Feliz Año Nuevo!

Happy 2009!

I had planned to have two blogs done by now, but life interfered so you’ll have to bear with me as I catch up on the last few weeks. I’ll tackle it chronologically, going on the pictures to refresh my memory.

Back in mid-December, I was invited to attend a celebration of literacy here in Buenos Aires. It was to mark the culmination in a four-year campaign to eradicate ‘analfabetismo’ (literally, ‘without alphabet’) throughout the district. According to the statistics touted in several of the speeches made, it was a successful drive, resulting in 93% literacy. The festivities kicked off with the arrival of the ‘torch of literacy’, supposedly carried on foot from town to town, complete with a police escort. The mayor, vice mayor/mayor elect, and a dozen other people from as near as Rivas and as far as Cuba (where the original campaign, “¡Si, yo puedo!” “Yes, I can!” was conceived) were in attendance. The orations were broken up by a traditional Nicaraguan dance performed by two adorable local girls, swirling about the stage in billowing white skirts, and the unfurling of a huge banner lauding Buenos Aires for its success. Although I was very happy to know such things were afoot, I felt a bit skeptical that only 7% of my friends and neighbors remained in the darkness of illiteracy, remembering the intake process at a free vision check clinic I helped register people for a couple years ago. One of the questions asked clients if they could read, and I am fairly certain, particularly out in Tolasmaydas, that the number was just a wee bit (25%+/-) higher…

Soon afterwards, Nicaragua embraced the holiday season, including colorful lights on many houses and businesses, and even Santa making an appearance in the town square. On the same day we spotted St. Nick bouncing bairns in his red velvet suit, just across the park another ‘santa’, Santa Guadalupe—aka The Virgin of Guadalupe-- was also having her day. As the patron saint of Mexico, her likeness adorns everything from taxi cabs to birthday cakes up there. Here, she has less of a following, but Nicaraguans are generous in their embrace of all things Catholic and colorful, and so they dressed up their children in brilliant traditional outfits and had them photographed in front of life-sized portraits of the Virgin, often while sitting astride tiny wooden horses.

Pat responded to excited voices out the back door the other morning, arriving to find Sergio, the caretaker, jumping about waving a rake and pointing into the storage shed. “Hay un serpiente muy grande!” he shouted, gesturing wildly with the rake. Pat went into the shed where he found a young boa, maybe four feet long, cut nearly in half and writhing in pain. He pulled it out with the rake, then reached down and grabbed it behind the head, holding it up for me to see. I snapped a quick picture before he ended its misery with a well-placed machete blow, then translated for him as he patiently explained to Sergio that these sorts (and sizes) of boas are no danger to humans, and are in fact an important part of the ecosystem, playing a necessary role in keeping down the rodent population. Sergio nodded his head, absorbing the lecture. Several days later, Dennis told us that Sergio had killed a second, smaller snake that had the misfortune to cross his path while he was watering the tomatoes. A beautifully constructed wasps’ nest met a similar fate, in spite of the three weeks’ labor that went into its creation. A few minutes on google informed us that these were a species of miniature wasps, that, in addition to being stingless, also perform useful tasks in the ecosystem, and should, given the choice, be left alone. But we learned very quickly down here that Nicaraguans approach nature with a “kill it first, eat or ignore it later” policy that extends to everything from caterpillars to iguanas and even ground squirrels. Pat & I have tried to prevent the slaughter of innocent beasties out at our place, explaining to the local kids that it’s not an altogether bad thing to live and let live. This is generally met witheye rolling and sniggering, and a sagacity beyond their years, implying that we will change our tune when some of these same beasties start preying on us.

We are moving ahead on our house, completing the water storage tank, which means all that stands between us and running water is something to run it into, such as a toilet or sink. In the meantime, we drove up to the outskirts of Granada where we picked up 43 bundles of 24 cane rods that will eventually become our ceiling. First it’s painted with a lovely mixture of insecticide and diesel to protect it from some of the above-mentioned beasties. This takes a few days to soak in and the fumes to evaporate, at which time it is suspended from the ceiling using 2x2’s, then a clear varnish is sprayed on as a final protective coat. It should look pretty cool, and as we have low ceilings, will ideally make the place feel more open.

Christmas finally arrived, although it was a bit of a non-event. Christmas Eve is the real celebration, with families and friends gathering for extended dinners and parties lasting into the wee hours when Midnight Masses are attended. We joined a herd of other ex-pats and a handful of Nicas for a delicious potluck meal, after which we piled into Edwin’s truck and headed back to Buenos Aires to listen to a troupe of locals dressed up like extras from The Last Temptation of Christ and singing what I assume were Christmas songs but sung so off-key our ears bled. Giving thanks for being so late we missed most of the performance, we returned to Edwin’s house, set up plastic chairs in the street, and sat around for an hour or so then went home to bed. Christmas day itself was like any other Sunday, and it passed us by without making a sound.

And then came the wedding! Scott, a good friend of ours formerly from L.A., now of Gig Harbor, WA, who has spent the last six or seven summers up in Homer, first at Coal Point, then as a kayak guide for True North, and his new bride Amanda, spent a few weeks in Nicaragua a couple years back and so loved it they decided to hold their wedding here. They chose a lovely spot called Selva Negra, which those of you who have read along for a while will remember as the German-Nica run coffee plantation we visited last fall. It boasts a lovely little chapel ideal for small weddings, and with an impressive 23 guests down from the US, it was perfect. Most of the attendees were from Amanda’s large Chinese-American family, and came together from L.A. Scott’s parents made the trek from New Hampshire, and along with two other couples, us, and his good friend Scott who also spends his summers toiling at Coal Point in Homer, comprised his side of the aisle. It was a beautiful wedding, drawing on an assortment of traditions from the Christian church to Native American to ancient Celtic. I believe there was a bit of the I Ching in there as well, plus a love song performed by a local Nica woman, and a Scottish ballad about herring performed by Pat. (Since we all met through fish, it seemed oddly appropriate.)

There was a 10-member marimba band at the reception, including drums, guitars, and assorted percussion instruments. Their repertoire ran from local classics, well-known Mexican numbers, and a somewhat disturbing version of “My Way”. Although the wedding had been moved from 4pm to 10:30am, everyone was more than ready to shake their respective tail feathers, grateful for the cooler air found at 4000 feet. We spent a couple days up there, getting to know the families and having a really relaxing time. And for once, rather than driving ourselves (although I am very happy to report that the jeep is up and running again, good as new), we traveled by chicken bus for most of the trip, other than joining the wedding party in Granada for the leg up to Selva Negra in a comfy air conditioned mini-bus. In spite of the name, the only live chickens we actually saw were in the back of Edwin’s truck on the way down from Managua…

We were in Managua for a day, running about looking for extractor fans for our house, and then for ventilation ducting for our friends’ new hot water heater out on Ometepe Island. We had more luck with our quest, finding a place to fabricate what we need. The ducting, however, was non-existent, something which Brian did not want to believe until he had no choice…when the salesman in the shop selling other hot water heaters that require ducting admitted they not only didn’t sell it, he had no idea where to find it, and perhaps it would be best to get someone local to fabricate it…which is just what Edwin and Pat told him at the outset, and which Edwin will now do….

Finally, New Year’s Eve. The noisiest night of the year bar none, a sort of melding of the 4th of July, Guy Fawkes Day, and our own version of Dec. 31st. The bombas (small exploding rockets) start early and go late, as people gather with friends and family to eat, drink, dance, and kill time until the clock strikes 12. At this point even more flying exploding things are lit and flung, and effigies of “El Viejo”, the old man representing the past year made by stuffing old clothes with paper and fireworks, is set alight and the new year is formerly welcomed as he lays burning and popping in the street. We’d bought a couple bottles of cheap champagne in Managua, and delighted everyone (we spent the evening at Edwin’s with his family and friends) by pouring cups and having a joyous toast. One of the teens had never seen it before, and asked his mom what it was. “It’s a kind of fancy cane alcohol,” she replied. We celebrated till 2, then wobbled home to face what we hope will be an entertaining and rewarding 2009.

All the best!