Old Story, New Blog

So I must have this fascination with musicals or something because I’m always singing, I love almost every musical I’ve seen and one day I’d love to have someone follow me around with a guitar and play background music to everything I do…how sweet would that be. Anyway, I’ve had this new obsession with my trips into and out of San José. Every time I’m on the bus I imagine everyone (you know, the tired, serious pissed-off looking people) suddenly smiling and breaking out into song…like High School Musical, except on a bus…in Spanish. *Like a blizzard, only different.* So get this. After I expressed this ridiculous desire to my friend Amanda, IT HAPPENED, almost. She was riding the bus one morning and a drunk, crazy or possessed man stood up in the front of the bus and started singing at the top of his lungs! FOR TIPS!! How great is that. Too bad I wasn’t there because I would have peed my pants laughing, not to mention that he would have gotten and extra tip from me. Wow. What a life. God can use the most odd situations to bring a smile to my face. Thanks.

It’s always really hard to leave a place that you love…but I guess that’s the same with anything you love—it should be hard to leave, let go of, or lose. That’s how I feel about Nicaragua. The first time I went there, there wasn’t much I loved about it—but this time it captured my heart. My family was incredible, than they were beautifully sincere and intentional people. They really did take me in like a daughter, sister and even aunt…which I loved of course. I saw a genuine side of Latin American culture and people that haven’t quite seen in Costa Rica…not to mention the change in the ‘time concept’ which took full course where I’ve stayed. God totally blessed my time there and I hope to return one day.

Since I’ve been back I’ve learned more about my family than when I left. But since I’ve given up complaining for Lent (I know stupid…but it’s really changed my attitude), I don’t want to write what I’ve noticed with the small chance that my honesty will be mistaken for complaining. ~Perhaps a snake mistook it for an egg and ate it.~ (side note/inside joke, sorry). Back to the point…I’m still learning.

Funny story: In Nicaragua we stayed at a convention center for a couple of days. Well, on the first night when we went out to eat something happened with the water and 4 of our rooms were flooded…I’m talking like almost 2 inches of water in every room. Instead of crying about out wet things and adding more water to the swamp…we turned the tragedy into a slip n’ slide, with a intermission to make ‘water angels’ in memory of out Midwest weather situation. Most people thought what we did was gross and that we were stupid. Lesson 1: Being ‘cool’ is SO LAME!! Lesson 2: I’m still a kid at heart. Lesson 3: God so rocks all the time…because a flooded room is just what I needed!!

Other things:
-Praise God for my friend Amanda who has just been AMAZING!!! I love her.
-My body broke out in some crazy red rash…hope it’s not Dangay.
-Went to Honduras!! Woo Hoo. It rained a whole lot.
-You can make like 32 kinds of food (breakfast, lunch, supper, desert and drinks) from corn. No joke.
-I was told that the first corn in Iowa was grown underground by cavemen from someone in Nicaragua. Let me know if this is true.
-Nicaraguan history is was more interesting than US history.
-Learned how to box…a dream come true.
-Made nacatomales….FROM CORN!!! No way.

Randomness

Things I’m still getting used to:

PDA—couples will randomly make out on the bus…along with hands all over each other

Some places just smell REALLY bad.

I saw a dead rat in the run-off ditch by the road. (I hate rats, but better dead than alive)

Not making eye contact with people.

Speaking Spanish in the morning

Potholes


Things I’m finally okay with:

Throwing away my toilet paper

Fresh fruit juice—everyday!

Taking public busses

Blaring sun and drizzling rain, at the same time

Comfort

I went to the beach again. It was splendid. But I recently realized that the places themselves aren’t what make the experience great. As cliché as it sounds, its really how God shows Himself. Maybe a better way to say it is that I ‘get life’. It’s like everyday of my life I get caught up in me, and all the junk that fills my time—disguised as homework and my ‘to do’ list. But on vacation I see life…real life. Like seeing a blowfish. Listening to friends laugh. Watching a sunset and moonrise. And reading a chapter of a book—one that feels like a biography. There’s just something about getting away that makes me feel so much more like…like I’m where I need to be.
I think that’s how God feels about comfort; whether that’s in routine, money, tradition, beliefs or whatever. Its hard to leave it because its just ‘what you do’. But if you can find the time to pull away, you somehow get a glimpse of ‘completeness’ that the comfort just doesn’t have. Knowing this should make leaving comfort a bit easier…yet it doesn’t. I guess we just have to force ourselves to get away, even if it does cost a lot (like a trip to the beach). But feeling a bit more complete…now THAT, wow—how do you put that in words.

The Pick Up

It seems like I’m been on a roller coaster emotions, thoughts, businesses and more lately. Maybe it’s just because I’m a girl (the whole estrogen thing) but I’m guessing that’s not it. Mostly I’m just struggling with knowing where God wants to take me and how He wants me to look at and appreciate the whole around me. Its hard, I must admit. I miss the conveniences of my life in the States and often wish I didn’t have to ‘deal’ with things like busses and exchanging money and putting on my ‘don’t mess with me, even though I’m a white female’ face.

But I have to remember this: frustration is good. Finding comfort and satisfaction in frustration isn’t.


Last weekend I went to the beach and it was just what I needed. I saw monkeys and crabs. I made a sand igloo to remember how much I miss home…or not J I played soccer on the beach and I danced the night away to Calypso. I went to a banana plantation and saw, well duh, bananas. I talked and laughed and journaled and laughed some more.

Funny things:

A 40 year old guy tried to pick me up on the bus the other night. I thought he was going to follow me home. Amazing how I seem to get myself in odd situations like that. The offer was tempting being that he was old(er), not so attractive, living with his parents and ‘drank away his sorrows’ on the weekend. But he said he wanted to buy a Harley so that was a plus.

My friend with little feet fell in a TINY water filled whole why walking on the sidewalk. For once I was glad I have slightly larger feet.

I wasn’t a minority today. I went to a coffee shop and a TON of white people came in. It was odd. Heather and I started talking in Spanish and I think deep down it was because I didn’t want them to understand. Heartless…just heartless.

A glimse...something more profound.

It’s easy to believe things are true or false…blank and white. The things we’ve been told or taught from the time we were kids have just always been ‘truth’—no questions asked, or at least no questions that were challenging enough to make a difference. But now I’m faced with information that contradicts what I’ve always thought was true—things about the government, interpreting scripture and my North American lens through which I view everything. And I’m stuck. I’ve come to realize that the gray area between the black and white is much larger than I thought. The hard part is being okay with the gray area, yet not being okay with staying there.

I clearly look at life through a white, North American, female, protestant Christian, middle class lens. But what does that mean? When I see the tin, stained with graffiti that lines the side of houses, or when I dread holding the grimy handrail while I’m packed in like cattle on the bus, what do others see—think—feel. How does the indigenous, Latino American, Catholic, lower-class male view life through his lens? And will I ever get a glimpse?

Bus, dancing and indecent exposure

So finding landmarks for my bus stops was a brilliant idea. But when you only find landmarks when you’re sitting down and on the right side of the bus, its hard to find your stop when…for example, you have to stand the whole ride and the windows are fogged over and wet because of the rain. Yes, that was my first experience on the bus by myself.

I came here hoping to learn how to dance and what not, because that Latinas can pretty much tear up the dance floor like none other. Being that I hadn’t been to dance class and I had no idea about the Merengue…I was pretty much scared to death when I found out that my little sister was going to have around 40 thirteen year-olds at her birthday party…all dancing. After thinking about this for a while I figured…I’m the 22 year-old gringa, I’m not going to fit in no matter what I do. So I had two options: 1. Dance and be that sweet gringa with the best dance skills ever, or 2. Look ridiculous because I can’t dance. Either way, it didn’t matter. So I challenged the ‘wanna-be thug’ to a dance off. Needless to say, despite the break dance moves and the Eminem attitude….the ‘worm’ still takes them all. And that’s what I did; brushed off my shoulders and did the ‘worm’ and definitely impressed all the guys.

Funny Things:

The man in the park who makes funny faces *(I’m not laughing because he’s homeless, only because he makes really funny faces to get money)

Spanish voice-overs on Nick Jr. The kids all sounds like they’re 35.

The Tico on the bus jamming out to Vanilla Ice

My friend Laura who dances like Elaine from Seinfeld…only worse

How all the women have matching shoes, clothes and jewelry (to the T) but then have bright pink ‘Hello Kitty’ bags or something like that, that totally don’t match.

My Tica friend, when slightly boracha, speaks better English than when sober.

**(This really isn’t that funny, just odd) Indecent exposure really isn’t looked down upon. I went to a big festival and well lets just say that the men’s line to the bathroom was non-exist. A wall, bushes or the back of a bus were sufficient.