You say goodbye and I say hello

Monday, October 13. Maggie's birthday. Of course, it needed to be celebrated in style. While she didn't surf on the actual day, she had attended her first two classes on the prior days at the coast. We returned to Granada where we discovered the true ultimate birthday present. A gym. With yoga. Maggie attended a class, and I elevated my heart rate beyond the rate it usually achieves during my typical daily exercise of gently swaying in the hammock. It was intense.

From Granada, we journeyed to Ometepe, a magical island in Lake Nicaragua. Life is very slow on the island. We were promised that people rode bulls instead of horses. This was a lie. They rode horses, holding onto their bulls by leashes. They also said Adios when you saw someone in the road, rather than hola or buenas. Which seemed rude. Another cultural note about Nicaragua. We frequently had the following conversation with 18 year old girls. I am not exaggerating that they are 18. We asked.
Nica: Hi. How old are you?
Me: 22.
Nica: Do you have children?
Me: Uh, no.
Me: Silence.
Me: Do you have children?
Nica: Yes of course! I only have one. She is three.

On Ometepe we met up with one of Maggie's Seattle acquaintances, who is working in the small town of Altagracia for a year via the association of sister islands, an organization that connects the islands of Ometepe and Bainbridge. While I have heard of sister cities before, I believe that the extent of the association is that each town paints the name of the other town on their welcome sign. Instead, this association is legitimate, sustainable and so cool! There are numerous ways that the two communities connect. Bainbridge sends down high schoolers on spring break to live in homestays, practice their spanish and do service projects. The Bainbridge school system does fundraisers throughout the year to send school supplies and other necessities down to the community. English language teachers from Altagracia spend a few weeks in Washington state, brushing up on their tenses and pronunciation. Bainbridge hires one volunteer to work side by side with a community organizer to put fundraising projects to effective use in town. Bainbridge only buys coffee from an organic co-op called Finca Magdalena at better than fair trade prices, adding an economic benefit to the association. The extra profit goes into funding social projects around the island. Here is an article about the connection: http://community.seattletimes.nwsource.com/archive/?date=20040921&slug=econcoffee21. Maggie's friend, who is also named Maggie, told us of how the local community was so grateful for the presence of this NGO and were unsure of where to direct their gratitude, aiming in the meantime, at her. People keep showing up at her door, hopping off their bikes with a squawking parcel in hand- Here is a rooster for you. Thank you.

Inspired by Maggie and Let's Go, we headed to the coffee farm, which had delicious coffee and gorgeous views, until the unstoppable rain set in. When we finally returned to civilization, we saw a clip on CNN titled Nicaragua: Under Water, about the hurricane striking our area. It all made sense. You know that it is a bad sign when the locals a) stand outside their door and cheer for the bus to make it and b) whip out their cell phones to take pictures of the road conditions.

We are now in Costa Rica, which is very different. After we waited for approximately five hours to cross the boarder, at least two additional boarder patrol police officers boarded our bus full of Nicaraguan workers. Both asked to see our papers, as I clearly am an illegal Nicaraguan trying to steal the jobs of the Ticos. Public transportation here is lacking. We are used to bus assistants pulling you onto a bus heading indirectly, but eventually to any location you desire. They just want another body on the bus. Here, you have to work hard to get on a bus. Most of our rooms in Nicaragua cost between $4 to $5 per night. Here, it is $14. What is this? Dubai? We spent our first night in a hostel that contained both cockroaches and whores, so we promptly left for the more magical land of Monteverde. Again, you know that it is a bad sign when the road posting says that you are 40 kms from your location, and the book notes that it takes three hours. Both statements are in fact true. The ride was so rough that we took three different buses (all driven by the same driver), and I broke my seat from bouncing up and down too hard. The locals were all making fun of me for being a fatty. Since successfully arriving, we have very much been enjoying the cloud forest, with its remarkable biodiversity, quakers and cheese factory. It's a winning combination.

On hearing

Since leaving the land of the scuba divers, Maggie and I have happily found ourselves reemerged in Latin American culture, and the Spanish language. For several days, it was impossible to find anyone to speak with us. English, Hebrew and French dominated our boat rides on the island of Utila. Fearing that we would lose our ability to conjugate correctly, we wandered to the most out of the way language school we could find in Nicaragua- at the biological station on the shores of the Lago de Apoyo. The woman working at the station seemed to be startled when we arrived. How did you find us? She ended up being my very interesting teacher, with many stories of the poor morals found in Nicaraguan men. Maggie´s teacher is indescribable. He had bug eyes, strong convictions and wildly flailing arms.

The lago was gorgeous, but very damp. There was mold covering the pages of my book, and the insides of my ears. Again, I feel that I have attained a certain level of competency, as I navigated my way through an interview with a doctor who spoke without s´s, (the lovely Nicaraguan accent that is incomprehensible) in spite of my inability to hear much at all. Over the week, I have become far more sympathetic towards my grandparents, as I was forced to read the lips of my teacher and attempt to decipher her words.

My hearing has steadily improved, and one day as I was walking down to the lake, one of my ears opened up. It was miraculous! I turned, as it sounded like an enormous waterfall was gushing directly behind me, but it was only my water bottle sloshing in my bag. I thought the lake was a very quiet place, but on the final day discovered it was not. The decibel level of the Howler Monkeys, frogs, and rain was insane, and Maggie had to convince me that they really had been present all week long. The station was a great spot, with impressive diversity. They even had a pet wild boar, who thought it was a dog. My teacher would pet the creature, and it would turn over and thump its foot. My room also contained a variety of creatures. The first night, I was accompanied by a lizard, who promised to stick to the wall. The next, it was a spider in my bed, who returned to his spot out of sight. However, on the third night, a scorpion sat on the wall just above my bed. I called in another guest who had just returned from Peace Corp in Kenya and promised to be a proficient scorpion killer. He was, and I moved into Maggie´s room.

From the lago, we traveled to the liberal University town of Leon. It´s wonderful! It has been the first city we have encountered that seems to truly care about art. Poets are the heroes of this town- even the streets are named after them. The city is also conveniently located next to several volcanoes. We hiked up one, Cerro Negro, which is famous for its volcano boarding. The two of us narrowly missed starring in a French TV documentary about this activity. One of our friends from the language school at Apoyo was assigned to film, but his camera ceased functioning, again due to the incredibly humid conditions at the lago. Without the pressure of the camera, we simply ran down the face of the fuming volcano, rather than riding a plank of wood. I think that we made the correct choice. Leon is also very close to the Pacific Ocean, so we have spent the last few days involved in the following activities: swimming, hammocking and drinking milkshakes. My life is so hard.