I go to church twice a week here, which makes me a better Catholic than I was in the states, but it is mainly to spend time with my Mama Rosario. I still don´t understand a word and I find that I get distracted by the birds who shoulder their way through the gap between the wall and the roof and perch on the rafters above.
A couple of weeks ago we traveled to Volcán Masaya for a lecture and day trip. It was known by Spaniards to be the "gate to hell", so a cross rests high above the smoking crater. This will probably be one of the more daring adventures I will have in Nicaragua because there is risk of getting killed by boiling lava, explosive rocks, or at the very least passing out from the inhalation of the toxic sulfurous gases. The fumes were definitely getting to me by the time we left.
We spent "practicum week" in San Ramón, a tranquil little town in the mountains of Matagalpa, giving charlas to the pregnant ladies, playing guitar, and eating fabulous food. It was more retreat-like than anything else. I hope that my service will be similar. . .
I was told it would be very cold in Matagalpa, but I have come to discover that the Nicaraguan version of "cold" is slightly different than mine. I wish I had known this when packing my long-sleeved shirts and pants for practicum week. Jill and Lucas were the volunteers who oversaw our work and they were able to relate a few stories about service that PC staff has yet to divulge. Jill has three months left of service in a small town in Río San Juan. She travels by boat from Granada and usually spends the 15-hour voyage sleeping in her hammock. Lucas is stationed in Matagalpa and has experienced more of a city life. He is looking forward to another year of service.
This weekend I convinced my cousin Osman to accompany me and nine other trainees (all ladies) to the beach La Boquita. This may sound like heaven to a 20-year old young man, but it turns out that Nicaraguans are afraid of both the sun and the ocean, which is why the beach looks so deserted. Osman was nice enough to gather some coconuts earlier that morning and he cut them open for us during lunch. I came home with a terrible sunburn and very few pictures.
We spent "practicum week" in San Ramón, a tranquil little town in the mountains of Matagalpa, giving charlas to the pregnant ladies, playing guitar, and eating fabulous food. It was more retreat-like than anything else. I hope that my service will be similar. . .
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| Making bracelets at the Casa Materna |
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| Sarah McD in a hammock chair |
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| The hotel in San Ramón |
I was told it would be very cold in Matagalpa, but I have come to discover that the Nicaraguan version of "cold" is slightly different than mine. I wish I had known this when packing my long-sleeved shirts and pants for practicum week. Jill and Lucas were the volunteers who oversaw our work and they were able to relate a few stories about service that PC staff has yet to divulge. Jill has three months left of service in a small town in Río San Juan. She travels by boat from Granada and usually spends the 15-hour voyage sleeping in her hammock. Lucas is stationed in Matagalpa and has experienced more of a city life. He is looking forward to another year of service.
This weekend I convinced my cousin Osman to accompany me and nine other trainees (all ladies) to the beach La Boquita. This may sound like heaven to a 20-year old young man, but it turns out that Nicaraguans are afraid of both the sun and the ocean, which is why the beach looks so deserted. Osman was nice enough to gather some coconuts earlier that morning and he cut them open for us during lunch. I came home with a terrible sunburn and very few pictures.
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| La Boquita |
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| La Boquita |
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| Rita´s towel and coconuts |
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| Amy and Ana relaxing at the restaurant |
A big THANK YOU to all of those have written (the old-fashioned way):
Katie
Dad
Phill
Melissa
Juddy
Ladonna
