Produce Rocks My Socks

Dance Class Revelations!!

2009-03-20T12:41:00.001-07:00

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

2009-03-20T12:10:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-11T14:01:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-09T07:04:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-08T16:22:00.000-07:00

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

Exactly the Conversation I Love to Hear

2009-02-26T13:50:00.000-08:00

Last weekend I went to the town of Rivas to attend a friend of mine's 15th birthday party. The party itself is deserving of its own post. However, this post is about mangoes. It is currently mango season in Nicaragua, my most loved of all Nicaraguan seasons (although closely rivaled by avacado season). To get to this birthday party I had to pass through the port town of San Jorge. San Jorge just happens to be the mango capital of Nicaragua.

Lauren: So how much are your mangoes?

Mango Seller: $0.75

Lauren: For one?

Mango Seller: For a dozen.

Lauren: What if I don't want a dozen?

Mango Seller: We don't sell less then a dozen.

Lauren's Brain: This is a serious mango seller, oh well, 12 mangoes is better than no mangoes, right?

Lauren's Stomach: Hells yeah.

Lauren: I'll take 12.

They were worth every last juicy drop.

Pink Spandex, Plastic Suits and a Whole lot of Butt

2009-02-23T11:34:00.000-08:00

A couple of weeks ago I took my friend Andrea up on an offer to attend a dance class with her. It was probably one of the best decisions I have ever made. Later, I found myself at a loss for words when descibing it to my friend Julia.

Julia: So what kind of dance class is it?
Lauren: Well, in theory it's 'Latin Rhythms', but I've been told it can spontaneously turn into an aerobics class.
Julia: Nicaragua is a strange country, isn't it?
Lauren: Yes, yes it is.

Later, as I stood in a brightly lit room in the Academia Nicaraguense de Danza, staring at geckos on the wall, I was no closer to a description. To begin with, it is taught by a flamboyantly homosexual man named Michael (not Miguel). If I hadn't already been convinced by his preference for men by the expressive gestures, tight shirts and incredible hip movement, I would have know for sure the day he blew himself a kiss in the mirror. It was that day I decided that, I too, needed to start blowing myself kisses in the mirror. I digress.

I began this class because, despite living in Latin America for over 15 months, I still don't know how to dance salsa, cumpia, machata or merengue. I'm not sure if I'll be able to dance any of these when I finish, but, at the very least I'm sure I'll be able to better shake my butt. The music is blasted so loud that I can rarely hear what is being shouted by the teacher. I'll normally just invent something I think he should be saying, like, 'More hips!', 'Shoulders!' and 'Lorena, what the hell are you doing?!' Michael also won't accept that people who are not Latino are not born with the ability to move their hips and shoulders in opposite directions while moving across a room. I used to try and stand in front of the mirrors along the wall to improve, but I stopped when watching myself dancing became too depressing. I'm sure at some point, after a lot of practice, the movements I am learning will look attractive, but for now they just look spastic. Still, I persevere! Four days a week I can be found learning to shake my new found Latino booty with the help of Michael and a room full of encouraging women.

Can you pick me out of the group picture? I'm the one who's skin tone is reflecting light.

Andrea and I with the famous Michael.

Freestyling at our Valentine's Day party. Apparently I was supposed to dress up, but I though it was a regular dance class. These types of mis communications are commun when you rarely understand what is going on.

This Post is for Kristen

2009-02-23T11:19:00.000-08:00

This post is dedicated to the only person I know who always reads my blog; Kristen McNeill. A faithful friend and library buddy from the times when she had hair so long it went past her bum.

An archive photo from the Festival des Nuits d'Afrique last summer in Mtl.

I have not eaten mangoes off a stick with a better friend. Also, Kristen is coming to visit me at the end of March!!! This also makes her my first friend to visit me while travelling. Hooorah. Despite our repeated fights over who will marry Julia in our old age we have decided to settle our differences and live in happiness together over corn and chocolate in Central America. Since I know that Kristen will be reading this to Cal, I say hi to Cal as well. That is all.

25 Random Things About Me

2009-02-09T14:47:00.000-08:00

1. When I was 7 I asked my Dad if he though I was pretty and after a long pause he told me I had a nice neck.
2. If there was only one thing I could change about myself it would be to have been born an amazing dancer of every style.
3. Over the past 10 years, one of my biggest regrets was not buying Napoleon stickers at Les Invalides in June 2005 because they were too expensive. Frankie bought some. I will always have to live with that.
4. I prefer sculptures to paintings. My favorite sculptor is Rodin.
5. My favorite countries are Colombia and France.
6. I have always felt that I led a boring and tragedy free life. To compensate I like to make up elaborate stories of more interesting lives. These include being adopted from a war torn country, having black skin or being hired as a soloist for the Moscow City Ballet at the age of 14.
7. I have really expensive taste. This is a problem since I do not make very much money and do not expect to make any kind of significant salary in my lifetime, thus, I am left with no option but to marry a very rich man.
8. I am allergic to the cold. When I go outside in the winter my legs get really splotchy and ugly.
9. I am a persistent abuser of punctuation rules. Why put only one exclamation when you can put three???
10. I blush really easily.
11. I do not take compliments well. I’ve never sure what to say afterwards.
12. I constantly embarrass myself by bursting into rooms yelling things like ‘BOOYAH’ or ‘SHAZAM’ but I can’t seem to stop.
13. I personify everyday objects. If the refrigerator is not working anymore it’s because we’ve broken up, but we’re thinking of getting back together once the repairman comes.
14. My favorite singer is Jacques Brel. His songs have made me want to learn the acordion. As a side note there is a famous Colombian acordion player with the surname Lallemand.
15. I have always wondered when the saxophone was invented but never bothered to find out. This stemmed from a dream I had where I was trapped on a pirate ship but was able stay alive by amusing the crew with ska songs played on a sax.
16. I have always wanted to make short films to show people how I see the world.
17. After my family, I am most grateful for my friends who tolerate my insanity with amazing ease.
18. Answering these things always makes me nervous because everyone else’s answers are so much cooler than mine.
19. When I was in elementary school I went over to my friend Julia's house with a Laura Secord chocolate bunny that I had named Petey. When Julia and I came up from the basement, we found Petey hung from a noose from the upstairs banaster courtesy of Julia's sister Catriona. I went upstairs to find Catriona hiding in a closet. I then kicked her. I don't remember any of this happening. Julia told me years later. Sometimes I wish I still had that kind of anger in me.
20. My Dad is always telling me to calm down. It drives me nuts. What if I don’t want to be calm?
21. I never admit to crying, I just say that my eyes are leaking.
22. I am a picture fanatic.
23. I am secretly 80 years old. I enjoy pastimes like listening to the CBC, rocking on rocking chairs, sewing, general crafting and wearing cardigans. My next life goal is to make a quilt.
24. I can only remember being really angry 4 times in my life. Most of these instances involved technology, including my arch nemesis GoogleDocs.
25. I simultaneously have a really great and really terrible memory. For example, I can remember entire conversations years after they happened, but I cannot remember where things are in my kitchen.

Cowboy Boots Flowchart

2009-01-30T12:24:00.000-08:00

Nicaragua is famous for many things, not all of them good. Among them are volcanoes, lakes, hurricanes, revolutions, cigars, patio furniture, coffee, and finally, boots. There are a surprising amount of cowboys in this country, and by extension, a developed leather working industry. What does this mean for the average tourist? Cheap cowboy boots!! I was apprehensive at first about getting some because I thought I would never wear them. But after some careful consideration of the cowboy boots flowchart, I decided that they were too good a souvenir to pass up. Walking into a shop full of shirtless men and cow hide was a very intimidating (and embarassing!) experience since it was painfully obvious how out of my element I was. However, the dual gems of a good pair of cowboy boots and a tacky belt with requisite enourmous belt buckle were well worth the temporary discomfort.

I like how forced my smile is. You can tell I'm nervous. But they're so pretty!!

I Love Private Hospital Care

2008-12-03T09:18:00.000-08:00

About two weeks ago I got really sick and visited two hospital emergency rooms in the same day, something I hope to never do again. Two infections and a possible parasite later I really started to appreciate that if you pay extra you can end up in the private section of the hospital to receive immediate care. Just so nobody gets the wrong idea, the private section is not what I would call luxurious. The bed was pretty much a morgue stretcher covered by a threadbare sheet and no pillow or blankets.

My veins are really hard to find (don't do drugs, kids!) and I ended up getting stabbed with 8 needles for an IV before they found a vein in my foot. I have so many bruises on my arms I look like I'm in an abusive relationship. To the credit of the hospital, I don't know where else in the world you could get full blood exam results within an hour for $5 USD.

The worst part of the whole ordeal was that the day I got sick, there were people out in the streets rioting over the elections. Although I consider rioting a stupid activity, the actual people doing it are very strategic. There are about as many intersections in Managua as there are roundabouts. So if you block the roundabouts it becomes extremely difficult to get anywhere. I can't blame taxis for refusing to take me to the hospital considering the fact that I was throwing up constantly, looked like death warmed over, and living in a neighborhood full of hooligans. Considering my condition, I wasn't as persuasive as I normally am. My neighbor was kind enough to drive after I explained the situation, but not before shouting, "Oh my God!" when he first saw me walk/crawling to his house.

Nobody likes being sick. I will never in my life forget the sensation of being so incredibly thirsty, but not being able to do anything about it because I couldn't even keep down water. In some ways being really sick is a test to see who will stick around for you when you're at your worst. I want to let my Mom know that I received care on par with hers throughout the entire process from my host family and friends and work collegues. All in all, I'm no worse for wear and even came out of this experience feeling more loved by those around me.

FSLN Vs. PLC = Lauren Afraid She Will Get Hit With A Rock

2008-12-02T09:07:00.000-08:00

So as probably none of you know Nicaragua had an election on November 9th. There are two main candidates involved; the FSLN (socialist) and the PLC (liberals, who I suspect are quite conservative). This country has so much political baggage that I don't even know where to start. The most important thing to know is that neither candidate is really worthy of election.

The day after the election in a national holiday. I was told this is because they need people to count the ballots but what actually happens is that men between the ages of 12 and 55 get together and drink, get angry about the corruption in politics, grab rocks and throw them at each other. Then the next thing you know everyone has tire irons and are destroying buses and cars. Then the fireworks start, followed shortly by home made mortar.

I had just gotten used to the pitch and noise level of the fireworks people around my house set off. Much to my dismay, starting with election night they began setting off fireworks louder and more fequently. My sleep has since suffered. At least my original fear that they were gunfights has been put to rest. I bet I could get someone to show me how to make a sweet gun out of household products, but I'm not friends with any of the revolutionaries. It's a real shame.

When people told me there would be rioting after the elections I figured 5 days maximum. How wrong I was. It ended up lasting 15 days!! Fifteen days of tear gas, rubber bullets, fireworks, gang violence and reworked transport routes because there were no buses and streets were shut down. The worst part was that it was the political leaders inciting people to violence. I waited during this whole time to see if anything would come up on any international news channel. Central America in general is very undereported. I'd be willing to bet that no one reading this post heard about the dozens of people beheaded by drug gang members on a Nicaraguan bus in Guatemala. There is better coverage of the latest soccer matches on BBC than on the deaths and injuries from this election or the flooding from hurricanes in the fall.

As violent as this whole ordeal sounds it is not actually very dangerous for people to walk around. You just have to be smart enough not to wear political colors or involve yourself with either group. Even as a foreigner I got frustrated watching these events unfold. The political situation in this country is a revolving door of corrupt leaders and election fraud. No wonder people are angry enough to throw some stones.

For a bit more information...

International Herald Tribune -- Election dipute sparks violence in Nicaragua
http://www.iht.com/articles/ap/2008/11/17/news/LT-Nicaragua-Election-Dispute.php

RTE News -- Violence in Nicaragua over elections
http://www.rte.ie/news/2008/1111/nicaragua.html

PICTURE CREDIT:
A supporter of the ruling Sandinista National Liberation Front (FSLN) fires a homemade mortar toward supporters of Eduardo Montealegre, mayoral candidate of the Liberal Constitutionalism party (PLC) in Leon City, some 95 km (59 miles) west from Managua, November 16, 2008. Dozens of people have been injured in Nicaragua in post-municipal election violence, according to reports from local media. (Xinhua/Reuters Photo)

Consider Yourself Lucky Your Hair Does Not Look Like This

2008-12-02T07:51:00.000-08:00

This is what the tropics does to my hair. Not that my hair was really all that under control to begin with.

Similarities?

The Problem With Having Siblings More Attractive Than You

2008-11-18T08:10:00.001-08:00

The problem with having syblings more attractive than you get a lot of the following conversation:

LAUREN: Here is a picture of my sisters and my father.
MARGARITA: Your family is so beautiful. Especially your youngest sister.
LAUREN: I know! And she's skinny like Grethel (my skinny host sister).
MARGARITA: (Genuinely confused) I don't understand... She's so thin, and you're fat.
LAUREN : (Laughing) What can I say Margarita? That's life. Some people just get all the good genes.
MARGARITA: I agree.

Now, before you go thinking that that is such a rude or offensive thing to say there are a few things you should know about Nicaragua.

1. Nicaraguans are brutally honest.
2. There is almost no such thing as an offensive statement.
3. Margarita is one of the people I talk to the most in Nicaragua because she lives across the street from me and makes sure I don't get mugged on my way home from work. Because we are friends she has the right to say anything she wants to me.

After spending more than a year in total in some part of Central/South America I have grown very acostomed to this honesty and actually appreciate being able to reciprocate. To give more context to this conversation you should know that if I wanted to get the attention of the man who sells tortillas on my street I would yell "Hey, Fatty!!". I think the first few times you hear it it can be startling, but you actually get used to it. I find it pretty funny now.

My family who I miss so much!!

"That's the Devil's Holiday Lauren"

2008-11-02T08:50:00.000-08:00

A couple of weeks ago I noticed that the local small supermarket had put up the usual Halloween decorations like the life size pirate that says threatening piraty things and large mechanical spiders. Wanting a bit of time to figure out a costume I asked my Mennonite sister what they did for Halloween and received the following response, "That's the Devil's holiday Lauren! We don't celebrate that here." Despite my best attempts to tell fun stories of trick or treating with your snow suit on beneath your costume in Montreal I don't think I succeded in convincing her that I am not at all afiliated with the devil. I decided not to bring up the issue again.

So Halloween day comes and I notice that it is a pretty sensitive issue among people in Nicaragua. For days there were anti Halloween panels on television and shameless promotion of Christianity. I spoke to my confused friend Audrey who had spent 10 minutes staring at a news broadcast showing images of ocean waves with the face of Jesus fading in and out and creepy classical music in the background.

But... there seems to be another festival that takes the best of Halloween (costumes, singing, candy, general happiness). It happens on December 7th and is to celebrate the conception of the Virgin Mary. Everyone pretends they don't realize that they celebrate the birth of Jesus less than 20 days later. You go door to door and when asked what could cause you such hapiness you shout out "The Virgin Mary!!". Now this is a festival that I plan on participating in with a vengence.

Actual Conversation

2008-10-23T15:23:00.000-07:00

This is an actual conversation I was part of. Managua has an earthquake like clockwork every 35-40 years. The last one was in 1972 and destroyed 90% of the city.

MY HOST MOTHER: I would really like to build a second floor onto this house.

NEIGHBOR WHO IS CONTRACTOR: Well, you're better off waiting a couple of years until the next earthquake. If you build now it will just fall down and most likely kill you.

MY HOST MOTHER: You make a good point.

NEIGHBOR WHO IS CONTRACTOR: At least if you build after the earthquake it will last you about 35 years.

(GENERAL AGREEMENT FROM THOSE LISTENING IN ON CONVERSATION)

Managua, the Venice of Central America

2008-10-19T12:47:00.001-07:00

The only problem is that Managua lacks most of the charm Venice posesses and at least with Venice you are expecting water.

Anyone out there who has spent time in another country during rainy season knows that after days and days of rain, the sun cannot come out soon enough. I am writing to you now as the sun has come out after several days of crazy weather and hard rain. Managua, unfortunately, was not built with a great deal of urban planning in mind. Along with being built exactly on a faultline, it is also where all the water drains to from a fairly susbtancial watershed. It floods a lot. Very quickly.

Strange things happen during rainy season. Your definition of 'soaked' changes from more or less wet to completely drenched. You triple plastic bag everything. You wear shorter skirts with the mentality that at least there is less fabric to get wet. You become irrationally jealous of people with cars who drive by completely dry, not a hair out of place. You don't even notice less than a foot of flooding. Everything you own molds... earrings, your wooden hangers, your bedsheets, etc.

At first, you are very sensitive about smelling like mildew, but once you get on the bus and realize everyone has the same fragrance, you accept the inevitable.

Government of Canada Taking Cues from Yzma

2008-10-19T12:29:00.000-07:00

In a world where you can do just about everything over the internet, applying for my overseas ballot was a bit of a shock to my system. First you have to fill out a form to show that you are eligible to to vote and send it to Canada. The government then sends you a ballot, and you fill it out and send it back. In case any of you are unaquainted with Nicaraguan mail, it is not the fastest mailing system in the world (although not nearly as bad a other mail systems I've sent stuff from). The ballot itself was complicated too since it has to be put inside an evelope, that needs to be put inside another envolope, that needs to be put inside another envolope**. All of these envelopes had sealed themselves by the time I got them, making my ballot look incredibly tampered with. I wonder if after all that trouble my ballot was even counted considering it looked like someone hacked it open with a saw. I must admit I went into a bit of a depression following the Canadian election considering how little policies were explained and the cheap shots between parties. Alas, my favorite politician, Stephane Dion, has stepped down as leader of the Liberal Party. I console myself by listening to Jacques Brel.

** I'll turn him into a flee. A harmless little flee. Then I'll put that flee in a box. And I'll put that box in another box. Then I'll mail that box to myself. And when it arrives. A HA HA HA HA!!! I'LL SMASH IT WITH A HAMMER.

My Job...

2008-10-06T08:17:00.000-07:00

So it occured to me that I have been here a month and not told most people about my blog, or what I actually do for my job. Even though I have had the best intentions about sending out email updates I must confess that working 11 hour days does not leave a lot of time for communication. So here it goes... I work for MEDA (Mennonite Economic Development Associates) an organization based out of Canada that works in about 15 countries around the world. They have an office in Nicaragua and run microfinance projects as well as an agricultural development project called PRODUMER. PRODUMER is a project that works with sesame seed farmers to present them with better technology, cropping methods, market access and financing. It has been running for 6 years so far and will be ending in March 2009. My job is to write a report that evaluates the gender component of the project by the end of January 2009. So far I have been working crazy long hours on a bunch of different things, one of which is the semi annual report that has to be handed in by the end of October. Everybody knows that interns work ridiculous hours for little pay, so I feel like my expectations have been met in that area. So far I am enjoying my job but have had no opportunities to get out into the field and actually speak to farmers, who are located in three different departments (same as provinces) along the Pacific coast. I have become very well aquainted with one Central/South American phenomenon know as "The Meeting That Will Not End" aka a "reunion" in Spanish. As much as I love to have a good chat with a cooperative president, 8 hours is excessive. While there are many things I really like about Central American culture, these unlimited meetings are killer. Especially when you have several in a row.

Pictures: In the office with fellow interns (please do not look too closely at the Us Magazine that I am reading... I work really hard, I swear). Also, a shot of my office from the outside.

Fun Facts

2008-09-17T10:33:00.003-07:00

1. Replacing the horn in a cab with a cat call noise makes it that much more interesting to drive in.
2. The neighborhood I live in was named after a contra guerilla commander. It is also where they relocated all the guerillas after the revolution.
3. The quickest way to lose the respect of your co workers is to sing 'The One' by the Backstreet Boys as part of a duet in a kareoke bar.
4. Passionfruit juice and ice tea taste delicious together.
5. It is so hot and humid here that envelopes seal themselves.
6. It is a bad idea to walk through doors if you do not know what is behind them. You might end up in a chop shop and facing a lot of men holding very large guns.
7. If you are lucky, your car will not blow up when you leave it running while filling up gas.
8. Soup is always delicious, no matter the temperature.
9. It is a bad idea to leave your clothes to dry outside when your neighboors are burning garbage because then your clothes will smell like plastic and bacon at the same time.
10. 85% of all the street food snacks/meals you buy will be the best food you have ever had.

I Need To Go Grocery Shopping

2008-09-17T10:33:00.002-07:00

If you're not careful, all you'll end up eating for breakfast is pudding, or worse yet, a really bad smoothie.

A Post Actually About Agua In Nicaragua

2008-09-17T10:33:00.000-07:00

During my time here I'm staying with a host family. It's working out really well so far. There is one problem, though, and that is that the neighboorhood I live in is really poor. This means that we don't have running water all day. This has been a bit of an adjustment since there are so many activities that I forget require water that I can't do during the evening after I come home from work. Just think of all the tasks that require water during your day, and think about condensing those activities to occur between 3 a.m. and 8 a.m. A normal day looks something like this... Just about everybody gets up in the morning (6 people including myself) before 5 a.m. and begin the mad scramble to either cook your food, take a shower, wash your dishes or wash your clothes. There is a laundry machine at my house but it is used very sparingly because of the cost of electricity. Keep in mind that only two taps will work at any given time, so if you have the water on outside while you are hand washing your clothes and the kitchen sink running, there will be no water in the shower. Since I have to be at work for 7 a.m. I need to leave the house before 6:30 a.m. and I need to make sure that I boil rice for lunch, wash a few clothes, clean myself and do my dishes from the day before all before I run down my street to try to catch a cab. And trying to accomodate everyone else. I'm not the best at multitasking to begin with, and I find it especially difficult to do when the sun has barely risen. Even since I've been here there have been some mishaps involving taps left on by accident. Someone will turn on a tap, have no water come out, and forget to shut it. Then, at 3 a.m. the water will come back and, while everyone is sleeping, flood the kitchen floor or the bathroom, or the backyard. Having grown up in a three bathroom house I never had the experience of fighting for bathroom time complicated even more by this countdown to when there will be no more water.

Managua: Figure it Out...

2008-09-15T16:17:00.000-07:00

As most of you know, I am currently stationed in Managua for 5 months completing an internship with MEDA. There are a few things you should know about Managua to understand what living here is like. I was a bit aprehensive coming here as it had been described to me before I left as, "The ugliest capital city on earth". Even then I considered it a bit harsh... But I can see how the city might be lost on someone who doesn't spend a lot of time here. I have compiled a list of all the things that seperate Managua from other more logical major cities.

1.The streets have no names. I mean at all. An example of an address would be "That old tree in San Judas, 2 blocks south, 1 block east" or "Where the Pepsi building used to be, 3 blocks towards the lake". Since this is a decent size city (over 1.5 million) I find it pretty impressive that everyone knows where that big old tree is in the neighborhood of San Judas.
2. The city is built on the shore of Lake Managua. This lake is so polluted that the Japanese offered to buy it because it would actually be profitable to sift out the heavy metals from the sludge at the bottom.
3. There are cattle and all forms of vehicles on the roads at all times.
4. There is no downtown. In 1972 a major earthquake hit and pretty much leveled the city. Instead of rebuilding it they built in semi circles around the old town so all the roads run in a crescent moon shape heading from east-west.
5. The cathedral also got destroyed in the earthquake in the 70s. When they did rebuild it they chose the cheapest architectural model they could find. This was actually the model of a mosque. It was actually mostly financed by the guy who owns Domino's pizza. The best part is that as soon as the structure was completed, a Pizza Hut opened up accross the street. Sometimes, you just can't catch a break.
6. There are 'sandanista' (or socialist revolution) colors everywhere around the city. On all the telephone poles and walls, traffic lights and posts.
7. You can buy anything you want at an intersection. You name it; cell phone chargers, cashews, water, newspapers, sunglasses. You could potentially never get out of your car for everyday needs.

I'm sure this list will continue to grow as I continue to live here. Getting used to the city has been difficult since you have to change how your brain normally references things. Instead of remembering street names you remember statues, big ads and funny looking glass buildings to get an idea of where you are. Managua really is not that bad of a city if you spend any significant amount of time here. There are also a lot of comforting places to go to, like really nice nicaragua coffee shops that have wireless. There is even a cafe run by a Luxemburgian-Indian that makes curry occasionally. While most backpackers come here and promptly leave, it is worth the visit. I'm actually enjoying it more than I did Panama City, so that's definitely a start.

This is a picture of the map of the city and the cathedral:

Agua in Nicaragua

2008-09-04T14:52:00.000-07:00

*** Please note the title of this post has nothing to do with the content

I know that I have been a very bad blogger in the past, but since I am contractually obligated to blog for my new job I hope to be posting about once a week. I arrived successfully in Nicaragua on Saturday the 30th of August after a layover that lasted way too long in San Salvador, El Salvador. It is currently very warm and rainy here.

South American Jaywalker: Fearless

2008-03-05T12:46:00.001-08:00

Although I try to avoid jaywalking as much as I can in Panama, sometimes it’s just not possible. David is one of those times. It’s a city that I went to twice during my first month here. David is in the province of Chiriqui and it borders with Costa Rica. The first time I went I caught a lift to the beach and had my first chance to swim in the Pacific. The experience was a bit surreal because there was this little hut on the beach that was blasting a cello concerto by Hayden. Getting there was also interesting since the road required a 4x4 vehicle and we only had a 10 year old Nissan Sentra. There were definitely times where I felt the road bump up against my feet on the floor of the car. I also went to Boquete and did a tour of a coffee plant. I also did a supposedly “short” hike (actually 3 km each way on a shady trail) to a not so impressive water fall during which time I managed to unknowingly insult a one legged man from Iowa. There was a special flower and coffee fair going on in Boquete at the same time. I enjoyed the flowers, but was a bit coffee-ed out from my tour in the morning. I also learnt that 2008 is the FAO year of the potato!!! Anyway, the place turns into a bit of a mad house at night when the whole fair turns into a reggeaton dance ground with some serious base. At the hostel I was staying at I saw a posting for this indigenous cultural event that was happening the week afterwards. I decided to go, even though it’a a 14 hour round trip. The festival was a cultural showcase for the Ngome Bugle Indians who are the largest (and probably have the most diluted culture) of all indigenous groups in Panama. As I should have guessed, it took a while to get started. There were a couple of cool highlights. The first was a story written by one of the Ngome Bugle women. Talk about lost in translation. It was said first in Ngome Bugle, then translated into Spanish and then translated into English. I didn’t understand the Spanish and really didn’t understand the English. The story started out with a worthless husband leaving his wife and kids at home to go drink. From my experiences in Panama, this seems to be a recurring theme. The moral of the story ended up being something along the lines of don’t leave your children alone at home. The second was a game a traditional game organized by the men. This was something to watch in itself because they hadn’t really planned anything before. The stages of confusion, fighting over rules, team separation and then actually playing the game took about 20 min. Coming back on the bus was one of the coldest experiences of my life since they air condition the busses here like you wouldn’t believe. Sadly, the movies they show on busses here are not as bad as the ones in Ecuador. I have yet to Arnold Schwarzenegger or Jean Claude Van Dam. The best part was that I got to wish my sister Elizabeth a happy birthday!! See quote below…

LAUREN: Hey Elizabeth, I called to wish you a happy birthday!
ELIZABETH: Oh, thanks Lauren.
LAUREN: But I don’t have too much time. My bus is leaving in a few minutes so I’m going to keep talking to you until I see it drive by. If I hang up abruptly it’s just because I’m chasing it down.
ELIZABETH: That is so ghetto.
LAUREN: The saddest part is, I’m not even lying.

6 Easy Steps to Carnaval

2008-03-05T12:38:00.000-08:00

For all of you who were not able to celebrate Carnaval as they do in Panama (which is pretty much everybody), I have provided an easy checklist of items to make sure that you can recreate it yourselves.

1. Dress in bathing suit and skimpy clothes on top.
2. Find a small child’s blow up wading pool. Fill the pool with water. Poor dirt and garbage into the water. Leave it in the hot sun until it develops a funk
3. Get a water bottle. Fill this waterbottle with an alcohol of your choice. Remember: it must be something that you will still want to drink once it is very warm. My preferred option/the only thing I could afford was Clight juice powder mixed with water and vodka (doesn’t actually taste good, but it is consistently bad, so you know what you’re getting).
4. Get 15 of your closest friends to stand in the pool with you. You must be so close that you cannot move very well.
5. Get one of your friends outside of the pool to hold a pressure hose, another to blast generic reggae and dance music, another to put rum inside a water gun and another to stand next to you with an open can of beer.
6. Dance to music with all of your friends. Simultaneous to this drink from your water bottle and get pressure hosed. In between drinking from your waterbottle, have your friend with the beer poor it all over you and your friend with the water gun spray rum in your mouth.

And that my friends, is Carnaval.

This is a picture of a float during a night parade.

Lauren + Palm = Bad Lab Report

2008-02-11T16:04:00.000-08:00

In January we took a field trip to Isla Barro Colorado, which is a famous island created when the canal area was flooded. I mentioned it in the first update I sent out. I'm told it was the first tropical nature reserve ever created. Our lab exercise was less than glamorous since it involved crawling on the rainforest floor to collect seeds from palm trees and avoid ticks. The most impressive thing on the island were probably the howler monkeys. When you first hear them, you're convinced that a really gruesome murder is taking place very close to you. Then, when you find out they're just monkeys you're convinced that they must be enormous, when they're really only small and cute. It does take some time to get used to the idea that something so small can make that much noise. They're kind of like small children that way. This is also where I went kayaking around with crocodiles. To be fair, I tried to use the canoe, which would have been safer, but after Rachel and I finally dragged it into the water (it was old and really really heavy), we found out it had a hole and then had to drag an even heavier canoe (now full of water) out of the lake. I'm pretty sure I took a couple of years off the life of my back. It was also a painful (literally) reminder that I have no upper body strength. I will stop abusing parentheses now and put captions on my pictures.

Note: My camera battery died on the boat ride to the island so I don't really have any pictures. To simulate being on the island imagine a tropical forest. Since that is pretty much all it was, this will suffice.

Bottom: Sunrise on the canal. We got on a bus at 5:00am to get to this place
Top: Crocodile!

Sloth: I iz not a sin

2008-02-11T15:33:00.000-08:00

Parque Nacional Soberania is a national park about a 15min drive from my house. While it is a perfectly beautiful park, we have a complicated history since it is the site I did my individual project for my biology class. I based my project on plant identification not realizing that there are thousands of different plants present on the grounds. This fact, coupled with my lack of plant knowledge made this project long, arduous and completely inaccurate. On the positive side, I saw a really cool sloth and coaties there.

Top left: This is a crappy picture of the sloth I saw. It's at the bottom center of the picture and is upside down. Look hard. You'll see it.

Top right: Random lizard that was nice enough to pose for me

Bottom: Leaf cutter ants. They form these highways of leaf bits they carry on their backs.

My house...

2008-02-11T14:43:00.000-08:00

This is a post dedicated to my house and where I live...

So, I live in Panama City on the outskirts in a place called Ciudad del Saber (that translates to city of knowledge). It's a nice place to live because it's safe, but kind of creepy because it is full of rich, white scientists and other professionals. I discovered the bakery awhile ago and now realize that it will be my financial downfall. Between the passion fruit juice and quesitos I don't even know how much money I've dropped there. It's also expensive. But delicious. Anyway, I live with 5 other roomates. Four are from McGill and one is Panamanian. The four girls from McGill are in this picture.

Some of the awesome things about my house include:

1. We have 6 giant chef knives and only one cutlery knive

2. We get FM Corazon on the radio

3. Our garlic press looks like it was made in the 1930s

4. I live within a 5 min walk of the bakery, school and my internship office

5. I am able to make biology jokes with my roomates (Ex. trying to find out if Louis Philipe is a niche, or guessing the trophic level of decomposing animals)

6. We live close to this awesome looking tree that must be hundreds of years old.

This is a picture of my house.

This is a picture of my room that I share with Nina.

An update?

2008-02-11T10:52:00.000-08:00

So... I'm trying to become a better traveller and actually let people know what I am up to, as well as post pictures. I'm pretty late getting started, but hopefully within about a week I'll have posted all the places I've been to add some pictures. Wish me luck!

Manuel Lallemand (Brother to Manual Labor)

2006-06-24T13:41:00.000-07:00

Tues. June 6th, 2006 -Thurs. June 8th, 2006 (Days 5-7)
I have discovered since coming here that the work you do in the mornings before walking to the village have absolutely nothing to do with conservation. Here is a list of some of the things I have done while here:

1. Clean mud out of a pool
2. Haul stones up a hill
3. Carve steps into the soil
4. Build paths of dirt
5. Weed gardens

I am in no way helping the rainforest. If anything I am providing free manual labor to do exactly the opposite. It breaks my little soil science heart to tear plants out of the ground that are currently preventing erosion of delicate tropical soil profiles. This project is supremely shady. Organic farm my ass. It´s a field that Anna and Sara cleared 2 weeks ago. I did not come to Ecuador to clean out a pool. I could have done that at Frankie´s old house if I really wanted. The work I have been doing has been topped only by the meat carving I did on Monday. Ewww...

Otovalo!

2006-06-24T12:29:00.000-07:00

Fri. June 9th, 2006 - Sun. June 11th, 2006 (Days 8-10)
I began today by travelling to Quito with Anna and Sara. Both of them are leaving today to continue travelling through Ecuador. I am trying not to think about what it will be like without them. Everything I own is wet and smells really, really bad. The first thing I did was find a laundromat and drop my clothes off.

In Ecuador, there are almost no self serve laundromats. People weigh your clothes, wash them, and charge you by the pound. People here are serious about their clothes. I then spent some much needed time on the internet catching up with people. I found out that while I was gone, people tried to blow up parliament. All of the exitement happens when I´m not at home.

At about 1:30 p.m. I met up with Sara, Anna and two tourists that had come to the cabins named Chealsy and Lindsay to watch the Ecuador - Poland game in a bar. I had to leave halfway through because I had decided to go to a town called Otovalo this weekend. Ecuador ended up winning and it was pretty much chaos in the capital city of Quito. The Ecuadorian jerseys are all yellow and the streets pretty much became a sea of yellow as far as the eye could see.

I arrived in Otovalo around 6:30 p.m. and walked to a hostal that had been recommended to me. It named Hostal Runa Pacha and is run entirely by this tiny man who doesn´t sleep and runs everywhere. It´s incredible. I was quickly ushered to a room. For $5 dollars a night, it wasn´t a bad deal. The room was clean (with the exception of some unidentifiable stains on the rug) and best of all it had hot water. After a week of rain and manual labor I was ready for a treat.

I went down to the lobby around 9:00p.m. to ask some the guy who ran the hostal some questions about what to visit. There I met a French couple who had been in Otovalo a couple of days. The woman was named Catherine and the man was named Seydou. We really hit it off and talked in the lobby for about an hour. We made plans to go see the three Saturday markets: the food market, the crafts market and the animal market.

The animal market is the first one to begin in the morning and was my favorite part of Otovalo. The indigenous communities from all around come to barter and trade their animals. The area that they hold it in is packed with sheep, cows, llamas and pigs. The costumes are really incredible. It´s quite the sight to watch two people battle it out over a $10 dollar difference in price of a cow. That starts around 6:00a.m. The next market is the crafts market, which is really geared towards tourists. It was fun none the less and I bought a bunch of gifts there as well. The third market is the food market where I bought apples, papaya and tomatoes to increase my vitamin intake.

Saturday night Catherine and Seydou decided to go see a coq fight in the local arena. I decided not to go. It´s probably a good thing, because it started 3 hours late and lasted for many hours into the night. Sunday I returned to Quito on the bus with Catherine and Seydou and we parted ways in Terminal Terrestre. It was so nice to talk to someone from another country and exchange stories. I think I´ve convinced them to come visit Canada, and now I have an invite to Paris (as if I needed a reason to go). It´s also a bit of a confidence booster to spend a lot of time with people who are perpetually giving you compliments.

I returned to the cabins on Sunday feeling a bit less homesick and very happy that I had a bunch of clean clothes to choose from.

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

2006-06-24T12:25:00.000-07:00

Sun. June 11, 2006 (Day10)
"It was a dark and stormy night. I kicked the llama out of my bed and directly regretted it - that alkapeckaseltzer wool was warm. Outside my window the jewelers were beginning to chant - I did not look forward to the morning's ritual slaughter of the sacred condor and then carving the stairway to the American Express temple.... then there was Frankie who had run off with the chief's badass son and now was being held captive for ransom. I realized I had to dress and get to the clearing RV before zero dark thirty - Frankeez Mother was parachuting in at dawn with a team of crack business women commandos - I was to be the point gal and scout.... I briefly wondered why Mom had been so keen to send me here..... "

The beginnings of my New York Times Bestselling novel as written by Dr. Roman Johann Jarymowycz

Today I Killed a Cow and Beat Up His Friends

2006-06-17T11:46:00.000-07:00

Mon. June 5th, 2006 (Day 4)
As a first day, this one was not exactly reassuring. Anna and Sara both had to return to Quito during the day because Sara´s passport had been stolen. The bus going to Quito leaves Las Tolas at 6:15 a.m. which means you need to leave the cabins around 5:00 a.m. if you want to be sure to catch the bus. I didn´t see them in the morning because they left really early.

The home of the caretaker Francisco and his family is a the top of a hill and the cabins are at the bottom. I went up for breakfast around 7:00 a.m. As predicted by Anna and Sara my breakfast was a big glass of milk straight from the cows that are milked in the morning and fried dough that you dip in sugar. I could practically feel my arteries clogging. I wasn´t really able to drink the milk and I only managed to eat a few pieces of dough because I could feel my stomach becoming very angry.

The night before I had been instructed to give some medicine to Francisco for the cows. I asked this morning how the cows were doing and was rather surprised by the answer. He told me that one of the cows died this morning. I asked him what he wanted to do about it and I received no answer. What Francisco did do was reach for his machete and tell me to follow him.

At this point I was becoming a bit worried. I don´t consider myself a paranoid woman, but being led into the jungle by a man I don´t know, who is carrying a machete, made me rather nervous. He led me down to the bottom of this really steep hill to where this cow´s body was wedged in a really awkward position underneath this log. I asked Francisco why the cow had died and he replied that it had gotten sick and couldn´t walk straight. To this day I still don´t know if the cow died because it was sick or because it fell because it was sick. I feel it is important to note that I was served this meat for the next three days and when I said I didn´t think it was a good idea to eat the meat of a sick cow, everyone pretended not to hear me.

I then helped lug the body from under the log and tie it up with rope to surrounding trees. Francisco then began to skin it and cut the meat off of the body. At this point, the rest of the ten cows had come to gather around us. One of the cows began making really angry mooing noises. Soon the others joined in. I think the cows thought that we had killed it or something. While Francisco was cutting meat off of the dead cow the others began to inch forward Francisco was forced to keep shooing them away. Half way through, Francisco left to go get more bags for the meat. I was actually afraid one would charge me or something and I said as much to Francisco, so he gave me a stick and told me to hit any of the cows that came too close.

Francisco came back a few minutes later with more bags and his wife and kids. Apparently, butchering a dead cow is a family affair in Ecuador. Together they cut most of the meat off of the cow. My job was to hold the carcas in place while they cut the meat. At this point the animal had no skin and its muscles were covered in this bubbly white stuff, which I got all over my hands.

The cows had died with its eyes open. I tried to close them more than once, but it didn´t work. I spent the morning being watched by its dead, dead eyes.

I have no idea what I am doing here.

Welcome to the Andes!

2006-06-17T11:13:00.000-07:00

I have finally created my blog and will be putting up group postings about once a week when I return to the capital city. Right now I will be posting events from past days so anyone who is interested can catch up on the happenings...

Sun. June 4th, 2006 (Day 3)
Today was my first full day in Quito. I woke up and went in search of a bank because neither my VISA nor my bank card worked at the ATM close to where I stayed Saturday night. I soon found out that the entire city shuts down on Sundays and it is pretty much impossible to change traveller´s cheques or even get money out. At the end of the day, I still had not found a bank that would except either of my cards. At 4:30 I took the bus that goes to the village, called Las Tolas, where I will be living. It is a rather alarming 2 and a half hour drive through the mountains that is done half on paved roads and half on windy dirt roads. On the bus I met two other volunteers from England who had been volunteering for 3 weeks already and were staying for another week. While on the bus ride Anna and Sara told some rather alarming things:

1. No organic farm exists where I will be living (the point of me going to Ecuador was to work on an organic farm)
2. My mornings would be comprised exclusively of meaningless manual labor (ie. finishing the pool that is on the property)
3. Most of the food is either fried or made with lots of milk (I dislike both)
4. My cabin has no electricity
5. After the first week is over, Anna and Sara will be leaving and I will be alone for the next five weeks to dig dirt out of a pool and live in a cabin that is an hour hike in the rainforest from the nearest village (of 300 people) and has no electricity

When I actually arrived in the village I was seriously questioning both my choice to come to South America alone and my choice to do a volunteer project instead of only travelling.

I then proceeded to hike the hour walk to the cabins. Under normal circumstances, this walk would be very pleasant. With my huge backpack on my back walking around the Andes after dark was not something I would classify as a good experience. By the time I got to the cabins I was sweating like a mad woman and very, very worried.