Rain, Perfumed Breezes, and Making People out of Beads

With the rain that has been pummeling us lately comes a wind that blows the silt and mist right through my pane-less windows, dusting my front room and kitchen counter. This morning, along with a spotty layer coating the dishes in my drying rack, I awoke to the perfume of the tiny white flowers that grow on the bushes in my front yard, also carried in by the breeze.

I slept later than usual. This was made even nicer by the sound of rain behind my head. I have had trouble sleeping lately, but as long as I don't have dreams of terrible weddings and my mother's awful new tattoos, I don't mind waking up intermittently, pattering around the house for a minute or two, and falling back asleep. The extra hours refreshed me, and I felt happily awake when we walked down the hill to have breakfast with our language school friends, who are, in fact, from Portland! Under the palapa roof of Guacamole's beachside patio, we ate chiliquilies verde, mine with scrambled eggs, and beans and tons of fluffy fresh bread. I also treated myself to fresh squeezed orange juice which was bliss.

The rain streamed down through holes in the palapa, soaking the table besides us, but we stayed dry. We talked and ate for over two hours, watching the strangely placid ocean, a sheet of blue and storm brown dotted with the capped heads of fishermen walking in water up to their shoulders, circling their nets. We followed the girls home after lunch, as they were leaving today to go home, and wanted to empty out their refrigerator for us (YES!). They supplied me with things I wouldn't buy myself but reveled in: peanut butter, licorice tea, chocolate, dried cranberries. They also handed over a thick Spanish dictionary, some sweet Ades soy milk, and a jug of guava juice. Though I was sad to see them go, their departure was followed by an unusually delicious smoothie.

This afternoon I sat at the table by my front window with Isa, the art teacher for our camp, who also happens to be my Spanish teacher, making craft plans and supply lists for the camp. Our themes for the three weeks are the Environment, the Five Senses, and Healthy Living, and she thought of some pretty fun crafts. Our meeting was really productive and ended in our trying out of one of my craft ideas: making little people from beads and string, like the beaded lizards we used to make at swim meets what we were little. This was enjoyable, as the crafting only added to my simmering excitement of being able to hold a meeting entirely in Spanish.

I look incredibly excited about my bead figure. Hope Isa was just as excited.

And throughout our afternoon, I couldn't help but say over and over how lovely the smell of the flowers wafting though my house was, and Isa pointed out which flowers were responsible. The smell followed me around for the rest of the evening, as I spent time inside, frying plantains, making supplies lists, talking to my Portland girl friends on Skype, and doing pilates on the floor. 

The weekend reminds me of the interesting, and at times challenging, process of settling into a place where you know you will only live for two months. I could say it induces mild loneliness or homesickness, but it escapes that, because I actually enjoy my evening solitude, and spend time with great people often. I am also very comfortable with my place in the community, recognizing and speaking with people around town, building relationships with kids and adults through work and intercambios, but also retaining a basic lifestyle very similar to that I had in Portland. I seem adjust in new ways to the community with every little experience I have here, which makes me excited about the month to come.

Failed Movie Nights and Development Projects

Unsurprisingly my educational experiences in La Manzanilla extend beyond watching lightning crack over the ocean, delighting in children bent over their bikes racing across the field get to after school English class a half hour late, and discovering that geckos make sweet little kissing noises (“bescados”... “besos”). In fact, I am learning much daily, through observation and conversation, about development projects. I should probably have Stephanie, a student of urban and rural development, guest post about this, for my knowledge is rather elementary. However, it turns out that learning about international development and specifically the work of grassroots non-profits within it has become a goal of my time here.

Writing my Reed grant proposal and learning more about LCEF first centralized the idea of grassroots approaches to community development, for LCEF's existence within the La Manz community is entirely dependent on conversation and involvement with the local people. Via Skype this spring, Nancy (this seems like such a long time ago) talked much about how the foundation only provides the support and opportunities voiced by the community. They also employ as many local people as possible, not only to create jobs, but also to add strength and consistency to the programs that cannot come from temporary volunteers or foreign residents, even those who have lived here for years.

The idea of asking a community to generate ideas and needs makes so much sense, but after an afternoon-long conversation with two doctors/medical faculty from San Diego State last weekend, it seems a difficult concept for many to apply. The women were in La Manzanilla doing Sex-ED talks in the middle school, and working in the local clinic. They came here with much knowledge, but did not begin their programs until after long discussions with school board members and parents had decided upon the topic for their adolescent health talks.

In one Saturday afternoon over a snack of coconut meat with lime and chili, Maria, the director of SDS's programs, shared handfuls of both ridiculous and successful stories from her involvement in many health projects worldwide. She cited projects where South African communities had been given the technology to develop detailed health initiatives. Maria's grad-students then brought supplies and assistance, aware in advance of the needs and the project's place within the community. In this case, the project was sustained vigorously after the students left, and the community leaders now apply for and receive grant funding to continue and expand their initiatives.

She also told stories which stuck deeper in my mind for their almost obscene nature. Stories of development groups building latrines on the tops of hills in countries with torrential rainy seasons; of researchers giving condoms to prostitutes who would be beaten if they tried to use them, who said if they were given alternative ways to feed their families, the problem would be solved; of latrine building in countries where shitting indoors was unheard of—the latrines were soon surrounded by piles, and eventually the developers realized they should build trenches instead. Maria said this realization took an inane amount of time.

This evening, I left my house at 7:30 and walked in the warm drizzle to the Centro Educativo for English Movie Night, take 2. Last week, after purchasing a cheap DVD player and postering the jardín, we had our first weekly night of fun... This ended up consisting of Stephanie, Nancy, and I talking for an hour or so while the dvd menu played and replayed, before heading home. Nancy had a laugh as she recalled our conversations with Maria. We did intend to ask our Adult and Secundaria classes if they would be interested in a Friday night movie, and what time would work best for them, but amidst other concerns and class happenings, this got pushed aside.

So, as I sat and watched the first half-hour of “How Do You Know” alone in the Centro tonight, I thought about how to initiate projects, even this small, within communities, and the necessity of conversation. Obviously my example is kind of trite and knowledge very limited, but my mind (normally packed with lit theory and poetic analysis) is newly open to learning more about development projects, both in the States and abroad, especially as I hope to use my love for writing for community nonprofit work in the future. <3

Saturdays

My title is plural, though this post is only about today, because the weekends here have taken up a trend of being a time for walking arroyos, going to the beach, planning, reading, napping, ect. They also bring up little quarrels in my head about what one should do when "living" in a place, but not having the constant bustle of the last place one called home. I suppose I'm going through the phase that I do at the beginning of each summer when I feel strangely guilty for laying in bed reading in the afternoon or browsing food blogs, getting excited about recipes I don't have the ingredients for. This is doubled, too, due to the pressure of living in such a beautiful new place. Shouldn't I be at the beach all the time and constantly practicing my Spanish?

The pressure passes, though, thanks to the reminders that I am browsing the net while breaking from work (most of the time), staying in at night because I truly enjoy my home here, and reading in bed because I have the time to do so. This internship has also been a little trial in "working from home," as I spend a good portion of my time editing docs for the website, planning lessons, and planning the July summer camp (and writing my blog which I sneakily think of as a "to do"). It's turning out quite productively, given the fact that I have spent the last 4 years working out of an ultra-silent library.

Because we are planning projects on our own time, I would think that "weekend" wouldn't mean too much, but, it does. It enables us to wake up early and exhaust ourselves within the first four hours of the day, eat, nap, work for a couple of hours, and then walk on the beach. This morning, Nancy swung by with Kaio around 8:30 and we met her bf, Jose, at his little house on the other end of town. The house is a simple square, but the yard is kept-up, like a porch. Many people here treat the space in front of their houses, whether it be a couple feet to roadside or in the middle of a field, just like that, sweeping them clean with a broom, spraying them down to wet the dust, arranging hammocks or chairs, and growing beautifully colorful flowers. Jose had two hammocks with an arbor of these viney flowers here that are either deep magenta, yellow, or rice-paper white. Pleasant, to say the least.

I wanted to share this adorable picture of Kaio, but credit goes 100% to Stephanie. It was taken before I even got here, haha.

So, we took off from his house, hiking up a riverbed, stepping from rock to rock, following him as he choose paths when the stream split. It was a nice feeling of being just-out-of-bed tired and following someone who knew where they were going down trails that didn't seem like trails. On our way back we heard rumbles and shouting behind us, and next thing we know it, a horse pulling a large log lumbers down the path, edged on by a few of our students and their dogs. There was a whole pack of horses, and it was impressive but unsettling watching them barrel through the rocky creek bed, as fast as possible to keep the switch of their backs and the logs from gaining enough momentum to click them in the hooves.

On the way to the beach after our walk we stopped at a field to pick mangoes. I now have about twenty sitting, washed and ready to eat, in my drying rack. We then drove to a part of the beach I had never swum. We parked next to the cemetery, where white stone gravemarkers and elaborate shrine-like structures sit, laden with plastic and crepe-paper flowers, flags, and candles. The colorful cemetery butts right up against the beach. The waves were big today, and once we got out far enough we let them throw us gently us and down and lost track of time.

When we got back home it was only 11:30. I really do love living here. 

Before the Storm Came and Went

If we are going to take pictures before the walk even gets pretty, we must showcase Kaio, our reason for being (...walking).

 Last Sunday morning, we took Kaio, Nancy's pooch (who has traveled with her all over Central America), for a walk down the arroyo, or dried up river bed, to some watering holes, that are not quite watering holes yet. We encountered lots of dead animals, mosquitos, green water, and palm trees stretching out of thick brush. Past the trail-side pig farm and creepy flocks of vultures, the landscape got progressively richer, reminding me of that which the dinosaurs used to roam. Maybe it's the newness of tropical forests to me, but it all seems so ancient, as if from a National Geo episode where they computer animate prehistoric reptiles.

Will I ever become disenchanted with all things tropical? Not when they look like this.

We go for walks in the mornings to avoid direct heat, and to get pictures like this one.

Another amazing example of why this landscape feels old to me.

 Nancy loves to see how many times Kaio will swim back and forth chasing rocks before he realizes that rocks sink.  (Answer: a very long time.)

 

Lying Low (a semi-boring blog entry incited by a HURRICANE)

Last night I made a rice and chickpea salad with veggies and lots of lime and sea salt (my few seasonings here, as I haven't learned words for spices yet) as the sky outside my kitchen window darkened. In the back of my head, I couldn't help but think about this being a perfect meal if Hurricane Beatriz hit as predicted and the power went out for days, because it is cooked, would be fine unfrigerated, and ended up rather huge. The cold (by La Manz standards, which I have happily adapted to) wind blew right through my screened windows and I wondered when the flash-flood rains would join it.

Though I slept lightly, listening for the drizzle to pick up and the thunder to crack, the hurricane never touched us, leaving only the rain (which is the weird mist that usually annoys Portland) and an accompanying overcast. Beatriz did fizzle into a pretty mighty tropical storm down the coast in ManzanillO, which caught the eye of The Guardian.

Truthfully, the lasting rain fall slows down our days in a pleasant way and comforts me. The three Portlanders in my language classes feel the same way. It helps, too, that this week is less packed than normal, because Stephanie and I planned all of our lessons over the weekend, and some visiting teachers wanted to teach our after school class. School here is rounding up for the summer, and we've begun to plan the summer camp (three weeks of fun in July). It feels strange to be able to map out the rest of my time here, but also gives it some productive momentum.

Speaking of which, I just wrote the first blog entry for La Catalina's "Summer Intern Blog," which should go live soon. It will be a lot like this blog, but more project and learning centered (aka, this entry would not be included). I think it should help the foundation recruit new interns, as well as supporters who are attracted by more personal narratives of the foundation's work in La Manzanilla. Actually, this is a perfect time to link you to our website, in case you don't already know what exactly I am doing down here: http://www.lacatalinafoundation.com/.

Sleepy rain makes me appreciate the effects of coffee on numbing my instinct to hibernate, and also the fact that most Mexican people would translate "lazy" into "tranquilo." Amen.

Happy Father's Day!

The picture says it all (well, far from all, because there is MUCH to say about my Dad). In the spirit of celebrating my papa, Dave, who has taught me innumerable things in innumerable life categories, here are ten things* I have learned over the past few days:

1. Traveling, and especially moving to a new place for a given number of months, seems to require a new personal conception of time, that one must find, parse out and adapt to (without too much thought or that would defeat it's purpose).



Slimy Nopales with rice is actually delish.

2. The big bags of green veggies in the teinda fridges that I always thought were green bell peppers are actually nopales, or cactus fruit. They are the slimiest vegetable I've ever eaten. Last night Stephanie and I stirfried them over rice. The flavor is great and really want to like them but slime is slime... I think I'll try making a raw nopales salad, and then we'll see.
3. The noises here are unlike those of any place I've been. They are not city noises, though they include loud music, laughter, yelling, and bright lights in the Jardín past midnight, because they also include church bells and early morning hymns, gas trucks song-horns and tropical bird twitters. 
4. At night these noises really comfort me, reminding me that people are awake and playing.
5. I cannot kill large bugs (ie. cockroaches and scorpions) because I am afraid of the "crunch."
6. I actually enjoy watching a cockroach move, exploring the space of my bathroom with antennas that are as long as its body. But, when I decide all of its interest would be better served outside, and try to catch it with my tooth-brushing cup, it skitters around, I jump up on my blue bathtub, and it flips over. Watching a cockroach on its back is much less fun. I flip it over with Lydia Davis's The Cows, which is fitting to the situation, and let it retreat to the dark, cool space behind my toilet.
7. You can put dry oats in smoothies. 
8. You can fry up jicama just like hashbrowned potatoes.
9. My mama got a promotion! Now we will both be in positions where we have to tell people what to do, which we are both normally hesitant of, but will raise to the occasion and be very happy. Congratulations Mama, you are so great! 
10. Masapan (those double-silver-dollar sized crumbly peanut butter candies that you kind of have to lick off the wrapper) are even better when in tiny, quarter-sized form. Especially when found in a box of about 200, as a gift from a friend (Nancy, you are great), and with a serving size of 5.

* Though I started writing this list in my journal naturally, I think it was probably inspired by the well written and entertaining lists of my good friend Maya, on her new [reborn] blog, Escape from Limbo. Thanks M!

A reminder that my dad, Dave T, is awesome. But who needs a reminder?

Comfort (+ Zumba, chismes, and impromtu art class)

I can tell I am getting more comfortable in this place and in my home because I am thoroughly enjoying the downtime I have had toward the end of this week. Yesterday I had three beautiful blocks of free time:

• The first, right after I woke up, I spent moving my hips in whacked out ways as I sweated away a Zumba class and remembered how much I like dancing to Latin pop music. How could I forget?

• The second was after my Spanish school, in the sleepiest part of the afternoon. With the mission of buying an avocado for lunch Stephanie and I ended up spending almost two hours with the teenager and the little girl who work at "Lidia's" tienda (grocery shop). Stephanie and Nancy spend a lot of time here making up chismes (gossip) about people, mostly each other, with Litzia, the older girl. She's hilarious, but even funnier was the little girl, who must have just gotten out of school and was incredibly hyper. She kept pulling herself up onto the counter and laying back and laughing so loud and making animal noises whenever we tried to talk. It made the low season even more obvious to me because the whole time we were there no customers came in. Though this may have had more to do with the squealing little girl on the countertop. Luckily, the longer Stephanie and I hung around, the more we bought... First a little bag of lime chips. Then one chocolate covered marshmallow each. Then I bought a mango, for later, and finally a single pen. Stephanie bought a blingalicious white ring with rhinestones and a flower on top that spins when you blow on it. Despite my description of this episode, I spend a surprisingly tiny amount of money here.

• The third seemed to begin when I walked down to the Centro Educatif for the drop-in art class at four. The teacher didn't show, so I took a kid's bike and ran back to the house to get Stephanie's key so they could at least make something in the hour. Sometimes my Spanish flows better than others, but trying to run an impromtu art class for 12 energized kids killed it altogether. So, I let them use all of our supplies to draw/paint/glitter glue whatever the hell they wanted, under the guise of father's day cards. And I taught them to make continuous chains of paper dolls, which I thought was cooler than they did. This wasn't downtime, but it felt like it, and I think it was because I felt, for the first time, alone and comfortable in my own head. After class, I went swimming for a bit, and read on the beach for a long time. It has been very breezy lately, but the water was warm. And it's probably not the best idea to read The Time-Traveler's Wife, a book about separation and deep longing, when you are thousands of miles away from your lover and everything you know well, but it is entertaining and interesting enough to get into my head in a way that I need.
  

So, my Friday (and my Thursday), has felt appropriately relaxing. Though, after yesterday, observing more than talking in the tienda, and trying but failing to productively direct my art class, I was frustrated with my Spanish. But, along came encouragement, this afternoon, when I had David over for our first intercambio, or language exchange. From the start, he said "I really want to be a good teacher for you," and I said "Yo tambien," followed by whatever he said in Spanish. We talked comfortably, with a lot of laughing and butchered repetitions of each other's corrections. He was less into practicing his English than in helping me with my Spanish, but I think he will become less shy with it next time. It made me realize I can actually hold a conversation in Spanish, and after he left I was aglow with this realization (and also with how much fun our learning/teaching/talking was. David seems like a solidly good and giving person).