures in Central America. I also took a walk around the neighborhood, which I saw hans't changed a bit. I wrote down their address, in hopes that I will follow through with a postcard or two in the future. And finally before leaving, I got a photo in the front doorway in the same spot as three years ago with Don Clemente, Dona Maria, Jairo, and Ines.
Later, on my walk back down la Calle Ruben Dario, I stopped back at a vendor whom I had asked directions to reach Felipe Santana. Another younger teenage girl was there, but said that the other woman would return shortly. I asked for a cantaloupe, and she offerred me a seat to eat right there. So I ended up talking with her for about half an hour. After going over the usual trivialities, I asked her specifically about her studies and her goals. She said she is studying to be an accountant, because it is a good job and in demand.
Then, she asked me about my job. That turned the conversation onto the tangent of human rights, specifically women's rights. After explaining that men and women are equal, and Nicaragua must pursue two avenues to realize this: juridically and culturally. The two methods would dissuade machismo, and punish severe cases of machismo. I said that a man and a woman should be in an equal relationship with each other. I made other specific points as well.
But, after a few minutes of elaborating, an older man approached us who had been overhearing our conversation, and he asked me directly where I was from. I replied that I was born in Colombia and that I am medio-tico, medio-gringo. He made a comment about religion and immediately walked away without waiting for a response.
I asked the girl to clarify, but first guessed that the man implied that, according to biblical references, a woman has a place in the home and at the side and service of her husband. I quickly explained that the culture in biblical times was represented in the Bible, but that much time had passed, and hence our present culture is not the same as in biblical times. Furthermore, I explained that if the message of the Bible (namely the teachings of Jesus Christ) could be simplified or summarized, it would be a message of love and respect for all fellow humans, as brothers and sisters alike. In this respect, the mistreatment of women, and hence its Latino manifestation, 'machismo,' is contrary to Christian practice. The girl was in agreement, I believe, with my analysis.
But I concluded by saying that the consciousness - of Latinos in general and Nicaraguans in specific - must be raised. And I countered that by admitting my surprise that the Sandinista revolution did not have more of an effect in that respect. But she clarified that things have definitely changed and improved.
Along somewhat similar lines, I had a good conversation with a German this morning before leaving to visit la "21." Its really too much to get into here, but the theme of the conversation was globalization, with our agreed consensus being international sustainable development. I analyzed this international process, however, as remaining dictate to separate national wills due to the strong identity of sovereignty and the flipside weakness of international organizations such as the United Nations.
Briefly, I said that the people of each nation must first raise their consciousness to the effects - positive and negative - of globalization and methods of international sustainable development. Second, each populace must put pressure - first democratically, then by other means as/if necessary - on its respective government to enforce regulations on trans/multinational corporations, and thereby create a better, viable, healthy world. Third, each government must actually respect its populace and enforce, as just explained. Fourth, the MNC's must respect and follow methods for international sustained development. And fifth, there must be international cooperation to enforce these objectives among nations.
The whole process, granted, is ideal in this simplified form. I believe the United Nations must gain more power and respect to actually achieve the goal. But first and foremost, the first point must be completed. With many nations being isolated, or having limited contact, with the rest of the world, this first point remains difficult until a better diffusion of ideas reaches all corners of the globe via improved communication and transportation. And that last, of course, is the real motor of globalization itself.
I stayed for a little over three hours, telling stories of my life and job in the States, as well as stories of my adventures in Central America. I also took a walk around the neighborhood, which I saw hans't changed a bit. I wrote down their address, in hopes that I will follow through with a postcard or two in the future. And finally before leaving, I got a photo in the front doorway in the same spot as three years ago with Don Clemente, Dona Maria, Jairo, and Ines.
Later, on my walk back down la Calle Ruben Dario, I stopped back at a vendor whom I had asked directions to reach Felipe Santana. Another younger teenage girl was there, but said that the other woman would return shortly. I asked for a cantaloupe, and she offerred me a seat to eat right there. So I ended up talking with her for about half an hour. After going over the usual trivialities, I asked her specifically about her studies and her goals. She said she is studying to be an accountant, because it is a good job and in demand.
Then, she asked me about my job. That turned the conversation onto the tangent of human rights, specifically women's rights. After explaining that men and women are equal, and Nicaragua must pursue two avenues to realize this: juridically and culturally. The two methods would dissuade machismo, and punish severe cases of machismo. I said that a man and a woman should be in an equal relationship with each other. I made other specific points as well.
But, after a few minutes of elaborating, an older man approached us who had been overhearing our conversation, and he asked me directly where I was from. I replied that I was born in Colombia and that I am medio-tico, medio-gringo. He made a comment about religion and immediately walked away without waiting for a response.
I asked the girl to clarify, but first guessed that the man implied that, according to biblical references, a woman has a place in the home and at the side and service of her husband. I quickly explained that the culture in biblical times was represented in the Bible, but that much time had passed, and hence our present culture is not the same as in biblical times. Furthermore, I explained that if the message of the Bible (namely the teachings of Jesus Christ) could be simplified or summarized, it would be a message of love and respect for all fellow humans, as brothers and sisters alike. In this respect, the mistreatment of women, and hence its Latino manifestation, 'machismo,' is contrary to Christian practice. The girl was in agreement, I believe, with my analysis.
But I concluded by saying that the consciousness - of Latinos in general and Nicaraguans in specific - must be raised. And I countered that by admitting my surprise that the Sandinista revolution did not have more of an effect in that respect. But she clarified that things have definitely changed and improved.
Along somewhat similar lines, I had a good conversation with a German this morning before leaving to visit la "21." Its really too much to get into here, but the theme of the conversation was globalization, with our agreed consensus being international sustainable development. I analyzed this international process, however, as remaining dictate to separate national wills due to the strong identity of sovereignty and the flipside weakness of international organizations such as the United Nations.
Briefly, I said that the people of each nation must first raise their consciousness to the effects - positive and negative - of globalization and methods of international sustainable development. Second, each populace must put pressure - first democratically, then by other means as/if necessary - on its respective government to enforce regulations on trans/multinational corporations, and thereby create a better, viable, healthy world. Third, each government must actually respect its populace and enforce, as just explained. Fourth, the MNC's must respect and follow methods for international sustained development. And fifth, there must be international cooperation to enforce these objectives among nations.
The whole process, granted, is ideal in this simplified form. I believe the United Nations must gain more power and respect to actually achieve the goal. But first and foremost, the first point must be completed. With many nations being isolated, or having limited contact, with the rest of the world, this first point remains difficult until a better diffusion of ideas reaches all corners of the globe via improved communication and transportation. And that last, of course, is the real motor of globalization itself.
Wednesday, March 5, 2003
Leon, Nicaragua -- night
Leon is a colonial city, which is reflected in its city-plan and architecture. The streets are arranged in a grid, with only the churches higher than two stories. There are at least ten large colonial churches, of which La Catedral, La Recoleccion, and El Calvario are the most impressive.
Leon is also a university city, providing for a young, dynamic demographic. The city seems more modernized as a result, with a very good number of internet cafes. I have also occasionally heard cars driving by blasting North American music.
There are also many museums in Leon, reflecting the rich cultural/historical tradition here. Finally, I feel perfectly safe in walking the streets, during the day and even at night.
All of these characteristics are in direct opposition to Managua, the capital. Furthermore, there is a visible level of middle-, and even upper-class here, whereas Managua exhibits only low-class for the most part. Leon seems clean and orderly, whereas Managua has a sense of lawlessness and disorder. All in all, I enjoy being in Leon. I don't have any inclination to return to Managua, unless it is simply to pass through or change buses.
As a final point, Leon also has a noticeable (but not too large) ex-patriate and backpack-traveller community. This is reassuring and even somewhat comforting. Besides contact and conversations with Nicas (and other Latin Americans), it is also interesting to converse with other "First World" explorers.
Leon is also a university city, providing for a young, dynamic demographic. The city seems more modernized as a result, with a very good number of internet cafes. I have also occasionally heard cars driving by blasting North American music.
There are also many museums in Leon, reflecting the rich cultural/historical tradition here. Finally, I feel perfectly safe in walking the streets, during the day and even at night.
All of these characteristics are in direct opposition to Managua, the capital. Furthermore, there is a visible level of middle-, and even upper-class here, whereas Managua exhibits only low-class for the most part. Leon seems clean and orderly, whereas Managua has a sense of lawlessness and disorder. All in all, I enjoy being in Leon. I don't have any inclination to return to Managua, unless it is simply to pass through or change buses.
As a final point, Leon also has a noticeable (but not too large) ex-patriate and backpack-traveller community. This is reassuring and even somewhat comforting. Besides contact and conversations with Nicas (and other Latin Americans), it is also interesting to converse with other "First World" explorers.
Leon, Nicaragua -- afternoon
I just finished a conversation with a woman who participated in the Sandinista revolution. She was 14 years old at the height of the revolution in 1979. She first provided me a history of the revolution, which I was already familiar with. She said she became involved through the student movement here in Leon.
I pushed her with a question as to why the revolution failed. She responded by saying essentially that the leaders of the revolution were co-opted once reaching power. Also, she said the rank-and-file lost their dynamic, revolutionary energy once the revolution was achieved in 1979. I was very surprised that she made no mention of the United States' involvement with the contras in the 1980s. Although this may have been due to my telling her that I was born in Colombia, but now live in the United States. But I really think that had no effect.
Then I pushed her with a question regarding the future of Nicaragua, considering it is the second poorest country in the hemisphere. I asked her how this problem could be overcome. She said that Nicaragua needs a broad-based popular movement organized to 'cleanse the justice system,' in lieu of ridding Somoza. That is to say, Nicaragua needs a movement exactly parallel to that of the 1970s, except that it replace the Somoza factor in the equation with the corrupt, inefficient justice system as the targetted factor. She believed that this was very possible. I disagreed with the viability of that approach, and told her that it was unrealistic, based primarily on the psyche of the nation, or the people to be more specific. I said that the people will not have sufficient faith and patience for another popular movement when that of the Sandinistas eventually failed miserably. I said that, based on my observation in Managua, the people have turned to two paths to cope with the present situation. I said this in response to her argument that the psyche of the people will be overridden by the need to work and to eat. I explained the two current reactions of the people. One, to crime. And two, to religion. The first is taking advantage of the weak police force and enforcement; and doing so to put food on the table. This, however, is dehumanizing both the criminal and his victim. This lack of respect (and self-respect) is also manifested in the large amounts of trash strewn everywhere throughout Managua and the surrounding countryside. The second option is turning to religion, to pray for a better life here and now, but really in preparation for life after death. The latter is really where the hope lies. This, too, is a lack of respect for this world and this lifetime. If possible, this is more dehumanizing than the first, since it reduces humans to mere physical bodies awaiting their turn to a better life after death. I further explained to the Sandinista woman that, as much as I wish her vision was possible, it will not truly become possible until several generations from now, when the 1979 Sandinista revolution will be something of the past. My words visibly shook her, but I told her that I was only being realistic.
Unfortunately, I see little hope for the Nicaraguan people for a popular movement. This time must be used for consciousness-building, and compromises will have to be made with the government in the meantime. Perhaps the revolutionary tradition of the Nicaraguan people will someday shine again. And may it learn its lessons from the past.
I pushed her with a question as to why the revolution failed. She responded by saying essentially that the leaders of the revolution were co-opted once reaching power. Also, she said the rank-and-file lost their dynamic, revolutionary energy once the revolution was achieved in 1979. I was very surprised that she made no mention of the United States' involvement with the contras in the 1980s. Although this may have been due to my telling her that I was born in Colombia, but now live in the United States. But I really think that had no effect.
Then I pushed her with a question regarding the future of Nicaragua, considering it is the second poorest country in the hemisphere. I asked her how this problem could be overcome. She said that Nicaragua needs a broad-based popular movement organized to 'cleanse the justice system,' in lieu of ridding Somoza. That is to say, Nicaragua needs a movement exactly parallel to that of the 1970s, except that it replace the Somoza factor in the equation with the corrupt, inefficient justice system as the targetted factor. She believed that this was very possible. I disagreed with the viability of that approach, and told her that it was unrealistic, based primarily on the psyche of the nation, or the people to be more specific. I said that the people will not have sufficient faith and patience for another popular movement when that of the Sandinistas eventually failed miserably. I said that, based on my observation in Managua, the people have turned to two paths to cope with the present situation. I said this in response to her argument that the psyche of the people will be overridden by the need to work and to eat. I explained the two current reactions of the people. One, to crime. And two, to religion. The first is taking advantage of the weak police force and enforcement; and doing so to put food on the table. This, however, is dehumanizing both the criminal and his victim. This lack of respect (and self-respect) is also manifested in the large amounts of trash strewn everywhere throughout Managua and the surrounding countryside. The second option is turning to religion, to pray for a better life here and now, but really in preparation for life after death. The latter is really where the hope lies. This, too, is a lack of respect for this world and this lifetime. If possible, this is more dehumanizing than the first, since it reduces humans to mere physical bodies awaiting their turn to a better life after death. I further explained to the Sandinista woman that, as much as I wish her vision was possible, it will not truly become possible until several generations from now, when the 1979 Sandinista revolution will be something of the past. My words visibly shook her, but I told her that I was only being realistic.
Unfortunately, I see little hope for the Nicaraguan people for a popular movement. This time must be used for consciousness-building, and compromises will have to be made with the government in the meantime. Perhaps the revolutionary tradition of the Nicaraguan people will someday shine again. And may it learn its lessons from the past.
Leon, Nicaragua -- afternoon
I'm sitting in la Casa de Cultura in Leon. I figured I would take this opportunity to sit down and write for a bit.
Earlier today, I went to el Museo Ruben Dario. But I needed some time to leave the hostel. The reason is my very upset stomach. Apparently, Montezuma must have had a cousin living in Managua who also wants to take revenge on anyone with European blood. I won't dare leave the city until I'm feeling solid again.
So going along with that theme, I arrived at el Museo Ruben Dario after eating a breakfast of pinto and eggs with toast at a local cafetin. Also, to replace lost fluids, I drank two glasses of orange juice and a glass of water. I really took my time eating since my stomach was hurting a bit.
As soon as I arrived at el Museo, I went straight to the bathroom, where I remained seated for many minutes. When I was just about ready to leave, I realized that there was no toilet paper. Hence I realized I was in a (quickly becoming) sticky situation. So I pulled my pants up only part-way, and I peeked out of the stall. There was a table of three high school girls about 25 meters away, but they didn't seem to notice me. So I ran out of the men's stall, and into the women's stall, thinking it would surely have toilet paper. Of course it didn't. So I ran back to the men's stall to look into the wastebasket. That nearly made me puke since every last paper was already used. So I decided quickly to run across an open area of about seven meters to a table with a handkerchief on it.
As a brief aside, I must say that I've relocated to a table at el Hotel el Convento since la Casa de Cultura was closing for siesta. This place is very impressive, but I'll explain later.
So back to my sticky situation. I carried the handkerchief back to the stall, where I used it vigorously. Then, I pulled up my pants to walk back across to get a clean dish-towel, which I brought back to the stall to finish the job thoroughly.
Hence, I toured el Museo, which wasn't really large at all. Although I very much respect the work of Dario, the only highlight was wiping my ass with a dish-towel.
From there, I walked to a local restaurant to drink two bottles of water at the bar. I figured I could use some re-hydration. Then, I walked to la Casa de Cultura, which I only toured for about half an hour to forty-five minutes before sitting down to write. Of the folklore that they covered there, I was interested to read the legend of los duendes, the dwarves. It is said that los duendes come to villages between the hours of 8am and 9am to steal away unsupervised, unbaptised children, whereafter they take them into the mountains to convert them into dwarves. The dwarves are invisible to adults, and can be seen only by children and mutes.
Right now, I'm seated in the outdoor section of the restaurant of Hotel El Convento, a luxurious colonial complex made up of four sides with a lush, green courtyard in the middle, lined by palm trees. I'm watching several medium black birds in the fountain in the center, using it as a birdbath. And I drink a pineapple juice drink that will certainly be over-priced. The inner section of the restaurant is enclosed, and therefore air-conditioned, I'm sure. There are several extravagant chandeliers interspersed along the ceiling, among thick wooden support beams. I'm totally out of place here, wearing the same clothes, including a stained, cut-off white tshirt, for at least three days now. My malodorous, unshaven appearance must clash quite brilliantly with the antiseptic, upper-class surrounding. Perhaps one might say it is sacrilegious too, as I see an immense religious shrine on the other side of the large lounge area. I'm even surprised the security guard even let me in here, because in addition to my somewhat ruffian appearance, I'm blatantly carrying a silver switchblade in my front left pocket. I may be going too far in saying that his revolutionary character, and my revolutionary (or at least brazenly proletarian) appearance, are what permitted my entrance.
Nevertheless, I sip my pineapple juice in as much a refined, aristocratic manner as possible. This, in going along with the smooth piano tunes from the stereo, reminiscent of a lethargic Sunday afternoon in a department store. But - unrelated I'm sure - my stomach and intestines are feeling much better now. Perhaps I won't be held prisoner in Leon by my own bodily functions.
So, after this, I may look for a spot to eat lunch. Then, I'll return to la Casa de Cultura for a brief visit only to photograph a painting. I already photographed the painting of former U.S. President Ronald Reagan seated on the shoulders of an indigenous campesina, Reagan with a slight grin and a rifle resting across his lap.
From there, I will likely begin my tour of several churchs and cathedrals. Since Latin American churchs face the west, I can get better photographs in the late afternoon hours. The rest of the evening will be up in the air, but a trip to the supermarket to buy soap for a nice, long shower is definitely on the agenda.
I'll stop writing now to focus more attention on the pineapple drink and the beautiful courtyard.
Earlier today, I went to el Museo Ruben Dario. But I needed some time to leave the hostel. The reason is my very upset stomach. Apparently, Montezuma must have had a cousin living in Managua who also wants to take revenge on anyone with European blood. I won't dare leave the city until I'm feeling solid again.
So going along with that theme, I arrived at el Museo Ruben Dario after eating a breakfast of pinto and eggs with toast at a local cafetin. Also, to replace lost fluids, I drank two glasses of orange juice and a glass of water. I really took my time eating since my stomach was hurting a bit.
As soon as I arrived at el Museo, I went straight to the bathroom, where I remained seated for many minutes. When I was just about ready to leave, I realized that there was no toilet paper. Hence I realized I was in a (quickly becoming) sticky situation. So I pulled my pants up only part-way, and I peeked out of the stall. There was a table of three high school girls about 25 meters away, but they didn't seem to notice me. So I ran out of the men's stall, and into the women's stall, thinking it would surely have toilet paper. Of course it didn't. So I ran back to the men's stall to look into the wastebasket. That nearly made me puke since every last paper was already used. So I decided quickly to run across an open area of about seven meters to a table with a handkerchief on it.
As a brief aside, I must say that I've relocated to a table at el Hotel el Convento since la Casa de Cultura was closing for siesta. This place is very impressive, but I'll explain later.
So back to my sticky situation. I carried the handkerchief back to the stall, where I used it vigorously. Then, I pulled up my pants to walk back across to get a clean dish-towel, which I brought back to the stall to finish the job thoroughly.
Hence, I toured el Museo, which wasn't really large at all. Although I very much respect the work of Dario, the only highlight was wiping my ass with a dish-towel.
From there, I walked to a local restaurant to drink two bottles of water at the bar. I figured I could use some re-hydration. Then, I walked to la Casa de Cultura, which I only toured for about half an hour to forty-five minutes before sitting down to write. Of the folklore that they covered there, I was interested to read the legend of los duendes, the dwarves. It is said that los duendes come to villages between the hours of 8am and 9am to steal away unsupervised, unbaptised children, whereafter they take them into the mountains to convert them into dwarves. The dwarves are invisible to adults, and can be seen only by children and mutes.
Right now, I'm seated in the outdoor section of the restaurant of Hotel El Convento, a luxurious colonial complex made up of four sides with a lush, green courtyard in the middle, lined by palm trees. I'm watching several medium black birds in the fountain in the center, using it as a birdbath. And I drink a pineapple juice drink that will certainly be over-priced. The inner section of the restaurant is enclosed, and therefore air-conditioned, I'm sure. There are several extravagant chandeliers interspersed along the ceiling, among thick wooden support beams. I'm totally out of place here, wearing the same clothes, including a stained, cut-off white tshirt, for at least three days now. My malodorous, unshaven appearance must clash quite brilliantly with the antiseptic, upper-class surrounding. Perhaps one might say it is sacrilegious too, as I see an immense religious shrine on the other side of the large lounge area. I'm even surprised the security guard even let me in here, because in addition to my somewhat ruffian appearance, I'm blatantly carrying a silver switchblade in my front left pocket. I may be going too far in saying that his revolutionary character, and my revolutionary (or at least brazenly proletarian) appearance, are what permitted my entrance.
Nevertheless, I sip my pineapple juice in as much a refined, aristocratic manner as possible. This, in going along with the smooth piano tunes from the stereo, reminiscent of a lethargic Sunday afternoon in a department store. But - unrelated I'm sure - my stomach and intestines are feeling much better now. Perhaps I won't be held prisoner in Leon by my own bodily functions.
So, after this, I may look for a spot to eat lunch. Then, I'll return to la Casa de Cultura for a brief visit only to photograph a painting. I already photographed the painting of former U.S. President Ronald Reagan seated on the shoulders of an indigenous campesina, Reagan with a slight grin and a rifle resting across his lap.
From there, I will likely begin my tour of several churchs and cathedrals. Since Latin American churchs face the west, I can get better photographs in the late afternoon hours. The rest of the evening will be up in the air, but a trip to the supermarket to buy soap for a nice, long shower is definitely on the agenda.
I'll stop writing now to focus more attention on the pineapple drink and the beautiful courtyard.
Tuesday, March 4, 2003
Leon, Nicaragua -- night
I'm writing mainly to kill a few minutes. I just finished a forty-five minute conversation which I began at the bar with a man named John, from Britain. But I'm a bit tired from my miserable sleeping experience in Managua the past two nights. I'm sure today's voyage, and my upset stomach have both affected me as well.
I'm lying on my bed in the dormitory, leaning on my left elbow. Its a few minutes after 11pm. I hope to sleep well tonight and wake up early to tour the city's museums, churches, and murals. In the evening, I'll check my email again, especially after receiving today's email from Ronald. He took my advice and went to Puerto Viejo, Limon, but apparently had an accident with a machete, in which he required ten stitches. He wrote me to say that he's at a hospital in San Jose.
Anyway, Bernabe could not be contacted earlier in the afternoon, so I ended up conversing with Ana, the program coordinator for PGL. I spoke the entire time in Spanish, and when I told her that I was born in Colombia, she commented that she had noted my "accentito," as if to say my Spanish had a slight Colombian accent!
Another interesting anecdote relates to my waiting in the back seat of the "interlocal" from Managua to Leon. As is typical in Nicaragua, there was a swarm of vendors nearly accosting the passengers, trying to force them to buy gum, stickers, and other such worthless items. Well, as I was seated in the back left spot, looking out the window, there came a girl vendor at the back right window. Apparently, my tan and generally Latino appearance are coming along nicely since she yelled to catch my attention by saying, "ey, moreno!" I thought that was interesting indeed.
Anyway, there is only one other girl in here already in bed. I think I will read my book, "Dos, Uno . . . Cero Comandante" in the meantime while other bohemians arrive for their nightly repose. Until tomorrow . . .
I'm lying on my bed in the dormitory, leaning on my left elbow. Its a few minutes after 11pm. I hope to sleep well tonight and wake up early to tour the city's museums, churches, and murals. In the evening, I'll check my email again, especially after receiving today's email from Ronald. He took my advice and went to Puerto Viejo, Limon, but apparently had an accident with a machete, in which he required ten stitches. He wrote me to say that he's at a hospital in San Jose.
Anyway, Bernabe could not be contacted earlier in the afternoon, so I ended up conversing with Ana, the program coordinator for PGL. I spoke the entire time in Spanish, and when I told her that I was born in Colombia, she commented that she had noted my "accentito," as if to say my Spanish had a slight Colombian accent!
Another interesting anecdote relates to my waiting in the back seat of the "interlocal" from Managua to Leon. As is typical in Nicaragua, there was a swarm of vendors nearly accosting the passengers, trying to force them to buy gum, stickers, and other such worthless items. Well, as I was seated in the back left spot, looking out the window, there came a girl vendor at the back right window. Apparently, my tan and generally Latino appearance are coming along nicely since she yelled to catch my attention by saying, "ey, moreno!" I thought that was interesting indeed.
Anyway, there is only one other girl in here already in bed. I think I will read my book, "Dos, Uno . . . Cero Comandante" in the meantime while other bohemians arrive for their nightly repose. Until tomorrow . . .
Leon, Nicaragua -- evening
I've made it to Leon, but I feel out of sorts. I have an upset stomach, and so I'm losing a lot of fluid. I just downed two glasses of lemonade. After two trips to the bathroom, the toilet hates me now. But hey, when nature calls - especially when she's pounding on the door - you have to go.
As soon as I arrived in Leon in the "interlocal," a microbus that runs between the two cities, I asked to find la Iglesia San Jose, which was my landmark to locate the office of Project Gettysburg-Leon (PGL). After walking around at least 15 blocks, and asking at least six different people, I finally arrived at PGL. I explained my whole situation: that it had been three years since my visit to Leon as a student at Gettysburg College; and that I was looking for advice for a room to sleep in tonight. The PGL coordinator and a secretary recommended Via-Via, near the historic church, La Recoleccion. So here I am writing.
My bed is actually in a dormitory, a large room with about 24 single beds. So tonight should be an interesting sleeping experience. Looking at a poster on the wall, I see that there are several cultural/historical options I'd like to take advantage of. From this, I think I will be here for at least two days. Also, in just a few minutes, I have to return to PGL to see if I can make plans to visit el Barrio Felipe Santana, where I had stayed with a family three years ago. I'm sure they'll be very surprised to see me. Now, I'd better be going to meet Bernabe, the leader of the community, at PGL.
I want to drink another lemonade before walking over.
As soon as I arrived in Leon in the "interlocal," a microbus that runs between the two cities, I asked to find la Iglesia San Jose, which was my landmark to locate the office of Project Gettysburg-Leon (PGL). After walking around at least 15 blocks, and asking at least six different people, I finally arrived at PGL. I explained my whole situation: that it had been three years since my visit to Leon as a student at Gettysburg College; and that I was looking for advice for a room to sleep in tonight. The PGL coordinator and a secretary recommended Via-Via, near the historic church, La Recoleccion. So here I am writing.
My bed is actually in a dormitory, a large room with about 24 single beds. So tonight should be an interesting sleeping experience. Looking at a poster on the wall, I see that there are several cultural/historical options I'd like to take advantage of. From this, I think I will be here for at least two days. Also, in just a few minutes, I have to return to PGL to see if I can make plans to visit el Barrio Felipe Santana, where I had stayed with a family three years ago. I'm sure they'll be very surprised to see me. Now, I'd better be going to meet Bernabe, the leader of the community, at PGL.
I want to drink another lemonade before walking over.
Managua, Nicaragua -- morning
I'll be leaving Managua for Leon in just a couple of hours.
I have been received very well at Lili's house, but I just can't stand it. Sleeping in a hammock is uncomfortable, but trying to sleep with large buses and trucks speeding by at all hours of the night is very difficult. Also, hearing a baby crying for most of the day and night is annoying. And waking up to evangelists preaching as if it were the end of the world gives one a feeling of wanting to destroy the radio. And to top it all off, Managua is so dirty and disorderly that there is no appeal to remain.
And so, I hit the road to go to Leon, a city which is much nicer as I recall. Since I still haven't received an email from Ronald (after checking email yesterday afternoon), I will stay in Leon for a couple of days, then head south to Masaya and Granada before heading back to Costa Rica to meet up with a girl who contacted me for guidance and companionship. Tentatively, I'll meet her in Monteverde in a week from today, next Tuesday.
Before closing this entry, I have to comment on the subject of not sleeping. In Liberia, during the fiestas civicas, la Diana walks through all the streets at five in the morning, accompanied by a band playing loud music, and fireworks set off from the parque central. For me, at least, it was impossible to sleep through that ruckus. Well, the time has come to get myself ready to leave.
I have been received very well at Lili's house, but I just can't stand it. Sleeping in a hammock is uncomfortable, but trying to sleep with large buses and trucks speeding by at all hours of the night is very difficult. Also, hearing a baby crying for most of the day and night is annoying. And waking up to evangelists preaching as if it were the end of the world gives one a feeling of wanting to destroy the radio. And to top it all off, Managua is so dirty and disorderly that there is no appeal to remain.
And so, I hit the road to go to Leon, a city which is much nicer as I recall. Since I still haven't received an email from Ronald (after checking email yesterday afternoon), I will stay in Leon for a couple of days, then head south to Masaya and Granada before heading back to Costa Rica to meet up with a girl who contacted me for guidance and companionship. Tentatively, I'll meet her in Monteverde in a week from today, next Tuesday.
Before closing this entry, I have to comment on the subject of not sleeping. In Liberia, during the fiestas civicas, la Diana walks through all the streets at five in the morning, accompanied by a band playing loud music, and fireworks set off from the parque central. For me, at least, it was impossible to sleep through that ruckus. Well, the time has come to get myself ready to leave.
Monday, March 3, 2003
Managua, Nicaragua -- afternoon
I'm not sure how long I'm going to stay here in Nicaragua. I can say that I don't like the vibe I'm feeling here in Managua. For now, I'm laying low, after arriving here by micro-bus from Penas Blancas at about noon-time. I got to Lilli's house at about 1pm, only to find out that she's still in Costa Rica, and probably not expected here any time soon.
Fortunately, her family has been very nice and accommodating. I stayed here last night and will very likely sleep here tonight. However, sleep here is difficult since I sleep in a hammock, and their home is located on a main thoroughfare, where buses go speeding by at all hours of the day and night. Also, the heat here is oppressive. Luckily there is a breeze today. If not for that, I'd be sweating like a pig.
I must say that I have just experienced my second disappointment; the first being Ronald not showing up in Liberia, and now the second being Lilli not being here in Managua. Right now, I have only two tasks to perform. First, I need to get to an internet cafe to see if Ronald replied to my message. Depending on what I've received, my decision may be effected. Second, I need to go to a bank to convert my next traveller's check into cordobas. Even if I leave Nicaragua soon, I can change the cordobas into colones. I think unless I get an email from Ronald saying that he's coming to Managua on such-and-such a date, I will leave tomorrow morning for Leon to pass a couple of days. From there, I'll pass through Managua and head south to Masaya and Granada for a couple of days before heading back to Costa Rica by next weekend. But, if I receive notice from Ronald that he's coming to Managua, then I may wait here for his arrival to go east to Rama, Bluefields, and Corn Island.
The thing is, it's really a bitch here since there is no water here during the whole day. The water only comes at one or two or three in the morning, at which time Lili's mother collects water in buckets for the next day. Due to the scarcity of water, I haven't showered, used the toilet, or even washed my face. The only thing I have done is washed my hands. I really have to get out of here.
The conditions here in Nicaragua are quite deplorable. It is no stretch of the imagination to believe that this is the second poorest country in the western hemisphere. The people here seem to turn in two directions as a response. First, younger males turn to crime. I have been warned by Costa Ricans and Nicaraguans of the gangs of Nicaraguan thugs, especially in Managua. Also, walking in the Barrio La Fuente, here in Managua, Lili's parents have pointed out thieves and gangsters.
Lilli's father disapproved of my tattoo, thinking it may have symbolized some kind of gang affiliation. I explained in no uncertain terms that my tattoo is something good, something that I am proud of since it represents a part of my heritage. I explained that it is not my fault if it is misinterpreted by others.
The second response here to the difficult living conditions is to turn to religion. Lili's parents are hardcore evangelists, and they took me to their service last night. The experience was interesting to say the least. The service took place at a warehouse-type room just a few blocks away. And the atmosphere was very animated. Every minute or so, the speaker would ask: "Vive o no vive?!" and the crowd would answer emphatically: "Vive!!!"
Early in the service, I had to write my name and city of origin on a piece of paper, so I wrote "Tay Fallas - de Filadelfia." A few minutes later, one of the many speakers welcomed me and asked me to stand up. Everyone was clapping, so I stood up clapping too, and turned around to wave to the crowd behind me. Then I bowed in the form of a namaste to the speaker, and I sat down.
Toward the end of the service, after the pastor spoke (claiming that no one can change their own character; only God can do that), Lili's father got up to deliver a very excited speech, saying that God was in the room with us. Most everyone had their eyes closed and were waving their hands in the air. Several women were crying throughout the excitement. Also, during the pastor's sermon, a young man remained prostrate, in the position of a Muslim praying toward Mecca.
Also, throughout the entire service, many songs were sung, during which everyone clapped and even shook maraccas. This was in accompaniment to the three-man band on stage: a bass guitarist, a keyboardist, and a drummer. The musical aspect of the service was very fun and entertaining. However, in general, the service had a cult-type feeling.
At one point during the excitement when everyone had their eyes closed and were shaking and crying, I made eye-contact with a young girl. She started laughing as if she realized the folly and false drama of the whole service; I couldn't help laughing myself after that.
Unfortunately, many people place all of their hope in the return of Jesus; they apparently have no hope for a better life due to the leadership of the government, or any other living mortals. That seems logical after the pathetic collapse of the Sandinista revolution of 1979. So far, this brief experience in Managua seems to presnet a certain level of lawlessness and disorder. The feeling is quite disconcerting and unnerving. For this very feeling, I want to be on my way very soon. I can foresee that I will be relieved to cross the border back into Costa Rica.
Today is Monday, March 3. I leave for the United States on Sunday, March 30. It's a shame that I look forward to fast-forwarding to my return to Costa Rica, and even then to my return to the United States. Nevertheless, this is my present feeling. As always though, I remain a slave to time.
Fortunately, her family has been very nice and accommodating. I stayed here last night and will very likely sleep here tonight. However, sleep here is difficult since I sleep in a hammock, and their home is located on a main thoroughfare, where buses go speeding by at all hours of the day and night. Also, the heat here is oppressive. Luckily there is a breeze today. If not for that, I'd be sweating like a pig.
I must say that I have just experienced my second disappointment; the first being Ronald not showing up in Liberia, and now the second being Lilli not being here in Managua. Right now, I have only two tasks to perform. First, I need to get to an internet cafe to see if Ronald replied to my message. Depending on what I've received, my decision may be effected. Second, I need to go to a bank to convert my next traveller's check into cordobas. Even if I leave Nicaragua soon, I can change the cordobas into colones. I think unless I get an email from Ronald saying that he's coming to Managua on such-and-such a date, I will leave tomorrow morning for Leon to pass a couple of days. From there, I'll pass through Managua and head south to Masaya and Granada for a couple of days before heading back to Costa Rica by next weekend. But, if I receive notice from Ronald that he's coming to Managua, then I may wait here for his arrival to go east to Rama, Bluefields, and Corn Island.
The thing is, it's really a bitch here since there is no water here during the whole day. The water only comes at one or two or three in the morning, at which time Lili's mother collects water in buckets for the next day. Due to the scarcity of water, I haven't showered, used the toilet, or even washed my face. The only thing I have done is washed my hands. I really have to get out of here.
The conditions here in Nicaragua are quite deplorable. It is no stretch of the imagination to believe that this is the second poorest country in the western hemisphere. The people here seem to turn in two directions as a response. First, younger males turn to crime. I have been warned by Costa Ricans and Nicaraguans of the gangs of Nicaraguan thugs, especially in Managua. Also, walking in the Barrio La Fuente, here in Managua, Lili's parents have pointed out thieves and gangsters.
Lilli's father disapproved of my tattoo, thinking it may have symbolized some kind of gang affiliation. I explained in no uncertain terms that my tattoo is something good, something that I am proud of since it represents a part of my heritage. I explained that it is not my fault if it is misinterpreted by others.
The second response here to the difficult living conditions is to turn to religion. Lili's parents are hardcore evangelists, and they took me to their service last night. The experience was interesting to say the least. The service took place at a warehouse-type room just a few blocks away. And the atmosphere was very animated. Every minute or so, the speaker would ask: "Vive o no vive?!" and the crowd would answer emphatically: "Vive!!!"
Early in the service, I had to write my name and city of origin on a piece of paper, so I wrote "Tay Fallas - de Filadelfia." A few minutes later, one of the many speakers welcomed me and asked me to stand up. Everyone was clapping, so I stood up clapping too, and turned around to wave to the crowd behind me. Then I bowed in the form of a namaste to the speaker, and I sat down.
Toward the end of the service, after the pastor spoke (claiming that no one can change their own character; only God can do that), Lili's father got up to deliver a very excited speech, saying that God was in the room with us. Most everyone had their eyes closed and were waving their hands in the air. Several women were crying throughout the excitement. Also, during the pastor's sermon, a young man remained prostrate, in the position of a Muslim praying toward Mecca.
Also, throughout the entire service, many songs were sung, during which everyone clapped and even shook maraccas. This was in accompaniment to the three-man band on stage: a bass guitarist, a keyboardist, and a drummer. The musical aspect of the service was very fun and entertaining. However, in general, the service had a cult-type feeling.
At one point during the excitement when everyone had their eyes closed and were shaking and crying, I made eye-contact with a young girl. She started laughing as if she realized the folly and false drama of the whole service; I couldn't help laughing myself after that.
Unfortunately, many people place all of their hope in the return of Jesus; they apparently have no hope for a better life due to the leadership of the government, or any other living mortals. That seems logical after the pathetic collapse of the Sandinista revolution of 1979. So far, this brief experience in Managua seems to presnet a certain level of lawlessness and disorder. The feeling is quite disconcerting and unnerving. For this very feeling, I want to be on my way very soon. I can foresee that I will be relieved to cross the border back into Costa Rica.
Today is Monday, March 3. I leave for the United States on Sunday, March 30. It's a shame that I look forward to fast-forwarding to my return to Costa Rica, and even then to my return to the United States. Nevertheless, this is my present feeling. As always though, I remain a slave to time.
Monday, January 17, 2000
San Salvador, El Salvador
I have set foot on three of the seven countries of Central America: Costa Rica, Nicaragua, El Salvador. At some point, I am certain I will visit the remaining four.
In terms of literature, I just finished reading A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce. At times, it was a difficult book to read. It did present a number of questions and observations concerning authority and the institution, as well as ideas of culture and language, relationships and friendships.
Now, as I was flying over Nicaragua and into El Salvador, I began reading Revolution in the Revolution? Armed Struggle and Political Struggle in Latin America by Regis Debray. The author was arrested on April 20, 1967 in Bolivia under charges of aiding guerrilla insurgents under the command of Che Guevara. The book, written originally in French (Revolution dans la revolution?) should be enlightening.
In terms of literature, I just finished reading A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce. At times, it was a difficult book to read. It did present a number of questions and observations concerning authority and the institution, as well as ideas of culture and language, relationships and friendships.
Now, as I was flying over Nicaragua and into El Salvador, I began reading Revolution in the Revolution? Armed Struggle and Political Struggle in Latin America by Regis Debray. The author was arrested on April 20, 1967 in Bolivia under charges of aiding guerrilla insurgents under the command of Che Guevara. The book, written originally in French (Revolution dans la revolution?) should be enlightening.
Managua, Nicaragua
As I write this, our small, shoddy plane is preparing for take-off. I am now leaving Nicaragua; like a two-sided coin and like almost everything in life, it is both good and bad. I got my last taste of Nicaraguan beer this morning: one Tona and two Victoria. Farewell for now. One day I shall be back . . . Now, Let the journey begin!
Managua, Nicaragua
Sunday night in Managua. A cool, pleasant breeze calmly caressing the palm trees. Seated at an outdoor patio with a group of twelve, everyone merry as the trip is all but completed. Light-hearted and jovial conversation across the table, each and every one in high spirits. The flickering of the three candles subtly created intimate shadows. To top it all off, we ate to the neoimperialistic sounds of popular American music. I must admit, though, that I enjoyed it. I surmise that it was our tour guides' intention to cushion the retro-culture shock of returning to the United States. Whether or not that is true, I thoroughly enjoyed myself.
I began my meal with a Margarita, then a Papaya con leche; dinner was mignon de res con dos salsas along with an utterly delicious Daiquiri. I helped finish off someone's plate of Ravioli con berenjena and completed my meal with a Torta de frutas mixtas con helado de coco: absolutely amazing, everyone had a bite and raved, surely an award for my taste buds after the past two weeks.
On my way out, I purchased a Pucho cigar, which I will probably enjoy just before leaving tomorrow morning. An observation I made at dinner was the abundance of colorful, natural murals in Nicaragua. It serves to reflect the richness and vibrance of life here, even despite being the poorest (economically speaking) country in the Western Hemisphere, after Haiti.
Earlier this afternoon, after going to the crafts market at Masaya (bought t-shirts and postcards) and the Masaya Volcano National Park, we attended a people's mass at Batahola Norte, a barrio of Managua. The priests gave their sermons and preached in front of a giant, colorful, historical mural in an outdoor, open-air auditorium. Historical figures depicted in the mural were Ernesto 'Che' Guevara, Augusto Cesar Sandino, Carlos Fonseca Amador, and Oscar Romero. Also, 1992 Nobel Peace Prize winner Rigoberta Menchu was drawn on another wall.
Before the mass, I had to speak to the church audience in order to introduce the delegation from Gettysburg. Speaking Spanish in front of over 100 people was a bit imposing, but I did fine. I was able to say what I needed and wanted to say, just not with a flowing, fluent Nicaraguan (or any other country) accent. Nevertheless, I successfully represented the group.
The service itself was excellent. Instead of the pessimistic organs normal in most churches, a choir with a xylophone, guitars, and recorders played music. The hymns were songs with a touch of liberation theology, the religion of the poor. God was portrayed as a worker, an architect, an engineer, an artisan, a carpenter, a mason: a poor campesino. Then, at one point, audience members were encouraged to make a statement as a prayer for liberation, peace, love, equality, truth . . .
Finally, as mass was ending, the priests took off their religious garb to present themselves as average Nicaraguans, at an equal level with their fellow paisanos, and all others in the audience. The subject of one of the priest's sermon was globalization! Absolutely astounding.
Well, as it is getting somewhat late, I will wrap this up. Looking forward to tomorrow, I am both regretful and happy. I am sad and regretful for not having had a better time here in Nicaragua. No doubt I made friends and created many good memories, but due to various circumstances, I did not enjoy my visit to the fullest. Number one was the feeling of being tied down and held back. I am independent and I despise being told what to do. I am fully capable of leading my life, choosing my own trails (Talolinga), and creating my own adventures.
In looking forward to tomorrow, I am happy and excited to be returning to the education and work I am interested in. Besides this, I will admit that I am eager to have fun and return to my social life at Gettysburg. It is due time to depart Nicaragua; it surely made an impression on me. I can say with fair certainty that I will return one day, perhaps on motorcycle or perhaps on plane.
So, in closing, I say "Hasta La Proxima"!!!
I began my meal with a Margarita, then a Papaya con leche; dinner was mignon de res con dos salsas along with an utterly delicious Daiquiri. I helped finish off someone's plate of Ravioli con berenjena and completed my meal with a Torta de frutas mixtas con helado de coco: absolutely amazing, everyone had a bite and raved, surely an award for my taste buds after the past two weeks.
On my way out, I purchased a Pucho cigar, which I will probably enjoy just before leaving tomorrow morning. An observation I made at dinner was the abundance of colorful, natural murals in Nicaragua. It serves to reflect the richness and vibrance of life here, even despite being the poorest (economically speaking) country in the Western Hemisphere, after Haiti.
Earlier this afternoon, after going to the crafts market at Masaya (bought t-shirts and postcards) and the Masaya Volcano National Park, we attended a people's mass at Batahola Norte, a barrio of Managua. The priests gave their sermons and preached in front of a giant, colorful, historical mural in an outdoor, open-air auditorium. Historical figures depicted in the mural were Ernesto 'Che' Guevara, Augusto Cesar Sandino, Carlos Fonseca Amador, and Oscar Romero. Also, 1992 Nobel Peace Prize winner Rigoberta Menchu was drawn on another wall.
Before the mass, I had to speak to the church audience in order to introduce the delegation from Gettysburg. Speaking Spanish in front of over 100 people was a bit imposing, but I did fine. I was able to say what I needed and wanted to say, just not with a flowing, fluent Nicaraguan (or any other country) accent. Nevertheless, I successfully represented the group.
The service itself was excellent. Instead of the pessimistic organs normal in most churches, a choir with a xylophone, guitars, and recorders played music. The hymns were songs with a touch of liberation theology, the religion of the poor. God was portrayed as a worker, an architect, an engineer, an artisan, a carpenter, a mason: a poor campesino. Then, at one point, audience members were encouraged to make a statement as a prayer for liberation, peace, love, equality, truth . . .
Finally, as mass was ending, the priests took off their religious garb to present themselves as average Nicaraguans, at an equal level with their fellow paisanos, and all others in the audience. The subject of one of the priest's sermon was globalization! Absolutely astounding.
Well, as it is getting somewhat late, I will wrap this up. Looking forward to tomorrow, I am both regretful and happy. I am sad and regretful for not having had a better time here in Nicaragua. No doubt I made friends and created many good memories, but due to various circumstances, I did not enjoy my visit to the fullest. Number one was the feeling of being tied down and held back. I am independent and I despise being told what to do. I am fully capable of leading my life, choosing my own trails (Talolinga), and creating my own adventures.
In looking forward to tomorrow, I am happy and excited to be returning to the education and work I am interested in. Besides this, I will admit that I am eager to have fun and return to my social life at Gettysburg. It is due time to depart Nicaragua; it surely made an impression on me. I can say with fair certainty that I will return one day, perhaps on motorcycle or perhaps on plane.
So, in closing, I say "Hasta La Proxima"!!!
Sunday, January 16, 2000
Managua, Nicaragua
Took one last tour of Managua. I was able to get some good photos: the Sandino silhouette, the Palacio Nacional, the old Cathedral, and a monument to the Sandinista fighter. Later, we went to an excellent Italian dinner: lasagna with meat and cheese.
Then, we went to a club: Zima. My key observation was that salsa and meringue dancing is very beautiful. I had a few Victoria's (the national beer of Nicaragua). Unfortunately, we had to leave early, around 11 pm. It was good, though, because I had a nearly 3 hour long conversation with a girl on the trip. Good bonding. It made me realize that I wish the group could have gotten together more on an informal basis, and not under the supervision of our tour guides or faculty supervisors. I wish I had gotten closer to the group. Well, after last night, I'll have at least one more familiar (and hopefully friendly) face back at school.
So, today is the last full day in Nicaragua. Today's agenda: the craft market at Masaya and then the volcano. Alright, let's get started!
Then, we went to a club: Zima. My key observation was that salsa and meringue dancing is very beautiful. I had a few Victoria's (the national beer of Nicaragua). Unfortunately, we had to leave early, around 11 pm. It was good, though, because I had a nearly 3 hour long conversation with a girl on the trip. Good bonding. It made me realize that I wish the group could have gotten together more on an informal basis, and not under the supervision of our tour guides or faculty supervisors. I wish I had gotten closer to the group. Well, after last night, I'll have at least one more familiar (and hopefully friendly) face back at school.
So, today is the last full day in Nicaragua. Today's agenda: the craft market at Masaya and then the volcano. Alright, let's get started!
Saturday, January 15, 2000
Managua, Nicaragua
At a base level, it is amusing, but at a deeper level, it is both disturbing and infuriating that many people cannot handle honesty. My natural character is to be honest, even if it is blunt and hurtful. In the end, honesty brings truth, which is how life should be lived: in an atmosphere of truth, not one of illusions, blasphemy, or imaginations.
This afternoon, I made a comment to one of our beloved tour guides that she broke a promise. She responded the only way she knew how: immaturely, by calling me a "smart-ass." I replied by saying I was only pointing out a truth. She had nothing to say of course.
Well, I am now back in Managua, having toured Leon one last time this morning. After our departure from Felipe Santana, we visited a children's school to look at and purchase artwork. The beauty of this country shines brightly through the art of its children. Later, I played the rold of tourist, as I took many photos in downtown Leon.
Now, I am happily here in Casa Fiedler in Managua. One step at a time.
This afternoon, I made a comment to one of our beloved tour guides that she broke a promise. She responded the only way she knew how: immaturely, by calling me a "smart-ass." I replied by saying I was only pointing out a truth. She had nothing to say of course.
Well, I am now back in Managua, having toured Leon one last time this morning. After our departure from Felipe Santana, we visited a children's school to look at and purchase artwork. The beauty of this country shines brightly through the art of its children. Later, I played the rold of tourist, as I took many photos in downtown Leon.
Now, I am happily here in Casa Fiedler in Managua. One step at a time.
Friday, January 14, 2000
Leon, Nicaragua
Dancing. Dancing. Dancing. I was livin' la vida loca. I danced non-stop for nearly three hours. Two gigantonas came to dance for us. Two girls each danced separately then. The pinata was broken. Dinner was delicious: chicken in a sweet & sour sauce with peas and carrots, white rice, cucumbers, beets, and lettuce, and white bread. To end a good night, I danced to popular Latin music and with various Nicaraguan girls, young and old, for about three hours. My time in Felipe Santana, Leon, Nicaragua is done. We leave sometime after 8:15 am tomorrow morning. One final tour of Leon before heading off to the capital city Managua. What I loved most aout Fel. San: the children.
Leon, Nicaragua
I am just about ready for the despedida fiesta. All I have left is to put on a shirt, brush my teeth, and comb my hair. I am happy for two reasons: 1. in just a little bit, I will be dancing, singing, laughing, and merrymaking, 2. this part of the trip is over. That is not to say that my stay in Felipe Santana has been that bad; I am just ready to move on.
Last night, I got pretty tipsy off of 9 Tona beers. It was nice to temporarily put behind all my worries and problems and most of my thoughts. There are definitely times when substance-induced enchantments are necessary.
This morning, the delegation met with a women's activist and with a university student. Both meetings were interesting. The woman, a worker for Promujer, answered many questions on discrimination, opportunities, machismo, marianismo, politics, religion, and development.
The university student of UNAN was involved with the 6% struggle, in which 6% of the national budget is supposed to, but doesn't, go to education. He was a student of law, focusing on agricultural law and environmental law. I asked a number of questions concerning history, education, politics, and tactics. I also cited the student strikes of Mexico. Afterwards, I spoke for a number of minutes with him, and then again at lunch. This provided me a chance for self-reflection. I looked inwards to ascertain various personal viewpoints and I looked outward to examine what role I can play to impact this world and its issues.
On the way back to Felipe Santana, I took a photo of a mural of Ruben Dario, Che Guevara, and Carlos Fonseca. I am glad to have seen the mural. The past serves to reinforce the present and to encourage the future.
This afternoon, I did volunteer work by painting houses in the community for about three hours. So now I sit here in the bottom bunk of a childsize bunkbed surrounded by Third World modesty thinking of the future. One step at a time. One step at a time. Right now, next on my platter is the fiesta. I will deal with social change when the time is right.
Before closing this, I will briefly explain the loan program of Promujer. Promujer loans out money to groups of 25-35 women. Each woman must pay back the loan every 4 months, plus interest of a 3% rate. If a woman cannot pay back her loan, then the rest of the group fronts the money. Then, due to social pressures, the woman is obligated to pay back her companeras. These community loan programs are expected to last for four years, at which time the community and each woman should be well-established and confident to move forward and progress.
Bueno . . . Time for LIVIN'!!!
Last night, I got pretty tipsy off of 9 Tona beers. It was nice to temporarily put behind all my worries and problems and most of my thoughts. There are definitely times when substance-induced enchantments are necessary.
This morning, the delegation met with a women's activist and with a university student. Both meetings were interesting. The woman, a worker for Promujer, answered many questions on discrimination, opportunities, machismo, marianismo, politics, religion, and development.
The university student of UNAN was involved with the 6% struggle, in which 6% of the national budget is supposed to, but doesn't, go to education. He was a student of law, focusing on agricultural law and environmental law. I asked a number of questions concerning history, education, politics, and tactics. I also cited the student strikes of Mexico. Afterwards, I spoke for a number of minutes with him, and then again at lunch. This provided me a chance for self-reflection. I looked inwards to ascertain various personal viewpoints and I looked outward to examine what role I can play to impact this world and its issues.
On the way back to Felipe Santana, I took a photo of a mural of Ruben Dario, Che Guevara, and Carlos Fonseca. I am glad to have seen the mural. The past serves to reinforce the present and to encourage the future.
This afternoon, I did volunteer work by painting houses in the community for about three hours. So now I sit here in the bottom bunk of a childsize bunkbed surrounded by Third World modesty thinking of the future. One step at a time. One step at a time. Right now, next on my platter is the fiesta. I will deal with social change when the time is right.
Before closing this, I will briefly explain the loan program of Promujer. Promujer loans out money to groups of 25-35 women. Each woman must pay back the loan every 4 months, plus interest of a 3% rate. If a woman cannot pay back her loan, then the rest of the group fronts the money. Then, due to social pressures, the woman is obligated to pay back her companeras. These community loan programs are expected to last for four years, at which time the community and each woman should be well-established and confident to move forward and progress.
Bueno . . . Time for LIVIN'!!!
Thursday, January 13, 2000
Poneloya, Nicaragua
Eternal. Inconsequent. These two ideas are dominating my thoughts as I sit here on the beach gazing out on the Pacific. Eternal: the ocean, the clouds, the sand, the cliffs, the SUN. Inconsequent: ME, and every other life-form sharing this existence with ME. Just as a grain of sand is an inconsequential part of the beach, or as a drop of water is an inconsequential part of the ocean, so am I an inconsequential part of humanity. Or am I???
If by some force, some impetus, all the grains of sand or all the drops of water collectively worked together to achieve some common goal, a huge, insuperable force will have been created. So, by the same manner, if every part of humanity, every man and woman, worked together collectively to achieve some common goal, a huge, insuperable force will have been created. The true mystery remains, however, in finding the impetus for that collectivization, that bringing together of humankind.
Just as every empire has fallen, there are two key components. Social systems fall apart due to internal strife and external pressures. Likewise, for a global community to form, there must be internal and external forces. Unfortunately, this almost improbably means catastrophe, which assumes that catastrophic, traumatic effects will continue for too long to provide an opportunity for stable collectivization. Despite, the logic, reasoning, and goodwill of humankind should, and must, suffice to make up this difference. Internal and external causes will most likely be needed to provide the spark, but those intangible qualities which humankind has been blessed with will complete the total instigative force. I am convinced that this world and its people can live in peace and can live equally. Every one has to want it, desire it in his/her own heart and mind. To achieve this mentality, education and communication of the highest degree are necessary. Then, in the institution of the new society, equality of the highest degree is absolutely requisite. One day it shall be. It MUST. One day it shall be . . .
Before closing this entry, I must remark an a young boy who just approached me for one cordoba. Of course I gave him nothing, as everyone should earn, in one form or another, his/her earnings. But, it saddens me that the present order creates a reality in which people have to lower themselves to beggars. I told the boy that I could see in his eyes that he was intelligent. He walked away. Perhaps he construed it as my acknowledging his begging as a business, and not true 'begging.' Either way, not one person should ever have to lower themselves. We are all equals. Every soul is equally valuable. Therefore, the house of each soul should be treated as such . . .
One final thought: a ladybug has landed on my leg as I write this and the SUN shines brightly.
If by some force, some impetus, all the grains of sand or all the drops of water collectively worked together to achieve some common goal, a huge, insuperable force will have been created. So, by the same manner, if every part of humanity, every man and woman, worked together collectively to achieve some common goal, a huge, insuperable force will have been created. The true mystery remains, however, in finding the impetus for that collectivization, that bringing together of humankind.
Just as every empire has fallen, there are two key components. Social systems fall apart due to internal strife and external pressures. Likewise, for a global community to form, there must be internal and external forces. Unfortunately, this almost improbably means catastrophe, which assumes that catastrophic, traumatic effects will continue for too long to provide an opportunity for stable collectivization. Despite, the logic, reasoning, and goodwill of humankind should, and must, suffice to make up this difference. Internal and external causes will most likely be needed to provide the spark, but those intangible qualities which humankind has been blessed with will complete the total instigative force. I am convinced that this world and its people can live in peace and can live equally. Every one has to want it, desire it in his/her own heart and mind. To achieve this mentality, education and communication of the highest degree are necessary. Then, in the institution of the new society, equality of the highest degree is absolutely requisite. One day it shall be. It MUST. One day it shall be . . .
Before closing this entry, I must remark an a young boy who just approached me for one cordoba. Of course I gave him nothing, as everyone should earn, in one form or another, his/her earnings. But, it saddens me that the present order creates a reality in which people have to lower themselves to beggars. I told the boy that I could see in his eyes that he was intelligent. He walked away. Perhaps he construed it as my acknowledging his begging as a business, and not true 'begging.' Either way, not one person should ever have to lower themselves. We are all equals. Every soul is equally valuable. Therefore, the house of each soul should be treated as such . . .
One final thought: a ladybug has landed on my leg as I write this and the SUN shines brightly.
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