Take a Ride With me to Funkytown

Go to this Website http://s860.photobucket.com/home/anderlitej for more pictures!

Friday night was filled with birthday love and Jesus Love. My grandmother here turned 59 years old, relatively young really. This happened to coincide with her weekly cult meeting. That’s right I said cult meeting because that’s what they call it. Although the connotation with the word cult is generally not the same here, I associate it as if I would the word cult in the United States. They sing and chant and pray in the name of Jesus Christo! Well I was a little uncomfortable by the situation but not too much since most of my life here is uncomfortable so I am pretty used to it. It was fun and we ate delicious cake to end the festivities.

Praying season





Speaking of cake, look out! I had my meeting with the women’s group all day Saturday. They split up in to two groups in two rooms in different buildings across the street from each other. The first group was the reposteria group, or the group that makes deserts and baked goods. The second group makes artesenias. I walked back and forth at the beginning of their sessions which consisted of formal class work pertaining to starting and maintaining successful businesses. Needless to say I spent the majority of the day with the reposteria group so I could reap the rewards of their hard work. I received a piece of cake bigger than my head. I ate it all too! They were very nice and at the end of the “school year” in November, they will receive a diploma for the completion of the equivalent of 6th grade. Earlier I ran into Samuel the president of the Microfinance bank that sponsors this program. He told me that he talked to the board of directors and they gave me clearance to officially be able to give consultations to their clients. I thought that was pretty cool!

The ladies hard at work



At roughly 6am on Sunday morning I woke up, a little tired but relatively in good spirits for it being a Sunday morning and all. I refrained from going out that Saturday night so I could be in tip top shape for the upcoming softball games. I was taking it seriously, like I thought all my teammates were. I arrive at the designated meeting place, (a bar next to the bancentro) at 8:15 am, 15 minutes later than I should have. We waited and talked for not longer than 7 minutes before our catcher opens his bag to pull out Nicaragua’s finest clear rum. The team, minus me, proceeded to take a few pulls off the bottle, you know for the pain and what not. I kept hearing in background conversations that some big truck is going to pick us up. Sure, I can dig that, the field we were going to play at is a 20 Córdoba ride away, so I was stoked.

I was way more stoked however when to my pleasant surprise, an enormous cow transport truck pulled up. This is a big wood cage strapped on to a huge truck, not quite a semi, but its no pick up. There were only 2 available seats which meant only one thing. Hop on! Meanwhile we have been receiving non-stop rain since I woke up. While riding to the field, my 6 teammates and I on top of the truck are dodging cable lines, branches and banners, all while navigating blindly through the fierce pellets of rain. 10 minutes down the road we decide to slide through the wood slats to the cargo area, shit covered floors and all. Here the fellas continue their pain reducing medication treatment, doctor ordered of course.

This is one of those moments where I laugh inside and say, this is why I’m in the Peace Corps. Look at these F#c%ing guys I met and what we’re doing right now.

Absolutely hilarious!





We lost our first game in the last inning. We decided we all deserved a beer while waiting for our second game; so that’s exactly what we did. The second game went to extra innings where we decisively blew it for the second straight time. After the game I was recruited to play for a team that was advancing to the playoffs. Due to my swollen quad, my gimp foot, and my useless shoulder, I am going to have to pass and wait for summer league.






The ride chronicles continue as we fit 12 people standing in the back of a pickup truck on the way home. Again I had a huge smile on my face in the midst of my uncomfortable riding position.



Alabama won. Way to lose the Ohio St.
Tomorrow I will take a Panga to one of two aptly named ports in Bluefield’s: port Bloodington or port Garbage pile. Bloodington is named after the murder that took place while we were there a few months ago, and the other one shouts Garbage Pile when you get off your Panga, both the people and the actual trash. We have a security conference there, go figure, in the most dangerous place.

Here are five fun facts of the day!

1) In el Rama there are sword fights! I don’t know how many there are a year but with the amount of drunk people walking around with machetes it’s a guarantee that they occur!

2) No matter how full any form of transportation is here, there is always “room for three more.”

3) The quickest and cheapest way to get high in Nicaragua is to follow the smoke! I mean to say that every one burns their trash and plastic so you have that option or you can follow the fumigation guys that walk around and bombard your house with potent chemicals to kill bugs that will undoubtedly return before 24 hours has passed.

4) The gringo will never know how to cook. My friends and I have realized that if we cook and don’t soak whatever it is we are cooking in oil, we must not know what the hell we are doing.

5) I spell better in Spanish than many people here! This is outrageous considering I don’t even speak the language well nor can I remotely spell words in my mother tongue properly.

Adios!

How El Rama Obtaines its Rocks: The Story of Bad Ass Rock Crushers.

It’s around 10:30am on a lovely and breezy Wednesday morning. After a comfortable and leisurely stroll I arrive to my intended destination. Just when I peak my head draped with long, flowing, golden locks of love into my favorite Cyber, I realize that the Power had gone out. ¨Damnit¨ I screamed in my head, ¨now what am I going to do until 11:30¨ at which time I am supposed to meet my Dutch friend Patrick to see his NGO in action.

Just when I step out from the drearily dark computer room I hear a ¨aye Jeff what’s going on.¨ Well alright, its Patrick. He was downtown buying some printer ink. He asked if I’d like to just come on by right then. Absolutely, I didn’t have anything else to do except slowly get my t-shirt more wet from sweat. We hiked up the famous hill a bit to reach his haven for children. He came to Nicaragua a number of years ago traveling, met his wife, and realized after seeing such poverty that he wanted to give back. He admirably didn’t want to give his 10 dollars, or Euros or whatever, and call it a day, so in his words he ¨got off his ass¨ and did something about it.

He started an NGO from Holland with a few friends. He has 7 employees here that help out in various functions from cooking, cleaning to teaching. He built a nice new building on the side of the big hill with gorgeous sweeping views of lower El Rama. In this building he helps 65 children in 2 shifts (morning and afternoon) in a variety of ways. He gives lessons, advice, playtime, toothbrushes, but most notably, food.

Since we arrived early before the food was ready, because I was going to dominate some food of his, we went on a tour of his property that encompasses a large portion of the surrounding hill side. After this he asks me if I have seen where they ¨break rocks¨ to which I replied ¨nope.¨

We walked along the hill to a part of town that was completely new to me. Let’s remember folks that this is the hill I have climbed 2 times before with my family, and with my friend Jessa, yet I had never been to this side of the hill. The side we climbed is a relatively gradual grade, making it accessible to hikers. The other side, which is visible from the entering highway and much of the town, is a sheer faced rock wall. We enter a poor, even by El Rama standards community led by one of the students from Patrick´s eatery where we delicately navigated rocks and ferns before emerging into Rock City.

Upon entering this other world I feel slightly overwhelmed by the stark difference from the rest of the town. From town the rock face is visible, but banana trees and other tropical vegetation mask the base of the hill. On this base lies a community of people that have set up meager little shelters for working. It consists of 4 poles and a piece of plastic overhead to protect from rain. Under their own canopy people sit down with a mallet, a small 8 inch diameter tire(where they put the bigger rocks to keep them from flying all over the place) and pound away. They collect fallen rocks that have been blown from the hill with dynamite and crush rocks by hand to produce small enough, and of high enough quality rocks, (because some of the rock is not sufficient) that will be used for concrete and other building applications. They can make about 1.5 cubic yards a week which they can sell for about 600 Cordoba’s, or 30 dollars. Nobody dares interfere with each other’s rocks and everyone respects each other’s space.

I talked with a lady who had been doing this for some years; she was the mother of the little girl who brought Patrick and me there. She said the government was going to bring in a machine to crush rocks. What a conundrum. I love efficiency, but these people will be out of work. The conditions are harsh but uneducated Nicaraguans have little to no chance of finding other work around here. The Government says it will let these people run the machine but let’s be honest; there will be little need for that many people to run a machine. I am thinking of making a machine for them if the big machine doesn’t fall through. I have some simple easy ideas for a gravity and pulley machine that could crush rocks with ease. At least the kids are no longer working there like they had been 3 years previously. Now they get to enjoy Patrick’s hard work at the school, daycare, eatery, fun palace.

What a crazy place, this rock city!

Adios

Pain Is Temporary, My Phenomenal Performance Will Be Etched Into Their Cerebral Cortex Forever!

We have no rain! usually on this side of the country during October we are inundated with water almost constantly. The west coast on the other hand is far less effected by torrential downpours. Well not this year my friends. I have been luck enough, or unlucky enough to not have rain engulfing my town. I don't like rain, but here with the sweltering heat, it brings a nice refreshing feel to the air. The west coast has had flooding for what seams like months now, taking out road, services, cultivating weird diseases, and generally making problems much more daunting for people who really don't need any more obstacles in their way. So today is hot, no rain.

last week was normal. Round 3 of the softball diaries is still having profound effects on the city of El Rama and the person of El Jeff. After missing last weekends game due to my trip to Kukra Hill, my team was in dire need of winning these 2 games in order to qualify for the next weeks games. Apparently without me they crumbled. Well look out, because I was 7 of 8 with 2 home runs, 0 errors and 3 diving catches. needless to say after such an all star performance, we won both games soundly. I am more physically in pain from these 2 games then i ever was after a football game. I am fully scraped on my arm and side from one diving catch. On another catch over my head I stepped on one of the million rocks the comb our majestic fields which has either bruised a small bone in my food, or given me a stress fracture. I bruised my heal of my other foot on an unknown rock just a few plays later. My right quadriceps is strained from my first home run, I really should stretch first. Then to top it off I cant move my right shoulder that i re-injured after anther outstanding diving catch over the 3rd base line. Oh well, my game will be talked about for months here in little El Rama. haha, but in all seriousness, I am hurting bad, I hope my shoulder isn´t to bad, but if I cant move it in a few days, Ill get a free trip to Managadad!

This week should be a busy work filled adventure as it always is. I was stood up today by doña Blancita, the tortilla lady that I'm supposed to consult. I took a taxi 20 min away to meet her at the time she specified only for her to not be there. Pretty typical Nica style though really. Ohh well.

ALABAMA NEEDS TO GET ITS HEAD OUT OF ITS ASS! That being said, if we win out and don't make it to the national championship game because of Boise state I will be livid!

Adios

Are you going to blow that up with your face!?

There are many things that set the Peace Corps experience apart from other international experiences; the most notable of which is the 27 month commitment. When one is faced with such a great and overwhelming decision, all subsequent feelings and experiences are thereby compared to the time that is left in ones service. My colleagues, friends really, and I have had numerous discussions relating to our various situations before entering the Peace Corps. We came from particular and equally fantastic backgrounds and places. I have had the great fortune of meeting some individuals that I can at this moment say will be my dear friends for many years to come; and all this after only about 5 months. This brings me to how I feel during the average day.

We as volunteers have incredibly different experiences even within the same country. We are in different sectors, teaching and working with different people on different subject matter. We live in different communities, with different living conditions and with a varying group of local friends. Every day I wake up here in my “Propio Rama,” with the mindset that I’m going to be happy and do the best I can. I think for the most part I have a good work ethic. I rarely wake up on the wrong side of the bed, as my friends can attest; I usually send a friendly and predictably ridiculous message at the ass crack of dawn just to see what they are thinking at 5:30 in the morning. So what am I talking about?

Well trials and tribulations that we go through can easily break people. I think there is only around a 50-60% rate of full service completion within our country. This means that of all the talented, adventurous, silly, nerdy, athletic, and generally phenomenal pool of people that enter into this commitment only around 50% finish their 27 months to their close of service. All these daily troubles that one faces take tolls on the volunteers. I for one have faced many instances that I know would have sent most of my friends back home packing a long time ago, No offence friends! I have a long time to go before my close of service, but I wanted this long intro to tell you that I’m as happy as ever, and as long as they don’t kick me out, I will be here the full service.

I’m starting to really love it here. For instance, I went to my Wapí school today, only to find out that there was no school. The ruta was overcrowded and I had to sit on top of this huge truck. Really it was one of the best rides of my life. Well best 2 rides since I chose to ride on the top of this ruta on the ride home even though I could have squeezed in. The only downside to this fully wasted day of travel was that at the end, I came away looking like a tomato! So here goes the legacy of the every evolving farmer tan! This would have infuriated me a while ago, but now im just hanging out, smiling at stupid shit that I encounter at all moments. I also went to some farmer down the road and asked if I could take some fresh cow shit for my worms to eat, this was after asking a carpenter to give me free wood so I could build a sifter to make my huerto dirt better. I mean seriously I would have nothing to do with such instances in the states. These situations make me smile, and I love almost all of them.

This last weekend I went to visit my good friend Jessamine in here community of Kukra Hill. I traveled 5 hours in a bus on a dirt road to see what she was doing and what life was like on the coast where a mix of Spanish, black Creole, and natives live in a muddled up, culturally confusing community. People speak English, Spanish and moskito, or a jumbled version of the three. Walking down the streets, this girl is as famous as anyone could be in 2 months. The white and I mean white, blond hair blue eye girl sticks out like a sore thumb, but has the respect of so many people. She does not hesitate to walk up to anyone to say “hi, what are you doing?” She is on a Caribbean booty shake dance team that will participate in a parade, the softball team, aerobics class. She has a craft class and a group of free laborers that make a huerto in the local high school. This has motivated me even more to dominate in my town. I have in the last 2 days since getting back, been on a rampage meeting and talking with people to be an Icon in my city.

While in the hill, we made outrageously delicious homemade chunky peanut butter. This will not be the last time this tasty treat will be made, guaranteed! We ate Pineapple and drank a piñacolada with fresh pineapple and a coconut we cut up from her back yard. I received some advice for my huerto along with some worms to start a worm reproducing/shit converting to perfect dirt factory. I also am the proud recipient of some onion, watermelon, and tomato, chiltoma, and cucumber seeds; let’s hope I can produce some goodness. On Saturday we went swimming in a little watering hole! Overall the company, fun activities and food made this a great trip. On the way back, I was supposed to leave at three on Sunday afternoon, but the bus driver decided he wanted to leave at 2:00 so I had to stay an extra night, but all was copasetic.

On Monday, during my rampage I met with the guy at the microfinance institute to expand my contacts and find meaningful work. It was a success. On Sunday I am going to observe a women’s group that makes arts and crafts as well as food products to someday sell. Since this is set up through the microfinance institute when they get their acts together and have good ideas, they will be able to relatively easily obtain funding. My job for this will be to further their opportunities and develop their ideas regarding their ideas for income generation. I will for sure bring up my peanut butter as an incredible way to make some cash, hell they already have one huge customer. My work will go beyond that. I will also be advising the clients that receive loans from Samuel, the boss. I will be his “Time.” I start slowly with just a tortilla maker this week, but this is just the beginning. I plan on working with the bigger fish as I gain some experience and my Spanish improves.

During football season, I will conclude all my blogs with a little blurp on the beautiful Alabama Crimson Tide. We absolutely annihilated Florida this past weekend 31-6 I believe, for those of you that have been living under a rock. I was not able to watch the game, but Jessa has espn somehow so I got to see Oregon comeback and smash Stanford. Good work Ryan, Jesse and all my other friends that graduated from there. Oregon and Bama in the championship sounds good. I would like to beat a team that has some connection to someone I Know.

My Spanish is improving daily, but I still need to either shoot up ginko baloba or something to get my memory better, because I can’t remember words unless I say them over 50 times. It’s garbage really. Bing bong.

I love hearing from all of you, via email, Anderlitej@gmail.com, facebook, or messages on my blog. I don’t write messages back as often as I should, but don’t let that deter you from writing me because I truly love hearing about what is going on over there in the Land of opportunity. I will try to take more pictures and put them up soon. Take care, love you all!

How the Farmer Tan Came to Fruition

An interception saved my sanity! I was at the internet café drinking a rum and coke watching the number one ranked University of Alabama play at the number ten ranked Arkansas Razorbacks this last Saturday. We were losing the entire game until our safety Robert Lester saved my sanity. You see, without that spectacular interception with around 3:00 to go in the game to propel Heisman Trophy wining running back, Mark Ingram’s game winning touchdown, I could very well have gone insane. However I am as cool as the bricks on an igloo at this moment after a 24 – 20 come from behind victory.

My Famer tan is a work in progress, however after this Saturday’s softball extravaganza that had me on the cow pasture / softball field for 7 hours, It certainly is on its way to being legendary. Speaking of softball, we played again this weekend. This is how the softball organizational structure is set up here. First after numerous encounters and reconfirmations, my cousin’s boyfriend and I go to the designated 8:00am meeting spot on Sunday at the town park so we can all go together to the Port to play again. We wait for 1 and good healthy chunk of an hour before deciding that everyone must have got smashed the night before and not wanted to play. While we were sitting there a fun little event unfolds right in front of our eyes.

This park that we are waiting at happens to be situated at the feet of the big catholic monstrosity of a church. I say monstrosity because in tranquil little Rama, a church of this grandeur doesn’t belong, however being in Central America, one sees such things frequently. After about 1 hour of waiting at the little fritanga (sell fried food and fresco juices) stand in the park, a deafly loud roar came creeping up from around the church. A procession of what must have been thousands of folks waving flags and following in the chants led by the lady with the microphone walked towards us before entering the church. Then right behind these people was another procession with outrageously loud music coming from stadium sized speakers mounted on top of the 3 wheeled imported from India mototaxies. This procession went around the block to what I’m assuming was their own church. Then came another, and then came another, and so on and so forth. What turned out to be the day of the bible really was a competition between church groups to see who could be louder and more obnoxious? Because Jesus is happier the louder you chant and sing his name, Fact! I thought it was great though really, I love watching these people do their thing!

Anyway, back to softball. We walked to the baseball stadium in the midst of all this madness because we figured we would watch a baseball game if we can’t play our own game of softball. While in the stadium, we encountered a guy claiming that we were going to play the Alcaldia after his game at a completely different field. We agreed to check this claim out especially because the new field was 2 blocks behind my house. We get to this cow pasture, softball diamond gem of a sports facility to see a horde of hombres playing catch getting ready for their game. See ladies and gentleman, each pair of teams plays 2 games during the “first hour” and then another set of teams follows in the “second hour.” We thought we were first hour, but really unsuspectingly to us had been designated second hour. There were 5 of us waiting for an hour before in true Nica-time, the first hour started 2 hours late. This is where the farmers tan really is starting to shape up. After the rotation of kids finishes shoveling cow shit off the entire diamond, the teams commence. These guys finish their two games and luckily we are able to accumulate a substantive team to go against the most formidable opponent in all of the great Rama.

The Alcaldia (Mayors office) scare its foes with blindingly bright White and Red Professional looking uniforms. Stitched numbers and names make them intimidating. They warm up with rocket launchers for arms and sound footwork and ball technique. We had guys taking pulls off the cheapest rum plata and smoking cigs during our warm up! Anyway we start, they think the gringo has game, because I start at short, and leadoff hitter. My first at bat was robbed, I hit a hard grounder up the middle, and while the shortstop made a great play, the ball reached first way after my foot, but alas, the gringo was out. We jump to a 2 to nothing lead in the 3rd inning, I’m up to bat, with 2 outs and men on first and second. The pressure is on at this point for me to come through. I hit a monster of a shot to left center, my ill prepared, tennis shoe covered feet slide along the bases to a stand up triple. Easy home run if not for the snail like rounding of the bases due to lack of traction! By far the furthest hit of either the four games I saw. We won the game in a shocking 5 to 4 clash of softball fanatics.

The second game we started out loosing. We never lost our heads, and with a few genius coaching adjustments and player position changes, we were in position to retake the lead. Once again, after a terrible little pop up, I’m up to bat with 2 outs and men on 1st and second. I deliver in the clutch a solid line drive over the short to drive in a run. We never looked back from there and delivered a crushing 10-5 slaughter over the then highest ranked team. For all of you wondering how my throws were, impeccable, couldn’t have made them any sweeter.

I almost got a triple play as well. With men at first and secont the batter hit a hard grounder up the middle found my glove, and in an instant I tagged the guy at second, hit the bag, and attempted to throw to first. Now at this point after some rain and 0 traction I hit the guy on 2nd, the guy coming from first in what looked like I was playing running back in a football game. That is to say I leveled these two guys, and when I fell over them, I lost the ball. This resulted in only 1 out although it should have been two because I dropped the ball about 3 seconds after touching the bag. “El gringo es muy furioso, super agresivo,” is what I heard from the opposing bleachers. They were just joking, I think.

I walked off the field feeling pretty good about my performance. Even the Alcaldia were telling me that I need to get cleats though. My mother here told me that kid’s walked by and said the gringo was the best batter of the day! I came home and looked in the mirror before entering the shower to see a partially burnt farmer folk. I have begun what could be one of the most awesome farmers’ tans in the history of El Rama. I will keep you guys updated on the status of this development.

Today is Monday, September 27, 2010. I have no school this week due to the TEPCES teacher training that I thought was last week. I will study a lot and work in my garden. I will also frequent the internet and meet that guy at the microfinance institution to see about some jobs that I can help out with.

I hope all is well over on the part of the world where it dips below 78 degrees Fahrenheit during the night!

¡I Must be Famous!

So, i´m walking down the road on Monday, minding my own business, when I stumbled upon that last drum competition. Woo, its over! There were people from various other communities flooding the streets with costumes and odd Nicaraguan facial expressions. The street facing the gymnasium where the competition was held was inundated with tents and venders selling food and arts and crafts and other knick knacks. I’m caught in the middle of all this mess, a little dumbfounded by recently unexpected sensory overload, when a herd of gringos stampedes towards me. The leader of this wild pack was none other than the United States of America´s Ambassador to Nicaragua. We literally almost hit each other due to his rapid pace and my stagnant confused standing position. I hastily did a one two shuffle to get out of his way – walk with him. Ambassador Callahan extended his hand and said ¨you’re a Peace Corps volunteer aren´t you? ¨ We chit chatted for about 30 strides when I was shuffled to the back of the pack by his entourage. The lady next to me was his public relations staff member who promptly struck up a nice conversation. She was friendly and gave me her business card, as well as the rest of her fried plantains. Umm, Delicious! I must be Famous! The ambassador recognizes me and I get free fried treats.
I thought that there was no school this week due to the end of the month TEPCES planning session that all the teachers participate in on the last Friday of every month. Since 3 of my four schools are on Friday I really don´t have class or planning sessions during TEPCES weeks. Well I was misinformed. I have class this week as well as my designated planning sessions. Oops. No biggie, I responded with a quickness to tackle any task that is at hand. I called those counterparts and made moves.
I also had the first of hopefully many meetings with Samuel Mejia Peña. This is the guy who can get me all the prime jobs here. I guess he used to be the mayor of El Rama in the 80´s. His office has 5 rooms with air-conditioning. I hope I can smooth talk my way all the way to a desk with internet.
That’s all for now, the huerto looks superb.

Extracurricular activities

No school for 2 weeks has its benefits and its disadvantages. This last week there was no school for the parades and festivities relating to Independence Day, September 14th. Have I told you funny people about the constant drumming that has been going on right across the street from my house, and according to my colleagues, all around Nicaragua? Well if not, these kids pound on their drums like it’s their favorite sport. It really gets on your nerves after about a month. The point of all this ear harassment is to practice for their competition that was held on Tuesday and Wednesday. Thursday up until about 4pm, I was like, shit yea, I can hear myself think; that was until the pounding commenced and I learned that there was to be another competition held with students from other parts of Nicaragua this Monday. I don’t really mind too much, I have really grown accustomed to this sort of obnoxious behavior, and really with my lack of stereo etiquette in college I really should not have any qualms with an hour or two a of this in the middle of the day.

This is the Drum Competition

As I said last time, I am making some vegetable gardens. This has proved to be very difficult work, especially because of the earth that I am working with. My backyard is a lovely space that is conducive to a nice garden of sorts. The only problem is that after I removed a few trees, their roots started to rear their ugly little tentacles. The mud is saturated with water making it heavy and extremely sticky. This has made it quite a work out for me in this brutal sun. I melt like gummy bears in the microwave! Can you say farmers tan! I wore no shirt the last two times, and luckily was too tired to continue for extended periods of time which almost certainly would have brought on massive burns on my ill equipped gringo skin. I bought almost all the necessary materials for my bocashi compost. These include:
1) .5 % yeast
2) 27% Cow manure
3) .5 % molasses
4) 2 % semolina – feed for animals
5) 2 % ashes from wood
6) 27 % soil
7) 14 % Carbon (I’m using burnt corn husks)
8) 27 % un burnt corn husks

This mixture hopefully will make the soil good enough for my thumb to be super green; although I think I have a natural knack for growing things! This should take 2 more weeks, at which point I will be able to plant my seeds. I still don’t know yet what exactly I’m going to plant, but I think cantaloupe, watermelon, and chili peppers are essential, maybe some pot, just joking, Peace Corps wouldn’t like that.


the begining

Day 1


It was Hot, plus i thought you´d like some eye candy


all cleared

I played soccer 2 times this week across the street from my house at the school. I just joined one day and to my surprise I had a sweet gol. The next day was a different animal. It was muddy and raining; everyone was playing barefoot and sliding around, myself included.

On Saturday my host mother climbed 5 ranks in her police unit for her soon to be completion of nursing school. She skipped 9 years of work by obtaining her degree. You’d think these benefits would be more apparent to the majority of the population of Nicaragua, but education really isn’t looked upon the same way we look at it. At the after party lunch event I met a perfect contact.

My Peace Corps job description dictates that I should take on various other secondary jobs. The recommended jobs include but are not limited to: working with youth groups, tourism, women’s groups, microfinance institutions, and advising small business. Well holy mierda, guess what this guy does. He owns a microfinance institution that gives consultations to its clients, has a youth group, a women’s group that makes jewelry, helps with a nature preserve to bring in tourists and to top it off this guy has a few books, and my favorite I think will be his book of jokes. Anyway I hope to really take advantage of this guy, so I am going to meet with him this week to be a nuisance until he hooks me up with some jobs I want. I mean lets be serous for a minute, I’m free educated labor, who doesn’t want that?

Today I finally was able to participate in some softball. We took a cab to the fields 25 minutes away only to find out that our team was playing at the big river port that is about 5 minutes away. While there are limited sports venues in this country and especially in the Branch, (El Rama) I thought this shitty little softball field was quite cool. It is inside the national port of El Rama. We had to go through a security checkpoint before proceeding to our game. We were late of course and missed the first game, but luckily we were playing a double header. There were cranes and huge boats 30 meters from third base with hills and the river in the surrounding views. I sat the first 2 innings being the new guy and all. Then I was subbed into second base. I thought I was a pretty good baseball player in high school and a good softball player in college, but today I showed that practice really makes perfect and lack of practice makes you like me. I was 2 for 2 batting with a double and 2 runs. The highlight was my pickle going home with a guy on first and a grounder to the shortstop I decided to go for it. I went home and faked back to third before my cheetah like dash home. I had a great inside slide with my right foot dragging across the corner of the plate just evading the catcher’s high tag. It was controversial but in the end I was safe for the run. In the field, I didn’t let any ball by me. What I did do however was heave the ball into the ground 3 times. I was furious with my inept throwing abilities. The hat saw the dirt on 2 separate occasions! I blamed it on me not playing for 4 years, but seriously 3 times is uncalled for. In the end it was a blast and I can’t wait to keep playing with these older guys that named the team, el juventud (the youth). Haha. We lost the game 13 to 8. The other teams had legit uniforms and we were a scattered bunch with half the team smashing cigs on the sideline. I wouldn’t want to be on any other team.

The day continued with a fun outing at our local baseball field, to watch a game between the El Rama Indios and some other team from a small community out in the middle of nowhere. I left early to study some Spanish, but it was fun none the less. Also, best part of baseball here; beers are the same price in the stadium as they are anywhere else in town. I was really happy to see how into the game the community was; the stadium was packed with a few hundred people.

Did Alabama dominate once again, yep! Roll Tide.

Hope the beautiful Bay Area is treating you well, and the south and Midwest. Where ever you are at really! I miss Jamba Juice and Tombstome pizza. So if you want to send some money so I could make up for this deficiency with the only thing that could possibly fill it, Traveling around Nicaragua, I am all for that!

Adios!