Tough Decisions
There are going to be several important changes in the next coming weeks. The first being that I am changing the location of my blog. For the past few weeks I have decided that my name “adventures of a nobody” is no longer an accurate reflection of what I am and what I am trying to say. Those who are still interested in following my travels and perceptions should check me out here:
http://observationsofawanderingrambler.blogspot.com/
In other news, I also decided that I will postpone managing the farm here in Balgue. While I know it would be a wonderful opportunity, at the same time I really feel like for many reasons now is not the time to do this. I feel like in this moment in time I have to honor what my trip was all about. Exploring the world and not feeling tied down to anything. Staying here, while being an excellent opportunity and a hell of a thing to put on my resume, I feel like that would be why I was staying. For the bragging rights.
At the end of the day, I feel like in this moment in time I have grown all I can in Balgue. I have seen what I needed to see, met who I needed to meet, and danced when I was not comfortable dancing. I learned more about myself and who I am as a person than I did throughout my university life. And while this was an entirely wonderful experience, pain and all, it was all worth it. I would take every bad day, every good day, and every morning woken up by howler monkeys all over again.
One day, in the near or distant future I may return. Who knows. All I know is that the wanderer in me wants to get out there and not feel tied down to a space anymore. Not obliged to work everyday, not obliged to feed the pigs, not obliged to take on more than I can chew. This trip wasn’t about working it was about living. And I feel like I would be taking on more working than I bargained for.
So I’m going to say goodbye to Ometepe in a few weeks time. I’m going to stay to help with the permaculture course at Cafe Campestre for the next two weeks to absorb what I can learn. After that I’m going to explore this island I’ve called home for the past two and a half months and haven’t had the time to really see. I want to sleep on the Volcano to see the sunset. I want to see the San Ramon waterfalls. I want to go kayaking in the River here to see turtles and crocodiles. Sounds a lot better than feeding the pigs on Saturday, doesn’t it?
Now I just have to start saying goodbye.
Thursday, 9 February 2012
Monday, 23 January 2012
Saturday, 21 January 2012
Life in a nutshell
Right now I find myself in a difficult position. Feeling like I have had a huge opportunity to learn about myself as a manager, but also realizing that the experience was a complete shambles. Sometimes I feel like my Canadian tendency to “niceness” really screws you over when you try to manage people. Or perhaps niceness is incorrect, it’s really called “this is not part of my job description”.
I’m not here to be the mother of these volunteers, telling them “Okay kiddies, we need to weed the garden? Johnny? Great! Thanks! Let’s go team” or something else mildly nauseating. In an ideal world you’d also have volunteers who seemed to care about the quality of their work. Or rather, would realize that when they ask Martijn about the experience, that he is upfrount with them about certain aspects. Then find that they come here and suddenly have a “problem” with it.
More importantly, I’m sick. When I’m sick I just want to have a day to do nothing. I don’t want to answer your question about where things are (garlic). I want you to open your eyes and look for yourself.
Perhaps I am being harsh, but ultimately I don’t think I am. Perhaps I keep being confrounted by people who challenge me in different ways because I need to learn how to deal with them, but somedays I’m exhausted of this too. I know now, that I would do things hugely different in the future. While I am still enjoying my time here, I feel like the volunteers are missing out.
They aren’t getting to converse with Pablo and have inside jokes with him. They don’t get to talk to Tobias about what is the local word for turkey. They are missing all the parts that to me made my experience here so rich, the people! Instead they run around saying “I’m not going to clean up the kitchen because I didn’t make the mess”. It is sort of like being put into a room with 6 year olds and watching mayhem unfold feeling slightly powerless to snap them out of it. In some ways you forgive them because of their age, yet in other ways you just can’t wait until they grow up and have some integrity and pride in their work.
While I may be painting a bleak picture, it is not entirely off base. I really am looking forward to a change. I want to be able to explore more about organic farming on my own, where I can see and play and do. Not just talk about who needs to weed the hibiscus seedlings. Most importantly, I have learned some valuable lessons. Not to let things slide that really are important (like starting on time), find someone you can vent too, because it is important for you to be able to express your anger, frustration and wishes with someone.
Most importantly, say what is on your mind. Say it in any way possible, but say it. Instead of waiting for someone to magically realize that they are just as capable of looking for the flour themselves than asking me where it is. Or maybe I’ve learned nothing else than the fact I never want to be a volunteer coordinator again.
That and I need a vacation.
I’m not here to be the mother of these volunteers, telling them “Okay kiddies, we need to weed the garden? Johnny? Great! Thanks! Let’s go team” or something else mildly nauseating. In an ideal world you’d also have volunteers who seemed to care about the quality of their work. Or rather, would realize that when they ask Martijn about the experience, that he is upfrount with them about certain aspects. Then find that they come here and suddenly have a “problem” with it.
More importantly, I’m sick. When I’m sick I just want to have a day to do nothing. I don’t want to answer your question about where things are (garlic). I want you to open your eyes and look for yourself.
Perhaps I am being harsh, but ultimately I don’t think I am. Perhaps I keep being confrounted by people who challenge me in different ways because I need to learn how to deal with them, but somedays I’m exhausted of this too. I know now, that I would do things hugely different in the future. While I am still enjoying my time here, I feel like the volunteers are missing out.
They aren’t getting to converse with Pablo and have inside jokes with him. They don’t get to talk to Tobias about what is the local word for turkey. They are missing all the parts that to me made my experience here so rich, the people! Instead they run around saying “I’m not going to clean up the kitchen because I didn’t make the mess”. It is sort of like being put into a room with 6 year olds and watching mayhem unfold feeling slightly powerless to snap them out of it. In some ways you forgive them because of their age, yet in other ways you just can’t wait until they grow up and have some integrity and pride in their work.
While I may be painting a bleak picture, it is not entirely off base. I really am looking forward to a change. I want to be able to explore more about organic farming on my own, where I can see and play and do. Not just talk about who needs to weed the hibiscus seedlings. Most importantly, I have learned some valuable lessons. Not to let things slide that really are important (like starting on time), find someone you can vent too, because it is important for you to be able to express your anger, frustration and wishes with someone.
Most importantly, say what is on your mind. Say it in any way possible, but say it. Instead of waiting for someone to magically realize that they are just as capable of looking for the flour themselves than asking me where it is. Or maybe I’ve learned nothing else than the fact I never want to be a volunteer coordinator again.
That and I need a vacation.
Thursday, 19 January 2012
Cultural contexts
One of the most fascinating things about living in Balgue, is the opportunity to interact with the locals. On a nearly day-to-day basis, they teach me more about their customs and culture here, while throwing a sharp realization my way on just how differently situations are interpreted here. Everything in Nicaragua, even the people, are more multi-faceted than I ever thought possible.
Machete’s here are used as both tool and kitchen utensil. Bowls in the volunteer kitchen are for eating and bringing up the harvest. The knives are for cutting onions and butchering pigs. Sure I suppose you could say that this is because there isn’t a lot of stuff here in the first place. Everything people own here must be used for several purposes. Even toilets here can be closets too.
Perhaps it is because the people here live so simply. And when you have only one colander somedays it is necessary to use it for a variety of purposes. Or perhaps it is because the people here earn such a modest wage. Now when I say that, I think you will assume that the people here are poor. And while they would not be defined rich in our society, they do have the basics. A shelter, clothes, food, community, culture, and love. There poverty comes only in their realization that we have so much more than they do, and nobody quite understands why that is.
What also shocks me is the cultural differences here. This past weekend, Pablo joined me on a trip to Mayogalpa. I had an interesting moment of realization on the bus ride back. This forty-something man from North America started handing sweets out to the kids on the bus. Something in Canada, which depending on the parent, may send everyone into a fit of horror. How dare this stranger try to get these kids to break the cardinal rule of young children everywhere--never take candy from a stranger! He also started talking to them and asking their names (which I will admit is not exactly scary). But I was uncomfortable when he started tickling the little girls on the bus. The entire time something about this guy screamed “I am creepy” and I was definitely happy to see him leave.
After the man left and I was sitting next to Pablo again, he asked me what the man said to me as he was getting off. Which was something like “see you later my Canadian sister”. Pablo then said that he seemed to be a good man. Now as you can probably deduce, I was not exactly thrilled about this man. So I asked Pablo why he thought that. He said something along the lines of he gave the kids candy, he talked to the kids in Spanish.
I was shocked. The same reasons that I had to warrant concern for these girls, were the same reasons Pablo felt at ease with this foreigner. At times I wonder though who had the better read on the scenario? Was I being overly cautious with my own meme’s of “never take candy from a stranger” mentality? Was Pablo correct, that this man was just being kind to some Island girls?
When I explained to Pablo what my reaction was, he laughed. Was I overreacting, probably. After all the parents were right there, and never did I see the man make attempts to sell these girls into slavery. I guess the difference in it was that in my culture, someone who does those things often comes across as a pedophile. Where as here, he was just a foreigner trying to engage some locals.
Now I feel a bit silly about my reaction, yet at the same time I wonder if I should. Not because I believe it is a good thing to be entirely skeptical of everyone you meet, but because sometimes I am really frustrated with these gaps in society. By this I mean, how there are some people who seem to flirt with boundaries which are seen and unseen. This man here to me, seemed to be pushing a button. Ultimately it was a non-existent button for everyone but me. But what I saw just made me uncomfortable.
If it isn’t something that is common place in your home country, why do it here? Could you have engaged those little girls without tickling them? After all I’ve been in Nicaragua for nearly 10 weeks now, and I finally played with the daughter of one of the Ecolodge’s owners. I suppose what I really am frustrated with is this mentality of cultural insensitivity.
This was my first glimpse of my own insensitivities being here. Realizing that I had it wrong. You are supposed to engage with the children on the bus. Smile and make faces. While I may not hand out sweets, I would argue that everyone (even in Canada) tries to put children at ease on buses. I suppose that is what this trip is all about though. Learning about the idiosyncrasies within my own culture through the eyes of a Nicaraguan man.
Machete’s here are used as both tool and kitchen utensil. Bowls in the volunteer kitchen are for eating and bringing up the harvest. The knives are for cutting onions and butchering pigs. Sure I suppose you could say that this is because there isn’t a lot of stuff here in the first place. Everything people own here must be used for several purposes. Even toilets here can be closets too.
Perhaps it is because the people here live so simply. And when you have only one colander somedays it is necessary to use it for a variety of purposes. Or perhaps it is because the people here earn such a modest wage. Now when I say that, I think you will assume that the people here are poor. And while they would not be defined rich in our society, they do have the basics. A shelter, clothes, food, community, culture, and love. There poverty comes only in their realization that we have so much more than they do, and nobody quite understands why that is.
What also shocks me is the cultural differences here. This past weekend, Pablo joined me on a trip to Mayogalpa. I had an interesting moment of realization on the bus ride back. This forty-something man from North America started handing sweets out to the kids on the bus. Something in Canada, which depending on the parent, may send everyone into a fit of horror. How dare this stranger try to get these kids to break the cardinal rule of young children everywhere--never take candy from a stranger! He also started talking to them and asking their names (which I will admit is not exactly scary). But I was uncomfortable when he started tickling the little girls on the bus. The entire time something about this guy screamed “I am creepy” and I was definitely happy to see him leave.
After the man left and I was sitting next to Pablo again, he asked me what the man said to me as he was getting off. Which was something like “see you later my Canadian sister”. Pablo then said that he seemed to be a good man. Now as you can probably deduce, I was not exactly thrilled about this man. So I asked Pablo why he thought that. He said something along the lines of he gave the kids candy, he talked to the kids in Spanish.
I was shocked. The same reasons that I had to warrant concern for these girls, were the same reasons Pablo felt at ease with this foreigner. At times I wonder though who had the better read on the scenario? Was I being overly cautious with my own meme’s of “never take candy from a stranger” mentality? Was Pablo correct, that this man was just being kind to some Island girls?
When I explained to Pablo what my reaction was, he laughed. Was I overreacting, probably. After all the parents were right there, and never did I see the man make attempts to sell these girls into slavery. I guess the difference in it was that in my culture, someone who does those things often comes across as a pedophile. Where as here, he was just a foreigner trying to engage some locals.
Now I feel a bit silly about my reaction, yet at the same time I wonder if I should. Not because I believe it is a good thing to be entirely skeptical of everyone you meet, but because sometimes I am really frustrated with these gaps in society. By this I mean, how there are some people who seem to flirt with boundaries which are seen and unseen. This man here to me, seemed to be pushing a button. Ultimately it was a non-existent button for everyone but me. But what I saw just made me uncomfortable.
If it isn’t something that is common place in your home country, why do it here? Could you have engaged those little girls without tickling them? After all I’ve been in Nicaragua for nearly 10 weeks now, and I finally played with the daughter of one of the Ecolodge’s owners. I suppose what I really am frustrated with is this mentality of cultural insensitivity.
This was my first glimpse of my own insensitivities being here. Realizing that I had it wrong. You are supposed to engage with the children on the bus. Smile and make faces. While I may not hand out sweets, I would argue that everyone (even in Canada) tries to put children at ease on buses. I suppose that is what this trip is all about though. Learning about the idiosyncrasies within my own culture through the eyes of a Nicaraguan man.
Wednesday, 11 January 2012
My discussion with Tobias
Today the new volunteers and I went on an adventure to Tobias’ house again. This time, having actually caught up on sleep, meant that I was able to ask more intelligent questions. And because this was my second visit, I knew some of the face poking around again. While I received a very warm and friendly welcome my last visit, this time I felt like some of the uncertainty had drifted away.
The conversation seemed to flow better for one. There was more of a mix of children and adults running around, not to mention animals. I saw the turkey again but this time looking more normal, but once riled up again he turned once again into this alien looking creature. With a strange trunk-like object proceeding from on top of his beak. It was fascinating to see the changing of the colours of his head as well, when he was trying to impress. We also shared a good laugh about imagining if human males’ noses changed colour when they were trying to impress the ladies. But in reality, perhaps it would make things a whole lot easier--or possibly more awkward situations. Who knows.
Things this time also seemed so much more tranquil, with nothing to impress. I watched Tobias’ daughters hang up the family’s laundry. I talked to some of Tobias’ granddaughters, some not yet four years old while others were old enough to start dreaming of boys. Once again I felt the good fortune of being able to get this wonderful welcome from Tobias’ family. Even when it came to watching the four month old grandson be shown to us. With his chubby cheeks, fingers, and limbs.
Also entertaining, slash terrifying, was watching Tobias climb a ladder to just reach some coconuts. However in order to fully access them, Tobias had to climb the rest of the plant, just where the leaves fanned out. Watching him there, seemingly suspended in air, I had a small taste of what every mother experiences watching their kid do something that seems dangerous. In actual reality, Tobias is an active 60 year old who is able to do such wonderful things as climb around coconut fronds to cut down five coconuts for us visitors and those in his family with a thirst for coconut water.
Near the end of the visit, Tobias took us down to the waters edge. This time there were no canoes, some of his sons had taken them out for fish. So the new volunteers, a couple, spent their time talking in whispers only they could hear, while I talked to Tobias about his life.
What I found most interesting was learning about the number of kids he has, and grandchildren. Learning about his time, at ten years old, working in the fields of Costa Rica. Asking him about what it was like to live during the Sandista Revolution. He too was a soldier in the Sandista movement, but his work was not to fight in some distant part of Nicaragua. He worked on the Island, bringing goods where they needed to be. Mayogalpa, Altagracia, and Balgue and back again. More importantly, I wanted to know if he felt the wounds from that time were healed.
All he would say to me is that, and I’m paraphrasing, that things here were much more calm, easy going than before. I think those tourists who wonder why the Nicaraguans are so laid back (and rarely on time), forget that in the last 20 years they have had to rebuild a country. I think their attitude toward life is a beautiful one, just to take life easy and not to serious. A lesson I feel more people I know back home, and around the world, could take to heart.
The conversation seemed to flow better for one. There was more of a mix of children and adults running around, not to mention animals. I saw the turkey again but this time looking more normal, but once riled up again he turned once again into this alien looking creature. With a strange trunk-like object proceeding from on top of his beak. It was fascinating to see the changing of the colours of his head as well, when he was trying to impress. We also shared a good laugh about imagining if human males’ noses changed colour when they were trying to impress the ladies. But in reality, perhaps it would make things a whole lot easier--or possibly more awkward situations. Who knows.
Things this time also seemed so much more tranquil, with nothing to impress. I watched Tobias’ daughters hang up the family’s laundry. I talked to some of Tobias’ granddaughters, some not yet four years old while others were old enough to start dreaming of boys. Once again I felt the good fortune of being able to get this wonderful welcome from Tobias’ family. Even when it came to watching the four month old grandson be shown to us. With his chubby cheeks, fingers, and limbs.
Also entertaining, slash terrifying, was watching Tobias climb a ladder to just reach some coconuts. However in order to fully access them, Tobias had to climb the rest of the plant, just where the leaves fanned out. Watching him there, seemingly suspended in air, I had a small taste of what every mother experiences watching their kid do something that seems dangerous. In actual reality, Tobias is an active 60 year old who is able to do such wonderful things as climb around coconut fronds to cut down five coconuts for us visitors and those in his family with a thirst for coconut water.
Near the end of the visit, Tobias took us down to the waters edge. This time there were no canoes, some of his sons had taken them out for fish. So the new volunteers, a couple, spent their time talking in whispers only they could hear, while I talked to Tobias about his life.
What I found most interesting was learning about the number of kids he has, and grandchildren. Learning about his time, at ten years old, working in the fields of Costa Rica. Asking him about what it was like to live during the Sandista Revolution. He too was a soldier in the Sandista movement, but his work was not to fight in some distant part of Nicaragua. He worked on the Island, bringing goods where they needed to be. Mayogalpa, Altagracia, and Balgue and back again. More importantly, I wanted to know if he felt the wounds from that time were healed.
All he would say to me is that, and I’m paraphrasing, that things here were much more calm, easy going than before. I think those tourists who wonder why the Nicaraguans are so laid back (and rarely on time), forget that in the last 20 years they have had to rebuild a country. I think their attitude toward life is a beautiful one, just to take life easy and not to serious. A lesson I feel more people I know back home, and around the world, could take to heart.
Me + Two
Finally the period of solo volunteering has passed, well for now. Last Thursday I was graced with a drop in visit from two volunteers who had been communicating with Totoco for about two months about visiting. They stopped by to check out the farm, and frankly I was really in a torrential mood. What I can only describe as sleep depravation, a strong desire for the creature comforts I have been lusting over, and some sad news from home.
The long and short of it I suppose is that it really was a bad day to be showing two new volunteers the lovely Totoco farm. Partially because I felt my bad temper would infiltrate the attitude and energy of the farm. However, I spent two hours of my day showing them the farm, the lodge, and filling them in on whatever information I could give them. I didn’t sugar coat things, I didn’t lie. I feel like people should know what they are getting into.
Afterwards, we all sat down and they finally gave an affirmative that they would come on board. I would be lying if I said that a wave of relief washed over me. I would no longer have to worry about not fumigating for five days or not watering the beans. I would have more hands to help. And company, a very important benefit to new volunteers.
They arrived Friday night and the weekend was essentially a crash course in Totoco. I taught them the names of the plants, I taught them where some of the garden essentials were, and we got to work. More importantly, I think the best thing was having people again with whom I could share Totoco with. In part because it is nice to have someone who understands how annoying the big pig is or who can help give Donald some love so he doesn’t return to Finca Magdalena. While it is great to share with you part of the experience here, at the same time it is not the same as having someone completely understand just how annoying the squeal of the big pig is.
I also have the opportunity to shoot the breeze with someone again. Talking about such taboo things as politics, religion, history, organics, family, and life. Not to mention different opinions and different realms of experience. And recipes too! It is definitely always more fun to cook with and for more people. This weekend alone we made pesto, gallo pinto (rice and beans--but awesome), and Indian inspired dish with eggplant and potatoes.
There is also the wonderful part of no longer having to listen to Pablo and Tobias say how terrible it is for me to be alone. No more sad little shakes of the head from Tobias. No more offers of them sleeping here to protect me. The strangest part is that nothing has ever happened here before to a solo volunteer, but obviously these parents are just as afraid of the boogeymen, real or imaginary, which chase children in the dark.
All I can say is that while I may not believe in the boogeyman, I am not going to turn down the extra hands and the company.
The long and short of it I suppose is that it really was a bad day to be showing two new volunteers the lovely Totoco farm. Partially because I felt my bad temper would infiltrate the attitude and energy of the farm. However, I spent two hours of my day showing them the farm, the lodge, and filling them in on whatever information I could give them. I didn’t sugar coat things, I didn’t lie. I feel like people should know what they are getting into.
Afterwards, we all sat down and they finally gave an affirmative that they would come on board. I would be lying if I said that a wave of relief washed over me. I would no longer have to worry about not fumigating for five days or not watering the beans. I would have more hands to help. And company, a very important benefit to new volunteers.
They arrived Friday night and the weekend was essentially a crash course in Totoco. I taught them the names of the plants, I taught them where some of the garden essentials were, and we got to work. More importantly, I think the best thing was having people again with whom I could share Totoco with. In part because it is nice to have someone who understands how annoying the big pig is or who can help give Donald some love so he doesn’t return to Finca Magdalena. While it is great to share with you part of the experience here, at the same time it is not the same as having someone completely understand just how annoying the squeal of the big pig is.
I also have the opportunity to shoot the breeze with someone again. Talking about such taboo things as politics, religion, history, organics, family, and life. Not to mention different opinions and different realms of experience. And recipes too! It is definitely always more fun to cook with and for more people. This weekend alone we made pesto, gallo pinto (rice and beans--but awesome), and Indian inspired dish with eggplant and potatoes.
There is also the wonderful part of no longer having to listen to Pablo and Tobias say how terrible it is for me to be alone. No more sad little shakes of the head from Tobias. No more offers of them sleeping here to protect me. The strangest part is that nothing has ever happened here before to a solo volunteer, but obviously these parents are just as afraid of the boogeymen, real or imaginary, which chase children in the dark.
All I can say is that while I may not believe in the boogeyman, I am not going to turn down the extra hands and the company.
Creature comforts
I must admit that for a moment there, life was fairly bleak. By this I mean that I was literally frustrated at the fact that I couldn’t get Tom’s toothpaste or shampoo lacking in crazy chemicals. I realized that I couldn’t just stop by the nearest supermarket for curry powder or vegan cookies. I couldn’t just call up a friend and go to my favourite vegetarian restaurant. I also couldn’t buy new-to-me vintage clothing.
Essentially I was dealing with a crisis of a loss of creature comforts. While I probably had a good portion of that shocked out of me my first day here realizing I would be sleeping in a loft with spiders, but really I hadn’t gotten over my attachment to a different type of creature comfort.
In North America, it is so shockingly easy for people to buy things. Even more sustainable products are easy to purchase now! Hell you can even buy them online and have them delivered. Sure it’s at a price (what isn’t these days?) but in the end, it is possible. And more importantly, so shockingly simple.
This is something that almost all of you take for granted. This ability to have these products available to you. Any, and all, supermarket has everything you could possibly need or want. From all parts of the globe. You can get Thai sauce, curry powder, cinnamon, tomatoes all year round, mangos--some of these even organically.
For me the biggest lesson has been realizing that while this initial moment of discomfort was a shift for me, inevitably it was a worthy shift. I now find myself trying creative solutions. For example, instead of purchasing more soap for hand washing our kitchen is supplied with the consistent (and never ending) supply of ash from the burning of pig food. I have, with difficulty, baking soda which can be used to clean everything from my teeth and hair to the compost toilet. *Insert cliche joke about hopefully not at the same time*
Ultimately, I guess I will be the better for it. Partially because toothpaste here costs significantly more than my package of baking soda for eight cordobas.But more importantly, in a way I find it freeing. While it took something truly isolating such as working in a farm in Balgue, but I realized that I don’t need to buy toothpaste. I don’t need a lot of things.
While I might still want a hair cut by my favourite hair stylist from back home, and while I may want a vintage t-shirt, I know I can survive without them. And I hope that I will never take it for granted when I go back to “civilization” that I can walk into a store and buy clearly defined organic fruits and vegetables.
Essentially I was dealing with a crisis of a loss of creature comforts. While I probably had a good portion of that shocked out of me my first day here realizing I would be sleeping in a loft with spiders, but really I hadn’t gotten over my attachment to a different type of creature comfort.
In North America, it is so shockingly easy for people to buy things. Even more sustainable products are easy to purchase now! Hell you can even buy them online and have them delivered. Sure it’s at a price (what isn’t these days?) but in the end, it is possible. And more importantly, so shockingly simple.
This is something that almost all of you take for granted. This ability to have these products available to you. Any, and all, supermarket has everything you could possibly need or want. From all parts of the globe. You can get Thai sauce, curry powder, cinnamon, tomatoes all year round, mangos--some of these even organically.
For me the biggest lesson has been realizing that while this initial moment of discomfort was a shift for me, inevitably it was a worthy shift. I now find myself trying creative solutions. For example, instead of purchasing more soap for hand washing our kitchen is supplied with the consistent (and never ending) supply of ash from the burning of pig food. I have, with difficulty, baking soda which can be used to clean everything from my teeth and hair to the compost toilet. *Insert cliche joke about hopefully not at the same time*
Ultimately, I guess I will be the better for it. Partially because toothpaste here costs significantly more than my package of baking soda for eight cordobas.But more importantly, in a way I find it freeing. While it took something truly isolating such as working in a farm in Balgue, but I realized that I don’t need to buy toothpaste. I don’t need a lot of things.
While I might still want a hair cut by my favourite hair stylist from back home, and while I may want a vintage t-shirt, I know I can survive without them. And I hope that I will never take it for granted when I go back to “civilization” that I can walk into a store and buy clearly defined organic fruits and vegetables.
Sunday, 8 January 2012
Tobias' house
For the past few days I have been trying to visit the house of Tobias. Tobias is the old man who faithfully delivers ice to our farms thermals everyday. Literally everyday he climbs up to Totoco to give us ice. Since I have been here alone, he keeps trying to encourage me to spend time with locals. Not sure how leaving all my treasured belongings behind is any better, but alas, perhaps to them it is. Take the stuff, leave the girl?
In any case, after a lot of offers from him to come stay up at the farm to protect me, he finally came up with a new direction. He asked me to come see his house. I want to reiterate that this is an old man, with nothing more sinister motives than introducing the lonely foreigner to his family. He invited me to go to his house for the past two days, but for one reason or another it didn’t work out. Either it was due to pigs needing to be feed or the necessity of buying a weeks worth of vegetables from the once-a-week delivery truck.
However, today it finally happened. I found myself walking down with Tobias and his grandson to his house. Along the way I was asking him questions about his business. For instance, why he got into delivering ice to Totoco in the first place. But what I discovered is that Totoco is his only customer! And for the past four years, he has brought ice to Totoco after working at another organic farm run by expats in the morning.
As we walked along the main road leading to Totoco, Tobias finally diverted his path to a nearly invisible trail heading away from Balgue. We crossed the main highway into Balgue and then once again onto a seemingly hidden path behind several boulders left from some previous explosion of Volcan Maderas. Once through a small little fence, Tobias mentioned that this was the beginning of his property.
For Nicaragua, Tobias’ plot of land is large. Large enough seemingly to support his children, his children’s children, and probably more! We walked down this rocky path, until finally amidst the vail of greenery I saw the beginnings of houses. Up on the highest part of the property, also known as a hill, resides the homes of Tobias’ family. The structure which held the all important refridgerator, was a simple yet beautiful structure made out of the local caramel coloured wood, partnered with the rusty red bricks. To add to this, the standard star patterned blocks were placed near the roof to allow a fresh breeze to enter the home.
Inside I could see one of Tobias’ daughters watching a tele novella on a fuzzy screen. The fridge, while four years old now, looks brand new. Tobias showed me the ice being made inside, and told me that the bottom half was for food and juice for his family. After this quick tour I was introduced to Tobias’ wife and given a plastic lawn chair to sit in. I was quickly given a glass of water and two grapefruits which were grown on the property.
While I sat and Tobias introduced members of his seemingly large family, I was consistently interrupted in my usual politeness by the male turkey behind me. Apparently he is without a girlfriend, and therefore when new people arrive he puffs out his chest (with a horrid noise) and struts like a model on the dirt floor. Just when I was getting interested in the conversation in frount of me, the turkey would puff up again and my concentration was a thing of the past.
However, not even the turkey could save me from the following situation. While I was meeting more of Tobias’ family, some of his grandsons came running with bags of red kidney bean plants, freshly harvested. The last to arrive was a wizened old man, who was promptly offered another plastic chair to sit on. Within two seconds of him securing his seat he turned to me and asked me if I spoke some Spanish. I had just managed to get the words “Si” out of my mouth, and then the rant began.
While my Spanish comprehension is improving, it by no means is perfect. I will say that this man literally spent five minutes solidly talking to me about Jesus and how I needed to accept him into my life, while not enjoying cigarettes, alcohol or dancing, in order to save my soul from the devil and hell fires. I wish I had been in the presence of mind to laugh at this situation, but mostly I could not believe the ludicrous-ness of the situation. This man was trying to save my soul.
In fact, when Tobias finally asked me if I wanted to see the lake, I was more than happy to leave the old man and his talk of hell fire. I asked Tobias if that old man was trying to save my soul, and he said yes. I had to laugh, shake my head, and then return to watching out for foot holds on the uneven path ahead of me.
Tobias and three of his grandchildren showed me their access to the lake, which was an incredible spot! Two wooden canoes, clearly hand carved, held a vigil over the currently turbulent waters of Lago Nicaragua. This is where Tobias goes fishing for his family, when the water isn’t so rough. I managed to snap a few photos of his adorable grandchildren and Tobias, as well as the natural beauty of the lake, before heading to a different vantage.
We walked past the house of the old man and his hell fire rants, before reaching the other access to the Lake. This was the “beach” portion, which really meant that the rocks weren’t giant boulders, but instead smaller fist sized stones. From here, I was able to watch the beauty of Cocibolca (the local name for the lake) from my stone in the horseshoe shaped bay. While I sat in complete wonder, Tobias’ grandchildren played in the canoe painted with stars and stripes. They would beam anytime I threw a glance in their direction, which was often as they were playing around like little monkeys! Tobias also managed to ask me if Canada was covered in ice all the time, I told him no. He then asked if I would be sad to leave, I told him yes.
I sat and enjoyed some fresh coconut water and meat, lakeside, before realizing that it was probably time for me to go. When I left his family, after saying my final goodbyes and ultimately left Tobias at the main entrance to his home, how lucky I have been. I am so grateful to see these little glimpses of the daily lives of the locals here. I feel so lucky that Tobias took pity on me, and was kind enough to show me his home.
He looked so proud when he showed me the two pineapple tops I had given him the day before so he could propagate them. Equally he took so much delight in explaining the Nicaraguan terms for turkey and chicks, while he shook his head at the strange sounding English words for them. These moments, are the ones that make being so far from my family worth while.
Equally worthwhile was seeing Pablo take his midday break taking a rest in a wheelbarrow. Priceless.
In any case, after a lot of offers from him to come stay up at the farm to protect me, he finally came up with a new direction. He asked me to come see his house. I want to reiterate that this is an old man, with nothing more sinister motives than introducing the lonely foreigner to his family. He invited me to go to his house for the past two days, but for one reason or another it didn’t work out. Either it was due to pigs needing to be feed or the necessity of buying a weeks worth of vegetables from the once-a-week delivery truck.
However, today it finally happened. I found myself walking down with Tobias and his grandson to his house. Along the way I was asking him questions about his business. For instance, why he got into delivering ice to Totoco in the first place. But what I discovered is that Totoco is his only customer! And for the past four years, he has brought ice to Totoco after working at another organic farm run by expats in the morning.
As we walked along the main road leading to Totoco, Tobias finally diverted his path to a nearly invisible trail heading away from Balgue. We crossed the main highway into Balgue and then once again onto a seemingly hidden path behind several boulders left from some previous explosion of Volcan Maderas. Once through a small little fence, Tobias mentioned that this was the beginning of his property.
For Nicaragua, Tobias’ plot of land is large. Large enough seemingly to support his children, his children’s children, and probably more! We walked down this rocky path, until finally amidst the vail of greenery I saw the beginnings of houses. Up on the highest part of the property, also known as a hill, resides the homes of Tobias’ family. The structure which held the all important refridgerator, was a simple yet beautiful structure made out of the local caramel coloured wood, partnered with the rusty red bricks. To add to this, the standard star patterned blocks were placed near the roof to allow a fresh breeze to enter the home.
Inside I could see one of Tobias’ daughters watching a tele novella on a fuzzy screen. The fridge, while four years old now, looks brand new. Tobias showed me the ice being made inside, and told me that the bottom half was for food and juice for his family. After this quick tour I was introduced to Tobias’ wife and given a plastic lawn chair to sit in. I was quickly given a glass of water and two grapefruits which were grown on the property.
While I sat and Tobias introduced members of his seemingly large family, I was consistently interrupted in my usual politeness by the male turkey behind me. Apparently he is without a girlfriend, and therefore when new people arrive he puffs out his chest (with a horrid noise) and struts like a model on the dirt floor. Just when I was getting interested in the conversation in frount of me, the turkey would puff up again and my concentration was a thing of the past.
However, not even the turkey could save me from the following situation. While I was meeting more of Tobias’ family, some of his grandsons came running with bags of red kidney bean plants, freshly harvested. The last to arrive was a wizened old man, who was promptly offered another plastic chair to sit on. Within two seconds of him securing his seat he turned to me and asked me if I spoke some Spanish. I had just managed to get the words “Si” out of my mouth, and then the rant began.
While my Spanish comprehension is improving, it by no means is perfect. I will say that this man literally spent five minutes solidly talking to me about Jesus and how I needed to accept him into my life, while not enjoying cigarettes, alcohol or dancing, in order to save my soul from the devil and hell fires. I wish I had been in the presence of mind to laugh at this situation, but mostly I could not believe the ludicrous-ness of the situation. This man was trying to save my soul.
In fact, when Tobias finally asked me if I wanted to see the lake, I was more than happy to leave the old man and his talk of hell fire. I asked Tobias if that old man was trying to save my soul, and he said yes. I had to laugh, shake my head, and then return to watching out for foot holds on the uneven path ahead of me.
Tobias and three of his grandchildren showed me their access to the lake, which was an incredible spot! Two wooden canoes, clearly hand carved, held a vigil over the currently turbulent waters of Lago Nicaragua. This is where Tobias goes fishing for his family, when the water isn’t so rough. I managed to snap a few photos of his adorable grandchildren and Tobias, as well as the natural beauty of the lake, before heading to a different vantage.
We walked past the house of the old man and his hell fire rants, before reaching the other access to the Lake. This was the “beach” portion, which really meant that the rocks weren’t giant boulders, but instead smaller fist sized stones. From here, I was able to watch the beauty of Cocibolca (the local name for the lake) from my stone in the horseshoe shaped bay. While I sat in complete wonder, Tobias’ grandchildren played in the canoe painted with stars and stripes. They would beam anytime I threw a glance in their direction, which was often as they were playing around like little monkeys! Tobias also managed to ask me if Canada was covered in ice all the time, I told him no. He then asked if I would be sad to leave, I told him yes.
I sat and enjoyed some fresh coconut water and meat, lakeside, before realizing that it was probably time for me to go. When I left his family, after saying my final goodbyes and ultimately left Tobias at the main entrance to his home, how lucky I have been. I am so grateful to see these little glimpses of the daily lives of the locals here. I feel so lucky that Tobias took pity on me, and was kind enough to show me his home.
He looked so proud when he showed me the two pineapple tops I had given him the day before so he could propagate them. Equally he took so much delight in explaining the Nicaraguan terms for turkey and chicks, while he shook his head at the strange sounding English words for them. These moments, are the ones that make being so far from my family worth while.
Equally worthwhile was seeing Pablo take his midday break taking a rest in a wheelbarrow. Priceless.
Donde esta el gato?
 |
| Awe, Donald! |
I walked to Magdalena and was able to easily spot Donald sitting prettily on the patio of the hostel. I grabbed a hold of him and off I walked, with Donald sitting uncomfortably in my arms. I walked back from Magdalena with this squirming little bugger. On two occasions he managed to free himself from my grasp, yet never went far. He walked three feet away. When I called his name, he'd meow to acknowledge me, but never made attempts to walk back my direction.
So I would trudge into the thicket, pick him up and walk back again. I think both of us were thoroughly relieved when we finally returned to Totoco and he could take up his rightful place, suntanning in the hammock chair.
What does our town need to make it stand out?
 |
| A volcano replica with the Virgin Mary? Hell Yes! |
 |
| How about a replica of Isla de Ometepe? Double the fun! |
Sunday, 1 January 2012
Happy 2012 Everybody!
Happy New Year!
On this joyous, first day of what some believe to be the last year of our history I have several things I want to say. For starters, I hope that I don’t have the typical problem of writing “2011” beside the date for the first few weeks of the year. I know that it is now 2012, but my brain has formed a particular affection for 2011 and I know that it will take time to heal this. I just hope it takes less time than usual.
As is common on these seemingly monumental days in the year, I have been reflecting on the vast difference in direction my life has taken over the past year. Graduating university, leaving home for the first time, traveling solo for the first time, leaving behind a loving and caring family, and a career I now know I never wanted. Although it was a struggle to get to this point, I know that that I could not be happier with how this year turned out. Even if I have more bug bites and currently sleep in a loft, I feel like I have grown immensely as a person in my time away.
What I find most impressive is how strange the world works some times. I had never thought in my life that I would be embarking on an adventure of living in Balgue, Nicaragua for the next couple months. While my original plans to travel may have changed, the spirit of the trip remains the same. I still want to expand my knowledge, grow as a human, and continue exploring this world around me.
More importantly, I feel like I have been on a journey of self-discovery of epic proportions. The people I have met here have been teaching me a lot about my own strengths and weaknesses. And while learning about your biggest flaws are not always easy or comfortable, I feel like I have never been in a better time or place to deal with them.
Case in point, I really hate those pigs. But really, there is a part of me that loves them too. Loves them for being so blissfully ignorant of their gross ways. In many ways I resent having to feed animals that I see as unnecessary food and having to devote my weekends to lighting fires to cook their food. In short, they are high maintenance divas, without knowing they are. But every time I drop food into their pen, I stand and watch in utter amazement how they consistently act like utter buffoons. How greedy the big, mean pig is. How they consistently howl and squeal for food, like I have been starving them their whole life when I actually fed them two hours ago. Yet something in their interaction is utterly compelling. Even as you stand and watch the big pig take a dump on the piglets.
Life is a crazy, strange world. Where one moment you are talking to the investor and his family about the merits of working on an organic farm and the next you are talking to some fellow Canadians about West Edmonton Mall.
What I do know is that I have loved every minute of this wild ride I’m on. Even the pigs. And thank you, to all of you, for reading all about it.
On this joyous, first day of what some believe to be the last year of our history I have several things I want to say. For starters, I hope that I don’t have the typical problem of writing “2011” beside the date for the first few weeks of the year. I know that it is now 2012, but my brain has formed a particular affection for 2011 and I know that it will take time to heal this. I just hope it takes less time than usual.
As is common on these seemingly monumental days in the year, I have been reflecting on the vast difference in direction my life has taken over the past year. Graduating university, leaving home for the first time, traveling solo for the first time, leaving behind a loving and caring family, and a career I now know I never wanted. Although it was a struggle to get to this point, I know that that I could not be happier with how this year turned out. Even if I have more bug bites and currently sleep in a loft, I feel like I have grown immensely as a person in my time away.
What I find most impressive is how strange the world works some times. I had never thought in my life that I would be embarking on an adventure of living in Balgue, Nicaragua for the next couple months. While my original plans to travel may have changed, the spirit of the trip remains the same. I still want to expand my knowledge, grow as a human, and continue exploring this world around me.
More importantly, I feel like I have been on a journey of self-discovery of epic proportions. The people I have met here have been teaching me a lot about my own strengths and weaknesses. And while learning about your biggest flaws are not always easy or comfortable, I feel like I have never been in a better time or place to deal with them.
Case in point, I really hate those pigs. But really, there is a part of me that loves them too. Loves them for being so blissfully ignorant of their gross ways. In many ways I resent having to feed animals that I see as unnecessary food and having to devote my weekends to lighting fires to cook their food. In short, they are high maintenance divas, without knowing they are. But every time I drop food into their pen, I stand and watch in utter amazement how they consistently act like utter buffoons. How greedy the big, mean pig is. How they consistently howl and squeal for food, like I have been starving them their whole life when I actually fed them two hours ago. Yet something in their interaction is utterly compelling. Even as you stand and watch the big pig take a dump on the piglets.
Life is a crazy, strange world. Where one moment you are talking to the investor and his family about the merits of working on an organic farm and the next you are talking to some fellow Canadians about West Edmonton Mall.
What I do know is that I have loved every minute of this wild ride I’m on. Even the pigs. And thank you, to all of you, for reading all about it.
The eating habits of monkeys
The past week has been busy. On the farm we are doing maintenance, or essentially making the farm look pretty. I’ve been pulling weeds for 10 days straight. Out of the crevices of rocks, on the foot beaten paths, in the vegetables beds. And the ones out of reach taunt me with their very existence. But very soon, it will all be over and I can stand tall once again!
Yesterday I was talking to Pablo in one of my “back breaks” and he came up and said let’s have a small break. We stood and admired the hard work done and tried to ignore the sheer amount that still had to be done. While Pablo stared into space all of a sudden he said “monos”. What about the monkeys? Well apparently they have taken to eating the leaves of our papaya trees.
I noticed this on Christmas as well, because I watched a howler monkey climb down and try to eat some leaves. My presence however had limited him from really going too close, because he was timid and I was very close by. I thought nothing of it until I was awoken from my inadvertent nap by the sound of a loud crash. I looked up to see a devious howler monkey trying to reach a papaya tree from the jackfruit tree. A distance of say, 4-5 feet.
I was able to watch as this brave, cheeky monkey devoured some papaya leaves while a mother and her young child watched in the scene unfold. I stood there transfixed. Something about what I was seeing was so foreign, so exotic, and yet so custom to this life here in Ometepe. For about 30 minutes I stood outside watching the monkeys slowly try to reach all of our papaya trees.
One monkey had been chased by Dukie into remaining in the tall Papaya tree, as he happily chewed on some leaves. When I grabbed Dukie and took him back to the house, I watched this cheeky thing get down to the ground and run up the trellis for the passionfruit and into a flowering plant. At this point Dukie couldn’t stand it anymore and came crashing through chasing the monkey away.
Definitely never a dull moment when the monkeys are around. Especially when they are defecating on Dukie. Never a dull moment.
Yesterday I was talking to Pablo in one of my “back breaks” and he came up and said let’s have a small break. We stood and admired the hard work done and tried to ignore the sheer amount that still had to be done. While Pablo stared into space all of a sudden he said “monos”. What about the monkeys? Well apparently they have taken to eating the leaves of our papaya trees.
I noticed this on Christmas as well, because I watched a howler monkey climb down and try to eat some leaves. My presence however had limited him from really going too close, because he was timid and I was very close by. I thought nothing of it until I was awoken from my inadvertent nap by the sound of a loud crash. I looked up to see a devious howler monkey trying to reach a papaya tree from the jackfruit tree. A distance of say, 4-5 feet.
I was able to watch as this brave, cheeky monkey devoured some papaya leaves while a mother and her young child watched in the scene unfold. I stood there transfixed. Something about what I was seeing was so foreign, so exotic, and yet so custom to this life here in Ometepe. For about 30 minutes I stood outside watching the monkeys slowly try to reach all of our papaya trees.
One monkey had been chased by Dukie into remaining in the tall Papaya tree, as he happily chewed on some leaves. When I grabbed Dukie and took him back to the house, I watched this cheeky thing get down to the ground and run up the trellis for the passionfruit and into a flowering plant. At this point Dukie couldn’t stand it anymore and came crashing through chasing the monkey away.
Definitely never a dull moment when the monkeys are around. Especially when they are defecating on Dukie. Never a dull moment.
I’m dreaming of a Spinster Christmas
This morning I woke up to the sound of Pablo’s voice and the thwack of an axe on wood. An interesting alarm clock I can assure you. Without a clock, I had no idea how late (or early) it was. So I stumbled out of my borrowed pj’s and I put on my old clothes and headed out to the main area. I could see Oneyda in the kitchen and see the vague outline of Pablo outside of the kitchen making the racket. When I groggily said good morning, I couldn’t believe how chipper everyone was!
Pablo came in and assured me that I should stay for breakfast, which was made by Oneyda. Andy, Oneyda and myself sat down for our breakfast together. Which included rice, a salad (for me) and orange juice. Afterwards I played with Andy once again, in part waiting for cues on when I could go. You see, to protect my belongings they had locked my bag in the most secure thing Oneyda had, a suitcase. But this meant this morning that my bag was still inside said suitcase, and thus a captive of it.
While waiting for the correct moment to politely ask for my stuff, I decided to play with Andy some more. He had held onto the balloon he found at mass last night and he threw at me in an air of “let’s play”. However due to the balloon’s small size it was difficult for little Andy and his yet fully developed dexterity to play with real gusto.
So I blew up another balloon. However I had not considered that a very full balloon will ultimately pop very quickly with repeated bashings by a 4 and 22 year old. Thus it suddenly exploded in my face with a fury only balloons can deliver. Then we returned, for a brief period of time to baseball throwing, with my continued amusement at Andy’s genuine discomfort at a hard ball being thrown in his face.
In what appeared to be a “how to amuse Andy” morning, I ended up then pushing him on his bike outside. For 10 minutes of bliss, Andy could be seen chasing the sleeping dogs, beaming like a child on Christmas. That all lasted until I pushed with a little bit too much gusto and he toppled over. Like any stoic young man, he managed to hold himself together. I do what I do best at that point. I spun that kid around, superman style, until a smile reappeared on his face. Once Oneyda cleaned him up, he was ready to go back on.
Pablo was trying to convince me to stay for the afternoon so I could partake in the true Balguean Christmas experience. Bull riding. However, I had some duties back at the farm. These related to feeding the animals. Pablo, being the sweet man he is (and possibly to ensure my attendance at the festivities), offered to go feed the pigs. Yet when I reminded him of my obligation to Dukie as well, he resigned with a sigh. And off I went back to Totoco.
In fairness, I had also neglected watering the plants and fumigating. And so it was with these tasks to consider I made my walk back through Balgue. Made a safe return to my humble abode and got my work clothes on. The pigs were fed. The plants watered and freshly fumigated. Then just before I decided to start doing laundry I took a seat in the hammock. A fools mistake. Within seconds I was asleep.
When I woke up I had lost most of the light, and I still had dishes to do. Being the lame person I am and not really wanting to go through the effort of leaving my comfortable lodgings and head into town, I stayed home. While certainly I could have headed up to the Lodge or down into Balgue, I was perfectly content to stay and read my new book.
The book I am reading is “The Joy Luck Club” by Amy Tan. In a perfectly serendipitous moment, I found this book. The same day my family back home was gathering for Christmas Eve at my Grandmothers house. The reason this is serendipitous and incredibly strange is that one of the last times I saw my cousin we started watching “The Joy Luck Club” movie. To have found that book on the same day that that side of my family would be gathering somehow made me feel like somehow I was with them in spirit.
And so, with a book in hand and food on my plate I sat down to eat my Christmas Day feast. My companions? The howler monkey not 10 feet away in the tree. I feel this was an entirely welcome addition.
Seasons Greetings!
Pablo came in and assured me that I should stay for breakfast, which was made by Oneyda. Andy, Oneyda and myself sat down for our breakfast together. Which included rice, a salad (for me) and orange juice. Afterwards I played with Andy once again, in part waiting for cues on when I could go. You see, to protect my belongings they had locked my bag in the most secure thing Oneyda had, a suitcase. But this meant this morning that my bag was still inside said suitcase, and thus a captive of it.
While waiting for the correct moment to politely ask for my stuff, I decided to play with Andy some more. He had held onto the balloon he found at mass last night and he threw at me in an air of “let’s play”. However due to the balloon’s small size it was difficult for little Andy and his yet fully developed dexterity to play with real gusto.
So I blew up another balloon. However I had not considered that a very full balloon will ultimately pop very quickly with repeated bashings by a 4 and 22 year old. Thus it suddenly exploded in my face with a fury only balloons can deliver. Then we returned, for a brief period of time to baseball throwing, with my continued amusement at Andy’s genuine discomfort at a hard ball being thrown in his face.
In what appeared to be a “how to amuse Andy” morning, I ended up then pushing him on his bike outside. For 10 minutes of bliss, Andy could be seen chasing the sleeping dogs, beaming like a child on Christmas. That all lasted until I pushed with a little bit too much gusto and he toppled over. Like any stoic young man, he managed to hold himself together. I do what I do best at that point. I spun that kid around, superman style, until a smile reappeared on his face. Once Oneyda cleaned him up, he was ready to go back on.
Pablo was trying to convince me to stay for the afternoon so I could partake in the true Balguean Christmas experience. Bull riding. However, I had some duties back at the farm. These related to feeding the animals. Pablo, being the sweet man he is (and possibly to ensure my attendance at the festivities), offered to go feed the pigs. Yet when I reminded him of my obligation to Dukie as well, he resigned with a sigh. And off I went back to Totoco.
In fairness, I had also neglected watering the plants and fumigating. And so it was with these tasks to consider I made my walk back through Balgue. Made a safe return to my humble abode and got my work clothes on. The pigs were fed. The plants watered and freshly fumigated. Then just before I decided to start doing laundry I took a seat in the hammock. A fools mistake. Within seconds I was asleep.
When I woke up I had lost most of the light, and I still had dishes to do. Being the lame person I am and not really wanting to go through the effort of leaving my comfortable lodgings and head into town, I stayed home. While certainly I could have headed up to the Lodge or down into Balgue, I was perfectly content to stay and read my new book.
The book I am reading is “The Joy Luck Club” by Amy Tan. In a perfectly serendipitous moment, I found this book. The same day my family back home was gathering for Christmas Eve at my Grandmothers house. The reason this is serendipitous and incredibly strange is that one of the last times I saw my cousin we started watching “The Joy Luck Club” movie. To have found that book on the same day that that side of my family would be gathering somehow made me feel like somehow I was with them in spirit.
And so, with a book in hand and food on my plate I sat down to eat my Christmas Day feast. My companions? The howler monkey not 10 feet away in the tree. I feel this was an entirely welcome addition.
Seasons Greetings!
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