Dance Class Revelations!!

I decided that only one post on the dance class that I am currently taking was not at all enough and that it merited a second. I am in the mood to make lists so I have numbered some of the more memorable events.

1. I would say that about a quarter of all the moves Michael teaches us end in what I have dubbed the 'All Body Rub Down'. This movement consists of your hands on either side of your head and running them all the way down to your hips in a sexy way. He stopped me in class one day and said that my 'All Body Rub Down' was not sensual enough. He then showed me the formula for how to make it more sexy. Apparently I was spending too much time rubbing my hands through my hair and not enough time rubbing my sides. While we are doing this movement he is usually screaming something like, "Touch yourselves more!!" "I'm not feeling the sensuality!!" and, "More sexy!!".

2. Michael says things like, "You're gum with no sugar" to our class when he's exasperated. I'm not sure what that means, but I think it's bad.

3. The best moment of my week came when Michael told me I was doing well while shaking my butt and shoulders at the same time. I live for that small nod of approval.

4. Sometimes, when I think about what it must be like to watch a room full of women do complicated serpentine movements with their torsos (badly!) I begin laughing so hard I cannot continue. Michael does not approve.

5. Even though Michael wears tight magenta wifebeaters and socks with sandals I still think he's the cat's pajamas.

6. I wish I could explain to you the fantasticness of changing in the bathrooms while watching a room full of chunky Nicaraguan women wrap each other in giant plastic sheets, like an oversized tensor bandage, before class to burn more calories.

7. Not all the floorboards in the room are even. So just when you think you've hit your latino body groove you trip over the floor and fall on your face. It's like immediate karma for thinking that you're better than you actually are.

8. A Dutch man came to film our class yesterday to do a program on Nicaraguan women's exercise habits. Everyone dressed up for his arrival. My friend Isa took the opportunity to dress sexy in an attempt to snag our teacher as her boyfriend. I tried to tell her that anyone you humiliate yourself in front of 4 out of 7 days a week is beyond trying to date.

9. MICHAEL IS NOT GAY!! I realized this when we started talking a lot after class. Although he dances like a gay man, he is not actually gay. I do have consensus from other class mates that to get a class as good as this one in Canada the teacher would for sure have to be gay.

10. There are usually a couple of guys who stand at the door and watch the class, shouting encouragement to the ladies. I don't worry that they're looking at me, they're for sure looking at the girls at the front of the class who are actually good. As a side note, I spend so much time concentrating on Michael's bottom half to get the steps right, I've probably spent more time staring at his butt than anyone else's.

We had a party last week for Micheal's birthday. We all chipped in to buy a couple of cakes. I didn't realize at the time that no one knew how to spell his name and they wrote "Maki" on one cake and "Maycol" on the other. It was so cute. For Nicaraguan women, no excuse is a bad excuse to throw a party.

Magic Markers Aren't Really Magic

This post is dedicated to every Nicaraguan person who excessively uses Magic Markers (or permanent markers) to correct mistakes made. Here are a few examples of what I mean...

1. Walking down the road I spot a woman wearing a t shirt with a scripture passage written on it. The book and passage are written below it, obviously being a mistake, there is an X through what was printed on the shirt. The X, done in Magic Marker, is followed by the correct scripture written by hand.

2. While returning a plane ticket, I tried to explain to the employee that writing a 3, in Magic Marker, over a 2 to make the penalty rate 35% instead of 25% is not contractually binding. Especially since the change was made in front of my face on the cancellation form and probably only happened because I'm white.

3. Marking an X over the timetable of a ferry that sank recently to indicate it is no longer running.

But really, what can't Magic Markers do?

You Just Can't Find Places Like This in Canada

The best part about reading through a Nicaraguan guide book is that occasionally you find pasages like this, that just make your heart sing. Behold, on page 197 of the 2005 Moon handbook to Nicaragua.

"La Trinidad, named for the three hills that cradle it gently in their arms, is a festive town of bread bakers, bus drivers, musicians, and cowboys. Its unhurried and friendly populace can often be found hanging out in the lush park, a well-tended central plaza--green even in the height of the dry season--and home to Kameleon, La Trinidad's pet tree sloth, who lives untethered in the park's canopy. The Catholic church, although decidedly ugly and non-colonial, may be worth a visit during mass to hear the dueling mariachi choirs."

If that doesn't make you want to come here, I don't know what will...

RIP Ometepe Ferry

I realized today that I had promised a ferry story in my previous blog and failed to deliver. Ometepe is a reasonably big island made out of two volcanoes in the Lago de Nicaragua. To get their you have two options; medium sized boats used by fisherman, or lanchas, and the ferry. The second time I went to the island Heather and I took the lancha back because it suited our schedule. Later, several Nicaraguans nodded in approval of our transport choice saying that if the lancha was damaged, it wouldn't sink because it was wood, whereas the ferry goes straight to the bottom since it is made out of metal and considerably larger. I, at least, laughed it off as more off beat comments Nicas had made to me. Until I found out that, at the beginning of February, the same bad weather that stranded me on a Caribbean island had also created waves so big in Lago de Nicaragua that the ferry had sunk!! When I went back a couple of weeks after this happened the billboard with the times for ferries 1,2 and 3 had a giant magic marker X through ferry 2. So it goes.

Rest in Peace, Ometepe Ferry.

Also, to preface the post below, a quote from Wikipedia: "Quinceañera" is also used to refer to the young woman whose 15th birthday is being celebrated (analogous to the word cumpleañera for "birthday girl"). Other cultural equivalents to the quinceañera in the United States are the Bar or Bat Mitzvah celebrations for Jewish boys turning 13 and girls turning 12, the debutante ball, the cotillion and the sweet sixteen birthday parties.

When I asked why the age of 15, I was told she would probably be pregnant at the age of 16. Sadly, there is some truth to that...

The Prettiest Story Ever

This is a story that began in November, but ended just recently.

I spent some of November and most of December on the back of a motorcycle, or some equally unsafe mode of transportation, heading all over the Pacific side of the country with my fellow intern Heather looking for sesame producers to interview. On the Isla de Ometepe, a large volcanic island in the Lago de Nicaragua, I met a woman by the name of Nubia Ampara Chavaria Jimenez. She and her husband, Juan, produce organic sesame for a living. Although this year they had planted extra sesame to help pay for their daughter's 15th birthday party or Quinceañera. As it was only our second interview, and the first one had gone really badly, Nubia seemed especially nice. The couple took us to see their farm and explained all the crops that they grew. They even took us to see our first sesame plants at their sister's farm and listened with remarkable patience to our stupid questions in terrible Spanish as we 'oooed' and 'awwwed' over the crop. After that we chatted some more over freshly roasted corn with a great view of Volcan Concepcion. When we told them there was a photo contest for the best photo of an intern working (with a prize of $100USD) they began suggesting all kinds of strange poses which we reluctantly agreed to. One of them went like this,

NUBIA: Go over there and pretend to interview that cow!!

LAUREN: Okay... (Thinking: This cow is huge and holy crap could he hurt me if he wanted to)

Nubia

Heather knew she'd be leaving at the end of January, but I was interested in staying longer and thought about going to Elva's Quinceañera if I was in Nicaragua during February. I jokingly told her that if I won, I'd bring her half the prize money when her daughter turned 15.

Christmas came and went and I submitted some photos, completely forgetting about the cow one, and thought nothing more of the contest. As luck would have it, Heather submitted the photo of me and I got an email in January saying that I'd won. So, on February 21st I found myself on the ferry *** (see end for funny ferry story) heading towards the island for a party I knew nothing about and $50USD in my pocket.

The winning picture

So as I found out, the reason Nubia and her husband had to grow extra sesame to pay for the party is that this birthday party was nothing sort of a wedding themed pink. It started with a service in a church decorated by swathes of pink fabric and a ton of balloons. The birthday girl herself entered the hall preceeded by about 15 ladies in waiting with their boyfriends all wearing matching dresses and suits. What I found the most impressive was that the girls were not just wearing matching dresses but had matching gloves and fans and some serious salon hairstyles. Elva, the guest of honor, came in wearing a pink gown that looked like it came from a fairy tale with pink flowers in her hair as well as a pink shawl and bouquet. During the ceremony they pronounced her a woman and changed her flower crown for a sparkly tiara and her old shoes for new silver pumps while her parents watched wiping tears from their eyes. The silver pumps really got to me. They somehow were the perfect, most Nicaraguan thing, they could have given to her to symbolize her newfound adulthood. Probably because, even though they're heels, she'll wear them whether she's walking 3 km along a dirt road, or to go to the corner store for eggs. I love this country. I really do.

The dress and procession!!

After the church ceremony was finished, the procession left the church and walked around town while on lookers clapped. Eventually we ended up at their house where a DJ had set up (of course!) and their small front yard was crammed with more tables and chairs then I though humanly possible. The ensuing party was filled with endless amounts of food, machata dancing and choreographed dances, as well as plenty of toasts. There were no less than 5 cakes, all with multiples layers, connected by plastic bridges and figures of little people. I couldn't get over how much money they had to be spending on this party. These are farmers from humble backgrounds who bend over backwards to give their daughter the best party possible.

The famous cakes with Elva herself.

It was fantastic!! I had the best time. It was an even greater pleasure to give her the prize money and send a ton of pictures in an album for her. She called me this morning on my cell phone and we spent 5 minutes trying to figure out who is more grateful, me for being invited to one of the best most personal moments in her life, or her for having recieved pictures and money. The conversation ended in smiles.

Isn't that the prettiest story you have ever heard?

Nubia and I

For more pictures see this album: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=110401&id=502260179&l=a04a9