Viajando el Mundo

From nomads to residents

2009-09-25T18:24:00.004-07:00

To my amazement, I am now the assistant principal of two elementary schools in El Segundo. Two weeks ago I was sitting around my parent's home in Crowley wondering if Trisha and I would be on the fun-employed path until Christmas. It was looking that way for awhile as I had not heard back from any district or companies other than Los Angeles Unified. We were prepared to ride out the tough job market and be content to live out of our suitcases for however long was necessary. Fortunately our luck changed.

It all began as we were driving home from the Sierra Nevada a few weeks ago. We were prepared to house-sit for my parents while they were away in Italy, caring for the dogs and searching for work. As we were entering the LA basin, the El Segundo USD gave a call and invited me to a round of upcoming interviews. The first thing I thought when receiving the call was if anything, that this would be good practice for other upcoming interviews.

The Friday of the interview rolled around and though nervous, I again was in the mind-set of interview practice. I didn't know how much competition there was for this job, but I assumed since I hadn't heard back from any other districts that my chances weren't great. The interview was low-key and took place with the HR guy and district superintendent. Though I haven't held an educational administrative job before, my classroom experience and admin fieldwork/classes gave me a good base for a successful first round. I left feeling good, though I still expected my competition to be more experienced and better qualified.

Trisha and I then killed a few hours in El Segundo waiting to hear back from the interview panel. The call came promptly in the early afternoon and confirmed my move to the second round. Though surprised, my confidence was given a nice big boost. It was nice to know that at least I had the ability to make it to a second round.

I felt the second interview went better than the first. Though there were more administrators present -principals, superintendent, HR, pupil services director, special ed director- the mood they set was calming and I went into it trying to be as natural as possible. Many of the questions were similar to the first round as there were new panel members, though a few new questions were thrown in as well. I again felt comfortable with the topics and believed I was presenting myself well. The interview ended and they informed me that they would call Monday with their decision. That made for a long weekend.

Nothing felt relaxed or normal during our weekend after the interview. Though it was just an interview, there was so much that could change with a phone call. Both our minds were racing from one scenario to another. Would we be back to job hunting online in coffee shops and bumming at our parents places while they were gone, or would be actually begin the process of becoming permanent? Writing about this now it doesn't seem all that stressful, but the anticipation and waiting at the time were terrible.

Finally on Monday afternoon as I plopped down on the bed from the nervous tiredness of waiting, the phone rang and I was offered the job. Though it was a shock, I had this spark of confidence all weekend that perhaps I was what they were looking for. I'm not sure if I got this vibe from the interview panel or if my confidence just grew as a result of the process. Regardless it was excellent news that threw me into a roller coaster of new emotions for the next few days, with highs of becoming a good leader like my last principal, to lows of thinking I'm unprepared for this job.

Upon visits to both elementary schools, which involved meeting the staffs and tours of the campus, along with a Back-to-School Night last week, I was feeling less nervous and more confident of the journey ahead. There is no doubt it's going to be an overwhelming job with learning opportunities at every corner, yet it should be interesting to see if this a role I prefer to teaching. I feel fortunate for the opportunity.

Who would have guessed our transition from nomads to contributing citizens would only take a few months? We even have an apartment lined up in El Segundo so I can bike to work and we can enjoy the great access to the beach and west side. Trisha and I are definitely looking forward to this new and exciting change.

Yes, or no?

2009-09-19T11:01:00.001-07:00

So I’m sitting here in the Blue Butterfly Café on Main St. in downtown El Segundo. The setting is what you’d call a very main street USA…quite opposite to the picture of the city center of Munich that I’m staring at on my screensaver. Historic storefronts line the street topped off with a city park with white gazebo and all. Why am I here? Well, my husband is currently standing outside the door of a room full of important administrators of El Segundo Unified School District, waiting to be called in for his second interview of today, just minutes from now. Godspeed Travis!

It’s been an interesting day. At 11:00am, Travis went in for his interview of the Elementary School Assistant Principal position in this quaint, seaside city of the South Bay. It’s actually a unique position in that he’d be Assistant Principal over the two elementary schools in this small district, rather than just the usual one. This is the second time they’ve flown this position; apparently the first time they didn’t find the right match for the job. Although a little intimidated to be interviewing for his first AP position, Travis was confident and ready for whatever today may bring. Well, not to my surprise he had what it took to bring him to step two, this second interview. It’s been a strange day in that we had to wait two hours after his initial interview this morning to get the call that they’d like to see him a second time this afternoon, this time with a larger panel of interviewers. So, after putzing around this city and killing some time, we’ve split up again and now my thoughts are with him as he in the middle of it.

Actually, my thoughts have been wildly active all week. Travis and I are living a rather odd existence right now, in that we are in this bizarre time of transition not knowing where in this state of California we might end up. Although we’ve had no problem having a place to rest our heads (thanks to our families), we are still living out of our same old suitcases without any sense of permanence or settling down. At least not yet. Our current home, the Longs’ loft in Pasadena, is the most familiar place we have lived all year. We know this city, the stores, the restaurants, the bike rides. Only this time we are not residents, we’re not going to and from our jobs each day, and not keeping up our home. We’re still travelers in a way as our journey towards the next step in our lives continues.

Every time Travis sends out a resume, it’s hard not to let my mind wonder and think, “What would it feel like to live there? What would our lives look like in that location?” After a year living in so many different extremes, sometimes we think we could settle anywhere and be happy. Other times though, we realize our criterion has narrowed and we have more specific requests for our desired place to settle down. I think this comes from being in such a unique place. When else in our lives have we had the freedom to literally pick up and move wherever the best opportunity arises, without severing any ties or commitments? Those ties were all severed a year ago, when we packed it all up and began this adventure.

Speaking of a year ago, we enjoy thinking back time and again to reflect on those early weeks of last year, “newbies” living in Spain making our way around with our beginner levels of Spanish. These memories are never far from my heart or my thoughts. I’ve been asked, “Do you wish you were still traveling? Is it hard to be back in the USA?” To be honest, even though last year was my dream of all dreams, the answer is no. It couldn’t have been any clearer to me than it was this week when we brought the Longs to the International terminal of LAX airport to catch their flight to Italy. Seeing the millions of people pulling their heavy luggage, passports and tickets in hand, standing in lines and looking bleary-eyed and hurried, nothing inside me wanted to seal up my bag and get on a plane again. At least now right now. Sure, I was allured by the thought of being in Italy again and discovering more of the magic that we discovered there. But truly, we had our adventure, our eyes were opened to a world larger than imaginable, and even though we’ve only touched the surface of what we’d like to see and experience it’s time for us to again have a place to call “our home.”

A home. Permanence. Routine daily life. A typical schedule. A closet. Our toiletries in a drawer, not a travel bag. Cooking in a kitchen where we know where everything is. Using our own things. Having an income! Things you don’t even think about when they are in place, but when you’ve been without them for so long they seem like a really big deal. Am I ready for this again?

I’m watching the cars passing by the window, knowing that at any moment Travis will drive up to fetch me. What will his expression be? Will I instantly know if he was offered the job, or not? Will we even know today, or will the district think on it over the weekend? I’m on pins and needles. Depending on what they are looking for, Travis might be the perfect match and within moments we may be celebrating. Our current non-permanent existence will change in an instant and our weekend may be shaped around looking for an apartment in El Segundo, sorting through the storage unit to find Travis’s dress clothes, and figuring out what our “new lives” will hold. It sounds like a whirlwind in comparison to our current schedule. On the other hand, this may just be one great “practice round” for Travis, and our future is yet to behold. If not this job, I’m sure there will be more. The important thing is that it’s a good fit for Travis and a position he is excited about. Ahh! The car just pulled up………

……..So here we’re on Saturday, and I’m presenting you with a cliffhanger. Travis walked into that café yesterday with a thumbs up and a smile. He was happy and calm, and felt like he nailed the 2nd interview. The outcome? We won’t know until early next week! Like I said before, the competition for this position is steep and they need some time to think about their decision. The best news is that Travis felt great about the position, how he presented himself, and his experience and qualifications that have lead him to this point. If anything, this interview has helped confirm for him that an administration position is definitely what he desires. If he fits their mold, I have no doubt that he will excel. It was delightful for me to see him in his element again yesterday, after a year away from elementary education. Quite a different Travis sat beside me, looking dapper in his coat and tie, than the savvy (but sometimes stressed-out) traveler I’ve spent the year with.

This weekend will sure be tense for us as we wait for the call on Monday or Tuesday. Every time the phone rings we both jump. We don’t want to get too excited, because it could really go either way. But on the other hand, it’s so difficult not to let your mind wonder ahead and ponder what our lives would be like living in El Segundo. The good news is that whatever happens, we trust our future is in God’s hands and we will adapt and adjust to whatever may come next. If this isn’t it, there will be something else… and the journey continues.

Fun-employed

2009-09-11T17:02:00.004-07:00

Hire me!

It seems to be a steep mountain to climb in this pursuit of new employment. How was I to know the job market was going to tank while we were away on our year abroad? If I knew at the time I told Monrovia Unified goodbye last year that there would be so few jobs when I returned...I wouldn't have changed a thing of course!

In hindsight I see a safe and secure job teaching elementary school that I could be doing at this moment, had we not ventured out. It would have made all the resume, cover letter, copies of credentials, market yourself stuff a non-entity. The people I haven't heard back from for positions I have applied wouldn't be frustrating me at this moment. And the prospect of being unemployed in a profession that has seen monumental budget cuts wouldn't seem as daunting.

Fortunately, this process has been more enjoyable than not. It has given me the chance to spend more time thinking of long-term career goals and reevaluate what is important to me in this field. It has been pushing me to become more in-tune with my views on education and become more aware of the details that make for a visionary leader (something I aspire to become someday). I'm not sure I would have been pushed to make these explorations had I not quit when I did.

I do feel extremely fortunate in the midst of this transition to have places to stay, supportive families, and an nonthreatening financial situation. My heart goes out the the other huge percentage of unemployed who don't have that luxury. I admit that I do not think or pray for these folks nearly enough, but instead find plenty of time to be preoccupied with my own stuff. Another goal.

An Interesting Read

Although maybe not a summer beach read, I did enjoy recently reading 1491: New Revelations of the Americas Before Columbus, by Charles C. Mann. I think our adventures in Central America inspired this choice from the library a few weeks ago. 1491 reads a little like a textbook in parts and historical narrative in others, with the anthropological and archaeological jargon kept to a minimum. I didn't bore of this book though, and enjoyed discovering what the Americas were like prior to Columbus. My knowledge in this area was only what I had learned in school, which was not much. This was in fact one of the tenants of the book: that what we learned in school isn't completely factual nor relevant to the history of the Americas. So what were some of those tidbits of Pre-Columbian America that previously were excluded from traditional history books? Here are two:

First, it is estimated that 90-95% of Native American populations were decimated by small-pox prior to any large number of European settlers arriving. It is often taught that Europeans were the main culprits to these numbers. This isn't diminishing their responsibly in ending many great civilizations in the Americas; it is just giving more credit to the Native Americans who were here. Basically, if it weren't for disease, they totally could have held their own against these foreigners from Europe. Their numbers were superior and their technology was just as advanced. The only real advantage the Europeans had were horses (and maybe gun power, though arrows were much faster than loading a gun).

Second, a typical fact taught in schools is that people-groups walked from the Asian continent through the landmass between Russia and Alaska, to populate both N. and S. America toward the end of the ice age. Mann and other scientists find this to not be completely probable.
For one, how did those folks crossing into Alaska walk all the way down to S. America, through truly challenging conditions, and populate a continent in such a short period of time (dates given in book). According to Mann, impossible! Instead, perhaps groups used boats to cruise down the Pacific Coast, living close to shore and eating a lot of fish. It would make the journey that much faster. It is also a hope of scientists to one day discover groups who may have always been here.

Where are we?

Trisha and I are currently living in the Crowley Lake area outside of Mammoth. We are "house-sitting" if you will, using my parents' currently uninhabited house. Although we have been doing a lot of work on future stuff, it hasn't been too difficult to adjust to life in the mountains. Sure the pace is slow and we can go all day not seeing anyone if we choose, but if there is anyplace to be unemployed, this is it. We will be returning to Pasadena on Monday, for some more "house-sitting" and doggie care. My parents will be vacating their loft for three weeks while they travel, so Trisha and I will be there to take over dog care responsibilities etc. Anyone have a house or apartment they want looked after? We have updated resumes and references to boot!

Read This! -Initial attempt to blog about what's on my mind

2009-09-06T16:28:00.005-07:00

It is much more difficult blogging on a consistent basis when you aren't traveling and sharing your days with a large audience. At this point, I imagine our blog audience to be ourselves and perhaps someone checking on the old site now and then. The goal from this is to create smaller blog entries on a more on-going basis for the fun of it, rather than writing with an larger audience in mind.

So here is what's on my mind. First, I have been dedicating most of my time in Pasadena, Chino, and Aspen Springs to job hunting. Amidst the challenging job market, this has been a fairly enjoyable process. The education site I use- ed-join-has a steady stream of postings and I really can't keep up with all the cover letters, resumes, and applications to fill out. Of course I could be competing with 700 other applicants for each position, but I'm trying to stay positive and hoping for a few call-backs in the coming weeks. I am searching or a Vice Principal role, though other educational administration positions are also fine. I just want to get my foot in the door. My desire to teach elementary school has not completely extinguished, however, I am much more intrigued by the prospect of working in an administrative capacity. Plus I completed all my fieldwork and classes for my credential and Masters, so why not?

Other thoughts... I think one of the most difficult parts of being an American since returning to the U.S. is witnessing the division in our country. Be it health care, government reform, or any other myriad of issues, it seems like we are more polarized than ever. And the degree of polarization and vehemence which people hold for their side is startling. I would love to turn on a political show or listen to a leader say, "Today we are going to devote our time to figuring out how we can work together on issues. Let's take the best ideas from both sides of the political spectrum and civilly and politely work out compromises that will push our country forward." That would be nice. Wouldn't it be cool if Bill O'Reily said "I totally disagree with Keith Oberman, but I respect him, and want us to sit down together to figure our ways we can move forward" (I suppose ratings would go down if that happened). It would be great if that attitude transferred to the Senate and House, and all those ugly town hall meeting. I don't think we're going to make much progress as a nation without some compromise.

Finally, I just finished reading American Lion by Jon Meacham. I recommend it. The style of writing is a bit taxing as the author, loves to use commas, and interjects long stories between facts that you are already trying to keep clear in your head, but instead become confusing because of the new information he's interjecting. Anyway, the book is about the life of Andrew Jackson in the White House and his years as President.

I knew little of Jackson before reading the book, except that he is on the twenty, had big hair, and was responsible for much of the Native American removal in the the Eastern and Southern States. The book confirms the latter (they don't get into the hair too much) but it also brings out a bunch of the good things he did. I think the most interesting was that during his presidency, the country was already moving toward civil war, even though it was 1830's; thirty years before the real Civil War. He showed some gusto in his leadership, along with cool headed, calculated maneuvers that quelled the path to war. If a civil war had occurred at that time, it's unlikely the U.S. would have been able to put the pieces back together like they did during Lincoln's presidency. Overall, a good read.

Resistance

2009-08-19T19:56:00.002-07:00

Resistance: A word that sums up some of our feelings upon setting up life again in the United States. Unique questions have come to the surface. Do we really need to have cell phones again? Can we get by with just one car instead of two? Do we have to return to our storage unit and retrieve all our stuff? What could we possibly need that we’ve done so easily without all year?

Travis and I have been home now for a couple of weeks and there is much to be said about “reverse culture shock.” Being back in a place so familiar, I stand aghast at some of the things I took for granted before without giving it a second thought. For example, I know my way around the city without using a map. When I want to buy something, I know what store to find it in. I can ask someone for help in my native language and understand the response. When I look at the headlines on a newspaper, I can read them. Road signs carry meaning; I don’t need to guess at how an unfamiliar symbol might be interpreted. Although these things may seem so simple, they clearly illustrate some of the difficulties we encountered when living abroad. But, do we really miss these difficulties now that we’re on our way to becoming settled? That answer is still up for grabs.

Starting up again from scratch in our American lives requires quite a few steps. I’m finding this transitional month of August ’09 to be very reminiscent of August ’08 when we were preparing for our new transient lifestyle abroad. Only this time, instead of closing off accounts and packing things away, we’re slowly opening up boxes and deciding where to lay new roots. With our experiences of this year fresh in our minds, we have hopes to do things a little alternatively as we become established.

Step 1: The cell phone. Even though cell phones were abundantly present in every country we visited this year, Travis and I both fear being tied to our ringing machines again. You can’t believe how nice it was having no phone bill to pay. We wondered how long we could go without signing up for a contract. This was maybe a fun experiment for us, but our family members trying to get a hold of us didn’t find this all too convenient. The truth is, we lasted two weeks before heading to the Verizon store, two weeks that included having to borrow my mom’s cell phone several times and even finding ourselves stuck at a phone booth digging in our pockets for change. Who knew that payphones were 75 cents for a local call!

So with much research, we’ve signed up for one pay-as-you-go plan that doesn’t feel as committal to us as the usual 2-yr. agreement with strings attached. Because Travis still had his old cell phone, we were thrilled to put no money down and still acquire a new number. It may be very out of date compared to the iPhones and BlackBerrys out there, but it will do. We are still living a bit out of the norm being that we only have one phone between us, but I guess at this point we’re so used to being together at every moment, the thought of actually having times apart when we need to get a hold of each other sounds rather foreign to us.

Step 2: A vehicle. I have not been behind a steering wheel for 11 months and haven’t missed driving for even a moment. We were amazed this year at how far your own two feet can take you when you want to go somewhere. Add to that the ease and convenience of public transportation in so many of the countries we visited, driving was a non-issue. Travis and I arrived in Los Angeles inspired to master the bus and metro system here and hold off on buying a car. But, did you know that just to go 30 miles from Chino to Pasadena would cost us about $20? Maybe this amount is what we should have expected, but when accustomed to parts of Europe where you can travel to another country for that price, we just couldn’t do it. Isn’t the idea of public transportation to motivate people to save money on gas and use their cars less often? With that price, maybe that’s why so many people are still on the freeways? So again, our aspirations were shot down after just two weeks of trying to go from point A to B in these spread out, metropolitan suburbs. When we found ourselves having to bum rides from our moms and my 17 yr. old sister, the feeling of being “kids without wheels” again was just all too frightening.

So, we are now going to and fro (mostly back and forth to our guestrooms with our families in Chino and Pasadena) in our new, used Honda CRV. It’s a good solid vehicle and we are pleased as punch with it. I have yet to want to drive as I’ve preferred this year of less responsibility, but I did enjoy the 5 minutes I drove it the day we made our purchase. It’s interesting that the moment you are mobile again, the ideas you had in your head about distances completely change. A 1 to 2 mile walk to the grocery store was commonplace to us abroad, but here in California we’d feel pretty strange lugging our shopping bags down the city streets for this distance. We’ve even noticed how the sidewalks here appear so empty compared to the hustle and bustle of pedestrian and bicycle traffic we’re used to. It’s a little sad really, we now find ourselves planning walks as workout times rather than just depending on our typical day of walking around to cover our daily exercise needs. Our next goal is to see how long we can go with having just one car. The hope is that one of us can find work that is bikeable from our next home-to-be. I guess time will tell. That leads me to the next step…

Step 3: Reclaiming some possessions. Take a guess on the one thing we wanted to retrieve from our storage unit right away upon returning. Yes, our bicycles. Driving up to the garage in Pomona, we were flooded with memories of the last time we were there one year ago, locking up all of our possessions for who knows how long. At that point I remember thinking, “Can I really live on just the things in this suitcase for a whole year?” Well, mission accomplished. With happy visions of riding our bikes again, we walked up the stairs with the August heat beating on us just as vibrantly as the day we moved everything in. To our dismay, our unit key broke in half when Travis put it in the lock, making it impossible to open. Because it was after office hours, we were forced to leave our bikes behind and find a way to solve this problem. Knowing all of our stuff was just on the other side of that door, impossible to retrieve, was a strange feeling. I couldn’t help but wonder, “What kind of lesson is this teaching me as to the value and need of our material possessions? Now that they’re within our grasp, how much do we really need these things in life we didn’t depend on while we were away?” Something to ponder…

In conclusion, Travis was able to bust open the lock the following day and we are now back on our own wheels riding familiar paths of our past. Our transient lifestyle is turning more towards permanence each day even though we are slightly resistant, but we are still living out of suitcases for the time being. Many thanks to our families for having open rooms for us as well as such welcoming environments. I don’t think we realized how much we missed our family members until we returned. It’s been so much fun to reunite, share some stories and hear about what we missed. Oh yeah, and jobs? That should probably be one of the steps included in this blog. We don’t quite have them yet, but no worries… resumes are out there and we’ll keep you posted.

And so we continue...

2009-08-11T21:43:00.002-07:00

Transitioning from a year of travel to life in the U.S. has not been nearly as difficult as Trisha and I anticipated it would be. This was surprising as conversations in the final month of our journey often included the fears we had in ending our travel lives. Would we fall into post-travel depressions? Would U.S. culture shock be too much? Would we be able to assimilate with family and friends the way we had before? From our marathon day of travel from Germany to Los Angeles, to our past weeks living at home, all has been an illuminating experience which we are happy to reflect upon in this blog. Let’s begin.

The initial transition process, which was incredibly surreal, began on our final day in Munich, Germany. We concluded this final day with a visit to a beer garden (picture posted on blog) and then headed back to our rented apartment for dinner, last-minute bag packing, and some room tidying. This was all in preparation for our 12:40 a.m. train to the Frankfurt Airport (weeks prior to this evening we decided to take the night-train, as the early morning train had sold out of discount seat). The post-dinner waiting around was the most surreal, as our normal bedtime was around 11:30 or 12:00, and here we were walking to the train station at 12:15 to catch our train.

All went smoothly with the train, though we were not able to sleep at all during the night. We pulled into the Frankfurt airport around 5:00 a.m. and then killed five hours before our 10:55 flight. Our time spent in the airport isn’t really noteworthy except that we found showers, which we excitedly paid for, and were stopped by German customs officials. They gave us a difficult time because we were 10 days over our European Union tourist visa. We explained that since our plans to Switzerland (non-EU) had changed, we had no alternative but to stay longer. They claimed we could be arrested, but ultimately said since Germany and the U.S. have a good relationship, that we could proceed. Trisha claims I was nervous during this encounter, but is was obvious they weren’t going to detain us. (It is interesting to note that we met more than a few Americans and Canadians who were way over their allotted 3-month visa times. One guy in Spain has 7 years over his visa! What is he going to do when he passes through customs?)

The flight from Frankfurt to Dallas felt like an eternity, made worse I think because of our five-hour train ride. Again, neither of us was able to get any sleep on the plane, so we arrived in Dallas somewhat tired. This was our first taste of American life since our brief airport stop in March, so our lack of sleep and time away made it feel a little otherworldly. Fortunately Trisha and I became big fans of Texas this year. Each time we were there (three times total) we were pleasantly surprised how warm the people we encountered were, and this three-hour layover was no exception.

By the time our delayed flight to Los Angeles took off on Monday we had been up for about 38 hours -we first woke up in Munich on Sunday morning at 8:00, which would have been Saturday night at home. On this flight we actually did succumb to sleep and were happy the three-hour flight felt like only a few minutes.

And then we were back. In the midst of our tiredness, walking through customs and the terminal, we got a second-wind thinking about how we had been in the same spot almost a year ago. We had been privileged to see and do so much in that period of time outside of our normal lives, that being back in the familiar gave us a confused feeling. I think we were just too tired to feel anything, but it is difficult to explain how unusual it is to come home to a place you’ve know your whole life while being away for a year. It wasn’t joy, nor was it sadness. It was just kind of weird.

I’ll conclude for now that we were warmly greeted at the airport by Trisha’s mom, who whisked us away to a beach house in Newport, where we joined a family vacation already in progress. Although we will reflect and share more observations about this process in future blogs, lets just say that spending a week at the beach to begin reentry into life in the U.S. isn’t so bad.

Signing off from this side of the world...

2009-07-26T07:50:00.002-07:00

Tomorrow will conclude the journey we have been on the past 11 months. As it would be difficult, not to mention incredibly bittersweet, to write a sweeping final blog, we’ll leave it open. We are intrigued with the prospect of keeping up this blog, despite the current end of our overseas lives. Besides, with little in the way of permanence established at home, the decision-making process in our re-entry and where we ultimately end up should be rich with material. We wish we could read ahead and see where we do end up.

If your interests in this blog extend beyond travel, keep reading, as it might be entertaining (though the photos might not be as picturesque). If this is your last read, thanks for being with us this year. We felt very supported in our adventure knowing that family and friends were taking part in something that was so special to us. We are thankful for every second of this year and thankful it turned out as well as it did. So, ciao, adios, auf weidersehen! -Travis and Trisha

Undisclosed Disasters

2009-07-22T14:07:00.003-07:00

A few incidents happened this year that were never mentioned in our previous blog entries. This lack of information has to do with the difficulty in swallowing one’s pride in order to disclose such situations. Fortunately, Trisha is over the embarrassment at this point, so I might as well dive right in; and yes these are all about her.

Back in October in Granada, Spain, Trisha had a most unfortunate event that she blogged about with great detail and emotion shortly after it occurred. If you recall, we were sitting at the apex of a multi-floor coffee house enjoying an early evening tea. Trisha decided to take a few snapshots on her digital camera to remember the pleasant environment. She earnestly placed her camera on a nearby shelf in order to use the timer function to catch us in a tea-drinking pose. While waiting for the flash on her second shot attempt, the camera unexpectedly toppled to the floor, breaking the lens beyond repair. She was devastated.

The following day we did our best to enjoy the reason we came to Granada; the Alhambra. This was painful to say the least though, as we were minus a camera to encapsulate its entire splendor. We made it our mission after our morning visit to secure a new camera for our trip – one that was the same or close to the same as the original. It took us hours to find camera shops in Granada that were open, and even longer to find ones with similar camera. Fortunately, the large chain store, Corte Ingles, saved us from our camera-less misery as we shelled out enough Euros for the exact same digital camera. We were ready for more picturesque landscapes, and especially, our trip to Paris the following weekend.

Upon arriving in Paris, Trisha and I were both consumed with the excitement of exploring such an incredibly beautiful city. Trisha in particular was beaming with the many photo opportunities that seem to await us on every corner and street. On our first day, I thought we might not ever make it to our initial destination, the Notre Dame, as Trisha was clicking her new camera at just about everything in her path. We did make around 10:00 a.m., and paused for a few pictures in front of the Seine River before we were to head inside the cathedral. It was a gorgeous day: clear, crisp, and fall-like.

Trisha had new flexible camera tripod that my mom gave her before we left for the year, so she was busy twisting it into all sorts of creative angles and placing it just right to catch us both in a picture. One of these planned shots was to be of us with the Notre Dame in the background. Trisha decided that if she put the tripod on the flat part of the wall that lined the Seine, she could easily shoot both.

After securing it, she pressed the timer button and we both hurried back a few yards to wait for our perfect picture. As we were arm and arm, smiling and awaiting the flash, the camera and tripod began to move….slowly….slow-motion slowly….so slow that I can still picture the camera falling and wanting to reach out and grab it, knowing exactly what was going to happen to it and not being able to do anything about it. Our brand new camera number two, tumbled helplessly affixed to its tripod into the Seine River. I saw exactly where it landed, as I was able to run over in time to watch its quick decent into the black abyss. As I turned around, shock and bewilderment were all that crossed Trisha’s face. She couldn’t believe it. For the next twenty minutes she was inconsolable, her new recently purchased camera gone forever. Following these tears, her emotions turned to self-loathing and blame, for her conviction that she was unwise to use her tripod with such risk involved. Then, finally, with sinking hearts, we changed our tour plans and headed out once more in search of another camera. There was no way we could do Paris without one.

I wish I could report that finding a camera in Paris was just as easy as Madrid, Spain; but it wasn’t. The camera shops were impossibly difficult to locate. The large chains were overwhelming and the staffs were busy and unhelpful. Our resolve and spirits were as low as they had ever been since we began our year, as our one weekend in Paris was being jeopardized. Thankfully in the late afternoon we did secure a camera similar to the other two. Our weekend was not ruined, and in hind-site we were thankful it was a camera and not the myriad of other bad things that could have happened to us. Trisha did eventually laugh about this first event, but her willingness to share it was not until the end of our year. It still hurts.

The next undisclosed Trisha disaster occurred in February, the day before our trip to Guatemala. We had just finished our three-month stay Matagalpa, Nicaragua and would be flying out of Managua in the morning. We were staying in a nice hostel in a good part of the city and were looking forward to our trip the following day. That evening, we returned to our hostel after dinner and planned on heading to bed on time for our travel day. Like most evenings, we made some tea and had a bit of dessert before getting ready. Since this hostel only had two twin beds, Trisha and I were separated on our own little islands, watching t.v. and reading.

Trisha had her bed all laid out with a few books, a notebook, her dessert, and the teapot full of boiling hot water. I’m not exactly sure how this happened, but one minute I was reading, and the next minute Trisha is screaming at the top of her lungs. Panicked and confused, I tried to figure out what was going on. Trisha meanwhile was jumping off the bed, taking off the lower half of her clothing, and writhing in pain. From the scene left on her bed, it was apparent the entire pot of boiling hot water had tipped over and scalded the backside of her leg and rear. I immediately shoved her into the shower in order to cool the area that had been burned. This helped a little, although the water wasn’t exactly cold in our hostel (we were wishing for our Matagalpa shower).

Trisha was tough and the excruciating pain she felt eventually subsided enough for her to think straight. We needed ice, but at this late juncture in the evening in Managua, we had few options. I don’t recall exactly how we got Trisha stabilized, the soaking wet sheets changed, and made it to bed that evening, but somehow it worked out. In the morning Trisha had a huge red streak running from her hip to the back of her knee. By the time we were on our way to Guatemala, large blisters had begun to form on the back of her legs. She wasn’t in pain, just discomfort due to the blisters and stinging. When we arrived in Antigua, Guatemala, one of our first tasks as we explored the city was to find gauze padding for her wound. It was a difficult task, as most of the padding was too small for the area needed. Luckily, we did find some helpful pharmacists who assisted us in our bandage quest.

The next week was one of great misery for Trisha, as she had to wrestle with the blisters and gauze, and tight, itchy skin. It was difficult for her with clothing that rubbed and when the gauze became wet. There was healing the following weeks, but a lot of itching and pealing skin. Today the burn is an unpleasant memory for Trisha, but a scar still remains on the back of her leg.

There were other Trisha incidents this year too, though none as big as these first two. In fact, Trisha had approximately four additional scars on her body from various mishaps during our travels. The first scar is on her knee, from the metal post lining the Granada city streets that she ran into our second week in Spain. The second is a dark scar below her kneecap from the fall she took while riding a mountain bike on Ometepe Island in Nicaragua. The third is on her arm; from a fall she took on some small, carpeted stairs in a Paris restaurant our first night in the city (before the camera - like that wasn’t enough). The fourth and final scar is on her shoulder and arm from another fall, this time in Matagalpa as she was leaving class in the evening. This was her biggest fall, as she was laid-out, headfirst on a slanted concrete walkway. She needed band-aides for that one.

So what have I learned this year? - I’ve learned that my wife is extremely accident prone, and I have to watch her like-a-hawk when we travel. I have also learned additional first-aid skills, where to buy bandages in foreign countries, the prices of digital cameras in Europe, tips for consoling the inconsolable, and how to identify obstacles in the sidewalk that look like they may give Trisha a challenge. No accidents since Central America (nothing on the farms can you believe it), so maybe my new found knowledge is helping. More likely is that Trisha’s misfortunes have sharpened her disaster avoidance skills to new levels and made her stronger than ever. Let’s hope so.

What I’ve learned on the road

2009-07-19T13:44:00.002-07:00

Travis and I began this year with a goal and a dream. The goal was to learn Spanish. We feel we got an excellent start on this endeavor, although we will need a major refresher course when we come home. The dream was to pack up everything, leave home, and see how long we could live abroad. At this point last year, I could never have envisioned what this year would look like or feel like. All that was planned was two months in Madrid, and from there we were not sure what would come next. Would I have guessed I’d have opportunities such as exploring the souks of Marrakech, teaching English in Nicaragua, planting lavender plants in Italy, herding camels in Austria, or biking the bike lanes to beer gardens in Germany? Never. Funny how life can evolve when you give it the chance to divert from the norm. With just one week remaining of what some might consider a daring undertaking, I wonder if some of the things I have learned will to transfer to my life back at home.

To encompass the whole scope of things learned would be impossible in one blog entry, not to mention some of its content will best be kept in my journal for personal reflection. My guess is that many of the lessons I have learned this year I haven’t even realized yet. Here are just a few discoveries of what I picked up along the way.

1. Life does not have to be so fast-paced. Coming from Los Angeles, life moved a mile a minute. I spent a lot of time in my car, liked to keep my calendar full, and thrived on familiar, busy routines. Living in countries this year with a different take on how you spend your time has shown me it’s okay to slow down a little, move away from the predictable, and take moments to pause in your day to sit on a rocking chair or slowly sip a cup of tea without feeling guilty for doing so.

2. I can spend 24 hours every day with my husband, and still be entertained by his witty remarks and entertaining stories. Just get him on the topic of 80’s TV commercials, and he’ll be singing the jingles to you for hours.

3. Working with my husband is a true delight. Again, not just kudos to Travis, but also a revelation to both of us that we are taking into consideration as we make goals for our future. We so much enjoyed the opportunities this year provided us to do things together: teach English, learn and practice a new language, and even work in the fields. We are not sure if this might lend itself to side-by-side positions or working as a team someday, but we are definitely open to the idea. Thoughts, anyone?

4. I love teaching adults English. Who would have known that spending my time educating adults would feel more richly rewarding than some of my previous experiences teaching younger children? Could this be a possible revelation for a future profession? Hmmm…. we will see.

5. Living on a very tight budget is doable, and a good challenge. Rarely have I questioned the cost of a cup of coffee or a scoop of ice cream as much as I did this year. Categorizing our budget and setting monthly expenditures and limits helped me appreciate even more all those things that came with a cost.

6. I can survive without hot water for 3 months. Okay, this is rather trivial, but it’s something I wouldn’t have discovered had I not been forced to make do. I can’t say this is one I enjoyed, but I endured.

7. Living in busy cities invigorates me. Ever since I was a little girl, I always wondered if small town life might be a good fit for me. Well, after living in tiny villages and isolation on the farms this spring, I believe I have found my answer. City life in Munich has been the perfect way to end our trip.

8. Sunny days are happy days. I guess I’m just a true California girl at heart. Multiple days in a row of cloudy skies and pesky rainstorms do little to boost my spirits. This spring and summer we have experienced more rain than what 10 winters in Los Angeles could produce. I love the sun.

9. Being flexible can actually be fun for me. Amazingly, I have adjusted to this traveler lifestyle much easier than I expected. For my well-planned nature, having to live with only about one week ahead planned out has been challenging. Fears of the unknown often crept in, and my tendency to fight them off by over planning had to be quelled. There was just so much completely out of my hands. You can read all you want about a country and its people, but until you settle down and live life for a while, you cannot predict if you will like it. So with that, I have learned to take things as they come, be more flexible with our schedule, and not let my personal expectations get in the way of seeing or experiencing a place just as it is.

10. Stepping out of my cultural comfort zone leads to colorful adventures, enhanced taste buds, great stories, and a better awareness and understanding of others. This can be attributed to the large variety of people I’ve met this year from different families, backgrounds, social classes and locations.

What's for Dinner?

2009-07-16T13:42:00.002-07:00

Tonight on the menu we have a variety of international options for your enjoyment. These treats have been etched into our palates this year, and bring fond memories of the places we enjoyed them. They rank among our favorites. So, bon appetit, guten appetit, buon appetito, dober tek, buen provecho, bilhana wa ashshifa!

Morocco

The best meal here was prepared by a Muslim woman name Namah. Nameah worked at the riad we stayed at in Marrakech and not only prepared a fantastic lamb and vegetable tangine for us, she gave a how-to lesson as well. Her multi-step recipe looked easy enough, and yielded the best tangine we had while visiting Morocco. We’re hoping to reproduce her lesson sometime soon.

Italy

While staying and working for Paul and Paula in Velletri, we were treated to a very memorable meal of artichokes. These artichokes were prepared by stuffing them with a garlic, salt, pepper, lemon, mint and olive oil mix (2 tbs. of mix per artichoke). The artichokes were then charcoal grilled for about an hour. Though the hosts weren’t our favorites, the artichokes were to die for.

Another memorable meal in Italy was with Lucy and Peter, our help x hosts in Arrezo. They had two other helpers from Canada staying with them during our visit, and these guys worked on building an outside barbeque. The trial run for the barbeque, made out of cinder blocks holding up an iron mesh door, was an amazing assortment of sausages, ribs, vegetables, and potatoes wrapped up in foil. In hindsight I know we’ve had better barbeque in our lives, but this one was the first we had enjoyed in months, which heightened the taste even more.

One final memorable meal in Italy was in Padova. We had been walking and touring the city most of the day and stumbled into a somewhat chic looking establishment. There were white linens, candles, and servers in ties; but the prices were bargain. The meal was memorable to us because of the chapino (a fish soup) that we ordered. It had velvety white fish with plump shrimp and mussels, floating in a rich tomato broth. It was one of the best tasting meals we had in Italy.

Slovenia

On our final night in Branik, our help x host Tjasia took us to a traditional village harvest gathering for food and music. The music was polka. The food was giant plates of proscutto, olives with garlic and cheese, roasted eggplant, roasted pork, sauerkraut, sausages, and bread. This typical Slovenian food (mixture of Italian and Bavarian) was pleasantly filling, and the polka music and dance floor full old-timers was unforgettable.

Guatemala

There is small, dinky little restaurant in Antigua called Traveler’s Menu. They have four dishes on the menu and all are Asian themed. We both ordered the stir-fried chicken and vegetables, and were amazed at the amount (huge pile) and quality of the food. The reasonable price, and fact that we were eating very small portions at our home-stay, made it a treat.

In Panachel there is a main street that is lined with restaurants, both local and gringo owned. We chose one that was Argentinean, so I guess it would be extrajero (foreigner) owned, but perhaps not gringo. Anyway, the meal was memorable because they serve this mouth-wateringly juicy grilled chicken with chimichurri sauce and salad. Chimichurri is a green sauce with cilantro, parsley, and other fun spices. The atmosphere was open-aired and lined the busy Pana main street, so you got a nice view of all the locals and tourists passing by.

Portugal

Portugal had the best prices and some of the tastiest food in all the European countries we visited. Trisha’s favorite was the grilled fish (cod), which could be found expertly done at many of the restaurants in Lisbon (supposedly cod in Portugal can be prepared in so many forms, that you could have it a different way each day of the year). The way we had it was prepared simply by grilling it whole, which gave it a smoky and salty taste. A typical plate came with three fish, a salad, and rice or potatoes.

Nicaragua

After living in this country, I would not say their known for their food. However they ended up on our list five times, so they must be doing something right. I think most Nicas would be proud to know that about their food.

The first memorable meal was a fish soup we had on the Ometepe Island. The soup consisted of a huge bowl filled with a giant fish caught fresh that day in the lake, covered in a sweet, milky coconut broth, with vegetables and various spices. This was another of Trisha’s favorites. I liked it too, though was happy it came with toastones, which are fried, thick plantain disks that have a starchy-sweet taste to them and go great with ketchup.

The second winner is the typical Nica breakfast. This was not Trisha’s favorite, but definitely scored high on my list. The meal consists of two eggs (usually scrambled or fried), a big helping of gallo pinto (the main Nicaraguan staple eaten with all meals - rice and beans mixture), fried plantains (the sweet ones) and maybe bread. There is one addition that I never touched after a few initial taste-tests, and that is cuajada. This cheese is by far my least favorite food item of the year. It’s a salty, white cheese that has been fried and is served in squares. It smells and tastes like gym socks.

If I chose to eat the traditional Nica breakfast (not everyday of course), Trisha was sure to be partaking in a wonderful fruit bowl. Indeed the fruit was so plump and sweet and incredibly inexpensive, that when living in Matagalpa, we prepared cantaloupe, watermelon, papaya, pineapple, and banana, or a combination of those on a daily basis.

Our fourth favorite was a meal we had in the city of Leon, at Dick’s Last Resort restaurant. This turned out be one our most random, yet satisfying meals. Being in Leon on New Year’s Eve and Day, our food options were extremely limited as everything was closed. After walking the city for hours on New Years Eve, we ran into Dick’s. This gringo run restaurant with Nicaraguan employees was decorated in a surfer theme, and had two giant televisions showing U.S. sporting events. So while watching the Holiday Bowl, or Jeep Liberty Bowl, or one of those bowls, we enjoyed yummy plates of fajitas.

Our final Nica meal was memorable both for the company we shared and the great food. As mentioned in previous blogs, our students Enrique and daughter Anna befriended us at Academia Europe, and invited us for dinner at their home. After enjoying an informative tour of their coffee plantation farm and house, we dove into some excellent vegetable lasagna, homemade bread, and freshly prepared fruit juice. With salad and a flan dessert to accompany, we had our biggest feast in Central America.

Home far away home

2009-07-15T13:45:00.002-07:00

It is astonishing for Travis and I to think that we have been away from home for 11 months now. Moments of this year have flown by, yet at other times it felt like time stood still. When you are away during different holidays especially (including those American holidays not celebrated abroad), it almost feels as if they haven’t happened yet and things at home are where we left them. Obviously, this is not the case, and we are very intrigued to see how America has moved forward while we were away. As we lived in different cities and countries this year, we noticed that some of the settings and moments we experienced could have been somewhat replicated in a location in the USA. This was especially true in the developed cities where McDonalds and Starbucks were just as present as they are at home. There were other times however, that we couldn’t have felt farther away. It was at those times we wondered, “If anything happens to us, will someone be able to find us?” This of course, we’d attribute to the thrill of the journey.

Times when home felt millions of miles away:

Train station platform, Casablanca: A stretch of desolate desert in front of us, a busy cosmopolitan city behind us, and sounds of the Muslim call to prayer amplified from a nearby mosque. Things didn’t feel anymore familiar when we bordered the dark train to Marrakech in a carriage surrounded by men robed head to toe in Berber dress.

The journey to Los Penitas, Nicaragua: The bumpy taxi ride on the torn-up road to the ocean was just the beginning. The driver had to ask us midway for our fair to pay off a policeman when he was pulled over for not having the right licenses. Then there was the stop for gas, as well as two more stops to ask for directions to find our accommodation. Our lovely seaside cabana turned out to be a diamond in the rough, but don’t ask us if we’d ever be able to find it again.

Walking the perimeter of Quetzaltanango, Guatemala: A lonely, dusty road around a densely populated city in the chilly, windy valley of Xela. Women and children in colorful Mayan dress walked by us on their way to the market, while we had to watch our backs to heed the warnings of the dangers for tourists in certain parts of this country.

A narrow street in Carassai, Italy: With hundreds of tiny, hilltop villages in Italy, it was hard to keep track of them all. Just when you think you’ve found your bearings, one narrow road leads to another, and the church steeple is hidden from sight. If it’s siesta time, there’s no hope for finding an open café to ask for directions.

Crossing the border into small town Slovenia: Evidences of a past regime of communism are not hidden from sight. The familiar scenery of Italy had disappeared within moments and we were transported into a society that felt stuck back in time, about a hundred years ago.

Riding Camels in Austria: Wait a minute, aren’t camels supposed to be in the desert? Apparently not. Trekking through the mud with whips in hand for herding purposes, the thought of a casual walk down a city street of our home in Pasadena couldn’t have felt further away.

What about the culture shock?

Surprisingly, even though we found ourselves at times in remote and offbeat destinations, we rarely suffered from culture shock. Part of this is because we love to research and read all we can about countries before visiting them. However, we do have two incidences that would fit in this category.

1. The first day of our trip (August 30, 2008)- Arriving in our rented flat in the center of Madrid, Spain: Just off the redeye flight with our freshly packed luggage, we were only just beginning our new way of life abroad. No longer owning cell phones, vehicles and being away from all people and things familiar, what would the year hold? I distinctly remember being so tired and wanting to just take a shower and go to bed, only to find our place had no towels. Thus, dirty and sleepy-eyed, we set out to find an open store and made our first purchases using the Euro. Interacting in Spanish with our timid beginner levels and trying to decipher the Spanish labels on items at the grocery store was all so daunting and overwhelming. Yet, at the same time I can still feel the exhilaration and excitement knowing we had months of adventures and new explorations ahead of us. Would we repeat those first weary moments of shock? In a heartbeat.

2. Our second moment of greatest culture shock has actually not yet occurred. With this year coming to a close of living abroad anonymously, unconventionally, sometimes spontaneously and sometimes planned, we’re predicting that the moment we step off our plane at LAX in less than two weeks will be the most shocking of all. What will it be like to be in America again? To be surrounded by English language? The most mind-boggling to us is the thought of being tied down again by possessions, commitments (aka “real jobs”), a place to live, a car to put gas in, bills to pay (other than just one- our storage unit), and a cell phone ringing. Will all these things be necessary again for us to live an American life? We’re not too sure. Let’s leave that for the next few months to find out…

Europe – the like/dislike list

2009-07-14T13:36:00.001-07:00

Spain, England, Italy, Slovenia, and Germany have all been our homes for two weeks or longer this year. After spending some time in these great countries and reflecting on our experiences, we have been able to come up with some nice generalizations of things we liked and disliked. Instead of breaking these likes and dislikes into country categories, we’ll just plop them all under Europe. Here we go:

Liked

1. Bike lanes – The best bike lanes ever! I don’t think you would ever need a car in most of these countries, except during the winter months perhaps. We are currently lucky to have bikes in Munich to experience all the wonderful lanes here, but in all other European cities this year, it was clearly bike lane lust.
2. Public transport – I imagine it’s fairly well known that public transportation in Europe is fantastic. We appreciated that knowledge even more this year by experiencing the ease of going anywhere, anytime, without the hassles of traffic and gas.
3. Parks – So many great ones scattered throughout the major cities. There wasn’t an ugly one and a few even had the most amazing kid playgrounds I have ever seen. My personal favorite kid playground was in Vienna. It had a zip-line and a super funky tire swing that must have felt like a Disneyland ride to its passengers.
4. Clean public bathrooms – Most of these restrooms were well kept, although an elderly man or woman sitting at a card table listening to the radio was usually waiting to collect your pocket change on the way out in exchange for their cleaning services (or for sitting and listening to the radio).
5. Bakeries – This was a consist delight in all the places we traveled in Europe. All were a staple for cities big and small and all had tasty treats to sample. My current favorite is the Munich bakeries that sell freshly baked Bavarian pretzels.

Disliked

1. Missing shower curtains – There were so many showers that just had a tub and a shower hose and nothing else. How do I keep the water inside while bathing? Even if I sit it goes everywhere. Not all were like this of course, but there were plenty of wet bathrooms after we were done.
2. No garbage disposals - Maybe this is a result of many conscientious composters collecting piles of food for their gardens, but it was a pain to wash dishes and then collect all that stuff stopping up the sink afterwards. I haven’t used or see one garbage disposal in any country since we left home.
3. Pay toilets – Sure they’re clean, but I bet we forked over enough money for a plane ticket to Amsterdam, just for a little relief. The going rate was about 50 cents in Euro, which is like 70 cents U.S. Rip off (the worst was Venice – 1.50 for a pee!)
4. 30 cent grocery bags - I actually like this concept; charging people for grocery bags so they bring their own and thus cut down on waste. But if you forget to bring your own bags on a big shopping day, it’s a tragic mistake.
5. No dryers – Another environmentally sound idea that we didn’t get used to. We hung our clothes all year, except for our current place in Germany that has few pay dryers in the basement (no one really uses them). I like the concept, but the get too impatient waiting for those clothes to dry. I think I need to watch an Inconvenient Truth again.

A few musical notes from our year

2009-07-13T06:55:00.003-07:00

One of our favorite things to do when in a new city is to find an events calendar and see what’s on for the week. Munich, in the summertime, is full of festivals and concerts. With its rich history of renowned musical greats, it seems appropriate to be taking in many of these musical happenings. Catching a concert here and there not only awakens our ears to beautiful sounds, it also brings us to different parts of the city using the public transportation and sitting amongst the Germans enjoying a night out on the town.

My search for festive events here has been more difficult than usual. In comparison to a Latin based language, German is absolutely impossible for me to decipher. Typically I can turn to the calendar section in a local paper (like in Italy or Spain) and figure out what an event might consist of. Here in Munich, I gather many brochures, peruse all the posters in the subway, and see hundreds of listings for all kinds of things that look interesting to attend. However, the location of the events is impossible to decipher, as well as the price and the quality. I feel frustrated and as lost as a young child who is unable to read as I study the words. Fortunately, I have now learned some of the more recognizable words, such as chor (choir), orgel (organ), klassik (classical), symphoniker (symphony), kirchemusik (church music), and they have directed us to try out a few of these cultural offerings.

This weekend, our Friday evening turned out to be very un-touristy and authentically German. First stop: the Hackeurhaus Beer Hall. The history of this brewery dates back to 1738, with its charming antique decorations making this apparent. Travis was not alone in ordering an excellent traditional German meal- schweinsbraten, knödeln (roasted pork, potato dumplings) and a sauerkraut salad. As with the other beer halls and gardens we have visited so far, we watch in awe at the Germans who can easily drink more than a full liter of beer, sometimes even before their food arrives. Even more amazing are those who don’t eat at all while they drink, yet they can keep going back for more without showing any signs of drunkenness. The “beer culture” is indeed huge here; it is a way of life. Stopping by a beer hall or garden to buy a 6-euro liter appears to be the norm just as much as a $4 cup of Starbucks coffee might be for some Americans. That said, it’s been a kick for Travis and I to check out some of the famous, as well as the off-the-beaten track places to experience the Munich culture at it’s finest. It’s even more interesting to imagine what Oktoberfest might be like, when thousands of liters of beer are poured each day.

So, with both of us being big fans of choral church music, we headed to St. Korvinian Church south of the city center for a “Chornacht.” Six choirs from surrounding churches were featured in the program, all putting forth their best efforts to share their recent repertoires. We appreciated the variety of music, but also couldn’t help but critique a few of the performances. Our favorite choir was the one that had to add six chairs to the stage to seat their more “mature-voiced” soprano members who might have fallen off the bleachers if not for a little extra support. Or, there was the choir with the two tenors who plunged ahead with the text, not knowing there was a few bars of instrumental first. I hope they enjoyed their brief solo performance. The most interesting songs to us were those that were in English. We wondered if gospel songs were meant to be performed with thick German-accented English?

I guess we learned our lesson in attending a “free” concert in this city. Last week we paid 10 euros for another choral festival, and the difference in quality was remarkable. Nonetheless, we had no regrets in choosing this sweet, homespun outing. Sitting in this sanctuary with the 100% German audience, we couldn’t help but make a few observations. First, we were probably the youngest in attendance. Second, everyone around us looked as though they could have been our relatives. (I could have easily been sitting in one of the Dutch Christian Reformed Churches in Chino or another town, waiting for the Christian school choir to perform.) For the first time this year, Travis and I actually look like everyone else. Our physical features and tall builds help us to smoothly blend in, rather than starkly stand out as we have in most countries along our journeys. The Germans think we’re one of them. We’ve noticed this because every time we go somewhere we’re talked to in German, as though we’ll be able to respond back. In restaurants when there are both English and German menus, we’re handed the German ones! I suppose it’s a compliment to us to be treated so equally; the only hard part is when we unveil our true American identities, we can’t participate in the German exchanges. That’s when the smile and a nod comes in handy.

Returning home on the subway that evening, the train was packed with a variety of personalities. About a ¼ of the people were groups of teenagers boisterously gallivanting with their open beer bottles and alternative clothing. Another ¼ were young to middle age couples in Bavarian dress, lederhosen and all. Surprisingly, this traditional dress does exist here and is worn openly and proudly. Can you imagine a 20-year old man wearing brown leather embroidered shorts, suspenders and a hat with a feather in it on the subway? We’ve gathered that it is typical to dress traditionally when attending special events, going to a party, and of course for many it’s their work uniform. The other half of people on the subway were a somewhat diverse mix of clean-cut, nice looking folk who appear hospitable yet rather distant and focused.

To look at this Friday evening of culture as a whole, it’s fascinating for Travis and I to think back upon the many different musical events we’ve attended this year and ponder the vast contrasts. Regardless of the country, language, setting or style, it is true when Henry Wadsworth Longfellow quotes, “Music is the universal language of mankind.”

A few unforgettable musical memories of the year:

Vivaldi’s “Gloria” in Seville, Spain- We ran into several choir members in a tapas bar that lead us to a hidden gem of a church to hear a splendid rendition of this beloved piece.

Organ concert in Notre Dam Cathedral, Paris- This weekly, free afternoon concert resounded beautifully amidst the throng of tourists roaming about.

A Rezo in Granada, Nicaragua- An evening dedicated to honor the Virgin Mary, we received our presents of sugary candy and bags of fruit while listening to the devout voices of the neighborhood worshipers.

“Feelings” radio station in Matagalpa- Our background music for all meals spent in our outdoor kitchen in Nica, we sang along with every cheesy 80’s and 90’s song imaginable.

Procession in Velletri, Italy- Another night devoted to the Virgin, thousands of townspeople marched through the hilly city carrying candles larger than a small child, while singing a version of “Ave Maria” repeatedly for hours.

Anna Karenina in Vienna- Our most elegant and classy evening out of the year, the production was so great it really didn’t matter that we were herded like sheep into our 4-euro standing-room only seats.

The Worst People of the Year

2009-07-11T13:30:00.001-07:00

Like Santa, all good-lists must have bad-lists; I suppose to keep harmony in the universe. Since we created “The nicest people of the year” list in a previous blog, we had to include “The worst people of the year” as well. We are of course saddened that such a list must even exist. We didn’t want to create one, nor did we want any of the people listed below to be on it. It was their choice. Circumstances could have been different had these folks been a little warmer, a little more kind-hearted, or even just slightly less lousy during our time together. We are just presenting the facts here.

Our first winner is Mercy. Mercy was a fellow teacher at Academia Europea, the language school in Matagalpa. Sweet and nice at first, this 60 year old Nicaraguan native, who was also a U.S. citizen and lived part-time in San Clemente, looked more European than Nicaraguan. She was one of Matagalpa’s wealthier citizens, and we learned also one of the most controlling. She displayed this need to run things by convincing the Academia Europea representative, Marcos, to make her the school director. Under her leadership, our schedule became confusing and disorganized, communication broke down between the office and teachers, poor decisions were made and their clean-up passed to others, and meetings were scheduled at inane times of the day (like when were weren’t at school teaching). Also, more than once while walking home in the rain from school, she drove right by us without offering a ride, even though we lived on the route she drove to her house. Mercy also consistently talked about herself and her “wonderful entrepreneurial skills” (she also was opening a restaurant out of her house in the middle of the city to add to these entrepreneurial dreams). A final contributor to her being placed on this list was her unsatisfactory job in preparing and teaching her lessons, but yet always telling others how they should be teaching theirs.

Next is Lisa. You may remember from her our La Marche farm-stay entries. She was the lavender lady, whose cold-shouldered personality during our second week of work left us feeling blue. The crux of the problem was her lack of communicating her expectations and her ever-changing personality. The worst of our time was when Trisha and I took a day-trip on a Sunday, came back early because of rain, ate lunch and then took the remainder of the day off since our day-trip was cut short. We were treated very poorly for the next day as Lisa obviously thought we should have been working once we returned (though she never told us to). It was also mind-numbing listening to her brag constantly about her life experiences and how great her son and daughter were (they lived in the U.S.) We were happy to leave Lisa and her lavender.

While in Paris in October, Trisha and I went to a lovely restaurant near an antique district for lunch. It felt unbelievably Parisian with its decorative table settings and red leather seats. The food was tremendous as well. We thought we had the perfect lunch in the perfect setting. Our waitress, whom was neither nice nor rude while doing her job, seemed to be fine too. When we first ordered we asked her for some tap water. We made our request in French (words not sentences) and in English. She complied and brought us a clay carafe filled with water. It looked like tap water, tasted like tap water, and we didn’t think of it again. Until she brought bill. The storm clouds of rage, despair, and confusion rained down on our perfect, Parisian lunch. 6 Euros for water!!! “Holy smokes”, I wanted to tell her in French. I frantically searched the extremely busy restaurant for her, trying to grab her attention. Five minutes, ten minutes….she must have gone out on break. Finally I stood up and found her, and as patiently as possible inquired about this charge. In her English, which became conspicuously broken during this conversation, she claimed that was what we ordered….water, 6 Euros. I told her we said tap water and that what we drank tasted like tap water. Obviously this problem wasn’t resolved in our favor, as this waitress makes the list.

“Buen Provencial Trisha!” These three words, muttered from the mouth of our Xela, Guatemala, host Estella, still give Trisha chills. These chills are the result of a week spent with a women who truly only cared for the money we were providing for our stay, rather than being a hospitable host. Arranged by our language school in Xela, we assumed Estella would be like many of our other Central American hosts - warm, gracious, and caring. We were wrong. First, she was only warm the first time we met her. All subsequent encounters rarely evoked a smile. Second, the things she was suppose to provide for our homestay, which were promised as part of our payment, were barely up to standard. There was not enough food, the bottled water was empty our first three days until we discovered that she had been hiding the refills, and the room we stayed in was not set up when we arrived. I believe that if Estella had given even an inkling of warmth throughout the week, we probably could have overlooked most to the promised provisions. But ultimately this bad cocktail prompted our early departure, back in March. By the way, “Buen Provencial” roughly means “I hope you are satisfied with your meal,” and Estella said it all the time after she passed us our meager portions.

Unfortunately Xela, Guatemala has another of its residents on our list (our week there wasn’t our best of the year obviously). Linda was the high-pitched director of our Spanish language school, whose saccharine smile and artificial friendliness tried to convince us that everything in our homestay was fine. Explaining politely to her that our situation in Estella’s house was less than satisfactory (i.e. lack of food and bottled water – all of which we ended up going out and supplementing on our own), she in-turn made us feel as if we had the problem. I guess being that Estella was her sister-in-law, she wasn’t quite ready to admit that maybe she wasn’t being the best host. Outside of that, Linda was tolerable throughout our week at the Spanish school. It was apparent however that our Spanish teachers, both of whom we liked, were very intimidated by their boss. When Linda gave an order, everyone kowtowed to her demands. Not us though - we jumped ship early.

If we were to time travel to our first weeks in Velletri, Rome with Paul and Paula, there is no way we would have foreseen Paula being on this list. This mother of three lived a face-paced and frantic life, but was generally a good host to both of us. As with a few other experiences this year, true colors seem to fly on the second week and the relationship we had with Paula became increasingly strained from our point-of-view (Paul wasn’t part of this equation as he worked all day and at night was rather reclusive and not talkative). The big factor was her lack of feedback and involvement in what we were doing. Why were we there exactly? We did a job, but were never thanked for our work. In fact she never looked at our work when it was completed. We did their dishes every night without being asked and never heard anything in reply. At one point I did some ironing for her bed-and-breakfast bed sheets, but didn’t quite understand her direction on the amount she wanted completed. This led to her frustrated exasperation on my lack of progress, and her telling me, “Well I could have done those sheets that took you an hour in 3 minutes.” That really didn’t bother me too much because I don’t really care about my ironing prowess, but it pushed Trisha over the edge on what she viewed as an unfair comment to her husband. Toward the end of the second week we were feeling more and more anti-Paula, as we had spent much energy asking her questions and creating conversation, and she in return asked us nothing. Our departure was the most surreal. No “Thanks for your work”, or “Good luck.” Instead it was “Look Paul, I think there is a new crack in the train station from the earthquake” and off they went to look at it. We then had a brief goodbye and they departed. Was it something we did?

The final addition to the worst-list is of course Gerda, the camel farm lady. I’m not sure if she deserves this list, as I truly believe she had some unaddressed emotional issues that some therapy might help. But her actions and the way we felt during our week on her farm can only land her here, in our blog entry. I am not going to recall the erratic behaviors, early-morning phone calls, emotional pleadings in a parked car on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, and the boa constrictor. No, that was all covered in a few blogs ago. I’ll just say that I have never met anyone quit like this women, and I am hoping that God spares me from meeting another any time soon.

In conclusion, it is interesting to note that this list’s members all fall into the same category. Can you figure it out? Trisha and I have both wondered why it is so. All the members are female, and fall between the ages 40-60; roughly the same age categories as our mothers (Another woman you may recall from and earlier blog, Angela, was in this age-range too. She didn’t qualify for the list, but her reaction to spicy chili we made for her almost won her a spot). Do we have some aversion to middle-aged women? We both love our mother and mother-in law, and have no problems with either. Interestingly we identified this phenomenon around April, and even joked about its common occurrence for a while. As this pattern continued, our joking turned into fear. Does our next farm-stay have a middle-aged woman? What is she going to be like? We unfortunately did not get to break the pattern, as our last host was Gerda, and our best woman host was Lucy, age 38. Further research is not planned, but we’re hoping our moms are still nice when we return home.

Don’t leave home without…

2009-07-09T13:09:00.001-07:00

Although I wouldn’t classify Travis and I as hardcore travelers to the likes of those who have lived out of their comfort zones for long periods of time, we have definitely had a taste this year of making do with the limited contents in our suitcases. In case you ever decide to hit the road for more than a month, here are just a few suggestions of things you might want to include in your bag:

Small electric teapot: The perfect item to bring the “comforts of home” into our teacups every night before bed. No need to sacrifice all of our favorite routines.

Travel Iron: Not a day went by when we weren’t well pressed (except on the farms). Why look like all the other tourists with wrinkled clothes when you don’t need to?

Ziplocs: Half-eaten bags of chips or crackers you want to save, leaky shampoo containers, etc. Good for everything. Enough said.

Ethernet Cord: It brought the World Wide Web to our laptop whenever wireless wasn’t available. A must for blogging.

Small backpack: Our little green REI backpack was a staple accessory to be worn on one of our backs anytime we left “home.” Big enough to carry a camera and water bottle, yet not flashy enough (like a purse) to attract theft.

Trail mix: Without a supply of good ole’ fruit and nuts in our pack, those days of long train rides though meal times, or walking hours looking for a descent (and affordable) restaurant would have been unbearable. Not to mention the times our home stays didn’t serve us enough dinner to fill us up…

Tissues: Essential for Travis’s allergies, and also for wiping his brow on the travel days. Crucial to bring along for many bathrooms this year too.

Luggage bag separators: These Rick Steves mesh storage bags were gems that aided in our organization among the big black holes of our suitcases. By the second half of our trip we had names for these (“tech bag” “food bag” “toiletry bag”). This continues to come in handy for me every time Travis asks, “Where’s that at?”

Rain jackets: Small, foldable and waterproof. With this last month of rain especially, we’d have been very wet without them.

Plastic silverware/ salt, pepper & sugar packets: With all the spontaneous picnics we did, we never had to eat with our hands or without seasoning. There’s still room for good manners when on the road.

iPods: Downloaded podcasts on every topic under the sun entertained us through long train rides and hours of monotonous work while help-x-ing. We also downloaded several city and museum tours that were a great free way to gather more insight while sightseeing.

Electric Adaptors: It’s not only essential to have one for each country, but multiple. With so many nooks and crannies in our bags, it seemed we could never find the right one when we needed it.

Hand Sanitizer: Great for times without access to a sink; also useful to do a quick clean of fruit and veggies bought on the street.

Small Notebook: You don’t want to be without paper when that inspiration for a poem comes to mind, when you need to write out a hotel address because the bus driver doesn’t understand your English, or when you want to pass the time waiting for your bill at a restaurant writing lists about every random topic of the year you can think about.

The Nicest People of the Year

2009-07-08T12:54:00.002-07:00

If we were handing out awards for the most amiable people we encountered this year, these would be our top picks:

1. Lady at the school supply store in Matagalpa - We needed to send home a few items in the middle of the year to lighten our load for more travel. This lady was so accommodating to us. Not only did she provide a box, paper, scissors, and tape for us, she also gave us great advice on sending packages from Nicaragua. And all we had done was inquire in her store if she sold boxes. Yeah for the school supply lady!

2. Lake Bled hostel lady- Most hostels maybe greet with you a few pleasantries, and then direct you to your room. This hostel lady was the best of all. She was so welcoming, gave us a detailed map and activities lesson on the Lake Bled area, and asked us throughout our stay if we were doing okay. She was an unexpected happy island in a sea of crabby hostel ladies.

3. Enrique and daughter Anna - Students of ours at Academia Europea in Matagalpa. Both were in the same class, despite Anna being the teenage daughter of Enrique. These two shared their warmth and caring personalities with us each night of class, and even invited us to their home for dinner. During this dinner, Enrique gave us an in-depth tour of his coffee-farm plantation and lovely home, located just outside of Matagalpa. His wife prepared a fabulous feast and we were treated to aperitifs and appetizers too. It was a memorable visit with the locals.

4. Ricardo at Pueblo Ingles - This guy might win the prize. Throughout our first week of Pueblo Ingles, Ricardo was always a pleasure to chat with. His true colors shined however during the end of our week. It was at this time that Trisha and I were invited to attend another week of Pueblo Ingles in Barcelona, 300 miles away. Having already made previous arrangements, we were hesitant to change our plans, but did so in the end to embrace this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Struggling to make the travel changes online and without a cell phone, Ricardo stepped in, made repeated calls to his travel agent, and helped arrange everything for us. Not only that, on the final day he went out of his way to give us a ride to Salamanca and even arranged to have us store our bags in the office of the travel agent he uses. Hooray for Ricardo!

5. Eccis from Euro Café in Granada, Nicaragua – Eccis was a warm and friendly barrista at Euro café in Granada, who went out of her way to befriend us. Upon each visit to the little café she would come over and chat with us for as long as she could be away from her work. Toward the end of the month she even invited us to have Christmas Eve dinner at her home with her family. We had to decline due to obligations with our host family, but we continued to stay in contact with her after our time in Nicaragua ended.

6. Rob and Robin – Our second and definitely most hospitable Help X hosts of the year definitely make our list of nice. These two were both encouraging and thankful of all the work we completed for them during our week visit to their farm near Norwich, England. They also took us out for beers at the local pub and invited us to watch BBC movies with them that they thought we would enjoy. Their interesting lives, Rob’s great sense of humor, and Robin’s delicious meals made our week very memorable. Cheerio to Rob and Robin!

7. Mario - Mario was the informative and gracious tour leader from Matagala Tours who gave us our first taste of Matagalpa hiking. We discovered on our first outing with Mario that he was interested in improving his English, as we were in our Spanish. Thus began an intercambio (language exchange) that would last for three months of our time in Nicaragua. We met with Mario and his friend Karlek (also nice) twice a week and spoke in Spanish for half the time and English the other. Even better was that Mario became our free tour guide of the area and we would often plan outings that would have been difficult to do had we been by ourselves. Especially memorable was our last visit with Mario and Karlek, when the two surprised us with a traditional Nicaraguan feast they prepared. It was a tasty meal for our last language exchange together.

A place to rest our heads

2009-07-06T13:32:00.002-07:00

It’s amazing how much can change in a 24-hour period. By escaping the camel farm and retreating to Salzburg for much needed freedom, within a day Travis and I felt like ourselves again. After taking showers in a clean hotel bathroom and doing a very hot load of laundry to rid the horse smell from all our possessions, we were ready to take in some culture in “the city of Mozart.” The rainy weather lent itself the opportunity to visit museums we would usually pass by. With the gem of purchasing the “Salzburg card,” we had 48 hours of museum admission and public transportation costs covered. It felt like heaven to be doing city things rather than farm work. Who would have thought that Salzburg had over 30 museums to visit? Our favorites were Mozart’s birthplace, the panorama museum, Salzburg’s art & history museum, and the museum of musical instruments.

As the hours passed by and the more immersed we became in the city, the further our minds moved away from the miserable memories of Gerda’s farm. Knowing we couldn’t stay in Salzburg forever, a pit of dread began to develop in our guts again at the thought of our next plans. We had two more helpx farm stays lined up to work, travel and discover a slice of Switzerland and Germany. Regardless of the allure of seeing Switzerland and the magnificent Alps, Travis and I could not get ourselves to go to the train station to buy our tickets. For one, we discovered too late that train tickets to Switzerland were much more expensive than we first anticipated. What if we spent the money and took the 7-hour trip only to discover that these new hosts were wackier than Gerda? We’d be stuck again in a small town with no out and no freedom to see and experience the environment as hoped. Secondly, although we did have some fantastic helpxing experiences with some of our hosts in England and Italy, we had to admit to each other that we just plain didn’t want to do it anymore. The thought of standing on a train station curb one more time waiting for our new host to pick us up sounded unbearable. Seven times now we’ve lived through this scenario, silently wrapped up in our own worries of what type of personality this host might have, what the accommodations would be like, how much food we’d be served, and the question of how much access we’d have to the outside world while we were there. The thought of the work itself was never the problem as we have both enjoyed the variety of tasks we’ve learned and accomplished these last few months (with the exception of the horse manure). But these hosts… what might we encounter next?

With just one more night reserved in our hotel in Salzburg and our Switzerland hosts expecting us within a day, we had to do something, and FAST. But what? If we didn’t go forth with the helpx plans, what could we afford? Where might we be able to rest our heads for the remaining month of travel and still experience and enjoy the culture that surrounded us? Well, after hours of brainstorming together and working out our budget, what sounded most desirable to us was renting a short-term apartment in a nearby city. If we used the money we had originally planned for our traveling around Switzerland, we’d be able to swing a month’s rent (at the right price). Because our flight back home originates from Frankfort, Germany, to keep the prices of train travel down we wanted to settle somewhere between there and Salzburg. So, what’s along this route? Munich, Germany!

The Internet is an amazing thing. Thank goodness our hotel room in Salzburg had free wireless. We went right to work researching apartment rentals and sending out inquiries on everything from studio apartments on realtors’ websites to shared-flat rentals on Craigslist. Because it was Sunday, we had to be patient in waiting for reply emails, all the while knowing that we had to check out the next day and make arrangements for our next night somewhere, Munich hopefully. With much anticipation we woke up Monday morning to a full inbox of emails, and surprisingly availability and many good deals were to be found. But, this is before we realized that Craigslist is plum full of scammers. Wow- take great caution when using this classified search engine. We actually naively followed one lead and got ourselves to Munich that Monday afternoon to see a place. By a total blessing we discovered just in time that the place didn’t really exist, the deal was too good to be true, and the person behind the ad was only after our security deposit. We then examined the multiple craigslist responses more carefully and it became clear that all but one were well thought out scams. How disheartening. We felt tricked and deceived and wondered if we’d find a place after all.

So, now we were in Munich, had booked a hostel for one night, and wondered around the city streets trying to decide what to do. The city was lively and inviting, but what had we gotten ourselves into? We certainly couldn’t afford staying in a hostel every night (they’re not as cheap as you might think); should we have remained on the “helpx route” after all? Weary from travel and so tired of packing and unpacking our bags, we went to bed resting our hopes on that one email response that stood out from the rest. There actually appeared to be a real apartment behind the advertisement, and we made plans to meet the owner’s mother at the place the next morning. But, would she really be there?

With suitcases in hand (in expectation that we’d like the place), we boarded the train and took the 13 minute ride to the suburb town of Pasing, just west of the city center. We were met by Ms. Von Sivers, who gave us a warm welcome and a little tour of our new “home.” Yes, we were sold. At this point in our travels, I don’t think it would have mattered if the place had no beds or windows; all we wanted was to be in a place that was “ours.” No helpx host calling us on a cell phone, no random sister-in-law and her snoring boyfriend, no camels. Just the two of us, with the freedom and ability to end this year in the way we started it- living in a big city in Europe with the time to see and explore it’s many treasures. This felt like heaven.

This brings you up to date on where we currently are, and where we’ll remain until the end of the month when we return home. We’ve had a wonderful first week in Germany and have plenty to do and discover in our time here. So, to further drive the point home on why we wanted to make this stop in our journey the last of our year, here is the list of the day…

The number of beds we’ve slept in since August:

1. Madrid, Spain- Plaza del Sol apartment
2. Seville, Spain- Hotel Van Gogh
3. Granada, Spain- Rasputin Hostel
4. Paris, France- Hotel Bastille
5. LaAlberca, Spain- Pueblo Ingles resort center
6. Barcelona, Spain- AAE Hostel Subirats
7. Pals, Spain- Pueblo Ingles, Mas Salvi Resort
8. Barcelona, Spain- Barcelona Urbany Hostel
9. Lisbon, Portugal- Happy Hostel
10. Marrakech, Morocco- Riad Johanna
11. Marrakech, Morocco- Riad Dianne
12. Casablanca, Morocco- Hotel Ibis
13. London, England- Short-stay Holiday Apartments
14. Granada, Nicaragua- Hotel Corazon
15. Granada, Nicaragua- Homestay, Javiera’s house
16. Ometepe Island- Santa Domingo Cabanas
17. Leon, Nicaragua- Hostel Dona Marias
18. Las Penitas, Nicaragua- Coastal Cabanas
19. Matagalpa, Nicaragua- Hotel Fountain Azul
20. Matagalpa, Nicaragua- Homestay, Marlena’s house
21. Matagalpa, Nicaragua- our rented house from Angela
22. Granada, Nicaragua- Hostel Central (don’t EVER go there!)
23. Matagalpa, Nicaragua- J&L Hotel
24. Managua, Nicaragua- Managua Guest House (in February)
25. Antigua, Guatemala- Homestay, Juan Carlos & Johanna’s house
26. Panajachel, Guatemala- Mario’s Rooms Hotel
27. Quetzeltenango, Guatemala- Homestay, Ester’s home (we’ll NEVER return)
28. Antigua, Guatemala- Respeter’s short stay apartment/hotel
29. Guatemala City, Guatemala- the super-safe Airport Hostel
30. Managua, Nicaragua- Managua Guest House (in March)
31. London Heathrow, England- Yotel (4 hr. stay in airport hotel cubical)
32. Wymondham, England- Farmstay, Steve’s honeybee farm
33. Norwich, England- Seasons Hotel
34. Cambridge, England- Ryan & Kelly DuBois’s home
35. Attleborough, England- Farmstay, Rob & Robin’s home
36. Rome, Italy- Metro Hotel
37. Carassai, Italy- Farmstay, Hans & Lisa’s Agritourismo B&B
38. Rome, Italy- Hotel Luciana
39. Velletri, Italy- Farmstay, Paul & Paula’s B&B
40. Sorrento, Italy- Ulisse Deluxe Hostel
41. Monterchi, Italy- Farmstay, Peter & Lucy’s Villa
42. Siena, Italy- B&B
43. Padua, Italy- Al Ponte B&B
44. Padua, Italy- Guest House of nice Italian lady
45. Branik, Slovenia- Farmstay, Tjasa’s B&B
46. Lake Bled, Slovenia- Traveler’s Haven Hostel
47. Ljubljana, Slovenia- Hostel 3M16
48. Vienna, Austria- Happy Hostel Apartments
49. Melk, Austria- Farmstay, Gerda’s Camel Farm
50. Salzburg, Austria- Hotel Turnewirt
51. Munich, Germany- Hotel Modern
52. Munich, Germany- our apartment in Pasing!

The Best Deals of the Year

2009-07-05T13:08:00.001-07:00

We took many steps to stay within a budget this year and utilized good deals throughout our travels. Below are some of our favorites. We could recommend cheap places to stay, or public transportation hints, or even where we found inexpensive groceries. The list below is a little more colorful than that, and more importantly has fun memories attached.

Mc Donald’s milkshakes for 1 Euro – While not usual Mc Donald’s frequenters, we found this little affordable treat to be one of our favorites of the year. Throughout Europe, these small milkshakes come in fun flavors like cappuccino and banana, and always hit the spot after a long day of walking. It was also surprising just how nice the Mc Donald’s restaurants were in Europe. They were like little hip cafes, and were very popular with the locals.

Pueblo Ingles – By far the best deal of the year. One week at a three-star mountain resort in La Alberca, Spain and another in a four-star Mediterranean resort in Pals, Spain, with all meals covered and not a penny from our pockets the entire week. All we had to do was devote our days and evenings to non-stop conversations with Spaniards in English. That may sound like a big time commitment, but the activities planned and people we met made the weeks unforgettable.

Las Peñitas, Nicaragua - Nicaragua has a beautiful Pacific coastline, and the stretch called Las Peñitas is particularly nice. Trisha and I stayed at a beachfront hostel/hotel (don’t remember the name), had our own little cabana, and watched the sunset each night for only $20. We could have gone cheaper if we didn’t want the cabana or a perfect view. You only live once!

Pubs in Slovenia - These pubs were nothing special, just a bar and some outside seating (Although the surrounding scenery in Slovenia was always beautiful). The real deal was the cost of beer and wine, which usually totaled about 3 Euros for a large glass of both. As most places in Europe charge about 3 for a small, these bars were where a steal (except in the capital Ljubljana, which generally had higher prices).

Pan dulce (sweet bread) and bananas - In both Guatemala and Nicaragua, 1 cent living is easy as far as food is concerned. The yummy homemade breads that came in numerous shapes and sizes and were always sweet, and the plentiful yellow bananas, were never priced over a nickel. It was not a challenge to eat breakfast on less than 50 cents day.

Opera Tickets -Vienna is fairly expensive and museums and concert halls are no exception. The secret: standing room only in the Opera House. Trisha and I arrived about two hours early the night we saw a ballet there. We stood in line for about 15 minutes and secured tickets for 4 Euros apiece, killed the remaining time outside with Mc Donald’s milkshakes, roamed the streets near the building for awhile, and returned 10 minutes before the concert began. I’m not sure how much the people in the seats in front of me spent to sit (likely 70-90 Euros), but my standing view was just as good and I was able to lean most of the time on the nice padded railing provided.

Flor de Caña Rum and Toña - Both Nicaraguan specialties and both are incredibly cheap. The Flor De Caña is rum produced in Nicaragua and sold throughout the country. You can purchase this high quality rum for a $1 a shot. The Toña, which is one of the two national Nica beers, also costs about a $1 a bottle and is extremely tasty and refreshing.

English book exchanges - There were many of these second-hand bookstores throughout Central America and Europe. Most had large selections of books in English and offered fair trade-ins. Nuff said.

Eskimo Popsicles – The choice brand for ice confectionery treats in Nicaragua. The guys pushing the Eskimo carts were always roaming the streets of all the bigger cities and carted around big varieties of treats. Trisha’s favorite was Nacites, which was a type of tropical fruit, I think.

Cheap Espresso - Who would have guessed that the country with the best coffee also charged the best prices? Rarely was a shot of espresso over 1 Euro and Cappuccinos (only in the morning of course) were never that much higher. Capri, Sorrento, Amalfi and other posh cities however, didn’t seem to get this price setting from the other cities and towns we visited.

Free concerts - They exist all over Europe. The key is doing a lot of research when you arrive in a city, never passing a church or concert hall without reading the signs. We frequented as many as we could find. Most were classical or choral, although there was the occasional jazz or rock.

Shoe shines in Central America – Probably too cheap, as the guys (and sometimes children) shining the shoes definitely needed more than they were charging. Fortunately in some cities getting your shoes shined in the central park was a very popular social event. Most of the shoe shine guys seemed busy throughout the day.

Orange shirt tapas bar in Madrid – We have no recollection of the name of this bar, but it was close to where we lived in Sol and the people working there always wore orange shirts. Like most of the tapas bars in Madrid, the prices were not that outrageous and you were usually guaranteed some type of snack for free with your drink. We particular loved this one because the last time we visited (on our anniversary) they gave us a free round of drinks, extra tapas, and a huge portion of Spanish tortilla on-the-house. Nice folks.

Feeling the warmth, or not?

2009-07-04T15:41:00.001-07:00

How many times have Travis and I arrived in an unfamiliar train station or airport in a new city and wondered what we would find? How will the city look? Will it be easy to find our hostel? Will the people be nice? Will we enjoy it here? Although the guidebooks provide vivid descriptions of each place, the friendliness of a city cannot be decided until you are walking along the sidewalks looking into people’s eyes, and participating in several social exchanges. Whether it be ordering a coffee in a café, bumping into someone’s cart in the market, or checking into your hotel, we have found a city radiates a feeling of either friendliness or unfriendliness.

Our list today is comprised solely on our own impressions and experiences. To give each city a fair chance we were careful not to let this list be shaped by individual occurrences, such as a mean waiter or a brusque bus driver. Rather, these are cities we stayed in for at least 24 hours, giving them time to show their true colors. That said, some of the cities on the unfriendly list are also some of the favorite places we’ve been this year. The “friendliness factor” didn’t always alter our level of enjoyment.

So here it is, in no particular order…

Friendly Cities:
Antigua, Guatemala
Lisbon, Portugal
Norwich, England
Cambridge, England
Branik, Slovenia
*Matagalpa, Nicaragua
Sorrento, Italy
Managua, Nicaragua
Salzburg, Austria
Panajachel, Guatemala
Rome, Italy
London, England
Granada, Nicaragua
*Marrakech, Morocco
Padua, Italy
Lake Bled, Slovenia
Madrid, Spain
*Houston, Texas
Leon, Nicaragua
Ljubljana, Slovenia
Naples, Italy

Unfriendly Cities:
Granada, Spain
Casablanca, Morocco
Paris, France
Quetzaltenango, Guatemala
Melk, Austria
Barcelona, Spain
Seville, Spain

As noted by the *’s, three cities have stood out this year as being exceptionally warm and welcoming to us. From the point of arrival we felt the people were genuinely happy to have us there.
1. Marrakech, Morocco: How could you not feel the warmth when someone is coming up to you at every moment asking you to eat at their restaurant, visit their store, or offering to give you directions and lead you personally to your destination.
2. Matagalpa, Nicaragua: In a city with very little foreign tourism, sometimes being a novelty “gringo” wasn’t too bad. With many locals wanting opportunities to practice their English, finding a person to chat with was never a problem.
3. Houston, Texas: Who would have thought? In our brief, extended, overnight plane layover between continents, this little glimpse of the American spirit warmed our hearts. Perhaps it was the Southern hospitality or the familiarity we felt being in our homeland, these Texans knew how to give us a big shiny welcome.

Stuff That Made Us Sweat

2009-07-03T12:51:00.006-07:00

Now that our year of overseas adventures is drawing to a conclusion, we thought
we would take time to reflect on some of our interesting experiences and memories. We have made a goal this month to update our blog daily with these reflective lists, along with a peppering of our normal blog entries. Our first for example, is a list of all the different jobs we did while working on farms, beginning in England in April and ending last week in Austria. Enjoy!

-chopping wood
-hauling branches
-digging trenches
-moving and stacking wood piles
-unearthing grass patches
-replanting potatoes
-hauling compost
-building a greenhouse
-weeding pathways, gardens, olive trees, roofs, pots
-sawing vines from trees
-digging up and moving roof tiles
-cleaning a storage shed
-planting lavender (lots)
-building Ikea furniture
-cleaning b&b rooms
-grouting and tiling a bathroom
-washing windows
-cleaning kitchen/mopping floors
-doing millions of dishes
-ironing bed sheets
-cleaning a garage
-spraying weed killer
-fixing a swimming pool deck
-picking lettuce/strawberries from the garden
-weed wacking
-clipping/trimming hedges
-clearing olive branches from pastures
-moving gravel piles
-chainsaw wood
-stripping paint from windows
-painting windows
-painting bathroom studio
-produce shopping
-running errands
-removing and cutting ancient wire fencing
-cleaning and restoring horse stable
-re-fencing horse pasture
-exercising camels
-feeding llamas and ostriches
-cooking meals and serving hosts
-brushing camels/removing winter coats
-loading horses onto trailers
-saddling horses
-cleaning stables
-feeding camels/horses hay, grass, and straw

It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than to make an escape from Gerda's farm.

2009-07-01T07:56:00.006-07:00

Last Wednesday amidst the falling rain and boot-high horse muck, Trisha and I decided that the time had come to bid “auf wiedersehen” to our farm-stay and host Gerda. The straw that broke the camel’s back turned out not to be the camel and horse muck cleanup as one might expect, although that was a big factor. I think the tide really began to turn after we first arrived on the farm. Yes, it wasn’t the most fun work in the world, and like the city-girl wrote in her last blog, early mornings in muck and slogging again in the late afternoon were not all that savory. The real culprit though was not the muck, but our host who was the antithesis of calm, level-headedness and patience. If her behavior had been different, we might have preserved to the end (which was actually only three additional days). To highlight her bizarre and generally unpalatable behavior, this little story of how we made our escape from the farm should paint a clearer picture.

It was in the afternoon and Trisha and I had finished our morning work and were wearing our only-partially dirty clothes (clothes that you don’t work in, but put on after work knowing that its pointless to put on clean ones since you will be out with all the animals soon enough and why shower). This day our host Gerda actually did give us a rare heads-up as to what our afternoon schedule entailed, and we were happy to agree to her suggestion that Trisha and I tour the local monastery for a few hours on our own. Yeah, freedom!

The monastery was beautiful and should have been a wonderful outing. However both Trisha and I had a sick feeling in the pits of stomach during our visit. During the tour we kept thinking that the prospect of three more days of this farmstay, and working with Gerda was about the worst sounding thing in the world. We debated the pros and cons of leaving early and found ourselves leaning more toward the pros, especially as we noticed a train leaving from the Melk rail station from our view at the top of the monastery. Our unspoken longing to be on that train away from our current situation was more that illuminating for us.

From that view-point we decided that yes, it was time to go. Quickly we began brainstorming the best way to break the news to Gerda. We also checked out watches to see if we could make a quick break to the tourist office for city/accommodation recommendations before Gerda came to pick us up. As we were walking out of the monastery the cell phone that Gerda gave us at the beginning of our stay so she could always contact us rang. “Are you veady to go?” That dreaded phone, which rang our first morning at 5:40 a..m. to tell us we were beginning our day earlier that originally planned, once again made our blood boil. We told her no, we were not ready and needed a few more minutes to tour the monastery. We actually needed a few minutes to get to the tourist office.

After an unsuccessful visit to the tourist office (they only do Melk), it was decided that I would break the news to Gerda on the ride home from the monastery, regardless of our lack of success. As we waited on the corner in the center of the city, scenarios of how to tell the news to this slightly intimidating character were running though my mind. When she finally arrived, the first thing she said when we got into the car was “Vhy vern’t you ready vhen I called?” Yeah, fuel for the fire. This was going to be easy! I broke the news immediately. And that’s when it got interesting.

The first thing that happened when I explained respectfully to Gerda that Trisha and I were going to be leaving in the morning was total and complete surprise. She seemed shocked that we might not be enjoying working in the rain twice a day mucking horse crap for a woman who constantly kept us in the dark about our schedule, had us connected to her via cell phone, and who grew short, rude, and impatient when something with the horses and camels wasn’t done to her liking (even though she often gave vague instructions and left for long periods of time after giving them). “Vhy? Vhy do you want to leave?” Well, didn’t I just tell you nicely why? “We’re not enjoying our experience and since we only have a short time left on our year, we thought leaving a few days early might be better for us.”

After her initial shock, she took a self-depreciating turn and began blaming herself as we were driving in the rain back to her farm. “It is my fault. I am a terrible a person. I thought maybe you would be a perfect fit. It vas vorking.” I tried to be encouraging, as did Trisha on the ride home and we hoped she would process this info and that would be that. About 10 minutes outside of Melk into the countryside she pulled the car over, turned off the engine, and sat there wanting to talk this thing out. Of course I’m thinking, she probably has a gun in the glove compartment and this is it….we’re going to end up like those other missing Help X volunteers (don’t worry mom, there aren’t any).

Our parked conversation was a rehashing of her original denial; self-blaming, telling us we should just stay, lots of self-loathing, stories about how hard her life is and that no one likes her camels except her…etc. This went on for at least 20 minutes. Sitting in the countryside, in her red VW van, having a conversation that turned into a therapy session and thinking to myself “holy smokes, this lady is wacko.” I actually pitied her more than anything, as her persistence was just sad, not aggravating.

When we finally returned to the farm, Trisha and I changed back into our work clothes and did our tasks as we promised her we would do in the afternoon and morning before we left. At one point in her “just stay” conversation she told us we could stay and not work and just live there for a while. That sounding as equally unpleasant as returning to that farm after being in the city, was enough tempt us to grab our bags and leave at that moment. But we persisted. Throughout the afternoon work, Gerda made herself more present, unlike other times when she was gone for most of the work. Throughout she would come up to me and try to make a deal on us staying. She had extreme difficulty grasping the concept of our departure. Or maybe she was just lonely.

The evening got even weirder. Similar to our other nights at the farm, Trisha and I cooked dinner for ourselves, not knowing if our timing was correct or if Gerda or her husband would want us to make some for them too. That night as we were sitting down, Gerda came in and was extremely polite to us. We offered her food that she accepted and enjoyed, and she talked about many things other than our departure. At the end of the meal she went into the kitchen and came out with crystal cups full of peanuts and cashews for dessert (this is a lady who doesn’t know how to cook and hadn’t lifted a finger in the kitchen since we arrived). She also cleared and cleaned the dinner plates, which was a first since we had been there. Gerda was definitely trying to butter us up to how good it was to be on her farm.

Near the end of our evening she excused herself and told us to wait in the dining room for a moment. A few minutes later she returned with a six-foot boa constrictor wrapped over her shoulders. Hey, why not? Just what we needed to convince us to stay, a giant reptile! Only slightly shocked that she had a boa constrictor of this size (the biggest I have seen outside of a zoo) in her room, we humored her with our amazement and enjoyment of her cold-blooded friend. Hey this was the funny-farm we were on and why shouldn’t she entice us with a serpent? So after a longer bit of conversation, some snake up-close-and-personal time, a few more … “Vhy? Vhy do you vant to leave.” We called it an evening – only slightly drained.

As I awoke the next day, I knew in my mind that I would be leaving the farm, knew I would be on a train heading to Salzburg, knew I would be away from a place I had grown to distain more than any place I had been this year, and knew that I would be away from Gerda and her constant badgering. But I also knew deep-down that leaving would not be as easy as getting in the van and going. There would be steps involved.

The first step was doing the morning cleaning of the animals. It wasn’t so bad except that Trisha was packing our bags to maximize time, so I was left with all the muck. Second was breakfast, which turned out to be uneventful. Third was finding Gerda and nailing down a time to leave so we could catch a train to Salzburg. We found her, although nailing down an exact time was difficult. Forth was bring all the suitcases downstairs and then having Gerda tell us her mother wanted to have coffee with us before we left. Knowing there were numerous trains to Salzburg helped in the decision to have coffee and delay our exodus, but I knew it was just staling time. We all went to the mother’s side of the farm, and in her kitchen Trisha and I along with Gerda, Heidi the sister, and Jose the Spanish boyfriend of Heidi who slept most of our days there, gathered with Mother around the table.

The coffee time took about 40 minutes and consisted of talking to Jose in Spanish, listening to Heidi tell us about Texas and American things she remembered while she lived there for 30 years, and listening to Mother tell us why Hitler wasn’t that bad when he incorporated Austria into Germany in the 30’s. Gerda just sat and mostly translated.

Finally, we bid Mother goodbye and all piled into the van for the train station. Unbelievable! Gerda drove extra slow compared to her usual break-neck speeds in order to maximize our final time together. I kept waiting for her to pull over again a talk it all out. Fortunately that didn’t happen, but we were hailed with a melange of questions that she said she wanted to fit in before we left. They consisted of everything from American politics to healthcare to the Ku Klux Klan in America. Fun, random questions left to the end!

The drop-off at the station was perfectly anti-climatic. Goodbye, thanks, good luck, and then they were gone and we were alone. And that is the time Trisha and I took the biggest sigh of relief we’ve had all year. On our way to Salzburg, fleeing our farm-stay from hell, with the horse smell still on half our clothes to remind us how much we distained that time, we actually had to laugh at this most bizarre experience. If not for the fabulous material this farmstay provided for our blogs would we even hesitate to answer the question “If you knew last week, what you know now, would you have gotten off the train at the Melk station that late, rainy afternoon late?” What do you think?

“Okay, I admit it. I’m a city girl.”

2009-06-27T01:18:00.005-07:00

As I heard the alarm go off at 5:50am this morning, I was struck with wonder. “What on earth am I doing here on this animal farm in Austria?” I was filled again with a sense of dread knowing that in 10 minutes I’d have to be dressed, outside, and ready to muck up the mess in the stables. Again. But let’s not forget to add the important detail of the terrible weather to this scenario. Yesterday at about noon a huge storm blew in and the raining began. It poured buckets all through the night and is expected to continue raining for the next five days straight. Yes, this is what I have to look forward to.

So now let’s think about what to wear. Travis and I have a small selection of farm clothes that we bought from 2nd hand stores in Central America to prepare for this leg of our travel. Although not rainproof and definitely not fashionable, they have been reliable up until now. Because of our sometimes limited access to laundry, we’ve gotten used to wearing the same work clothes several days in a row until they are absolutely unbearable to put on again. I have two such “outfits” that I switch in and out, depending on what’s clean. Pants that really aren’t my size (way too short!) and three layers of mismatching shirts… I am a total beauty queen when I wear them. With this rain, we are more limited with our options and this horse work requires us to go outside and get dirty 3 different times a day. The clothes don’t always dry in between so we’ve had to get very creative. Between the work, we take off the dirty wet clothes and put on the inside hang out clothes but never really feel clean in them because we just worked outside. Even these semi-clean clothes feel tainted by horse smell, as does really everything in our suitcases right now. But with this schedule, it’s pointless to take a shower until the evening because the work is spread throughout the day. Therefore, until about 8:00pm at night, I have to suffer through feeling dirty and uncomfortable. I HATE this. Even sadder is that I only have about three hours to actually enjoy being clean because before you know it it’s bedtime. This is NOT my style.

Let’s not even talk about hair or make-up. Just FYI, I’ve become about as low-maintenance as possible in this year of travel. Starting in Central America, I abandoned my hair-dryer and took to easy "up-do’s" with my hair. Occasionally now if we’re touring a city I’ll actually spend more than 3 minutes on my hair, but this feels really strange to me as I’ve become so accustomed to the other. As far as make-up, I haven’t touched the stuff since we arrived here. Although I usually don’t wear much anyway (not to mention it’s been impossible finding the products I like that I’ve run out of from America in these unfamiliar drugstores with the language challenges), we don’t really have ideal access to a mirror here so it’s not a possibility anyway.

Our living arrangements on this farm are rather bizarre, to say the least. We have a private room on the second floor of Gerda’s mom’s house, but to enter it we have to go through the room of sister Heidi and her Spanish boyfriend Jose. Being that these two are always hold-up in this bedroom hanging out and usually sleeping (we have no idea what they do with themselves all day and night), privacy is non-existent. A curtain exists between our walkway and their bed, and the sound of Jose’s snoring is enough to have contributed to at least 5 hours of sleep lost to me already this week. In “mama’s house,” we are not allowed to use the bathroom because it’s hers. The exception is if we’re desperate during the night. So instead, we have to go outside and walk to the factory building next door to use the employee’s restroom. There is no sink with these bathrooms though. As you can imagine, this is real convenient for us. There is a sink we can use in mama’s house, but it’s in the laundry room and to get to it we have to climb over piles of dirty wet clothes and the lovely smell of mildew. This is fun. Even better is the fact that when we want to take a shower we have to walk on over to the 3rd building on this property, Gerda’s house. So basically this means that our toiletries and personal belongings are spread all throughout the property. It’s such a headache to remember where our towels and toothbrushes are… and again, everything feels dirty and wet because we’re hauling it all back and forth. Adding to this is the fact that to enter any building you have to take off your wet shoes first and the wet raincoats. What a process.

So this morning, I put on as many layers as I could to protect me from the rain and told myself, “It won’t be so bad.” Yeah, right. We began by letting out the horses to graze in the wet fields so we could clean their stables in their absence. Travis grabbed the wheelbarrow and shovel and I grabbed my heavy broom and headed to Muli the mule’s stable (whom I think is the messiest animal of them all). Yuck, what a nightmare. Every time I open the gate of these horse’s homes, I think, “Oh come on… why are you so messy? I just had this perfectly clean and fresh for you yesterday and now you’ve ruined it again. Don’t you care?!” Obviously, these thoughts are complete nonsense… I am dealing with horses here.

I begin the arduous task of cleaning it up while my mind races with all the things I’d rather be doing at this moment. My back and arms surge with pain from using unfamiliar muscles that are required of me to push all the “sh*t” into piles for Travis to scoop up and take away. I really just can’t believe how much sh*t there is and how heavy it is to move. Next, I fill up buckets of sawdust and spread it out through all 11 stables so the next load of sh*t won’t stick. Walking from stable to stable in the pouring rain, my feet are covered in sh*t. My biggest fear all morning is slipping and falling on a pile of sh*t. So far, I’ve been lucky but I’ve had a few close calls. Travis just about sunk into a deep pile of it yesterday as it came up to the cusp of his boot. By the time the stables are clean, I feel pretty sh*tty, to say the least. It doesn’t make a difference though, because this is just the beginning. We haven’t even touched the camel’s stables yet or fed the animals.

To attend to the camel’s level of cleanliness, we first have to move them out of there. I’d say that when I look back on this random experience in the weeks to come, this will be the part that I laugh about the most. Let me paint the scene for you:

Travis and I move the electric fence and enter the camel pin.
Eleven large, hungry animals swarm us because they sense the smell of hay on us.
We have to be on high alert so we don’t get stepped on.
They lick the arms of my jacket with their slobbery tongues and several gnaw on my head through my rain jacket hood.
When they brush up against me they leave a handful of their fur on me since they’re loosing their winter coats.
If I don’t move fast, I swear I’ll be eaten up.
Our task is to put collars on them and tie them up.
We grab our whips to herd them together but don’t actually whip them.
Then we use our “camel voices” to shout out herding calls to get them to move.
As we attempt these calls with words like “yah! Move on out! Come on, come on!” I am hysterical and knelt over belly laughing.
Our complete naivety of handling these animals makes us sound so silly in comparison to Gerda’s skilled camel-calling technique.
If we’re lucky, they move for us.
Sometimes a camel gets way and Travis has to take off running after it.
Then I’m left alone with the other 10.
I try to appear strong so they don’t sense my fear.
I pray Travis returns soon.
Once tied, we take the buckets of feed we prepared and they attack it when we approach them.
Within moments we have to remove the buckets because they like to kick them around when they’re empty.
They’re playful little buggers.
Now we can finally clean their stables.

With our morning jobs almost finished, the last step is to distribute the hay, straw and grass. The grass is my least favorite. Although it’s covered in the barn, it’s so fresh that it’s wet and full of moist slugs and other little creatures. Like little tiny mice. I have to lift up large piles of it and bring it to each stable. I try not to think about what’s hidden inside. By the time we’re done, I’m covered in the stuff. Later it’s really exciting to find pieces of it in my hair, my socks, and my pockets.

This concludes our morning work. Now we have some free time in between brushing the camel’s hair, taking the horses out for exercise, and being dictated by Gerda’s ever-changing schedule of craziness. Amazing that it’s only 8:00am. That means we have a whole 10 hours to look forward to doing this all over again at 6:00pm… and at 8:30pm we can finally wash all the dirt away.

So, we’ve been doing farm work now since April. With all the various degrees of tasks I’ve completed, I think it’s fair to say I’ve been quite a trooper. My comfort level and tolerance levels have expanded beyond what I thought possible for me. But all in all, I’ve made two conclusions. First of all, to all you farmers out there, I commend you! Your job is incredibly difficult and the work requires dedication and skill that is remarkable. Secondly, I don’t think I’m cut out to be a farm girl after all. After this adventure it’s fair to say I’ll be leaving my work boots behind. I will continue to proudly embrace my identity as a city girl, through and through.

My latest fashion statement needs an update SOON!

The Longest Day of the Year

2009-06-22T01:58:00.008-07:00

Greetings from Eitental, Austria! We are on our second day of working on a camel and horse farm in a tiny town outside the larger town of Melk. Our concluding days in Slovenia turned out to be excellent as we finished helping out host Tjasia, and were able to take a day to tour the capital Ljbujana. Our journey to Vienna from Ljubjana was gorgeous as the train trip journeyed through Austrian countryside for an extremely easy five-hour journey.

Trisha and I then spent four days in Vienna in a hostel-apartment away from the farm and village life; dictating our own schedule, food, and general existence. It was a much-needed respite. We do need a bit of time between our farm-stays, both to be on our own and to take a pause from our labors (which are actually a lot of work). Vienna was glorious as we toured much by walking and using their highly efficient public transportation. We even saw the ballet Anna Karena in the Vienna Opera House. It standing room only, but had excellent view and only cost us 4 Euros apiece.

At the end of our four days we felt energized and independent, though held mixed emotions about beginning another farm-stay. We are beginning to tire of this type of travel. It does allow us to tour cities and be economical, but we also must shelve our independence to do so. Similar to other times this spring, we knew that we would have to adjust again to a new family, new food, new schedule, whatever other little quirks or obstacles that might come our way. Many of these transitions have been easy this year, while others like our last in Slovenia, took a few days before we began to enjoy it. Our current farm, with the horses and the camels, has been no exception to this transition process.

To illuminate the difficulties this process entails, I must share our first full day at this Austrian camel farm. This day was not only was the longest day of the year on calendar, but may have been our longest day of the year in terms of how we felt afterward.

We arrived at the farm in the late afternoon on Friday . Our host Gerda picked us up from the train station and gave us an overview of our stay. It was difficult to make any true impressions as we really only had time to settle into our room and take a tour of the place. We were attempting to be as optimistic as we could, but were missing our independent weekend in Vienna.

The next day, our longest day, began at 7:00 a.m. Normally our days are to begin at 6:00 a.m., since all 11 camels and 10 horses need to be fed and have their stables cleaned. Why this is to happen at 6:00 a.m. I’m not sure, but maybe I will discover the reason through groggy eyes on Monday morning. Feeling relatively ready and awake on Saturday at 7:00, we were given a lesson by Gerda’s sister Heidi on how to properly clean-up horse-stables and camel stables.

Before I go on, let me give you a little insight into this farm. Heidi, who gave us the stable clean-up lesson is in her mid 60’s, lived in Texas for 25 years, and recently moved into her mother’s house on the farm property in a spare bedroom with her Spanish boyfriend Jose, whom she met few weeks ago. Gerda, our boss for the week, is the more responsible sister who runs the camel and horse farm (horses for lessons, camels for special engagements). The property also contains a factory that makes elastics and is run by Gerda’s husband, who really is more of a business partner to Gerda than a husband, so she says. The elderly mother of the two sisters lives in one of the houses on the farm too.

We have found Gerda a difficult woman to read. She can be warm, inquisitive, and caring enough to make sure we are well-fed and given chances to explore the area. We have also found her to be impatient, curt, and a bit rude when it comes to doing tasks that we have never done before in our lives. Although extremely put-off when we first encountered this behavior, we have since deducted that it is her way of ensuring safety around the animals. Her directness may also be a result of English being her second language and when translated from German, it just sounds rough.

After the lesson on stable clean-up, Trisha and I then learned how to feed the camels and horses, and then began both tasks. The feeding was the fun part. The stable cleaning wasn’t actually that bad, it just took awhile with so many animals. We finished our tasks around 9:00 and then headed inside to make our breakfasts (we actually love that we get to cook all our meals here and that we just tell Gerda what we need). Our spirits were fairly high at this point, as the work was complete and breakfast was on the table. The big question that hadn’t been answered was what was the remainder of our day going to entail. We had read that normally four to five hours of work was expected. Two hours down, but no definite answers what next. Something that Trisha and I value highly during out farmstays are specific instructions and a clear schedule. Since it was our first day, we were waiting to figure out what this would be.

After breakfast, Gerda told us we would be heading to town to pick out food for the week. So we piled in the van with Heidi and Jose and headed to the store. When we arrived, Gerda claimed she didn’t like grocery stores, so the four of us headed in. Fortunately Trisha and I had no problems picking out and planning food for the week. We weren’t told what our budget was to be, just that we needed to plan for three or four days. It worked out and Gerda never said anything about the price, which we thought to be pretty good for the amount we purchased.

Following this, Gerda drove us to Melk and the giant monastery located there, which is a big tourist attraction. She said Trisha and I should check if there was a tour in English, and that she would pick us up in and hour-and-a-half. We were still in our work clothes from the morning, hadn’t brought our camera, and were definitely not feeling like tourists. But we agreed, as the idea of walking around the city by ourselves was nice. It turned out the tour didn’t have times that worked, so we ended up getting a coffee and taking a long walk. Not so bad.

After this, at about 12:30, we returned to the farm and Gerda instructed us on feeding the horses and camels at midday. It was easy task that consisted of throwing them all some hay, and took only about 10 minutes. We then began preparing lunch. To our surprise, Gerda came in while we were preparing and said a friend of hers needed help with some pony rides. She said if we left in an half-hour, we could go help. She also mentioned earlier in the day that the stables are cleaned and horses and camels fed around 6:00. So was this trip to the friends part of our work, or was this just an outing? How long would we be away? Questions running though our brains remained unspoken, as we wanted to go with the flow on the first day. We were beginning to feel a little trapped though.

We rushed though our lunch and headed out the door around 2:00. The friends house wasn’t down the block, but in the town of Linz, 1 ½ hours away. When we got the friends house, we discovered that it wasn’t just a house, but a zoo on a huge property that was run by the friend. We learned that the pony rides weren’t going to happen because of the rain, so instead, Gerda thought we might like to tour the zoo. We did, and it was very nice for a zoo located in a remote area in the Austrian countryside.

After about an hour of walking around checking out the two elephants, lion, zebras, monkeys, and other creatures one wouldn’t expect in the country, we began to wonder where Gerda was. We were also starting to long to be back and finish our work, shower, and finally change our clothes. We found her at about 6:00 p.m., sleeping in the car. After she awoke, she said she wanted to talk with her friend who owned the zoo. We found the friend and Trisha and I followed them around the property as they talked in German.

What seemed like hours of listening to endless German chatter, and with our hopes of leaving on the brink, the two women headed not to Gerda's car, but to the kitchen for big cups of tea and more talking. This was the point where the independence we had felt in Vienna, was completely sucked out of us. We knew it was and 1 1/2 hour ride home, work needed to be completed, dinner prepared, and we were longing for those showers (which we hadn’t taken since Vienna on the previous morning). This was the low point of our day, when we were questioning our new farmstay, the work we were doing, and the lack of control we felt at times during these stays. We were also suffering in the knowledge that we still had a few more farmstays lined up in the coming weeks before we return to the U.S.

Finally we did head home and arrived back at the farm at 9:00 p.m. Fortunately the work had been completed by Heidi and all we had to do was make dinner for ourselves and wash-up. We both were emotionally drained from the lack of control we felt during the day and the constant questioning of “Is this worth it.” Even when our longest day ended and we headed to bed, our spirits were still struggling with all the emotions we were feeling.

Our frustrations with our longest day and lack of specific work schedule did lead us to tell Gerda our feelings. She was understanding with in her strong German accent and somewhat emotionless mannerisms, and told us she likes to plan things for her helpers to do during the day, like visit her friends zoo. We instructed her that we appreciated outings, but preferred to have advanced notice so we could prepare ourselves. It was also conveyed that we didn’t need every minute planned and that having off-time by ourselves between the work was fine with us.

The good news is the next day was not like our first and we were able to do our work and take time for ourselves. She did offer an outing, but we told her we would wait a day or two. Perhaps if this had been our first, or second, or even third farm, we would have been more gung-ho about it all. But we are over the gung-ho at this point. Trisha and I still love to tour all these great places, feel blessed beyond belief that we have the opportunity to do so, and even don’t mind the hard work during the day. But we are very much looking forward to the day when life is back on our terms, living under our own roof, and doing life like normal.

This is a fake smile- Trisha is not too happy on this mule

Slovenia: Unspoiled and beautiful… but what a world away

2009-06-11T08:07:00.002-07:00

Our journeys this year have brought us to some unique and off-the-beaten-path destinations. Because few of these places were set in our itinerary prior to this year, it’s been fascinating to see where the work and volunteer opportunities have taken us. Knowing hardly anything about Slovenia apart from the knowledge that it is a small, semi-undiscovered country formerly part of the old Yugoslavia, Travis and I have landed here somewhat blindly for a 2-week helpx stay.

Leaving Italy was a bit of letdown for me, as I had anticipated this segment of our year for some time. But, as Travis wrote in his last blog, we feel like through our variety of farm stays we were really able to see and experience a large part of the country and will cherish our memories there. So on the 1st of June, we took a train from Venice to the border city of Gorizia, Italy, where we were met by our native Slovenian host, Tjasa. Her home and B&B is located just 25 minutes from the border in the town of Branik. Crossing the border into Slovenia from Italy passed without us noticing it. As with many other European countries, once Slovenia became a part of the European Union several years ago, the border fences were taken down.

Being so close to Italy here in Branik, you’d think that much of the landscape, the people and the culture would be similar. Surprisingly, this is not the case at all. In truth, we feel like we’re a world away. This lovely village is located in a lush valley of vineyards, vegetable gardens and what appears to be every variety of fruit tree that can flourish here. Green, tree-covered mountains surround us, with the horizon of the Julian Alps just to the north of us. Perched atop many of the high peeks are stone churches surrounded by very small villages, and from the window of our room we have an amazing view of one of the largest and oldest Slovenian castles. There is vast, unspoiled territory in all directions to explore by foot or on bicycle. When I say “unspoiled,” I mean there are no large road signs, ugly store fronts, or much of anything else that would suggest this is a modernized society (except in the few larger cities). This country is ideal for cycling. Road bikers are aplenty, and we’ve seen many groups of cyclists (clubs or tour bikers) speed past while we sit there wishing we had our bikes and could join right in. If we ever come back to this country, we’re doing it on our bikes. There couldn’t be a more picturesque setting.

Most of the homes here, including the one we are living and working in, share a common architectural style with solid stone walls, tile roofs, wooden floors and colorfully shuttered windows. They are built together in clusters, so only the newer homes can be seen on their own. Back in the day several different families lived together in one home, so with 4-5 homes built close together you had a small self-sufficient village. Absolutely EVERY home here has a little vegetable garden; I’ve never seen so many beautifully cared for patches of land, offering everything from cucumbers to sweat peas to up to five varieties of lettuce. Whether a home has a lot of space or just a tiny 10x10 foot patch of earth, without a doubt it will be a plentiful garden that a family could live on. In fact, I’ve noticed the market here carries a pretty sparse selection of fresh produce- maybe this is the result of a lack of buyers being that everyone has their own veggies? Just a thought. Most homes also have a couple of fruit trees (I love to walk by and guess what fruit is on it’s way to season), several grape vines and sometimes olive trees too. We’ve read that many Slovenians produce their own wine and olive oil (or pumpkin seed oil) to go with all of their meals.

It is definitely cherry season here! I have never seen so many cheery trees in bloom in my life; I think every home has one. Every time we’re out we see people on ladders up in the trees picking cherries and putting them in their baskets. Our host Tjasa told us that the policy on picking fruit here is a bit like “don’t ask, don’t tell,” so if Travis and I pass a tree on a walk it’s “okay” to take a few to try. Delicious. We’ve found our favorite trees in the neighborhood where we’re somewhat hidden from on looking eyes. As far as the local cuisine, it appears to be a rather hodgepodge mix of some Italian and the traditional European meat and potatoes with some local touches. Although we loved Italian food, we’re both pretty happy to have a change from all the pasta, pizza and tomatoes for a while. A favorite of our stay has been visiting the little pub down the street that we can walk to from our home. Slovenian wine here is just 60 cents a glass and Travis has loved the good regional beers on tap. Even though drinks weren’t terribly expensive in Italy, you sure can’t beat a fun visit to the pub for less than 4 euro!

Speaking of the pub, we’ve had some of our best Slovenian people watching moments here. The town of Branik is not exactly a tourist destination, so we’re definitely in the minority. In fact, the bartender said to us today, “So, you’re still in Branik… why?” We laughed and explained to her that we’re working for our stay and the chance to experience local culture first hand. She was pretty interested to hear that a couple from Los Angeles would want to come and visit Slovenia. Why not? It’s beautiful here! But back to the people. Hmmm… how to explain? This town certainly has the “small town” local feel, with farmers riding by on tractors, women working in the gardens wearing their work dresses and aprons, regulars who come on their motorcycles to the pub each night, and much teenage angst amongst the youth (think gothic black clothing, etc…). One thing they don’t seem to be experts at is their sense of style. Coming from Italy, this is quite a contrast. Just picture some classic 80’s hairstyles, men in plaid workout shorts with button down collar shirts, and women in whatever appears comfortable to them at that moment. Very interesting. Travis and I fit right in when we walk in town wearing our paint splattered work clothes and terribly over warn tennis shoes. We sure can’t fit in with the language here though; it is completely incomprehensible and unrecognizable to us. Apparently, it’s almost impossible for adults to learn as well. If you don’t grow up speaking Slovenian, it’s pretty rare you’ll ever be able to speak it in your lifetime. Good thing most people speak some English too, or we’d be pretty stuck.

Now that I’ve painted you a picture of what Slovenia looks like and sounds like, what exactly are we doing here? Well, our host Tjasa is a known Slovenian painter by profession, who bought a large home several years back that she has turned into a B&B as a side business. The main purpose for her in having these rooms is to hold artist workshops a couple of times a year where she invites budding artists from all over the world to attend. Here she teaches the basic to more significant elements of art while she hosts and entertains her guests. When she doesn’t have guests, Tjasa seems to lead a pretty private and reclusive life. Although we took some time to warm up to her, overall we’ve found Tjasa to be a very cultured and intellectual person. She’s studied in over five different countries, speaks five languages, and is a lifelong learner always excited to talk about something going on in the world. During our stay the topic much of the time has been the state of the economy; she’s a bit of a dramatist who thinks we shouldn’t go back home to the USA while the dollar is weak. She recommends us to settle in Singapore instead! Needless to say, we’ve had some interesting conversations.

As Tjasa’s first helpx workers (she didn’t trust any inquiries from helpers before us!) it’s taken a little bit of time to establish a working routine with her, but we’ve come to enjoy the work. She had a massive project for us to undergo- restoring the windows on her house which is a couple of hundred years old. To start, the house has about 30 windows, and Travis and I have had to take them all out of the window frames, strip them of paint, sand them down to the original wood, and then re-paint them. It’s been a giant undertaking and quite tedious at times. Mixed with that we’ve done a little wall painting, woodcutting and various other tasks… but mainly it’s been 8 days now with windows, windows and more windows. After our 5-6 hours of work a day we either take a hike, use Tjasa’s bikes to explore the countryside, or take a 25-minute train to the border town of Nova Goriza where we use the internet at the library. By taking 10 steps south of this train station, we can go right back into Italy. On our first visit to this town, we got lost, ended up in Italy, and had to stop to ask directions to the library. The answer of the shop clerk was classic: “This library is in Slovenia, I don’t know where that is!” It turns out the library was just 4 blocks from his store.

We did get the chance to take one quick side-trip here north to the beautiful Lake Bled. This is a resort town with a crystal clear lake surrounded by the Julian Alps. Incredible scenery abounded with alpine vistas, A-frame homes, and the feel of Austria and Switzerland. It gave us a taste of what we’ll soon be seeing as we travel to these countries later this month. So overall, although we had a bit of culture shock at first coming to Slovenia from Italy, I would say we’ve ended up adjusting well to this country and would definitely return someday to see more of it. Especially if we had our bicycles with us.

Ciao Italia

2009-06-04T06:51:00.002-07:00

On Monday afternoon Trisha and I departed from Italy after six weeks of touring and working on farms. We had spent the previous four days living in Padua and exploring Venice on the side. A few hour train ride took us northeast where we stepped off in Goriza, Italy, and were then whisked off by our new host Tjasia to Slovenia, ten minutes away. Our current home-stay is actually about a half hour from the boarder and is located in an exquisitely beautiful valley. We are working at a bed and breakfast, helping to repair and restore the majority of its weathered windows and shudders. In this entry however, I do not want to focus on the new home-stay, but instead reflect on Italy and the highlights it held for me. So here I go.

My first delight was the very agreeable Italian people. I did not expect this at all. In fact, prior to our visit I assumed the majority of Italians were probably burned out on tourists and perhaps and not warm to strangers. I also assumed that like Spain, the people in service professions would be unsmiling and rather aloof when it came to tourists. Well, I was wrong. In both the north and especially the south of Italy, the vast majority of Italians we that encountered in cities and those introduced to us at our farmstays were extremely friendly. While walking in the small villages in La Marche or Tuscany and even in the shops in Rome and Naples, we were almost always greeted warmly and treated well. It is difficult to recall any experience in our six weeks that would refute this feeling

The next highlight was the Amalfi Coast and Capri. These two visits were a treats and definite bright spots in the trip. Although very touristy, the Amalfi Coast was spectacular and the villages and small cities lining the hillsides and overlooking the water were breathtaking. I think what really made this a highlight was the ease of getting around to all the towns. In one day we traveled to Sorento, Positano, Amalfi, and Ravello all by hoping on and off of local buses. It was so easy and we had a birds-eye view from the very narrow roads to the turquoise-green water below. The island of Capri was also no problem to reach by boat and provided us a “rich and famous” outing similar to the celebrities and rich Italians who frequent the place. The island’s expensive taste did not hinder our trip however, as we took to heart all of the advice we had received about bringing our picnic lunch, walking the town, and not spending the night on the island. We did purchase some gelato in the afternoon, and it actually wasn’t all that expensive.

Although maybe not a highlight, I really did love Trenitalia. The trains in Italy were hassle free, relatively cheap, and grew in charm value every time we used them because of this. I loved researching ahead of time online what time and connection would work best, then using the touch screen computer at the station to print our tickets. The stations were easy to navigate through and the trains almost always ran on time. What is interesting to note is that probably 75% of the tickets we purchased during our travels never got checked by anyone. It was sort of an honor system that you thing back on and wonder how much you could have saved if you left your integrity at home.

For many, pizza would make a great obvious favorites choice, as it is Italy. But at home I am normally not a big pizza connoisseur and really only enjoy a few slices now and then. I doubt this will change much when I get home either. In Italy however, the pizza was truly exceptional in its simplicity and most importantly, perfect crusts. I think it must have been the wood-fired ovens used by almost all pizza places that made the difference. The crusts were unlike any I have tasted before and though the toppings were simple and probably easy to replicate, it would be impossible to repeat those crusts. I typically ordered the pizza margarita, which is simply mozzarella, tomato, and a little basil.

Another special and unexpected highlight of Italy was the Tuscany region. Our farmstay near Arrezzo gave us a taste for this area and though we didn’t see Florence, we experienced the city of Siena, the countryside, and the small villages in between. I was especially fond of the countrysides, which were almost like paintings. The area of our farmstay was forested and green and was dotted with fields and other small farms throughout. Every direction was a feast for the eyes. While biking to town we often thought there couldn’t be another church or village quainter than the one we were in, but of course another would appear on the horizon. My favorite memory will be sitting in the backyard field in Peter and Lucie’s farm after a morning of hard work, shaded by the walnut tree, listening to the breeze blow through aspen-like trees, and watching the rolling hillsides in the distance.

Venice makes the list too. I had heard it was a magical place, read that is was magical place, and indeed after two steps out the door of the Venice train station, I could feel that magic. It felt like Disneyland for grownups. The thrill of walking down small corridors streets and anticipating what beautiful scene was around the corner did not fail to entertain us for the two days we toured there. I particularly loved the hundreds of bridges that linked each small part of the city and the boat traffic buzzing through each canal large and small. The days we visited were lucky ones since a crew race was taking place in Venice. We were able to witness the two and four person crew shells cruising under the bridges along with the boat taxis, canoes, and gondolas.

Although I have other favorites, I will include the Sistine Chapel as my concluding highlight. We were lucky to visit on a day with no lines to the chapel and minimal waits to enter any part of the Vatican. With our Ipods full of Rick Steves’s art commentary, the giant painting came alive in all its history, significance, and grandeur. We must have passed hundreds of paintings in the Vatican Museum as we made our way to the chapel, but I don’t think I could recall one of them. The Sistine Chapel though, like the Guernica in Spain, I believe will be etched in my brain for a long time to come.

I do have a few things I won’t miss about Italy. The first is suffering the worst allergies of my life, which I experienced in all regions. I’m not sure what grows there, but it ain’t so great. The second is Italian television, which offered little in the way of real entertainment and was mostly filled with boring game shows, infomercials, and shoddy talk shows. Even the Italians shared in the disdain. The final thing is Italian fashion, which I never really figured out. It seemed that the most important elements to this art were the shoes, sunglasses, and handbags. All needed to be designer and heavily marked with label names. In between these three elements, anything in the way of clothing was appropriate. However with out the shoes, sunglasses and handbag, it was obvious who was Italian and who was not. I was not, but enjoyed the people wearing the clothes nonetheless.

Italy was a special place for us during our year of travel. We only scratched the surface of all there is to do and see there, so we will have to return some day to further our adventures. In the meantime, we are thankful for the time we did get to spend and the people we met along the way.

Our culinary wonderings through Siena

2009-05-25T11:02:00.003-07:00

Many travelers head to a new city with the anticipation of going into every museum, church and art gallery. The beautiful hilltop cities of Italy offer many choices of things to see displaying deeply rich historic and cultural insight into this country. However, sometimes it’s just as interesting to discover a new town by sitting in cafes, trying the regional cuisine, and watching the world go by. This is how Travis and I spent our time in Siena last week.

We are coming up on the tail end of our last farm stay in Italy, and I’d have to say that the many delights of this home have been a favorite of our time in this country. The setting of this villa perched on top a hillside with sloping vineyards and olive trees below make it just an exquisite way to live the Tuscan life. Peter and Lucie’s property is immense, and although we’ve performed odd jobs all over the land (clearing away and hauling piles and piles of brambles and branches to make a gigantic firewood pile, enlarging a horse stable, weeding the vegetable garden, cleaning out an old wine-making shed, and various housekeeping tasks, including cooking) it seems like there are still nooks and crannies that we haven’t explored. Our afternoons are spent here either reading or swimming in their little aboveground pool, or venturing off the property to hike the surrounding hills, or bike to nearby Tuscan towns. With all our seasonal meals enjoyed together sitting outside under the large blooming walnut tree, we don’t have many complaints with our current surroundings. Peter and Lucie are exceptionally gracious hosts, which makes the work all the more enjoyable and satisfying as we lend our hands.

This being said, it was a difficult decision to leave this panoramic view for two days and take a side trip away. Being in the south tip of the Tuscany region, we had to choose between visiting the nearby popular towns of Perugia, Orvieto, or Assisi in Umbria… or the art-packed Florence or smaller counterpart of Siena. With many recommendations and the desire to visit a town representing all-things-Tuscany, Siena seemed like a lovely destination. Two early morning bus trips later, we arrived in Siena by 10:30am, just in time for a cappuccino. We’d already had a straight cafe earlier at the station between bus rides, so now was time for our mid-morning snack. As a side note, the Italian breakfast is a pastry and a cafe. The cafes are a straight shot of to-die-for espresso that can be gulped in one swallow, as many of the Italians do. They come in the bar, place their order, chug their cafe and are out again in about 3 minutes flat. The tables in these bars are rarely used, as the coffee culture here does NOT encompass the American traditions of whittling away many hours reading the paper or sitting with your laptop computer. Rather, you stand by the bar to drink and exchange a few pleasantries with the barista, before you’re on your way again. No need for a to-go cup… just stop at another bar around the corner if you didn’t get enough of a jolt in your first cup.

But, back to our cappuccinos... our cafes were hours ago. Siena has a well-known, old and elegant coffee bar called Nanini, where we made our first stop in the city. We stood amongst a mix of Italians and tourists, and also sampled a decadent slice of panforte, a pastry the town is famous for. Meld together the flavors of brown sugar, dried fruits and almonds baked softly together, dusted with powdered sugar, and you can almost taste it melting in your mouth. We were fans. Next, we set off to find our B&B for the night, then toured a few of the historic churches and buildings, and we were ready for another treat. With the temperature in the high 90’s, when we passed a café selling mint-flavored ice-cold granitas we couldn’t resist. Sure, it was really lunchtime, but by the time we’d choose a place to eat our lunch we’d be starving, so we better have a pre-lunch aperitif. It was delicious.

Okay, focus…. focus. Would we do our typical grocery/deli type lunch, or actually dine in a restaurant? With pizza on Travis’s mind and a traditional Tuscan soup called ribollita being something I wanted to try, a pizzeria restaurant overlooking the steps of a beautiful chiesa (church) made an excellent choice. Plus, watching the hordes of tourists go in and out of the church was largely entertaining. We love to take turns guessing what countries they might be from based on their dress, physique or language. “Do people do that with us too?” Most likely… although we pretend to fit in. Travis ordered his favorite, the pizza margarita, but he decided that after having this dish in Naples where it was originally created, no other will compare. Despite it being such a hot day, I found the hearty soup to be delicious and filling- a creative mix of bread, beans and seasonal vegetables stewed together.

After lunch we did our typical wondering and walking of the city for hours, with me taking pictures and Travis finding the best shade to walk under in these narrow streets. To quench our thirst, we stopped for an early drink where I tried the house white wine and Travis an icy cold beer. We actually decided to rest a bit back at our hotel after our drinks, before we cleaned up and went back out again in time for the passegiata, the time of day when all the Italians come out for their stroll. With the quest of having another drink before dinner (hey, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do in Italy?), we set foot for the Piazza il Campo, the main square of Siena. This square is one of the largest we’ve seen, and it’s well known as the setting of the twice-yearly palio horse race that takes place here. The diameter of the square was lined with cafes and the interior with people sitting right on the sidewalk enjoying the surroundings. We had hoped to sit amongst the millions of others looking out on the square with glasses in wine in hand, but when we checked out a few menus and saw the prices, we knew we could do much better if we ventured further out from the center. Turns out we were right… we found the perfect place to take our drinks to go for about a quarter of the price. You got to love that you’re allowed to walk around her with a plastic glass of wine in hand and no one will glance at you twice. We found a smaller piazza all to ourselves to consume these drinks… who needs the large-scale Il Campo square ambiance anyway? We still had the 5 euros we saved in our pockets.

Our culinary day through Siena would not be complete without having dinner in a small Italian Osteria with the feel of a being in a cozy vaulted wine cellar. Tuscany is known for it’s thick Tuscan steaks sold by the weight, and we watched several tables (mostly Italians) split gigantic portions of the meat and eat it right off the bone. We made our own selections based on what our pallets were craving… Travis starting with a primo of pasta a pesto followed by a secondo portion of Tuscan beef stew. My primo was a serving of Tuscan white beans stewed together with tomatoes, and my secondo of grilled antipasto vegetables and a fantastic chunk of smoked cheese. This all was of course accompanied by good bread and a carafe of house wine… always a good choice.

So, I’d say we did it up well in Siena when it comes to our tummies. Enjoying the local delicacies is definitely a fantastic way to take-in a new city, at least that’s what we think. Keep in mind, because our life now is living with families amongst their normal daily lives, we have very little say as to the meals that are cooked and the food that is served to us. Sometimes, it’s just a treat to make your own choices and eat when you want to. Oh wait, I forgot to mention the gelato! Of course our day in Siena was not complete until we had our 3-scooped gelato before calling it a night. It just doesn’t get much better than that.

A Peaceful Week in Allergy Hell

2009-05-18T10:22:00.001-07:00

The conclusion of our week living in a house/farm/b&b with a family of five, two dogs and two donkeys in Velletri, Italy was a mostly uneventful and peaceful affair. It was also one of the worst allergy weeks in my whole entire life.

To begin, Trisha and I returned from our amazing Amalfi Coast weekend on Sunday night, high on the beauty and culture of Italy. We also returned with a bit less money as Capri and Sorento aren’t exactly known as bargain destinations, but this inspired us even more to put in a hard week of work with no travel, meals, or hotels. And that is exactly what we did.

Our days in Velletri started around 8:30 with breakfast in the family kitchen. The three children were at school by this time and the husband, Paul, was at work, so we often had the kitchen to ourselves. At 9:00 we would attempt to track down Paola, the mother, on what she wanted accomplished for the day. She usually was working on some project in the garden or around the house, always a bit distracted. The work we were assigned wasn’t the most exotic, but enjoyable non-the-less. Tending to the weeds around the olive trees, landscaping with the weed-wacker, cleaning the b&b rooms, were the standard fare.

On a side note, when Trisha and I are assigned more monotonous and less exciting jobs, we pass our time listening to Podcasts on our ipods. We have actually been avid listeners of our favorite programs since we began our farming careers (For Trisha the entire year). Some of our favorites are NPR Book Review, Stuff You Should Know, The Writer’s Almanac with Garrision Kellor, Travel with Rick Steves. Amateur Traveler, NPR Food Review, and Sunday morning sermons.

By 1:00 we completed our tasks and had lunch with the family. The remainder of the day was ours. Our afternoons consisted of reading under the many large, leafy green trees in the backyard and then a little computer work to follow. In the late afternoon, we took to the nearby streets and walked or biked past farms and houses lining the narrow Velletri streets. We had one afternoon outing to nearby nature reserve that had a fantastic hike and another exploring the city of Velletri (not much to see in the city). Dinner was around 8:30 and then at 10:00 or so we would watch a movie from the family DVD collection on our computer. I suppose it could be considered a very idyllic week, and probably was for Trisha, but unfortunately my genuine happiness was somewhat hampered.

The major factor inhibiting my enjoyment was the location of Velletri, which I now believe to be the epicenter of the allergy underworld. When God created the world, he must have put all the mean and nasty allergy things in this area. Never have I been in a place where I have suffered more, and I normally don’t have terrible allergies. The mornings were worst. I would wake up to bloodshot red eyes, shortness of breath, and have difficulty hearing due to stopped-up ears. After multiple eye drops, inhaler puffs, and two antihistamines, I usually felt somewhat better by breakfast. But it didn’t end there. Throughout the day I would have to reapply eye drops, take more inhaler puffs, and use endless tissue paper to blow my nose. The sneezing was non-stop too. In the evening as I went to bed, the hope of resting my itchy eyes and experiencing temporary allergy relief never came to fruition. Sleeping though the night was an impossibility, as I would need to wake to up to tend to my wheezing windpipe and dripping nose.

I did think through possible causes of my allergy woes and ruled out the dogs, donkeys, and cat (he lived outside), and decided it must be the abundance of tall grasses in the area. It probably didn’t help that Italy had one of its wettest winters in 15 years and now it’s springtime. However, as I write this, Trisha and I have begun our next farm-stay near Arezzo, and I haven’t had anything close to the misery of last week. In fact, our hosts have 8 cats and I have only had to use the inhaler twice today, and no eye drops or pills. So I am feeling much better and more hopeful than last week.

Although we have only been here a day, we have a good feeling about our new place. This current stay is in totally different and gorgeous region than Vellerti. Being further north, the environment has less of the tall grasses and more large hills covered with lush, green trees. I prefer this forested and mountain feel to the rolling farmland terrain. Our new hosts, Peter and Lucy, are both from England and purchased their house and huge acreage about a year ago. It is not a working farm, as both Peter and Lucy have other jobs, but there are tons of things that need to be done and plenty to keep us busy. There are two other Help X workers here too, both from Canada, which has been fun and interesting and put less pressure on Trisha and me to be the center of attention. We are particularly excited about this stay because of its great proximity to Florence, Siena, Oretzo, and Perguia. The hosts are also very flexible and have encouraged us to take daytrips or overnights during our stay here. They are also willing to drive us to local villages or bus stops to catch trains in Arezzo (Arezzo is about 35 minutes away). It does look to be an enjoyable stay, with hard work thrown in there too of course.

In summary, I would recommend the south Rome, as long as allergy sufferers come prepared with plenty of inhalers, eye drops, antihistamines, and tissues.

Part 1: Italian coffees, blood-red eyes, and a few lessons on parenting... Part 2: Journeys along the Amalfi Coast

2009-05-10T13:12:00.001-07:00

On Thursday:
There are so many days right now where I have to stop and remind myself, “Wow- I’m living in Italy.” With this being a dream of mine for many years, I have to pinch myself to feel it as reality. Italy’s landscapes of olive groves, vineyards and hilltop villages truly exist just like the photos and movies I’ve seen. To be experiencing these little glimpses of this Italian culture that I’ve read so much about is indeed meeting my expectations, and it’s also granting many surprises. Things like standing at the bar in little cafes, ordering a rich cappuccino in the country where they originated (only before noon- Italians don’t drink milk in their coffee after noontime) … it just makes me smile. Today we’re sitting on a train on our way to Naples and the Amalfi Coast. Again- a pinch me moment. This is a region of Italy that I have always wanted to see (the name alone conjures up beautiful photographs in my mind), but I did not anticipate our travels bringing us close enough for a visit. Turns out it is closer than I thought, and in just 2 hours we’ll be stepping off the train and setting out to explore the treasures that await.

Travis is hoping that being away from the farm for a few days will relieve him from his current, dreadful allergy annoyance. Oh my goodness… I have never seen my husband sneeze so often! We’re not sure if it’s been various animals (cats or donkeys), the Italian plants and pollen, or just the spring season that is causing Travis to go in search for a Kleenex every other moment. His blood-red eyes are a sure sign of the turmoil his head is going through. He looks like a serpent! In fact, at the pharmacy today he had the pharmacists worried and asking all kinds of questions about his condition. Of course it’s only allergies, but so bothersome none the less. Good thing today we found out that he can get his inhaler prescription over-the-counter without a written prescription for less money than his insurance co-pay at home. Got to love the European health care system.

The way of travel we’ve chosen for this leg of our year has been absolutely fascinating. Meeting and befriending people we normally wouldn’t encounter as tourists, living with couples and families in the midst of their busy daily lives, jumping in to work and relieve them of some of their busyness, eating regional specialties right out of the garden and prepared by native cultured pallets….all of this with room and board free. This week and the next we are staying with a young and very busy family in the town of Velletri, just an hour south of Rome. With mostly sunny temperatures and a week of satisfying work under our belt, I can say it’s been a pleasing and relaxed week (especially in comparison to our experiences in LeMarche!).

Our current home is a room in a lovely and modern B&B, located upstairs in the Ranzioner family home. Our hosts are Paul, a Scottish dad who’s lived in Italy since taking his job with the United Nations 17 years ago, and his wife Paola, a native Rome-born Italian mom who’s just as pre-occupied and distracted as any mom and independent business owner in the US would be. Paul commutes to his job in Rome by the train everyday and loves to do all his outside work maintaining the property on the weekends. He also plays his bagpipes regularly, takes accordion lessons, and hosts parties in their backyard with Scottish folk-dancing. Paola mainly runs the upstairs B&B, as well as keeping up the vegetable garden, chasing and taxiing around her kids all day, and holding the household together. Paul and Paola have three children, aged 8, 10 and 13, who we think have a pretty cool life living on this large property in Italy with abounding space and nature to explore. So far this week has been a huge contrast compared to our previous farm stays, because we’re living with a very busy family rather than just outdoor-work-minded adults. Conversations around the dinner table are not centered around various cultural things or the vegetable garden, but rather they are typically about homework that needs to be done or music lessons that need to be practiced, with a little bit of whining thrown in. This is usually spoken in Italian, with Travis and I listening in. The whole family speaks both Italian and English fluently, and they switch back and forth easily when including us into conversation. This is a “real” Italian-living family, and Travis and I are just dropping into their lives for a short time. Again, it’s an interesting way to travel; we’re doing daily life as the locals do daily life.

With the hopes of starting a family soon ourselves, this experience has triggered a lot of interesting commentary between Travis and I about child-rearing and parenting skills. “Would you have let him get away with that?” “How would you have handled that situation?” It’s pretty interesting to observe it all, especially with the dual languages. All in the all though, the family is incredibly hospitable and charming, and we feel right at home playing legos with the kids on the floor, or holding their hands walking down the city streets. The kids are exceptionally friendly, as they must be very used to strangers living in their home and giving a hand with all the extra work. Actually, it’s a pretty good arrangement for them… with us sometimes doing things like setting and clearing the table, they get out of many of those typical “kid jobs” that I remember dreading as a child. Lucky them! Overall, our work has been flexible and varied, including everything from weed whacking, hedging and gardening, to cleaning the B&B rooms or helping out in cooking the meals. They are very laid-back and have encouraged us to take days off (unlike our last hosts), which is why we’re taking a weekend break and heading south today.

An enriching highlight of our stay occurred last week Sunday night, when we accompanied the Ranzioners on an evening outing to the center of town for a festive holiday celebration. The Italian holiday was Labor Day, and this town celebrated with its annual 1000+ person procession of the ornamented Madonna being carried through the city streets. Each townsperson walked single-file, some singing and chanting, and they carried with them a huge white candle (we’re talking about the size of one of my legs). Some even walked these 2-3 miles on the cobblestone barefoot, because it’s believed this offers some type of stronger offering or prayer to the Virgin Mary. Hmmm…. Interesting. Thousands of people were packed in the city streets, and those who weren’t there were peering off their balconies surrounded by their blooming potted plants. It was a great evening to just take a pause, look around, and experience the local way of life. It was also especially fun to attend this local event with a family, watching them run into all of their neighbors on the streets and catch up in the weekend’s happenings. We were also probably the only tourists in town, which made the evening even more authentic. To top off the celebration, Paul and Paola took us to a neighborhood Trattoria, where we enjoyed a tasty meal sharing antipasto and pasta together. What a treat! Afterward we watched the kids beg and beg until their parents gave in and treated them all to a cone of gelato. Very charming…. Very Italian.

On Sunday:
So I’ll finish writing this blog tonight as we are returning from our trip and riding the train back from Naples. What a gorgeous weekend it was! The Amalfi Coast was absolutely mesmerizing with its craggy rocky cliffs, picturesque pastel-painted homes layering the mountainsides, and the aqua-blue water of the Mediterranean Sea glistening below. I think I said, “Travis, look at that, it’s beautiful!” over a hundred times these last few days. We based our weekend out of the enchanting town of Sorrento, and from there took day trips to the flawless and celebrity-stunted island of Capri, and the towns of Positano, Amalfi and Ravello along the Amalfi Coast. Today we headed back into Naples to catch our train and took the opportunity to explore this wild and intense city (as the guide books say).

Overall, we finish this weekend being grandly impressed; it was definitely one of the most incredible places we’ve visited all year. Although the Amalfi Coast was splattered with tourists from all over the world, we were so happy to have traveled here in May rather than the overwhelmingly busy summer months. Apparently during this time, especially during the Italian vacation month of August, you can hardly walk along the coast because of the beach towels covering the ground with Speedo clad Italian men, women in designer bikinis, and kids slurping up their cones of gelato. There was definitely some of this to observe, but probably only a fraction of what is soon to come. What we will say is that this was a pretty difficult place to go when you’re trying to stick with a tight budget. The buses and ferry rides alone add up, not to mention the food. But hey, we’ll probably only be here once, right? Doesn’t that make the amazingly rich cone of gelato worth the 4 euros? Absolutely. When else can you enjoy the flavors of limonchello (the lemons in this region are bigger than grapefruits), pistachio, nutella or tiramisu with such vibrancy? Good thing we also know how to utilize the grocery stores and delicatessens to pack a great picnic. It’s the only way to go.

The people watching on Capri and Amalfi was worth the trip alone. You of course have your colorful mix of working locals combined with the typical Euro-tourists and some Americans thrown in. But this place was different from most other places we’ve visited this year in that the ultra-elite classes from this region of the world were very present. From the plethora of Prada bags to Italian leather shoes, fashion defines much of Italian culture. It’s hard not to pick up on exactly what colors and styles are currently “in.” Just park yourself on a bench for a while in a popular piazza and watch the families with strollers in tow, bustling teenagers and the meandering older adults promenade before you. The best time for this is around 6pm just past siesta, when everyone comes out for a stroll.

In total contrast to our time in Amalfi were these last few hours today in Naples. Naples is known to be a city you either love or hate, with intensity stronger than that of Rome. We’d say it lived up to its reputation. Within moments of departing the train station, we were just about whisked away crossing the street by the wild youngsters riding in twos or threes aboard their mopeds. Boisterous Italian accents echoed the street alleys, women shouted to each other from their balconies while hanging their laundry, and vendors below tried to sell their fresh catches of the day. This was the Italy that places like “Little Italy” in New York are modeled after. We dined amongst only locals at one of the oldest pizzerias in Italy, where it’s known to be one of two of the original pizza places that created the famous Pizza Margarita. The experience was rewarding and the crust was unforgettable. A perfect ending to our Neapolitan weekend.

Living the Villa Loca- Part 2, Villa of Broken Dreams

2009-05-01T00:16:00.011-07:00

“In truth, Hans and Lisa vary the work for their guests and are extremely gracious and giving hosts.” This is a quote from my last blog entry. If you read it, it was the one where life on a farm/villa in La Marche, Italy is everything one would imagine it to be.....fun, romantic, tranquil. Turns out this is not always guaranteed, as Trisha and I discovered.

I think our problems began when the weather turned for the worse. Our first day was bright, sunny, and extremely pleasant. Then the rain, cold, and gray rolled in and remained for the majority of our seven days in La Marche. Perhaps we would have persevered through this soul-dampening weather under normal circumstances, but unfortunately other factors intervened making sure we did not. One of those factors was our hostess Lisa.

Lisa, the woman who enthusiastically welcomed us and was most hospitable our first two days, transformed into a negative and moody braggart, whose brusque mannerisms did little to brighten our days. To begin, she talked incessantly of how expensive things cost in Italy, how little money they had, and how she had no time for anything. This of course left us feeling awkward about asking for seconds on food or preparing something on our own. We also became extremely cognizant of putting enough work time in each day. And that led to the next problem.

Lisa never clearly defined her expectations for our work. When we first arrived, I asked how long she would like us to labor each day. She said they were very flexible (whatever that means). So Trisha and I chose to begin our days around 9:00 and usually completed our day at 5:00, with an hour lunch thrown in there. We only took bathroom breaks and always accomplished a great deal of work.

The difficulty was knowing if the work schedule we were adhering to was sufficient. Lisa and Hans (Hans is her Dutch boyfriend who actually owns the farm, but had little say in anything related to our work), never gave us any clear feedback on the subject. When we finished working at 5:00 the first few days I'd ask if it was okay to quit. They would say yes, but would continue to work for another hour or so, making us question our earlier end time. More difficult were the weekend/weekday differences. Lisa claimed they both worked straight through the weekends. She never mentioned if we had to as well. They did encourage us to take a day trip to a historic town, which we did, but then a fateful Sunday rolled around.

Trisha and I had just worked about five days straight (since the day trip to the historic town) and asked if we could make another outing. They agreed and everything seemed to be fine. However since it was a little cold that day and all the shops and restaurants were closed, we returned early around lunchtime. We told of our situation and asked if we could prepare a little something to eat. After a pause and apparent apprehension, Lisa told us that there should have been four restaurants open in the town. We told her we did not see them. She did say okay to the food, but you could almost see the ice developing in this woman's eyes. And it got worse.

Since we figured that this was our day off we in turn spent the day relaxing. Hans, Lisa, and John (Lisa’s best friend from the states who came to stay for two weeks; another weird story) were all working that day outside. So every time we saw them during the day we could feel the bad vibes radiating from them. The frustrating part was they didn’t say anything. Had they wanted us to work? If they were upset, why didn't they just say something?

Feeling extremely uneasy about everything, Trisha and I even left a little money on the table for our lunch thinking that might be the issue. I also approached Lisa later that night and asked her if everything was okay and if we had done something wrong in our day off. She said it was fine, no problem, but did not elaborate to give us anything close to piece-of-mind. She also said nothing of the money I left on the table until I brought it up, and even then the feeling was not very warm. So from this time on, we felt her attitude changed toward us. We of course followed suit and began incessant Lisa bashing when she wasn't around, which at least made us feel better(very mature on our part).

The following days the ice seemed to thaw in Lisa's demeanor, but our drive and enjoyment in the work we were doing ceased. To add to this, the amount of people staying in the farm grew (Hans, Lisa, John, Han's mom and aunt, Han's best friend and family). The new additions to the house were very nice people (and Dutch which Trisha got a kick out of), but caused Lisa to became even more stressed and wound up. Also, the delivery of 5000 lavender plants and their immediate need for repotting so they could be stored for later field planting did not help her disposition (We may never be sure if repotting lavender for four days straight with no variety in the work really sucks, or if it was just our poor attitudes at that point) So around this time, Trisha and I decided to leave our farm stay two days early and re-coop before our next one began on Friday.

before...

after...

In hindsight, Lisa's less than cordial personality during our stay was likely not totally aimed at us, nor the result of actions we precipitated. The reality is Hans and Lisa are about 65% complete on a bed and breakfast farm that they want to open in June. At the same time, they want a working farm (with lavender fields) and need to make a profit from both. Their money situation is not where it should be at this point and the family and friends they had visiting, turned out to be a decision made long ago they were regretting. But that was enough for Trisha and me. Our next farm-stay awaits in Velletri, 45 minutes south of Rome. We're hoping for a nicer hostess.

Living the Villa Loca- Carasai (La Marche), Italy

2009-04-25T11:43:00.005-07:00

Trisha and I arrived in Rome last week, which marked the beginning of our four farm-stay experiences in Italy. We took two days to explore Rome before departing on the journey to our first destination. Rome is difficult to sum up in one blog entry, and we by no means gave it the appropriate amount of time necessary (probably a life-time) to explore and experience all that it has to offer. From our two days though, we were able to walk and view many of the major monuments (colosseum, pantheon, Trevi Fountain, Spanish Steps). I tasted my first authentic Italian pizza (delicious) and we enjoyed some of the other essential Italian fare (gelato, espresso, pasta). That was about it. The transportation, hotel, and other little details about Rome were easy and efficient. We didn’t make it to the Vatican and St. Peter’s, so we will make a return trip during our next farm-stay, which is in Velletri, 45 minutes south Rome.

Upon leaving Rome, we headed for the La Marche region of Italy and made our way through the center of the country to the coast lining the Adriatic Sea. The bus trip was fantastically beautiful, as it passed through countless villages surrounded by green pastures. Most impressive were the massive tunnels that cut through a beautiful mountain range located in the center of the country. Our duration inside some of the tunnels must have been at least 10-15 minutes long, as we were passed through huge, snow-capped peaks. The most surreal and unexpected place we passed was the town of L’Aquila, which was the epicenter of the recent earthquake to hit Italy. Prior to our journey, I assumed we would be taking an alternative route to La Marche, as other roads do lead to our destination. Since the highway sustained no damage, the bus route was unaltered and we were given a birds-eye view of crumbling houses and apartment buildings. We saw many areas covered with blue tents, the new housing for locals who lost their homes.

Our bus arrived in the evening in the coastal town of Cupra Marittima, next to the Adriatic and 3½ hours from Rome. Our farm hosts, Hans and Lisa, were waiting patiently at the bus stop to whisk us away to their farm 20 minutes away. They are in the process of converting the farm into a bed and breakfast. Hans is originally from Holland and purchased the property two years ago. Lisa is an American who speaks fluent Italian and spent much of her childhood in various Italian cities and is helping to make the dream a reality. They want to host both bed and breakfast customers and have campsites available on their property. There is a lot of work to be done before they can achieve this goal, which is a reason using helpers like us is so appealing to them (they have had many since they began).

On the farm Trisha and I are living in one of the future bed and breakfast guest rooms. It feels like a luxurious accommodation compared to our other farm-stays and we are both quite comfortable here. On top of that, Lisa is an excellent cook so we eat very well. This of course has inspired us to work extra hard for them in return. The work they have given us has been varied, although somewhat inhibited the first few days we were here as constant rain kept our labors at bay. Fortunately the skies have cleared up and we have had more chances to be of assistance. Some of the work we have tackled thus far is weeding (lots of it), grouting the tile for a large camp shower/bathroom, putting together loads of IKEA furniture all day, and now repotting 5000 baby lavender plants. That’s right, 5000 lavender plants! Hans and Lisa plan to cultivate and sell the lavender, but can’t plant the new stems they ordered as the ground is too wet from months of rain. So instead all the recently delivered plants must be put into pots. And guess who gets that job for a while?

In truth, Hans and Lisa vary the work for their guests and are extremely gracious and giving hosts. They have taken us out to pizza, shared their wine with us every night, bought us coffees, and provided abundant knowledge of Italy. We often need to remind ourselves that we aren’t staying at a bed and breakfast or are on vacation with our families, because at time it feels like it. We work hard for them everyday though, and I believe they are getting a good exchange (they have told us they feel that way too). Our time in La Marche ends on Thursday sadly, but we feel fortunate for this experience and are looking forward to the next.

Final Sentiments on England…

2009-04-20T07:09:00.002-07:00

Before we turn our blog towards our new Italian experiences, I wanted to quick sum up our time in England so I have a record of a few of these precious memories. England does strike me as indeed “precious.” With so many picture-perfect, historic pristine towns with rising church steeples and blooming flower baskets, I felt surrounded by untouched beauty and history. When I think of our time in England, there are three things that come to mind. Tea, countryside and hospitality. Although we were there for only 2 weeks, we drank more tea than we typically do in 2 months (and we’re actually frequent tea drinkers!). I’ve always known about the English custom of having tea, but I didn’t know the extent of this tradition. With both of our farm stay hosts, we were offered tea at least 5-6 times a day. I began by drinking the tea black, because that’s the way I typically take it. But, by the end of our stay, I was drinking it the English way with a lot of milk in it and sometimes sugar too. It was delicious. We had tea with breakfast, after lunch and dinner, and also around 10:30am and 3:30pm for our little work breaks. These times were my favorite, as our hosts typically brought it outside to us in the garden and we all sat together to take a break for this important time of the day. Sometimes we had English biscuits (cookies) too. We have decided that tea times are an excellent way to break up the workday.

The countryside in England is beautiful and never-ending. With no big mountains in sight to provide orientation landmarks, it seemed that everywhere we looked was another working farm. Although many of these farms did have that pristine look, they also looked well worked and authentic. There were plenty of rusty wheelbarrows about, farm tools sticking out above the soil in the gardens, and creatively stacked woodpiles. Travis wrote about our first working experience with our host Steve, so I will continue where he left off and tell you about our new friends Rob and Robin. I purposely had to re-visit England before writing about Italy because I didn’t want to leave out what an incredible time we had with these hosts! When Steve dropped us off, we were welcomed by Rob with a strong welcoming handshake and offered a cup of tea before even unpacking our bags. With teas in hand, we toured their property that consisted of their cozy English home, their daughter Tess and son-in-law Will’s home (and their adorable sweet toddler “Sully”), an apartment in-the-works Rob and their son Tom were currently building for him to live, and the cute little caravan where we stayed neighboring their house. They had towering woods out back surrounded by blooming daffodils, and a vegetable garden where we spent some time cultivating the land.

Staying with Rob and Robin was an experience this year that we won’t forget. As you know, we have done a lot of home stays and met a variety of people, but the warmth of these folks is something to write home about. We’d definitely like to replicate their hospitality the next time we entertain guests. Rather than feeling like the volunteer workers this week, we truly felt like guests… well no, like family members actually. After 7 months now on the road without our own families, I can’t explain how good it felt to be treated to such warmth and authentic family comfort. Although we worked hard, the work was interesting and varied- Travis chopped a ton of wood, I hauled it in the wheelbarrow and stacked it on the woodpile, and together we did some gardening, weeding, hedging, and composting. But it was the classic English personalities (with a mix of South African roots thrown in there too) of Rob and Robyn that made this week unforgettable. Meal times were highly enjoyable- not just the farm-fresh, delicious organic comfort food, but the interesting conversations enriched by Robyn’s compassion for others and Rob’s sense of humor with his extensive knowledge of literature and the intricacies of the English language. They both were fascinating individuals with varied pasts including unique professions and the times they spent in South Africa, India and other parts of England. With a love for meeting and experiencing new people, new adventures and a very free-spirited way of life, Rob summed it up well when he said, “in every day there should be some kind of party.”

Therefore, they treated us each night to some sort of entertainment, including a trip to the local pub where they bought us drinks, watching a British film together that they specially picked out for us to enjoy, and a big raging bonfire the last night. We got a kick out of watching the “pyro” in Rob. Just for the sake of entertainment he threw several aerosol cans in the fire to make bombs and probably just to feed his delightful interest in danger. Robin was the sweetest grand mum… taking her 2 year-old grandson Sully in the wheelbarrow everywhere with her in the garden, and letting him play at wild outside letting his sense of exploration develop. Travis and I were a little scared the times we saw him tooling about with hedge-clippers or some other frightening gardening tool in his hands, but Robin always had a good eye on him and taught him lessons along the way.

The fact that I could share more fun stories about these fun people again shows how much we cherished our time here…. so I hope I’ve provided a good idea of how Travis and I were embraced into this family. (Thank you Rob and Robyn, we hope to come back to you again someday soon!)

So to conclude our England days, I also want to quickly mention the time we spent in Cambridge for Easter weekend. As a unique treat, it turned out that we spent the Easter holiday with familiar acquaintances from America. We were warmly invited into the home of Ryan and Kelly DuBois, daughter of long-time family friends and my pastor while growing up, Bruce Ballast. Upon arriving to England I had no idea I knew someone living there, but because of a little update I wrote on facebook…. all the connections were made and we enjoyed a lovely stay with this fun couple. It’s a small world! Ryan and Kelly were fantastic hosts; their hospitality and home was like a B&B to us during this much-needed break from farm work. They took us on an interesting walking tour showing us the town’s many universities, and because of Kelly’s employment status with the University of Cambridge, we were able to do this without paying admission. The town itself was blossoming from every corner with fresh flowers, especially daffodils and tulips just rising above the surface. To top the weekend off, Travis and I attended King’s College Cathedral for Easter services and were wowed by the choir. All in all, it was a quintessential England trip.

Oh, the joys of travel days

2009-04-16T14:15:00.000-07:00

Travis just counted on his fingers how many times this year we have taken off on an airplane. Today marks our 14th flight. For some of you who are frequent business travelers, that number is probably no big deal. For Travis and I, just about each flight this year has marked our entry into a new country, a different culture, and sometimes another language. Each flight has also meant that we have once again packed up all of our worldly possessions we’re carrying with us this year and carting them off to another location. I wish I could say this process was simple. You may be thinking… “How easy, they’re not weighed down by a lot of stuff as they’re free to move from country to country with just their two sufficient suitcases.” Well, maybe it started out that way, but after living on-and-off the road for nine months with changing climates and varying professions as far as dress code, our bags have grown and so have their weight. I remember how exciting it was when we packed our bags for the first time heading out of Los Angeles last August. Well, packing just isn’t that fun anymore!

Tonight I am writing you aboard our plane from London to Rome. In fact, currently we’re flying over France. We’ve just spent the entire day going through the motions of yet another day of traveling adventure. Although, I don’t know if I’d call it an adventure- instead I’d say these days feel more like we are just walking through the many pre-determined necessary steps with hundreds of other travelers to get to the final destination. Today began at 9:00am from the lovely little farm we’ve spent our last five days working with the Man family. (More about this lovely family later…) Robin brought us to the largest nearby town of Attenborough, where we waited at a bus stop and then boarded our bus for our five-hour trip to the Gatwick airport in London. I’d have to say this bus was the coldest vehicle of travel I have been on in my entire life! The ice-cold air-vents were not just on for a source of refreshment, they were blowing out at gale-force winds from every direction. So, if you were unlucky enough to sit underneath one, which we were, within moments you could watch small icicles develop off the tip of your nose.

Around 3:00pm, with hungry tummies and very cramped legs we finally stepped off this mobile freezer. We gathered up our various parts of luggage and proceeded to check in for our flight, which was actually still 5 hours from this point. Lucky us, another day to kill in an airport… This is just how it all worked out with our bus/flight/reservation times. So, here we are at the check-in counter and we’re nervous. Why? Well, because we’ve expended much energy trying to figure out ways to downsize our luggage not to be charged with a fee for this flight. You see, on our last flight from Managua, we just barely made it within our weight allotment after having to re-shuffle our bags at the counter. For today’s flight, we were allotted with even less baggage weight and check-in amounts. To prepare for this, we purchased a new heavy-duty and big carry-on pack which we stuffed full of the heaviest things we owned. We also shipped a package home this week with some of our cooler temperature clothes since we’re heading south for the next few months. So, we placed the bags on the scales and, “blast!”… they were still overweight by 9 kilos together! Good thing we had another carry-on bag “on hold” in case this happened… There on the floor in front of the ticket counter we had to rearrange our bags until we had stuffed this other carry-on to the gills with the 9 kilos of weight. Oh what fun.

So now we’re checked in with all the time in the world to walk around, stretch our legs and explore the airport together. Wrong. In all honesty, each of our carry-ons (we both had two) were so incredibly heavy it was difficult to just take the weighed steps making it through airport security. We had to find the nearest corner to store our possessions and take turns walking around while the other guarded the luggage. Good times. Luckily, from there on out everything went pretty quickly and smoothly. This day was actually really nothing compared from our day traveling from Nicaragua back to Europe. That 24-hour day just two weeks ago encompassed a taxi ride, a bus ride, 3 separate flights, multiple security lines and customs, and even a 4-hour stay in a hotel airport. That was a day with real adventure.

Oh, but I’ve failed to mention one thing- my valiant travel worrying husband! With all due respect, Travis actually did quite well today. Well-planned out journeys do him good, especially when everything works out according to plan. (I just won’t mention here the days of his worries leading up to the actual travel day.) Let’s instead give him some credit. Because of these worries, Travis has a plan for every single possible calamity that could occur on a day such as this. From knowing the exact hours of the worse traffic when entering London, researching the exact amount of space we have in the overhead compartments to store our hand-luggage (& boarding right on-time to have access to this space), to having the exact change in the correct currency for our taxi driver when we reach the Rome airport. Ask him a travel question, he has it down pat. In fact, you could have asked him any question related to this travel day 2 weeks ago and he would have given you a well thought out and researched answer.

So, to sum this up… we’re now leaving England behind us and heading to Italy for another few exciting months of farm work ahead. We loved our time in England, we can’t wait to put our hands in the Italian soil. Our first stop is for two weeks of work at a small B&B and farm in the town of Carassai, in the Le Marche Region near Umbria. Depending on our internet access, we will keep you posted.

Farm-Stay # 1: Stalland Farm, Norwich, England

2009-04-11T13:34:00.002-07:00

For the past eight days, Trisha and I have been living and working on a farm in England. This farm experience is the first of many we will be doing over the next few months, though most will be in Italy. After our experiences in Central America, this farm-stay has been quite a different and enjoyable change of pace. As I attempt to summarize this first stay, four words come to mind: tranquil, laborious, charming, and organic.

The first is tranquility and I think its significance is twofold. There is the tranquil feeling that comes from knowing that your on a farm, in the heart of England, surrounded by farmland and countryside, and many miles away from anything that resembles a big city. For me, it doesn’t get any more tranquil than that.

The second part of the tranquility was the peace and quiet of our farm (Stalland Farm) and its rural location. If you check on a map, the farm is located in the northeast of England, about 15 miles from the city of Norwich. Layered between the big and charming city of Norwich and the farm are green fields and small quant villages. Stalland farm is about three mile from the nearest village and is surrounded on all sides by other farms. All that can be heard when outside are the birds in the trees, an occasional passing tractor, and a few fighter jets screaming across the sky from an airforce base in Norwich. We have found it extremely easy to pass time away here with little thought to the normal pace of life. The nature of our work also creates a tranquil feeling, as tending to gardens and crops has a very calming effect. However the work has not been easy. This leads me to my next word.

Trisha and I have worked our tails off here since we arrived, which is why laborious aptly summarizes our experience. The farmer we worked for, Steve Mahoney, has lived on his farm for the past 30 years. Steve’s farm is classified as an organic bee farm and yields honey enough for a steady income. Beside the honey production (which we weren’t really involved with) there were a hundred other projects, from gardens to chicken sheds to general landscape. And Trisha and I worked on about all of them.

Our laborious day began at 9:00, where we worked on challenging tasks until a coffee break around 11:00. At 1:00 we ate lunch, worked for a few more hours, took a tea break at 3:00, and finished at 5:00 or so. Our tasks included digging ditches for potato plants, cutting what seemed like miles of hedges, cultivating future gardens, digging up grass to be used as compost, building housing for strawberries and tomatoes, and of course weeding. Typically with these types of farm exchanges, the workers labor for 5-6 hours. Obviously our friend Steve didn’t get that memo. But we haven’t minded. He is a very patient and informative person, and kept our work varied and enjoyable. Steve is keen on telling his workers exactly why they are doing a certain task and what importance it will play on the farm. At the end of the day, we found ourselves extremely tired, but satisfied with the work produced. Although Steve isn’t the most outwardly expressive type, we think he was content with out work.

I use charming as my next word to sum up our first farm experience, as so much around us is just that. To begin, the little villages tucked between the vast expanses of field are postcard perfect England. Each town has an old grey stone church in the center, surrounded by tombstones dating back well beyond what we consider old in our country. The houses radiate a cozy feeling with their tutor style architecture, smoking chimneys, and abundant gardens in front. There are also the little market stores, pubs, and fish and chips restaurants to round of the completeness of each village.

This charm has also extended to the farm itself. Its location in the middle of green fields, surrounded by weeping willows and various other attractive trees made for a perfect location. The farmhouse is two-stories, painted dark red on the outside, and has an additional barn outback. There is a conservatory for plants in the rear of the house and many spacious rooms inside. Trisha and I had our own room and bathroom in the second half of the house, while Steve lived in the first. We took all our meals together in his well-stocked kitchen. The kitchen rounded out the charming feel, as it has a wood-burning stove that not only provides heat for cooking, but also is the main heating source for the entire house. The stove is connected to wall radiators in every room.

My final word on our first farm-stay is organic. Stalland farm is an organic bee farm, but I think the organicness transcends all areas of the place. In particular the food we ate radiated organic. This was mainly apparent by the fact that most of what we ate was grown on the farm by Steve. He does not visit the grocery often and prefers to eat was he produces. Everything he grows of course is 100% organic. Our typical breakfast for example, was porridge (probably store-bought), coffee, and Steve’s homemade bread. Lunch was more homemade bread, cheese, and a variety of spreads either made on the farm or bought from organic wholesalers. Dinner varied a little more, but typically was potatoes and greens grown on the farm, along with bean or lentils in some delicious sauce. Occasionally we would have sausage or beef purchased on a nearby farm, which of course was also organic. I also think the general feel of the farm has an organic, natural feel to it. Everything that can be composted is composted, and used in the planting of crops. Natural and chemical free products are used in all facets on the farm, and references were often made to it in conversations with Steve.

The feeling to reuse was apparent everywhere too, as wooden shingles from a roof are now the perimeter of a garden. Old car tires resting on tin siding provide covering for the beds of recently planted root vegetables. The frames holding up the plastic sheeting covering the tomato plants are the sticks cut from the sprouting young trees on the side of the house. Almost everywhere you look, there is something that served a purpose at one point and is now serving some alternative purpose. Thus was the feeling on Stalland Farm.

As our experience on Stalland Farm ended on Thursday morning, Trisha and I found ourselves proud of our accomplishments, more knowledgeable of organic farming, a little sad to say goodbye to the farm, and excited for our next stay. Our next farm is only 15 minutes away and appears to be great so far. It will be a shorter experience than Steve’s farm, as we will be leaving for Italy next Wednesday, but I’m sure will be just as rich an experience.

A jump across the ocean

2009-04-05T13:25:00.000-07:00

Greetings from a peaceful honeybee farm in Wymondham, England! How’s that for a culture shock from the noisy city streets of Central America? To bring you up to date on our travels, Travis and I are back in Europe. We are at the start of the next “phase” in our year of traveling adventures… no more teaching English or learning Spanish for awhile. Now it’s time to put our hands in the soil, get a little dirty and learn about farm work. For the next few months, Travis and I will be working on a variety of farms in Europe with the organization www.helpx.net as our guide. In exchange for 5-6 hours of our hard work each day, the host farms provide us with food and accommodation. It’s an excellent way to see more of Europe without having to spend money. Although during our weeks we’ll be somewhat isolated on these various small country farms, the weekends will be ours to explore and travel from place to place.

As we’re finishing up our first week of work here, we’re already enthusiastic about the new things we’ve learned how to do (potato planting, trench/sod planting, hedge trimming) and are anxious to see what other tasks are ahead of us. We’ll give you more details of all we’re experiencing in the next blog. But for now, I want to direct you to the following blog, which is a post to close off the Central American phase of our trip, by elaborating on some of the details we didn’t tell you earlier about our home stays there. With another few months of farm/home stays ahead of us, we now know what things we value in these unique opportunities. Typically we appreciate these authentic insights into the places we travel, although they can come with some sacrifices. See below…

“Hogar Dulce Hogar:” Home Sweet Home

2009-04-05T13:20:00.001-07:00

There is a lot to be said about the cultural authenticity to be experienced during a home stay living with a native family in a country abroad. With Travis and my desire to put down roots in the places we visit this year rather than just travel through them, the home stay option sounded like an intriguing opportunity to take part in Central American culture. With the allure of practicing our Spanish by sharing in conversations with family members, tasting the typical homemade local cuisine, and a private bedroom all for a very economic price, we determined to make the most of each of our four stays over these last few months.

Although we have shared with you some of the true highlights our unique family life in these countries, there is also a lot we have left unmentioned. Being that none of our “families” have our blog address, I guess it will be safe to tell you a little more about some of the amazing courtesies we experienced, as well as some of the difficulties. I propose to do this through a 1-5 rating scale, with a 5 being: “Let’s move in with this family,” and a 1 being: “When is the week going to be over?” The categories of overall warmth and family life, our quarters, and food are all rated below.

Granada, Nicaragua: One month with Javiera and family

Warmth and family life: 3
+ Without a doubt, this was the closest family among those we observed, as their customs and routines proved to be an excellent demonstration of many families across Latin America. With three adult children living with their parents in one house, this home was at all times the gathering place of many friends, family members and animals. Although at the time we found our meal time conversations to lack luster, looking back we have to give Javiera and her sister a lot of credit for sitting with us during meals and answering our questions asked in our meagerly Spanish.
- We definitely could have gone without a few of the long, never-ending one-sided conversations with the “papa” of the family, especially during fiestas over the holidays. The “mama” was an excellent smiling host in the presence of her friends, but behind closed doors she truly never made an effort of saying a word to Travis and me. Finally, it would have been so much less painful had Javiera at times just served us our food without sitting there and watching us eat it too. Being that she never ate with us (none of the family ate together), there were many meals when she didn’t ask one question to add to conversation, and once Travis and I had emptied our own stock of conversation topics (much more limited in Spanish), we’d all just sit there in awkward silence.

Our Quarters: 4
+ A private bedroom and shower separate from the center of the house, our own cable television and a purified water dispenser located right outside of our door, we didn’t have much to complain about. Add to this the fact that every 3-4 days they’d come in to clean and mop, also changing out the sheets and towels.
- The bathroom was a little trickier as it was shared and bordering the kitchen with an open-air ceiling lending to no privacy. Having an adequate supply of toilet paper was also a bit trying, but it was easy enough to buy our own. And finally, although clean on the surface, I don’t even want to get into the types and amounts of ants, insects and mosquitoes we experienced in this habitation. Oh, the size of those cockroaches!

Food: 3
+ Well, we lasted a month without having to supplement our diets too often by heading to local restaurants, so we must have been getting enough food and nutrition. Actually, Javiera did a wonderful job preparing and serving us a variety of Nicaraguan cuisine, as she took much pride in introducing us to different dishes, and serving us the staples in different forms. Sure, we had A LOT of rice and beans and plantains, but this is of course a cultural thing and we became accustomed to it.
- The main problem was the lack of vegetables and Javiera just “not getting it” when it came to some of our dining preferences. For example, I don’t like rice (a bit of a problem in this neck of the woods). I told her this on the first day of our stay, but at every single meal she gave me a full portion of rice. Sometimes I’d dump it on to Travis’s plate (or hide it in my napkin when she wasn’t looking!), but most days I just had to leave it behind. I hated to waste it, but she just did not get the clue. It was the same with Travis and the cheese he hated. I started to bring tomatoes or other veggies to dinner as a subtle hint that I needed more food as an alternative to this rice, but nothing changed. Therefore, I continued to follow this routine. If you think that price was the issue- about 20 tomatoes cost $1.00, and Travis and I were paying a lot more than that for our stay!

Matagalpa, Nicaragua: One week with Marlena and family

Warmth and family life: 5
+ This is definitely the home we could have lived in the longest. We were actually sad it was only for a week! With Marelena’s friendly smile and sense of humor, she opened her home and her arms and made it her mission to make us the most comfortable and happy during our stay.
- The family itself was a bit scattered and curious to us, with the rooms in the house holding adult daughters, grandkids and another language student from Switzerland, but all were friendly nonetheless. The hardest thing here was comprehending Marlena’s thick Nica accent and her conversation. However, we must have done a somewhat decent job… we built enough of a friendship that later allowed for us to have her over in our own home a few times.

Our quarters: 5
+ Fantastic! Private warm and cozy room, equipped with shower and bath, and cable television again. This one with more channels that what we have at home! We felt very spoiled.
- We had to walk up a hill the size of Everest every time we returned home, but the view at the top was worth it. Also, Travis and I had to get even better acquainted, as our private bath was really just an extension of our bedroom, with no wall or door separating the toilet from our living quarters. Rather random and awkward at times, but hey, at least it was only for our use! It would have been a little odd if this were the family bath.

Food: 5
+ Now here’s a cook who wants her guests content and satisfied. Marlena was not only a skilled and creative chef of Nicaraguan cuisine, but she paid close attention to what we liked and didn’t like, therefore modifying her menu daily to our needs. For example, she observed my love of veggies and Trav’s love of bread, so by our 2nd meal she had arranged our plates to meet our appetites. The flavors were wonderful too! Why else would we later have her over to teach us her techniques? We do wonder how we’ll replicate some of her dishes though back in the states without some of the ingredients they produce there.
- No complaints here… my coffee cup was always filled with Matagalpan brewed coffee and we were even served dessert at times in this house.

Antigua, Guatemala: One week with John Carlos, Johanna, Jonathan and Charlie

Warmth and family life: 4
+ Although by far our strangest welcoming, this week turned out to be relatively comfortable. We were dropped and left at these strangers’ door by a driver from the airport, and greeted by two little kids and no parents. The elder looked to be no older than 7, but later we found out he was 12. They were kind though and obviously accustomed to guests as Charlie introduced himself and showed us our little room. This was our most unique home stay week as we lived among just a single young family in a quaint and tiny house. We highly appreciated this family’s values, as the parents were very devoted to their children’s education and made spending quality time with them a priority. They were also very involved in their Catholic faith. Since we were there at the start of Easter season, they shared with us many of the city’s celebrations and we saw them robed in their lent attire to take part in the city’s Sunday processionals (huge religious parades held every Sunday, for 12 hours, during the time of lent).
- As far as the family’s friendliness to us, it started out strong as we ate several meals together, especially talking a lot about Central American soccer and their former students. But after a few days, we learned that Juan Carlos really preferred to sit on the couch and watch TV during the times we ate rather than making conversation. Therefore, we were left to converse with Johanna, who also didn’t eat at our meal times (they ate together earlier or later with the kids), so instead hung out in the kitchen to answer questions if we asked, but never really asking us anything in return. Sometimes she’d just stand next to the table watching us eat. I guess she was just waiting for us to strike up a topic. Believe me, after a couple of meals like this it was difficult to think of more new things to say! The silence at times killed me with awkwardness. Overall, Juan Carlos and Johanna were a lovely couple, but also very young (mid-20’s). With all the busyness of a household of two children, Travis and I often felt like we were getting in the way of their family structure.

Our quarters: 3
+ We were warm and comfortable, but the smallness in this house was quite difficult for a tall couple like us.
- For example, to use the toilet, Travis had to maneuver his body sideways or his knees would hit the wall. The mirror was about a foot below Travis’s head and he had to duck to go through every doorway. We also had to share the one tiny bathroom with the whole family… which made timing a bit trying. Not to mention that again this was an open-air ceiling connected directly to the kitchen. So when in the bathroom, you could literally hear the family swallowing their food in the next room. We’re convinced there’s no such thing as “bathroom privacy” in Central America. You wouldn’t believe some of the strange places where I used bathrooms (like in a family’s dining room which was attached to the back of an internet café where we frequented)… with people directly outside the door. The other unique thing about this home was the water situation. To conserve water in Antigua, the water was shut off every night from 10pm-4am. We wish our hosts would have told us this our first night! It was a bit surprising when trying to brush our teeth that night. It didn’t help that their purified water supply was also empty for 4 days (waiting for the delivery of a new bottle), so we had to purchase all of our surplus water.

Food: 4
+ Johanna was an excellent cook, and she definitely provided us with the most fresh produce and variety when comparing all of our home stays. We especially enjoyed her creativity with the avocados, which were huge and in season… her avocado soup was delicious. I was a happy camper. The fruit was amazing too- some days she’d have a whole papaya nicely sliced up for us for breakfast.
- Only problem was, on four of the days this “was” breakfast. Just the papaya. Although that’s fine with me, that’s of course not enough sustenance to begin a day and Travis’s least favorite fruit of all is papaya. Poor guy. The rest of our tasty meals were also all about the size of the palms of our hands, so we had to make the walk into the city to go out afterwards and eat again to fill up. We had to view this home stay as providing us with our appetizers, not the main courses.

Quetzeltanango, Guatemala: One week with Esther, her daughters & a bunch of other strangers

Warmth and family life: 0
+ Our first conversation with this family was deceiving… they were so friendly in our first introductions and on the walk over to their home from the language school where we met. We were impressed by the two daughters’ (16 & 19 years) conversation skills, and thought we’d have a fun week ahead with them.
- We were wrong. The warmth all but disappeared as soon as we walked into their frigid, open-air family home. It was originally owned by Esther’s parents who are no longer living, and now is filled with all the various family members and their children. Turns out Ester and her daughters lived in one corner of this “house,” which felt more like a dormitory in the way all the inhabitants lived in their own rooms, sharing the one central downstairs bathroom and using one of the two kitchens. The middle of the house was an open patio, so all the bedroom doors faced inward. In the week we stayed, we were always bumping into new family members of whom we had not yet met. We only saw them in the common areas, like near the bathroom or the sink, and they all kept to their own lives and routines. We felt like forgotten guests staying in a hostel or something. As far as meal times, we ate in Ester’s kitchen where she served us, her daughters and a few other random people… but many times the others weren’t present so it was just the two of us and Ester. After the first day of making conversations with us, she seemed to lose interest and it was like pulling teeth to stimulate mealtime chatter.

Our quarters: 1
+ Our bedroom was on the first floor of this house, and because it was a nice private room away from the others it receives a 1 rating.
- However, it was freezing! With the concrete floors and chilly mountain breezes coming through the cracks, it was impossible to warm the place up. When we first arrived there were no sheets on the bed and we had to ask for towels. The shared bathroom worked okay and after 2 days I figured out how to use the hot water in the shower. But, it had a very “stark” feel. I guess because all the family members shared it, they kept it that way. But there was no hand towel, soap, shampoo, or even toilet paper that was shared! The room was empty and everyone brought with them what they needed. So, one more thing to buy- toilet paper. It just had such a weird, cold feel to it.

Food: 1
+ Food gets a 1 because of the mangoes. The mangoes in Guatemala were to die for and Esther gave us one each day. That was a definite plus.
- But, the rest of the meals were pretty much the meager leftovers of the good stuff that she fed her family. Our portions were half the size and one day the only thing she gave me for lunch was one chicken leg! This is not a joke. We didn’t see a vegetable all week, but saw the same tamales everyday served in a different format with each meal. They were good the first 4 times, but not the 10th time. We would have been a little more appreciative of the food had it been the same food as what her family was served… but she was obviously not using the money we paid the school for her to provide “our” meals, she was using it for “her” meals. Worse yet, she lied to us about her pure water supply because, well, who knows why? To be cheap or to be just plain mean, we’re not sure. She kept telling us the delivery guy hadn’t brought a new water, but when Travis finally cornered her on it and asked her straight out (as a language school host family you are obligated to always have pure water for your students to drink) about this, we came to discover she had a big jug of water sitting there the whole time… she was just too lazy or too cruel to put it on the water bottle for us. We ended up buying a lot of water that week- we were careful in all of our home stays never to take too much food or too much water, always being very conscious of their monetary situations. But with this stay, the lying really put us through the roof, and it was her use of the money and lack of hospitality that got to us. Thus, we cut our stay short and left Xela the minute class was over on Friday. We couldn’t wait to move out of that house!

So, even with these various ups and downs, Travis and I aren’t “home-stayed out” yet! We have at least 3 more solid months booked in strangers’ houses. I’m sure the stories will keep flowing.

I Haven´t Worn a Seat Belt in 4 Months

2009-03-28T10:44:00.006-08:00

As we draw closer to the conclusion of our life in Central America, I must highlight some of the inherent risks taken in these countries on a daily basis. Sure, these countries are generally safe (Nicaragua more than Guatemala) and Trisha and I experienced no problems whatsoever in our four months here. But if you really stop and ponder it all, it is amazing some of the everyday risk factors that just become routine.

To begin, I haven´t worn a seat belt since November. This was not a choice, but instead a reality of automotive travel. In all of the buses, taxis, shuttles, jeeps, and local cars that Trisha and I made voyages in, only a few times did I even catch a glimpse of a seat belt--and those were usually worn by the driver. So instead of perpetuating the feeling of seat belt nakedness that we felt when we initially arrived, adjustments took place and now it will likely feel foreign to once again fasten on that safety strap.

Adding sevenfold to the lack-of-seat belt risk factors, were the white-knuckled driving sessions we were subject to on a routine basis. From the inexpensive public buses to more pricey tourist shuttles, all had drivers with nerves of steel who seemed to be more interested in achieving some unreachable arrival time, than the mental well-being of their passengers. I am still amazed I don´t have a bodycount to share of the countless men, women, children, dogs, horses, and goats almost hit by our fearless drivers. I can recall the whites of their eyes as we passed within what seemed like millimeters of impact.

The interesting thing is that not once did I see fear in any of those eyes. Dogs lie dangerously close to the street, knowing deep down that those drivers aren´t going to hit them (I only saw one dead dog here and it was on a dirt road) The women and children walk with the same confidence, always with the traffic instead of facing it, and never seeming to have problems. And the horses, which I shared about in blogs past, are never spooked and have an ingrained confidence that I think impossible to achieve here. Our inherent risks fell in more subtle areas too.

Trisha (and I) complained for two months about the cold showers we experienced in Matagalpa and other places. Did you know that we did have some hot showers too? Our transition days and visits to other cities which required a hostel or hotel, and home stays in Guatemala, all had hot water. It was these simple pleasures that increased our chances of an untimely demise. Since natural gas is expensive here and hot water heaters are uncommon, an electric device installed above the shower head with cords running all over the place is the efficient water heater replacement. I will say they work very well as I enjoyed their warmth immensely. However, it was impossible not to think that you were going to the electric chair every time you took a shower. As hot water flowed down, the red and yellow cords above always reminded me of how close I was to becoming a piece of crisp bacon. Fortunately nothing too shocking occurred.

Another somewhat comical instance of increased danger with little precaution was out visit to the Pacaya Volcano. This magnificent mountain is located about an hour outside of Antigua and makes for wonderful hiking. The destination of the hike is the tourist draw, and I have to admit unlike anything I have ever seen. Near the summit of this volcano is actual molten lava rocks, flowing both gracefully and with sudden explosions down the mountain side. I imagined prior to our visit that the actual lava areas would be roped off with a sizable distance given for tourists to snap a shot or two. Instead, with the permission of the guides, all groups were allowed to venture as close to the lava rock as they wanted. And so many did.

Trisha and I got close enough to where we could feel the heat of the molten magma warming our somewhat chilly bodies. Others of course (mostly French and Germans I think) were posing for pictures directly in the path of the oncoming rocks, or using sticks to poke the fire-red rocks. There were even a few guys who brought up marshmallows and roasted them over the chunky lava river. Amazing! You have to love a place were liability forms don´t exist and your death, dismemberment, or charred parts have no grounds for lawsuits or suing. This was the theme of all the parks we visited, however none were quite like our volcano day. Again, I must say as a disclaimer, that Trisha and I never felt unsafe on any of these excursions and always had guides who were extremely caring and informative.

A final area on this topic is food. We were lucky throughout our visit to never have anything too uncomfortable or severe plague our systems. That said, I am amazed that more people are not laying unconscious at their dinner tables from some of food storage and preparation I witnessed. The most puzzling, and one that I have seen in other countries too, are the open air butcher shops with hanging red meats and slippery chicken parts covering the counters. I´m no scientist, but I thought if meat sits out all day that it´s a bad thing.

Trisha and I never purchased our meats from these types of vendors, but we did have home-stays, and I know that our families were buying food from the mercados, and and not the supermarkets. Not to mention that many of our home-stay kitchens looked like scientific experiences themselves. Our longest home-stay in particular (Granada), had a kitchen that I didn´t like putting too much thought into or spend much time peering at. Fortunately the beautiful fruits and vegetables sold in markets only needed a good clean, and most of the street food didn´t look half bad (The regular supermarkets were very clean and worked just fine). Plus, I would like to assume that the restaurants we visited could hang an A or B in their front windows, although if a food grading system existed here we might not have gone out to eat much.

In conclusion, I`m not sure of the lessons that can be learned from these types of experiences, except children aren´t bubble wrapped with pads, helmets and doting moms as they walk down the street, the men don´t mind hanging off the side of a bus or going helmentless on motorcycles or bikes, and suing someone over minutia is not a common practice. I am not sure if all this risky business is always the healthiest option, but it makes the life of a tourist very exciting.

Final Disclaimer- My dear wife has written more than once that I worry incessantly on travel days. It´s true. For those who would question my overall manly grit or bravdo however, non-of-the-above falls into worry categories for me. They are but interesting tidbits.

What my eyes have seen

2009-03-19T15:30:00.002-08:00

Colors, colors... a painter´s pallet of colors await the eyes in Guatemala. A photograph beckoned me at every corner in Antigua. Whether it be displayed on the walls of layered, ornately peeling paint, the brightness of multiple varieties of fresh mangos at the market, or the intricate weaving of Mayan dress, your eyes will not grow weary of looking out and about while walking the city streets. But beyond beauty, Guatemala offers another culture and way of life that is new to Travis and me, and unique to the other Latin American countries as well. After being here just over a week, I feel we´ve only touched the surface of what this culture is all about. With over 24 different indigenous Mayan groups, all with their own specific languages, traditions and culture, you could spend years here and still have more culture to absorb.

Back in Nicaragua, I raised the question inquiring if people in Guatemala could be as nice and hospitable as those in Nica. Well, to answer, it is indeed true. Travis noticed on the first day already that if you flash a smile to a Guatemalteco when passing, they will warmly smile back at you within an instant. The presence of the indigenous Mayans on the street has been a surprise to me. Of course I read about these groups, but blindly assumed they solely resided in the small villages. I was wrong. The Mayan culture resounds everywhere in Guatemala, with men, women and children in traditional dress displaying their artisan's handiwork or just going about their daily lives. It´s interesting to see a group of Guatemaltecan friends hanging out together, some in native dress, some in Western-wear, all interacting and accepting each other equally. I´ve learned that depending on what indigenous group you hail from, the clothing is specific to that group. This might be in the style of dress (skirt vs. pants), type of embroidery (weaving vs. hand-sewn), or the extra ornamentations they wear (belts, jewelry, bags). I find the colors and patterns of the clothing so interesting to look at, it's hard to keep myself from staring to take it all in.

As Travis explained, our first week in Guatemala was spent in Antigua taking Spanish classes in an excellent academy and living with a local family. This home stay was a little different for us being that this small family lived alone in their house, without any additional relatives (as is so typical in Latin American families). The couple was young, late 20's, and they had two adorable sons. In contrast to our first two home stays, we especially enjoyed the interaction with both a husband and wife during dinner time, since up until this point we've only dined with the "mom" of the household. Travis enjoyed talking about "guy subjects" like soccer with Juan Carlos, and I enjoyed hearing about cooking and kids from Johanna. All in all, home stays have been a VERY unique and interesting experience for us in Central America. For my next blog, I plan to write about some of the oddities of our stays due to cultural differences, and some of the creature comforts we've had to do without during these weeks. Being that we're currently enduring a rather difficult home stay situation this week in Quetzaltenango, I can't it's always been easy to adapt to!

So, to bring you up to date with our trekking through Guatemala, after our week of classes in Antigua, Travis was energized having experienced a light bulb effect (or a puzzle coming together) with several of the concepts and grammar we're working on, and I was confused and frustrated, feeling like I missed a beat. Oh, the curves of learning... up and down, up and down. I'm of course glad that things are connecting in Travis's mind, but I'm losing my confidence to speak as the more grammar I know, the more aware I am of the mistakes I make. ¡Estoy frustrada!

We headed to the charming town of Panajachel by Lake Atitilan for the weekend. Although overrun by tourists and hap-hazard development, it was still a welcoming place, especially with a clean room in a hostel all to ourselves for two days. We had fun exploring and being tourists for the weekend before we got back in a shuttle bus and this time headed towards Quetzaltanango for another week of Spanish classes. A quick note about traveling in Guatemala with Travis- his ¨travel/transportation worries¨ have not lessened too much in this year of traveling and the poor guy still suffers from an enormous amount of stress on travel days.... the funny thing is that I thought his stress level in Spain was high! Central American traveling has brought on a whole new degree of travel worry for Trav. Ah well, it gives me good opportunities to be the supportive, encouraging wife, right?!

So, now it`s Thursday and we´re about to finish up our week in Quetzaltanango, or Xela (pronounced Che-la) as they call it. This city is much larger than Antigua as it`s the 2nd largest in the country. It definitely has a different feel here, and unfortunately I can`t say it´s been our favorite place to reside (even for just 6 days). We just feel a weird vibe here. It hasn`t helped that the home stay situation has been difficult, the weather is freezing, the Spanish school has not met our expectations, and the city is not as interesting to explore. However, it´s been a very good ¨tough it up¨ experience for Travis and I among this year of travel, and we know the challenge is helping us grow.

Therefore, on Friday afternoon we are ¨getting the heck out of here¨ and heading back to Antigua for a final week of language study at the school we so enjoyed. The flexibility in this country is a bonus for little alterations in travel planning such as this. We look forward to finishing up this week and seeing what adventures yet await us during our final week in Guatemala.

La Antigua

2009-03-12T17:00:00.002-08:00

On a bright, muggy Saturday morning in Managua , Trisha and I boarded a Copa Airlines flight and headed off to Guatemala for 3 weeks. The flight was a simple one-hour affair, and only slightly more expensive than taking a bus. The bus ride with boarder crossings and an overnight in San Salvador or Tegucigalpa would have taken at least 24 hours. So needless to say, we arrived rested and ready in Guatemala City , and were quickly whisked away to the city of Antigua , which is about 2 hours away.

Our first impressions of Antigua were ones which included many “wows!” and “how beautiful.” Indeed Nicaragua has its beauty, but it has nothing that looks like Antigua . The city is immaculately clean with cobblestone streets, Spanish style architecture, and magnificent looking trees and plants growing within every vista. There doesn’t appear to be a street here that is not photo worthy. Trisha wasn’t exaggerating when she mentioned on her Facebook that she can’t stop taking photos.

In addition to the postcard perfect city, the surrounding volcanoes and mountains make Antigua make feel more like a Bavarian village in the Alps , than a Central American city. It has a cool, mountain climate in the evening and a crisp, blue-sky feel during the day. Another element that has been refreshing to us are the plentiful amount of artisanal shops, bakeries, restaurants, and other highly appealing stores; many of which look like they must have a sister-store in Carmel or La Jolla .

All of this has been fun, but not an incredibly realistic picture of Guatemala . This city is like a fantasyland, inhabited by many local Guatemalans, but also just as many Gringo expats who have relocated to open businesses and live the good life. In addition, this is a key tourist destination for all who come to Guatemala , so the place is crawling with out-of-towners. It has been a perfect respite for us after living in a country that is just developing its tourist infrastructure. But a week here will likely suffice and we are looking forward to our other two destinations; Lake Atitlan and Quetzaltenango (also called Xela).

Other activities that have been consuming our time this week, beside lots of walking and exploring, are taking more Spanish and living with a local family. Our Spanish teacher has been our best so far and we have found that Guatemalan Spanish is easier to understand as there is little accent. Although we have studied Spanish often this year, Trisha and I figured these three weeks in Guatemala are our last chance to take this type of schooling. So why not drive-home all we have learned this year and take back more knowledge than we came with?

Our homestay has also worked out great as the family has been extremely hospitable to us. We have enjoyed living in their quant house just a few blocks north of the town center. Homestays such as this have been excellent choice for us as the three meals with a family and a room are a much more economical option than hotels and restaurants. Of course the main advantage is living with locals, practicing Spanish, and having that uncommon tourist experience. We will be sad to say goodbye to this family and looking forward to meeting a new one when we arrive at Xela on Sunday.

Adios Nica!

2009-03-07T06:01:00.002-08:00

Our days in Nicaragua have speedily come to an end. It is very hard to believe we’ve been here over three months. After reading Travis’s closing thoughts on this country, I’d have to say I wholeheartedly share his sentiments and don’t have much to add that would be different. Instead, I’d like to ponder three characteristics I have experienced in the Nicaraguan people that have moved and inspired me. From what I’ve seen, these characteristics are not easily replicated in other countries and I’m curious if they are unique just to Nicaragua. What do you think?

TRUST
The power of giving your word goes a long way here. From day one in Nicaragua, Travis and I noticed the lack of detailed paperwork, contracts or the typical necessity of giving out personal information. We first experienced this signing up for our original language school at Casa Xalteva, as no credit card information was needed to reserve our classes or accommodation. This has also been the procedure for every hotel we’ve made reservations at in this country. We call ahead and give our desired dates to make the reservation, and all they ever ask for in return is our last name. It’s always fun to hear Travis spelling it with the Spanish alphabet. (He was doing this yesterday for a hotel in Guatemala and I think the lady had him repeat the spelling like 8 times. I got a kick out of listening to him patiently handle this accent and language barrier.)

At the video store in Matagalpa, we rented many DVD’s without ever needing to open an official account. Again, we just said our name, promised to bring the movie back and we were good to go! No fines or penalties were given if we kept the movie for several nights. We actually saw about all of the Oscar-nominated movies this last month because of the huge market of pirated videos here. Who would have known?

The most amazing example of trust though was displayed in the rental of our house. Truly all we did was meet our landlady, take a tour and tell her we wanted to rent it for 2 months. Never did we sign a contract, give her our passport numbers, or even have to share an emergency contact name. The good thing about this is that if she isn’t happy about how we left things, she has no way of finding us! (No worries... we left it in perfect condition.)

Oh yeah, one more… at the Academia Europea where we’ve taught this whole time, we never signed a work contract, gave an address, or anything along those lines. However, they held out to their promises and we still received our paychecks on time.

RESPECT
The formality of respect we’ve encountered here has been a welcoming surprise. During all greetings, whether it was an official introduction or just a passing on the street, it is always customary for the man to extend his hand in a warm handshake. This was true with our friends, our students, many of the waiters in restaurants, and even sometimes with complete strangers.

A big surprise to us was the way our students treated us with an elevated, almost reverent level of respect. Besides never using our first names and only calling us "teacher," our students never dared to walk in our classrooms late without asking us for permission to pass first. It was so bizarre to me to see my student standing by the door waiting for me to allow them entry. Despite the fact that they were tardy, it was very considerate. I just felt so official having to ask them in!

HOSPITALITY/KINDNESS
One of the best parts of long-term travel as opposed to a short one-week trip, is the opportunity it’s given us to invest in the people and develop culturally rich relationships. Typically on a vacation, most of your time is spent in hotels and restaurants, sharing moments with just your traveling companions. In Nicaragua, we spent more time in people’s homes than we did in the tourist hot-spots. This gifted us with an overflowing river of authentic cultural insight. There’s nothing liking sitting at the dinner table with a Nicaraguan family, speaking in Spanish and eating their food with them. Of course, as we’ve shared in earlier blogs, not all of the meals hit our taste buds with the most savory flavors, but the experiences outweighed the taste. One thing we learned is that Nicas LOVE their country, and they LOVE to share it with others. Never during a conversation here were we asked about our lives in the USA, the topic always centered on Nicaragua and life here. I think they were generally thrilled to have us living among them, and wanted to make sure we were getting the most out of our time here.

I have two quick stories to illustrate the Nica hospitality and kindness that happened just this last week. The first was on Monday afternoon, when Mario and Carlek, our language intercambio friends, came to our home for our last meeting. For the last two months, we’ve met twice a week for conversational language practice. To our surprise, this week they came to our door with smiling faces and their hands full. They brought along with them all the homemade fixing’s for “enchiladas Nica” and another traditional fried plantain dish, which they prepared in front of us to share together. We had a lovely little fiesta talking about our favorite Nicaraguan moments.

The second story gives a perfect example of the kindness that’s been displayed. Travis and I set out to find the post office to mail a package home containing a few things that were weighing down our bags. (The post office system is a story in itself, but I’ll leave that be for now.) We successfully located the office and prepared our items for shipping, but we needed a box and packaging materials in order to send it. Unfortunately, the post office didn’t have these things, so they told us to go to a store on the corner where we might find them. We were expecting some kind of paper product/box store, but found just a small little book and gift store. The storeowner saw us step in and asked what we were looking for. (Every time we entered a store here we were always sought after within seconds and asked “Que busca?”…. “What are you looking for?”)

I showed the woman our package contents and tried to explain to her in my Spanish that we were hoping to buy a box that would fit these items. Before we knew it, she called over one of her employees and sent her to the back to find us a box. We patiently waited several minutes, and when the employee brought us back a box, it was too small. So, the owner again took charge of the situation and made it her quest to help us out. She quickly picked up our package items and asked us to follow her to a neighboring store. Being that she had our stuff in hand, we dutifully went with her. Within the next five minutes, we watched the employees of this store put together cardboard to make us a perfectly sized box and package up all of our items with care (and a lot of tape!). Travis and I didn’t have to lift a finger; everything was taken care of for us. All this, and they wouldn’t accept our offer to pay them for the box or for their help! We were deeply moved, and realized this demonstration of their kindness was just a typical part of the people here. Although we felt like we were making them go out of their way to help us out, they were really just treating us as they would any other, without putting thought into it first. This was an excellent lesson on the value of the golden rule: “Treat others like how you would like to be treated in return.”

In conclusion, the spirit and warmth of the Nicaraguan people is something I plan to cherish for a long time. As we go tomorrow to Guatemala and leave this place behind, our hearts are filled with anticipation and excitement to meet new faces from a new culture, who supposedly are as hospitable and kind, if not more so, than their Nicaraguan neighbors.

Nicaragua: My closing thoughts

2009-03-03T07:32:00.003-08:00

On Saturday morning, Trisha and I will be departing for Guatemala for three weeks, concluding our stay in Nicaragua. Living three months in a foreign country such as Nicaragua I think gives one more insight than the casual tourist on a two week vacation. Consequently, I believe all my generalizations and conclusions about this place contained herein have much more validity to them than the normal tourist. In fact I must be downright expert on all things Nicaraguan now, right? So here is my concluding list of things:

Things I will miss

Good People: I have mentioned this before, but most of the people I’ve met here are very warm and hospitable. In particular, the people I was able to spend longer than 2 minutes with generally turned out to be extremely likeable and generous individuals. Trisha and I were blessed to have multiple classes of adults that we taught at Academia Europea the past two months to foster these enjoyable relationships. I will miss a country where about 95% of the people you bump into are just plain nice.

Cheap Things: Two beers and two large chicken plate dinners: 5$. New t-shirt: 1$ Three hour bus ride to anywhere in the country: 2$ Pirated DVD: 1$ Knowing that I have to begin using Euros again in a month…..depressing.

Volcanoes: We only had one true visit to a volcano while in Nicaragua, Volcán Mambacho, but were able to witness multiple others on our travels around the country. These towering fortresses jutting up out of nowhere are not easily missed nor forgotten. They say the landscape here is not be as beautiful as some other Central American countries, but the “land of volcanoes” nickname has definitely lived up to its expectations for me.

Small-town Feel: Seeing people in the streets you know or have some connection with has been a new and enlightening concept for me. In Los Angeles this happened once or twice….a year. But here, living in these small towns such as Matagalpa, have made this a daily occurrence. “Hey, there’s that guy in my class” or “There goes Mario or Kaleck, or Evretts, or Miguel or Jose” or “Where do we know her from.” I can definitely see the downside of this reality, especially if one lives here their entire life. But for our brief time it has provided us a feeling of acceptance and community.

Horse Parallel Parking: Walking down the street will not be the same after leaving Nicaragua. I know that everywhere else we go will have normal cars and trucks cruising down the street and parking in well established parking slots. What a pity. Seeing cute, skinny horses with smart leather saddles, tied up next to cars on the streets, waiting patiently for their owners is something I have grown to love seeing.

Political Fervor: Talking politics and speaking your mind about the country´s leaders is an alive and unhindered element to Nicaraguan conversations. Ask about the president Daniel Ortega, or the Sandinistas, or the current political situation, and you´re in for passionate dialogue that is both enjoyable and interesting. I've liked hearing different views on various issues (most Nicaraguans I talked with dislike their leader) and proposed solutions. These solutions to the country´s ills, which were voiced in nearly all political conversations, have underling similarities which make you believe they could someday become a reality. I do hope they do.

Monkeys: I only saw them a few times during our stay, but I really liked those little guys. Although the ones near the isletas in Granada mobbed us for bananas, their little faces, curly tails, and monkey talk were a treat. I also found it eerily enjoyable hearing the low-pitched echoes of the howler monkeys resound off the forests in the northern territories, even though I never saw them.

Nacatamale: Nicaraguan food isn´t Mexican food, and isn´t as good as Mexican food, but does have a few highlights that I will remember. One of my favorites is a dish called Nacatamale. It is a bit like a tamale, but has some differences. First, it is wrapped and cooked in banana leaves. The inside filling is typically chicken or pork, which as been cooked with some mild spices. The surrounding enclosure is a mixture of cornmeal and rice, also cooked with spices. It´s a simple dish at first glance, but I am told very difficult to prepare. Restaurants do not usually serve them, so you must purchase a Nacatamale at a home in town that sells them. I found my favorite home and usually chose Sunday as my buy day. The lady of the house only made and sold them three days a week.

The Clean and the Fresh: Sorry Europeans, but the people here always look, smell, and appear nice and fresh. Regardless of their individual economic situations, they are never disheveled and always appear as if they just hoped out of the shower. This makes tourists standout ever more because the typical tourists in Nicaragua are the backpacking, youthful crowd, and one wonders how often they freshen up.

Things I won’t miss:

Noise: Remember how I wrote in paragraph 5 that the small-town feeling was so cool here. Well, it may be smaller than L.A., bit it´s definitely not quieter. Sure there is no freeway noise and helicopters with spotlights that circle for hours. Instead there are pulsating church bells that carry through the whole town at 6:00 a.m., 7, 8, 9 and any other times they feel like ringing There are roosters and pet parrots that try and compete with bells on how early they can begin. There are the trucks with giant rock concert speakers that cruise up and down all the streets in town blaring their advertisements or the passing of a family member. A few other standouts are the horns on taxis and motorcycles which all owners seem to love to honk, even on empty streets. Finally, the screaming Latin music bellowing from homes across the city at any time of the day add to the ear madness. For the smallest population density in Central America, these people pack an audible punch.

Roosters: see above

Invisible Crosswalks: They´re not really invisible, they just don´t exist. For that matter, neither do stop signs. Or at least no one pays attention to those. I suppose the problem of crossing the road on high alert isn´t so bad. There are plenty of places that are worse than Nicaragua I´m sure (there were a few roads in Morocco I thought I would never get across). The problem with the invisible crosswalks is Trisha. She is not that good at crossing the road at home where there are crosswalks. Lets just say that fieldtrips across Monrovia with my 3rd grade class and walking in Pasadena with Trisha require the same amount of alertness. So imagine that here, where I don’t believe the word yield translates to Spanish. It is an ongoing battle of man verses machine and man with his verbal car warnings and quick grabs verses wife.

Not blending in: It is of course impossible to blend into a society of people that look different than you. For the most part this hasn´t been an annoyance because many of the towns in Nicaragua that we visited are used to tourists, especially Granada. The town we spent the most time in however, was not as used to different looking folks. The Matagalpans are very honest and decent people, but more often than not become transfixed as we walk by. There`s always a guaranteed stare or a ¨hello,” “goodbye,” or any other little comment in the English that they know. It was cute the first week, but by the end of our second month, it was a bit on the annoying side. I look forward to walking down a sidewalk someday soon, with good old fashion anonymity on my side.

In conclusion, I recommend a visit to this country. It can be a bit rough around the edges at times, but for the most part the rewards are grand (not copied from the Lonely Planet book).

How the coffee gets into your Starbuck´s cup

2009-02-24T12:22:00.012-08:00

So, you’re feeling an urge for a jolt of caffeine and you decide to pop in to your nearest Starbucks, Coffee Bean, or a similar coffee cafe. As you open the door, you’re surrounded by that pleasant aroma that makes you instantly feel warm and cozy inside, knowing you’re about to indulge in your favorite cup of joe. But oh, the choices the choices! Do you order it straight black or spice it up as a latte or cappuccino? Would you like a light roast, dark roast, or do you prefer it to be flavored? Then how about the blend... what will be your region of choice? Starbucks alone offers over ten varieties of coffee originating from Latin America, not to mention many other regions of the world.

Well, unbeknownst to me prior to our travels here, Nicaragua is a country in Central America well known for it’s coffee production. The climate of the highlands provide a perfect environment for coffee growing, and many different ¨fincas¨ (coffee farms) are located within a 5-10 minute drive or a short hike from our home in Matagalpa. In fact, there are plenty of coffee plants covering the mountainsides here, and we’ve been fortunate enough to be in town during harvest season. The presence of bright red coffee berries peeking out of the greenery adds vibrant color to the flora and fauna on our hikes. We’re also often passed on the street by pickup trucks carrying huge sacks of coffee beans piled on the bed, with the coffee workers sitting on top of them. Then, there’s the pleasant aroma of fresh roasted coffee beans that we’re sometimes treated to when we take a walk by one of the two coffee roasting factories in town.

So, Travis and I decided to take a little outing last week and visit one of these coffee fincas. We were joined by Mario and Carlek, our Nica friends who we do weekly language intercambios with. Because they are both college students majoring in ecotourism, they excitedly volunteered to take us to one of their favorite fincas and give us a personal tour. This was a bonus to us- that meant help figuring out which farm to visit, how to get there, and an authentic look and explanation of coffee production from a local perspective rather than having to pay for one of the tours offered at the larger fincas.

The first step on our tour was to catch a bus to the nearby town of San Ramon. Only 20 minutes away, this little spot offered a center of charm and community for all of the local coffee growers. From there we began to walk the several miles up into the hills to reach the finca, but fortunately our tour guide friends hailed a passing pickup truck and we climbed aboard the sacks of coffee for a lift to our destination. It was transportation in pure Nica style. I loved it. Pictured below is us and our friend Mario sitting on the bed of the truck.

The finca itself consisted of a small community of clay-structured homes for the workers spread out among the coffee plants on the hillsides. Because we were there on a cloudy and rainy day, we were embraced by a sense of cozy tranquility as the workers greeted us hospitably from their homes and in the production area. Mario and Carlek brought us to see one of these houses where we met a few coffee pickers. Not common in Nicaraguan cities, these homes are made in a traditional style with the materials of the land and soil. They need to be rebuilt every 3-4 years once the clay starts to wear away.

Some of the homes on the finca are built for long-term residents, but others are there to provide accommodation for seasonal pickers. In fact, a popular type of eco-tourism here in Nicaragua is for foreigners to come out and volunteer by working on a coffee farm for a week, a month or more. This provides the foreigner with a very authentic immersion experience living and working amongst the local culture. We’ve met several gringos in town who have given this a try and told us about it. Sounds like quite an experience if you want to live pretty “bare-boned” for a while.
Above is a picture of a coffee plant with berries ready for picking. The workers head out every morning before dawn, rain or shine, with their empty sacks and baskets. Here they search out and hand pick the ripest and most red berries that contain the coffee beans. We ran across a few women and their children with sacks full of berries and they let us take a look inside. It was interesting to break open the fruit and find a moist and fuzzy white bean.

Next, the workers bring the berries to an open-air processing room where they are first weighed in their sacks to be accounted for in the logbook, then poured into these large vats where they are thoroughly rinsed clean. Then, we were very happy to hear they have a machine that separates each bean from the berry. I was sure hoping this didn’t have to be done by hand!

Now the separated beans are brought back outside to the second stage of washing and drying. They are dumped out on screens where water is poured out on them and they begin to take in the sun. As you can see below, the colors of the beans are different based on how dry they are. At some larger farms, we’ve seen the beans at this stage spread out over sheets encompassing the size of a typical grain or cornfield. I’m not sure exactly how long it takes for the beans to fully dry out, but I know they can’t move forward to the roasting process until the time is right. Once they are ready, the workers again throw all the beans into sacks where they are gathered up and brought to one of Matagalpa’s roasting factories, or a smaller, private-owned roaster. Here the beans are roasted to perfection, bagged and labeled, and then sent abroad to be brewed by you.

So, this was about the extent of our tour of the finca. We enjoyed a full morning of Spanish practice with Mario and Carlek, and hopefully the coffee production details I’ve shared with you are close enough to the true Spanish to English translation. I did my best!

All in all, I’ve given my daily cup of coffee a lot more thought since arriving in Nicaragua. No longer do I see it as something derived from a well-made coffee pot; instead, it is the final product of little red berries from beautiful plants that have passed through multiple hands, stages and journeys. All this to be enjoyed and savored by us in our favorite coffee café or at our breakfast table.

The Case of the Spicy Chili

2009-02-18T13:31:00.001-08:00

If you have been a regular reader of our adventures, you may have noticed that the number of blog entries we have compiled in the past month have been few compared to our usually consistent entries. Sorry. Truthfully not much happens in Matagalpa and we have seen most of its interesting sites. We are enjoying our stay and our regular daily schedule of course, but it only yields enough material for about one good blog entry a week. To add to this, the cord to our laptop is fried and our replacement hasn´t arrived, so our only time to write is in the internet cafes in town. Perhaps sometime soon we will be back to normal.

In the meantime, let me share a unique experience that Trisha and I had a few days ago that I like to call, “How to make your dinner hosts feel like crap.¨ It all began the second week we moved into our little house in Matagalpa. The kind and loving lady who rented us our house and lives next door with her 10 year old daughter and 18 year old son invited us to dinner. It was great! The food was tasty, the conversation flowed effortlessly all evening, and Trisha and I were amazed to be using our Spanish with such ease. After we returned home that night (through the side door actually) we were glowing with just how nice and fun Angela and her family were. We both agreed that we had to have them over soon, both to reciprocate their hospitality and to enjoy their wonderful company again. We were filled with excitement at the prospect.

So, we arranged a Sunday dinner at our house, about two weeks from our first dinner at their home. I suppose the warning signs of our eminent failure in this endeavor presented themselves as we neared our dinner date. For the life of us, we couldn´t figure out what to cook for them. The main problem was Angela. She mentioned to us during our first dinner that she was mostly a vegetarian (I think that was the Spanish translation), and that she didn´t like to cook with salt or sugar. Okaaay. She also has a 10 year old girl, who does eat meat, but like all 10 year old girls, was a picky eater. And then there was the 18 year old, who at the first dinner seemed to eat all the healthy foods she prepared, but mentioned his enjoyment of the fried street foods in town. So how are we going to please all these people?

We spent a good portion of an afternoon researching recipes online. Many looked great and we thought might work out. The problem though was finding all the ingredients each recipe called for in Nicaragua, or another, not having a grill to really cook something nice (I love to grill). So we finally settled on a vegetarian chili. Kids like chili, right? Vegetarians like it too if there´s no meat? Maybe even teenagers like it. With that decision made, Trisha and I set out shopping for all the ingredients. It wasn´t a complicated recipe, but with the salad and other sides we wanted to prepare, we knew our chances of finding everything in just one of the two groceries here in town were slim. And we were correct. By the end, we had to visit both groceries and the local mercardo for special vegetables, and spent a good amount of money and time making this work out

When Sunday arrived Trisha and I began preparing the food early, cleaning the house, setting the table etc. We didn´t mind putting in the extra work to make our guests feel welcome. As our meeting time approached, our food was complete and the house looked great. The side dishes were all up to par and the chilli, although a little spicy, promised to be a mouth-watering meal. Angela and her daughter arrived in the typically late Nicaraguan fashion and seemed to be in good spirits. Trisha and I were feeling relaxed about the evening as we began to disperse the food, despite the fact that our guests said they only wanted a little portion. Shrugging off their portion request, I began to feel jovial as I always enjoy watching guests take a first bite of a meal I prepared. You can always tell right away how you have done with a meal from the first bite. Angela´s first bite was definitely an unforgettable one.

Our kind, nice neighbor, Angela, raised her spoon to her mouth and took what appeared to be a minuscule bite of the soup. Immediately, and with more drama than I´ve seen in any recent movie, she grabbed her throat, pushed her whole bowl of chili away, and said something in Spanish about the chili being too spicy. At first we thought she was joking around. Funny.... ha ....ha ! But no, this supposed well mannered woman was dead serious and would not take another bite of the chili, let alone attempt to dilute the already small amount of spiciness with some sour cream. Trisha and I just sat their for a moment, not knowing what to do. “Would you like something else?” “Is there anything else we can get you?” “ I´m sorry?” She returned to her polite mode, telling us that is was okay, not to worry, and that she would just eat the side dishes. Taking her mothers lead, the daughter also only took the smallest of bites, claimed it was too spicy, and pushed it to the side. And it got worse.

After about 10 minutes, while Trisha and I were at eating and enjoying the chili, and our guests eating and maybe enjoying the side dishes, the son arrived. In her apologies earlier, Angela claimed that her son would like the chili, because he enjoys spicy food. So we thought maybe our efforts wouldn´t be a total failure with this family. The son properly sat down at the table, looked at the bowl of chili for a good long while, took a bite, and not only pushed it away, but physically picked up the bowl and put on the kitchen counter. I guess he wasn´t a fan either.

Do you know what that type of rejection does to a host, despite making their cooking-self esteem and hard work feel totally insignificant? It makes them terrible in their second language. Trisha and I spent the remainder of the evening languishing in our Spanish, not understanding what our guests were saying and barely piecing together anything coherent in return. Our two hour dinner seemed to drag on endlessly.

The next morning we woke up feeling extremely put-out. What the heck happened last night? Who was this nice family who was such a pleasure during our first meeting, and turned into the rudest guests I have ever encountered? Who teaches their kids that it´s okay not to at least try the food a host put in front of you? I am reminded of a time when I was child, visiting my aunt and uncle and was presented the absolute worst meal I have probably ever eaten (lets just say hotdog bun, miracle whip, and I think bits of ham). But you know what; Tyler and I ate our way through most of it and smiled the whole time. That was what I thought you were supposed to teach your kids.

Our bitterness lasted a good two days, and slowly our crushed dinner dreams melted into a funny little story. We still see Angela now and then, but the relationship is definitely changed for us. We just aren´t that interested in investing a lot of time with her. Nor will we be inviting her and her children to dinner anytime soon. With only two and half more weeks here anyway, it doesn´t make too much of difference.

By the way, the chili leftovers were excellent!

“The sounds of Nicaragua...” or, “Why I’ve come to hate roosters”

2009-02-12T20:58:00.009-08:00

Gentle breezes passing through the trees, drizzling rain falling upon the rooftop, and the chirping of baby birds coming from the nest outside our window. These are the sounds that do NOT bother us here in Nicaragua. If only these subdued sounds were all we heard here on a daily basis. This is not the case. In fact, this country is one of the loudest places I have ever been. I’m not just referring to the typical traffic noise on the streets or the wind howling outside when we’re trying to fall asleep; instead, our ears our filled with the unique, and now predictable to us, sounds of this country at all hours of the day. Because I don’t want to forget this “symphony of Nicaragua” I’ve grown so accustomed to here, let me share with you a few examples:

-The squeaking of the geckos…
Geckos and lizards are aplenty here, and they enjoy crawling up our walls and on the ceiling at night. (Travis likes to name them when we see them during dinnertime) Did you know they can make a squeaking noise as loud as a bird’s chirping? This is the closest way I can describe it. We’re really not sure what causes the sound or how they produce it so loudly, but it took us about 3 weeks to figure out the sound source was these small little critters.

-When a coconut falls on the roof…
There’s no way to be prepared for this loud bang, and typically it causes us to jump out of our skin in fright with each occurrence. Because all the roofs here are made from aluminum siding, when something as heavy as a coconut drops from the tree there’s no missing it.

-Speaking of the roof…
Cats LOVE to climb up the coconut trees and then they end up on the rooftops. Therefore, it’s not at all unusual to hear these cats scurrying above. But, with the slippery surface of the aluminum, their little paws hold no traction and we often hear them sliding and tumbling down. Even more interesting is when two cats are on the roof having a catfight. Windy days also make for very noisy days with these roofs. There’s been many a time when the wind is so strong and loud it sounds like our roof is about to rip off the house and take flight.

-May they rest in peace…
This one took us a few “listenings” to determine what was being said, but it is customary here in Nicaragua to announce to the whole city when a loved one has died, oftentimes just hours after it has happened. How do they do this? Well, you know those large, old school speaker contraptions connected to vehicles that sometimes blare out announcements during a parade, a political rally, or a big public event? They were common in the US in the past, but with advanced technology they are pretty rare now. Here in Nica these speaker-equipped cars are a very typical spectacle. In fact, we’re pretty convinced that each city must have at least 5-8 official vehicles that are ready with drivers to carry any announcement, based on the need. Earplugs must be an accessory that are included with the job of the driver, because we’re pretty sure if you had this job your hearing would be damaged after just one announcement. To explain, we can be in the back bedroom of our house with our front door closed and still clearly hear every part of the message being repetitively played out front on the street.

Anyway, when someone dies, we have learned that the person’s family hires an announcement car to drive through every street in the city with a personal message, usually explaining the cause of death, time of death and the details of the upcoming funeral. Although it’s all in Spanish, we know right away when it’s the news of a dead person, because it’s accompanied by sad and soothing music in the background. It’s actually rather sad and depressing because being surrounded by these sounds bring you instantly into grief for the person’s family. These announcement cars are not only used for the dead, but for many purposes in the city. I’m really not sure why they even have a newspaper in Nicaragua because all the news and current events can be learned just by keeping your windows open and paying attention to messages coming out of these passing cars. Everything from news about upcoming festivals, sales going on in stores, or the opening of a new restaurant. You literally don’t have to leave your home, receive a newspaper, or even own a TV to get the news here.

-No need to visit the market…
Here in Nica, the market comes to you. Just hang out in your house all day and wait for the vendors to walk up your street selling the things you need. All you have to do, once again, is keep your ears alert to the sounds of the vendors calling out their products in the street. “Naranjas dulce!” (sweet oranges) “Helado!” (ice cream) “Rellenos!” “Nacatamales!” (hot Nican cuisines made with cornmeal) “Gaseosas!” (sodas) “Tomates!” “Tortillas!” “Las Veduras!” (squashes and vegetables) “Ajo!” (strings of garlic bulbs) “Juevos!” (eggs) “Pan Caliente!” (warm bread fresh out of the oven) “Bananas!” (very typical to be sold with a bunch still on the branch)

These vendors work very hard. They don’t just pass by on the street and wait for people to come out to them. Instead, they walk up to every door and yell inside to get the attention of the inhabitants. Like all of our neighbors, we usually keep our main wooden door open and just leave our open-air door (made of rod-iron bars) locked to allow for the breezes to come through. The vendors come to our doorstep and yell “Buenos!” (Kind of like a hello and good morning combined) and repeat their “call” of their product names until they get our attention to come to the door where we say our typical “no gracias” every time. The sounds of their call are very distinctive; therefore, if you have a favorite vendor you’d easily recognize the sound of his voice after a few visits. It’s amazing, day after day they come by again, either by pushing their food in a wheelbarrow cart or balancing it in a huge basket on their heads. These are their daily jobs. Then there’s the whole other set of the “bus vendors” who also exhibit quite an impressive talent as they sell their goods all day jumping on and off buses and yelling out their familiar calls.

-Why you never forget to bring out your trash…
Travis and I don’t have to worry about remembering which days are trash days on our street. The trash truck reminds us between 6-7am on Wednesday and Saturday mornings as we wake up to the sound of cow bells ringing from the truck loudly enough for every person to come running out with their bags of trash. (You can’t put the trash out the night before here- without people owning covered trashcans, the bags alone lying on the street would be an awesome late-night meal for the many stray dogs prowling about)

-No pirating allowed…
There is no shortage of pirated music and copied DVD’s on the streets here. It’s cheaper to buy a pirated DVD, for $1, than to rent one at the video store for $1.50. Amazingly, the quality is okay, the films are viewable, and they are surprisingly legal as well. However, when it comes to the radio, the stations don't want their songs to be copied and pirated. So, during every song that is played (on the 2 English music stations with the sometimes horrible 80's and 90's music), there is a 3 second interruption and service announcement saying the station name, "Feelings" in this hilarious voice, and then the song continues. It cracks us up every time. With this interruption, you can't copy the song and reproduce it. Travis and I can about predict when we'll hear it during each song and we like to beat the announcer to it.

Cock o doodlely doo…
If I never hear a rooster crow again, I will be a very happy person. It seems the roosters here don't need the daybreak to make them sing out, any time of the day is just fine by them. In fact, they don’t seem to tire easily being that about every 3 seconds we hear the good ole cock o doodle doo. It doesn't help that about everyone here owns a rooster and several chickens to boot. We've always got a chorus of rooster calls surrounding us to remind us they are here.

The resonant presence of Catholicism…
Latin America is by a whole predominantly Catholic. This is evident by the historical cathedrals, statues of the Virgin Mary, and frequent religious celebrations in the streets. It is also evident through sound. Every hour, on the hour, all the churches in the city ring their bells. This is not just a light and gentle “ring… ring… ring…,” this is a full-blown powerful clanging of the bells for at least 10-15 seconds by the bell ringers’ fervent touch. Then on Sunday, in the case that you forget to wear your watch, the church bells conveniently ring every fifteen minutes, all day long. As you might imagine, this most likely prevents anyone from sleeping in and forgetting to attend mass, being that this lovely ringing begins at 5am. Just take a guess how much we enjoy being awakened up by this.

A little more welcoming is the music we hear streaming from the churches on Sundays, and various other evenings for services during the week. We've heard everything from traditional hymns sung in Spanish, choral pieces, and instrument-accompanied praise band music. These churches definitely have their speakers and sound systems mastered with the volumes set high. We can hear it on the streets, when we're hiking in the mountains, and even when we're dining in the kitchen. At times we can even decipher parts of the sermon as this is also echoed through the loud speaker.

One thing we've really admired here though is the freedom the Nicas have to display their faith. There is no shame or fear of persecution attached… people walk freely down the streets holding their Bibles, almost every bus and taxi has religious expressions boldly and brightly painted on their vehicles, and there are multiple pictures of the Virgin Mary in every household. Music and media are also a part of this freedom of expression. Travis and I have been in several different chicken buses that play Spanish praise music for all to hear… and twice, we've even been on buses that show Bible story films in English with Spanish subtitles. I can't imagine what would happen in the USA if a Greyhound bus driver decided he wanted to show a movie about Moses or Noah to his paying passengers, or if he was to play the latest CD of Christian praise songs. It wouldn't happen, nor could it happen in the USA. This boldness and fervency of faith is something really unique about many of the people here.

Just a few more…

-The cab drivers that hope to gain customers by ardently honking at us when they drive past.

-Live mariachi music being played next door in the middle of the night.

-Children who see us solely as “white gringos” and take the opportunity to hold out their hand and ask us for “un peso,” whether they are poor and in need or not. Many times we’ve been asked by kids with toys and pastries in their hands, who still just have to ask because they’ve obviously been well-trained by their parents or peers.

-Children and adults everywhere like to practice their English skills on us. Rarely do people greet us in Spanish, it’s always in English and it never makes sense. That’s because they often say “Good-Bye!” to us as a greeting, not hello or “Good Morning.” The customary term of greeting here for everything is “Adios,” and although this translates to goodbye, it’s also the way to greet. So, every time we’re out and about, we hear “good-bye” over and over again. Just for fun we always respond back in Spanish, not English.

Finally, what are the sounds we don’t hear in Nicaragua?

-Our cell phones ringing (we don’t have cell phones)

-Airplanes, helicopters (haven’t seen one in the sky since we landed)

-Freeway noise (they don’t exist)

-“This shower is so warm I want to stay inside!”

Wait.........what are you going to eat? I am going to eat an APPLE!

2009-02-04T20:23:00.002-08:00

This simple yet surprisingly complicated line for second language learners is the heart of the basic English classes we are teaching at Academia Europea........or at least a variation of that line. Prior to our employment and training at this institution three weeks ago, Trisha and I had relied solely on our own resources and creativity to structure our English lessons. In Spain and in Granada it was "you want to teach some English?..... great, they're beginners...... have fun with it" and away we went. All of the curriculum we developed for teaching English was from scratch, and we hope effective. Much to our surprise, Academia Europea actually has a curriculum and even a particular methodology they use for teaching English to beginners. Before I get to that, let me share how Trisha and I landed these jobs with this new company here in Matagalpa.

It all began about four weeks ago while we were sitting in a local coffee shop, "Cafe Latino," sipping on some iced cafes. A fellow wearing a suit (rare in these parts) and driving an SUV with El Salvador license plates came up to us, introduced himself, asked if we wanted to teach English and get paid for it. He told us if we were at all interested to stop by his office the next day for a chat. The first thing that came to my mind when he left was "scam." Yeah right someone is going to randomly offer us a job with pay in one of the poorer countries in the Western Hemisphere. He mentioned at the time that the company, Academia Europea, was just starting a school in Matagalpa, as well as other major Nicaraguan towns. He also said that this company has been established in Managua for the past nine years and in every other Central American country. The headquarters were located in San Salvador, the capital of El Salvador. So we had our meeting with this man, Marcos, and were convinced to come the following Monday morning for two weeks of training.

Two weeks later and Trisha and I actually have begun teaching. And we love it! The school wasn’t a scam after all and is actually a highly regarded language institution in these parts. We both have basic classes on the weeknights and teach a marathon day of basic on Saturdays. There are intermediate classes, but there have not been enough students at that level for us to teach those classes too. So we are content with our basic classes, which consist of adults on the weeknights and high school age students on Saturday mornings.

The unique part of this teaching experience is the methodology we use with the basic students. It's all about repetition and lots and lots of oral communication. A typical night focuses on one verb, such as eat or drink or write or get. If it is eat for example, I first begin by pretending to eat something, and then say the word aloud each time I pretend. Following this, I say the word aloud again and have the students repeat each time the word is said (usually three times). Next, if we are focusing on simple future tense, I use eat in a role-play. The role-play consists of a command "Travis eat .....an apple." I then move to the other side of the room and pretend eat at an apple. Then I move back to the original side where I say, "wait, what are you going to eat?" I then move back to the other side, and answer "I am going to eat an apple." Following this I have all the students repeat each of these lines both as a group an then individually. We then take time to brainstorm, discuss, and write vocabulary on the board of things that you can eat.

The lesson then moves to telling each student to eat something, telling them to wait, and then asking them what are they going to eat. After awhile, we move to "he" and "she" questioning. "What is she going to eat?" The lesson finishes with having the students practice the same command to each other, using the same command and ask procedure.

Later on during class, we might also tackle "eating" and "ate." The fun part is we can use "where are you going to eat", or "when." Each verb takes two nights of practice, and then it’s onto another verb. We also do a lot of review on the lessons we covered the first week, which consisted of personal information, months, days of the week, time, color, body parts, and other basics.

Trisha and I have found the most enjoyable part of teaching these classes to be the students. The adults in particular are all excited to learn and are generally both funny and warm individuals. Some have had some English and are do fairly well with the lessons, while others struggle as this is their first ever attempt at any English. No one in the basic class is perfect at these lessons however, so boredom does not seem to be a factor.

The Saturday morning classes are high school age students, and most have had more exposure to English and have taken classes in school. They are also much quicker to pick-up the new language than the adults. The classes on Saturday morning are four hours long, which isn’t so bad as the time really flies. The only negative for us is Trisha and I had to teach a four-hour class in the afternoon too. Eight hours of teaching is way too long! So we are hoping the academy uses someone else for the afternoon slots soon. The problem is there are other teachers, but the few who could fill the afternoon slots are at a high intermediate level of English themselves, and are not quite ready to begin their own classes. Trisha and I are the only native English speakers in the academy, so our brief time here is being utilized to its fullest. But again eight hours..... way to long. During the school year my students are only at school for six hours, and I am definitely not leading them in non-stop language repetition and practice the whole time. So we will see what happens.

In summary, we are happy with our little language school jobs, albeit brief language school jobs. Teaching English to adults is enough to inspire Trisha to want to maybe pursue some similar work in the future when we return home. She is really enjoying it.

Our thrivin’ Nicaraguan social lives

2009-02-01T08:43:00.001-08:00

In our fast three weeks here in Matagalpa, Travis and I have had the pleasure of meeting some pretty special Nicaraguan people who have quickly become our friends. We’ve actually had quite the busy social lives since arriving to this town. Several times already we have enjoyed invites to our friends’ homes, and in return we’ve cooked for and entertained guests as well. What a joy it is to have a home and place to host amongst this year of travel!

Our first houseguest was Marlene, the woman whose home we stayed in during our first week in Matagalpa while we took Spanish classes. Because Marlene was such a fantastic Nicaraguan chef, we invited her to our home and asked her if she’d mind giving us a cooking lesson. She was tickled by the invitation and couldn’t wait to show us how to prepare several traditional dishes. She wrote out the ingredients for us to purchase at the market beforehand, and Travis and I had an interesting time deciphering this Spanish list and figuring out exactly how much and what type of items were needed (we had an especially hard time buying the chicken and figuring out what parts she wanted… plus, the Nica’s measure everything in libras and grams- no pounds and ounces here). Anyway, we did our best and the few things we missed Travis was able to find in our next door Pulperia (tiny convenience store) while Marlene was cooking. We had such a lovely time with her. We shared the cooking duties with plenty of room in our fun kitchen and had a good 3 hours of Spanish practice as we shared in conversation before and during the meal.

It’s a little tricky sometimes learning these recipes in Spanish since everything down to the spices and veggies have different words. For example: onion= cebolla, mint= yerba buena, celery= apio. We’re getting pretty good at recognizing and using all these vocabulary words now… our levels are definitely moving up. As Travis said in his last blog, it is sometimes amazing to us that we can actually spend 3 hours in decent conversation with people totally in Spanish. Marlene is like a little “mom” to us, so sweet and caring… especially with Travis as she was so impressed with his cooking ability and willingness to learn. A week after our Nica cooking lesson, we had Marelene over again and prepared her a typical American, "Trav and Trish meal," for her. We’re not sure she liked it being that it was so far removed from her typical diet, but she made a good attempt at trying!

Last week Saturday we had a very interesting and entertaining evening having dinner at our neighbor Angela’s house. Angela is the former owner of our house, and she’s now our landlord. We couldn’t have asked for someone nicer to rent from; she always greets us with enthusiasm and welcomes any random questions we might have. She runs a botanical naturalistic clinic where she sells herbs, vitamins, and other healthy and somewhat odd things. She’s also an aesthetic medicine consultant and licensed acupuncturist. Every other day she bakes homemade integral bread with her kids’ help, and all the locals know when to come and buy it when it’s warm. Angela has a huge clientele as she’s had this business for 20 years. It used to be run out of our home but she moved it next door to a smaller home because she wanted less space to take care of. Angela is especially popular among the poorer people she helps who live in the mountainside campos (coffee farms) and travel down regularly to see her. She sells her medicines for extremely reasonable prices and has long-lasting friendships with many of her customers. (I took a hefty fall this week and scraped myself up pretty badly… I went to her for some help and she had me hooked up with some interesting healing herbs in no time- just for $1.30!)

So, back to our dinner at her house- we were there for over 3 hours and so much enjoyed getting to know her and her two delightful children (10 & 18 years old). We discovered that she’s had a super interesting life, coming originally from the Catalan region of Spain (of which we knew all about from our time living there) and then moving to Nicaragua during a random, rebellious time in her growing up years. As you might have guessed, Angela is a very natural, hippy-like, whole-grain, no-salt, no-sugar cooking, pure life gal. She served us a scrumptious vegetarian meal- it was fantastic. Angela also recycles everything- in fact, we have a trashcan in our kitchen labeled “organic” where we put all of our food trash, etc… and we give it to her every morning. She cleans it out and uses it for the compost she has in her backyard garden. She has an eclectic and naturalistic style of decorating… and we love what she’s done with our house. It has an "artisanial" flavor with a lot of local Nicaraguan arts and crafts.

With Angela’s wholesome appearance, we were so surprised to find out she’s been married 3 times, used to be a heavy smoker, and more. Fascinating. She’s so, so funny to hear when she tells her stories. (All this in Spanish of course!) Her kids were extremely friendly and they seemed to get a big kick out of Travis and I with our American accents and our rambling Spanish. The cutest thing about this family, and what I have not seen anywhere else in Nica, is that they eat absolutely every meal together. Angela will not serve the food until all her family members are seated. It’s especially sweet to observe this early in the morning when they eat breakfast together at 7:00am. This is extremely impressive being that the kids are on their summer holiday from school yet they’re up at this hour to eat together. All and all, it was a more non-traditional Nicaraguan evening for us when it comes to the type of food and customs, but that’s what made it all the more special. We plan on researching some vegetarian recipes and having them over next week.

So let’s see, who else is in our current social circle? Well, we’ve also really enjoyed getting to know Carleck and Mario, the pair of friends we do our twice-weekly language intercambios with. We met Mario through our prior language school as he’s a tour guide there, and he brought Carleck on board because he wanted a comrade to share with him in the English side of the exchange. Now we meet in our homes every Monday and Wednesday afternoon for 2 hours- 1 hour speaking in Spanish for our practice, and 1 hour speaking in English for their practice. It’s a very, very good way to tune up our skills. These two college-aged students are interesting people too … it’s fun to chat about their lives here in Matagalpa, their childhoods and their goals. It is just so different than LA life. Because Mario and Carleck are both studying ecotourism and tour guiding in school, they are also able to offer us wonderful tips on local places to visit, as well as good hikes to try out. In fact, we’re planning on having our next few intercambios in museums, on the city streets and beyond as they have plans to lead us on mini-tour outings while we chat together.

So, is that it? Actually no…. we have several more people here that we’d call friends as well. These relationships are composed of our new fellow colleagues at the Language Academy where we teach, and the adults with disabilities who we volunteer with at Familias Especial. As far as the teachers at Academia Europea, there are about 8 of us in all, and everyone is very unique and different. However, Travis and I have clicked with almost all of them and have had some really interesting conversations. We especially got to know them well during our 2 weeks of training while we role-played student/class situations daily for each other to practice. Although we are the only mother-tongue English speakers, several of them have very good English as they’ve spent a majority of their lives in the states. Douglas even has a very southern US accent because he lived in the south. Merci happens to have a house in Mission Viejo California, where her husband currently resides. She remains here to run her coffee and cattle farms. They hope to eventually rejoin and retire together- although can’t decide on which country. Very interesting stories here. Gerardo and Rainer are from Nicaragua, but both speak fluent German (and decent English). They were hired at the academy to teach German but not enough students signed up- therefore, they are also teaching English. Gerardo is going to be our Spanish teacher beginning this week, giving us a few lessons a week before our evening classes.

It’s been helpful to have some Matagalpa natives, who speak English, to give us a more in-depth cultural knowledge. Up until this point, all of the facts we’ve acquired about Nicaragua have been in Spanish… so we’ve no doubt missed some important things in translation. These teachers love to speak about their city and country, so we’re never at a lack of things to talk about.

Finally, we have our friends at Familias Especial. This is an adult workplace/workshop for individuals with disabilities. We volunteer here weekly mainly to provide friendship (and probably entertainment with our US accents) to the adults as they work. We accompany them with a variety of tasks- but mainly are stationed with the recycle team, where Travis and I dive right in a rip up paper in small pieces and separate it by color and texture (they don’t have electrical shredding machines here, it’s all done by hand day in and day out). They love to have our company, and we make all attempts to communicate with them to the best of our abilities. No doubt this is very challenging… depending on the severity of their disabilities. But for several of them, we’ve become quite friendly exchanging conversation about everything from the people in their families, their favorite foods, colors, activities and more. In return, we provide them with stories about our lives in the United States.

This time in Matagalpa is such a rich experience- we really feel like we’re living life here to the fullest. It’s just so interesting to not only be living in a place (like we did in Spain), but to really be connecting here socially this time. We’ve pondered why it is so easy here to make friends, in contrast to Spain or other places we’ve been (even the states for that matter!). Our guess is that it has a lot to do with the friendliness of the people, the culture, the smallness of the town, and most importantly the lack of them and us having busy schedules. Anytime we get an invite- we’re free! It’s not like at home where we have to first check our calendars and then pick a date two or three weeks into the future. Here we can make plans for the next day, the same day, or even the next hour. Without a jam-packed schedule, we can take up all offers because, why not? It’s great fun. There’s a lot to be learned here about the value of not letting your life get too cluttered with busyness. The ability to be more available for socially enriching experiences with people sure can outweigh many of the aspects of those all too busy lives we had in the past. Hmmm…. This is surely something to think about when we re-establish ourselves in the states….

I Dream in Spanish

2009-01-25T19:10:00.004-08:00

A major goal for our travels this year is to improve our Spanish skills to at least an intermediate level. After almost 5 months living abroad in mostly Spanish speaking countries, we seem to be inching closer to that objective. This has been a feat I did not think possible at beginning the year.

To review, we began our travels with some of the basic skills we acquired in high school, and the few courses we took after college. Our two-week class in Madrid helped to get us off on the right foot, but was too short for any significant gains. Plus, the Spanish spoken in Spain is not completely practical due to the pronunciation and grammar differences from Latin American Spanish. Following the two weeks of class, we had occasional practice with locals, but no
further instruction and ultimately few gains. It would be another 3 months until we had the chance to get serious about our language development.

This was of course our month of class with Casa Xalteva in Granada, Nicarauga. Our four-hour a day class was by far the most significant time of growth for us. Trisha and I were both lucky to have intelligent and engaging teachers (Maria and Sergio) who made the process enjoyable. Along with our class, we had the Spanish practice in our home-stay and our daily interactions with people. The last formal instruction time for us was three weeks ago with Matagalpa tours. Our week of class was challenging due to our “intermediate book,” but not taught with the same degree of expertise as our previous school. So where does that leave us now?

Being relatively at the same level, Trisha and I can both use the past, present, and future tenses in Spanish with relative ease. Although we do not have mastery of all the different forms that come with these tenses, we feel fairly confident in the more common ones (simple present/present progressive, imperfect and indefinite past, simple future). Our verb memorization is progressing at the moment too, and we are adding to the supply of nouns and verbs in our minds. The most challenging element for us has been listening and understanding Spanish speakers. Trisha has an easier time in this area, as I need a few more seconds to process and translate what is being said. But it seems we are growing in this difficult area too. As for speaking, it is sometimes the easier phrases and sentences that can be the most difficult to use, as our study of those was further in the past. In general, the most challenging elements for us are using various pronouns correctly in conversation, recalling all feminine and masculine forms of words and articles, and applying all that we have memorized on paper to real-life circumstances. At least our progress has placed us in situations we previously thought unrealistic for this year.

One of the happiest results of our progress is being able to actually carry on conversations for long periods of time in Spanish. On Thursday for example, we were invited to have dinner with the woman who is renting her house to us. In the past, a meal spent with Spanish speakers was a laborious affair, with various degrees of success. This past Thursday was different, as the
dinner actually turned out to be highly enjoyable. The comprehension skills kicked in and we were really throwing together coherent sentences. We even made our host and her children laugh from time to time not because of our mistakes, but rather the content of what we were talking about.

Another Spanish “feel-good” moment was an interesting conversation we had with a woman at Centro Girosol, the adults with disabilities program in Matagalpa. The woman, Rosa, is very outgoing and friendly, but also hearing impaired. To communicate with us she had to use sign language, which required another person in the group to translate. The man translating was skilled in sign language and only spoke Spanish. So our conversation was Spanish translated to sign language. It was a simple conversation, but felt good as we were using our second language skills to communicate with a person who used another form of communication altogether. Our past experiences with translations have been all Spanish to English, so this felt like a big step up for us.

I think a final element that has added to our Spanish confidence is being able to approach and converse with people in the community. Possessing lower skills in Spain made conversing with a variety of people impossibility at times. It also provided for moments of confusion when asking for directions or changing parts of an order at a restaurant. Our problems have been fewer here and asking random things to random people has become more of a reality.

With that said, there are still days where frustration reigns and illogical and incomprehensible sentences fly out our mouths. For example, on Thursday night Trisha and I were taking a taxi back from a local bar. While chatting with the driver, Trisha asked the age of his toddler son, who was seated in the front seat. Instead of saying “cuantos años tiene su hijo” (how old is your son), she said “cuanto cuesta su hijo” (how much does your son cost). The driver chuckled a little and answered her question, knowing what she was really trying to say. But you get the picture of the mistakes that can occur.

For me the frustrating moments are when everything I have learned seems to elude me and I can only utter the basic sentences I knew before I left the United States. Equally frustrating is when Trisha appears to get the conversation and I am still stuck with translating the first few sentences in my mind. I often wish I could slow down the pace of the conversation, take a few minutes to run it through my head for translation, form a grammatically correct and witty response, and then wait patiently for the next phrase. Maybe someday.

For our current and future progress in Spanish, we have a few things lined up and in the works. Since we do not want to spend money on language classes right now, we have set up "intercambios" twice a week with two locals we met through Matagalpa tours. We spend 45 minutes speaking in Spanish and 45 in English, correcting each other as we go, so all involved benefit from the practice. Our Spanish is a little better than their English, but we don’t mind at all. We have also been able to arrange a free Spanish class with the academy we will be teaching at beginning Monday. If all promises are kept, we should have a one-hour class Monday through Thursday. Yeah!

For the future, we are planning on going to Guatemala for the month of March (travel tips anyone?). We want to spend two weeks in Antigua and two weeks in Quetzaltenango, which are both safe and highly recommended tourist destinations. Both cities are well known for their abundance of quality Spanish schools, so we are hoping to fit at least two weeks of class if possible. After that, our Spanish speaking countries will be no more for this trip (Italian anyone?) But Trisha and I are committed to really making this a life-long project: one because of the practicality of it, and two because it’s actually quite fun when you get to a certain level

The coldest showers of my life

2009-01-20T10:29:00.002-08:00

I don’t have many complaints right now about my new short-term lifestyle in Matagalpa for the next five weeks. We love our rented house (especially cooking in the outdoor kitchen), the new friends we are making, the mountain scenery, the hiking and the cooler fresh air. However, there is one BIG exception in my level of enjoyment… the cold showers. Let me first just say that I have been taking cold showers now for 6 weeks in Nicaragua without a complaint. But in Matagalpa the water is different... oh, so different. Because the elevation is much higher, the temperature is cooler and obviously the water supply is also a drastic drop in temperature in comparison to what we’ve been used to. Just picture what it’s like when you dip your toe in a high-elevation mountain lake- that’s what we have to submerge our bodies in each day. It was especially difficult this last week showering earlier in the morning at 6:30am, and with the rainier, cooler week we had. The only funny thing about this is when Travis is in the shower and I get to hear him shout out and howl each day in shock of the cold. It totally cracks me up to hear his squawking from the other side of the house. For my husband who never seems to feel a hint of cold, even this has been quite challenging for him.

So, I have a few more details to share related to our new home residency. We can’t begin to tell you what a joy it is to unpack our clothes in drawers, hang things on hangers, and have the suitcases far hidden from our sight. It’s even more fun to buy seasonal food in the local markets and stock our pantry with favorites. Although there are well-equipped supermarkets here where we can buy most of the American cooking staples (except decent salad dressings, affordable olive oil, or cereal that hasn’t been imported with sky-high prices), visiting one of the 2 city market places is much more interesting and super cheap. Everything from fruits, veggies, spices, oils, meats, cheeses, tools, toiletries, etc… can be purchased from the multiple vendors packed in about 3-5 square blocks of covered or open-air stalls. If you look past the millions of flies buzzing around the produce (all can be washed or boiled off), and stay away from the un-refrigerated meats (we can’t stomach even walking near these stalls), you can come away with all you need and a little culture tucked in.

Last week we made several little trips to these markets, and never spent more than $6-10. Every morning I cut up fresh pineapple, papaya and cantaloupe that we’ve purchased to go with our breakfasts. The bananas and green mandarins (although green, they’re sweet and wonderful!) are also a favorite. They have a variety of unique squashes here- like chayote, yucca, and several other varieties that have been interesting to try in different dishes we’ve cooked. We also took a stab at buying and cooking the three, absolute Nica essentials this week- rice, red beans and plantains. Travis would like to make a few more attempts at perfecting his gallo pinto, but his sautéed plantains were absolutely superb. We buy our chicken at the supermercato, where we can buy two huge fillets for $2.50. This chicken is so tender and fresh; the actual birds must loose their heads the same day they appear at the market. Travis’s only frustration when cooking it is that he hasn’t figured out how to “brown the chicken” like at home because it’s so juicy. Oh well- it tastes incredible.

Going along with the responsibilities of us now “taking care of house” for a time, we also have the task of doing our own laundry. As we’ve been on the road now for months, dealing with our laundry has been one of our least favorable activities when you don’t have access to your own laundry facilities. In Spain, we were lucky enough to have our own washing machine; we just had to adjust to hours of hang-drying everything within the humidity. As we traveled with Pueblo Ingles, then through Portugal, Morocco and London, our laundry passed through many different hands in various hostels who did it for us, or full service Laundromats. When no service was accessible, our clothes were hand washed by us in the bathtub. In Granada, we paid our language school for the laundry service they offered, but other times we took it to a local “launderia” for faster service. This was an interesting, hodpodge family-run business. Basically, because this family is fortunate enough to own a washer and dryer, they’ve opened up their doors and can call themselves an operating business. Although we really liked how she washed our clothes (they smelled good and weren’t stretched out from being hung dry), each time we retrieved our laundry, we had to deal with the fact that she’d always forget to include one or a few items in our bag. After first thinking the family had claimed some of our clothes to now be their own, or that she had mistakenly returned our clothes to the wrong people, we’ve been relieved every time we’ve returned to find those remaining pieces still there.

So now that you know the thrilling ins-and-outs of Travis and Trisha’s laundry on the road, let me explain our newest quest with our laundry. Here in our house we have a “lavabo,” a specially made laundry sink that all houses have here. The “washboard” (where you scrub) actually makes up the surface of the left side of the sink, and the deeper sink basin is on the right. Both sides have a drain, but the waterspout only reaches over the right side, making it impossible to get water on the other side unless you use additional buckets and pitchers of water to transport it over. Travis and I have made several attempts now at figuring out the best system to soak, scrub and rinse our clothes. With unfamiliar types of detergents and our desire to not use or waste too much water (having water is a privilege here in Matagalpa- in the summer months it is so dry the people need to live off of their reserved supplies), this has been challenging. I also can’t leave out the fact that this is backbreaking work! We commend all the women here who spend hours a day washing the clothes for their families. Those who live in the campos (farms in the mountains) come down to the river and do it there. Despite all these laundry challenges, you rarely see a Nicaraguan who is not freshly washed, wearing sparking clean and well-pressed clothing. Personal cleanliness is a big thing in their culture here.

So, to shift gears here from some of the silly details of our home life …. our English language teacher training has proved so far to be an interesting aspect of our time here. For the first time this year in the various English teaching we’ve done, we’ve actually been given a very precise teaching curriculum and a specific methodology of how we are to instruct our new students. Every day in training we have many opportunities to practice this new regimen with our fellow colleagues, which is definitely needed to memorize these unique techniques. This is quite a contrast to our last two placements, in which all we were given to begin was a room to teach in and a dry-erase board with a marker. Although we have yet to see if this job at Academia Europea will fulfill all of its’ promises (two full classes of students each night of the week and all day Saturday, free Spanish lessons for the teachers, and a decent paycheck at the end of the month), we’re committed to our second week of training and optimistic about our jobs ahead. The only reason we’re a little skeptical is because this academy is brand new in town with its opening house this weekend. Although it’s extremely successful in other Central American countries, Travis and I are not convinced the same will be true with this community of people in Matagalpa. Then again, what do we know? Our classes might be filled to the brim with students!

Even more interesting than the training itself has been getting to know the other teachers. Surprisingly, we are the only native English speakers of the bunch. Of the seven or so of us, all come right from Matagalpa with the exception of one from Managua. However, they’ve all spent various amounts of time in the states or other countries picking up their 2nd languages (German will also be taught at this academy by two of the teachers). Despite this fact, I’m not surprised this academy director wanted us so desperately to teach at the academy. Having native teachers is definitely an advantage for the students… as the others definitely do not speak with perfect grammar or an un-accented flow of speech. This is probably a reason why the academy rotates the teachers to instruct different classes each week. With this approach, the students learn to get used to different voices and accents, and therefore will be more accustomed to understand all styles of spoken English.

So, overall we’ve had a kick of a time each day getting to know these interesting Matagalpan teachers, who are kindly welcoming to us Americans and abundantly friendly at the core. We’ve found this to be true in many of the locals here, and, as we did in Spain, we are rapidly building a new little community with our neighbors and the people we frequently see in the nearby restaurants and markets. With our jobs starting next Monday and our schedule already filled up with our afternoon volunteering and language intercambios, we feel we’ve settled in rather nicely here.

Staying Awhile in Northern Nicaragua

2009-01-12T20:37:00.000-08:00

We have had another enriching week of life in Nicaragua. This past week we spent time in the city of Matagalpa, living with a local family and taking a week of Spanish class. Matagalpa is quite different from the Pacific lowlands of Granada, Leon, and Managua. Instead of hot, tropical, jungle weather, the Matagalpa region is breezy and cool, with lovely green mountains surrounding it on all sides. It is located about 2 hours north of the capital Managua. Trisha and I made plans two weeks ago to visit Matagalpa, and coordinated our home-stay and language classes with a well-known organization there. The home-stay turned out to be better than our first in Granada, as the family, the food, and the general atmosphere of the house was superior every way. Similar to many of the homes in Matagalpa, we had a fantastic view of the city as our location was near the top of a steep hill (Matagapla is full of steep hills, all of which make for wonderful vistas). The Spanish school was located about ten minutes away by foot and turned out to be a popular destination for many travelers.

The school we attended is called Matagalpa Tours and Language School, and as you can gather from the name, was not just a Spanish school. Trisha and I enjoyed our 3 hour class each day, but missed our teachers from Casa Xalteva as we felt our new teacher was not up to par. We did end the week with more knowledge of course and were even put in the second intermediate level of class (I am not sure how many intermediate levels exist, so second level might not be anything too remarkable). We also were able to attend three excursion trips with the school during the week: one to a very colorful and historical local cemetery, another to small and independently run chocolate factory, and the last to a local forest reserve that served as a battlefront during the Sandinista conflict here. All the excursions added to our week and to our language skills as all were conducted in Spanish.

Our Spanish acquisition continues to be an uphill climb for us both, as it just isn’t very easy. We feel like we take a few steps forward in class, attempt to have a conversation with a local, and then discover that the only sentences we can recall are the simple ones. It is going to get more challenging for us, as we do not plan on taking any more classes for at least a month. We are hoping that all that knowledge won’t slowly seep out of our minds. Fortunately, we will have many chances to practice in the coming weeks, as we will be staying in Matagalpa for a little longer than expected. Six weeks longer. How did we come to that decision you might ask? Well, it kind of just worked itself out.

After leaving Granada, Trisha and I planned on touring other parts of Nicaragua for a few weeks, followed by a journey to a new Central American destination. We did the first part and still plan on the second in the future, but had a few things develop here that we couldn’t resist. The first is an opportunity to teach English in a language school called Academia Europea, which actually will be paying us. The second is the chance to volunteer in some local organizations, such as a day program that works with people with disabilities. The third is we found a fantastic house to rent near the center of town that has a splendid view of the mountains and comes fully equipped for living (We have been dying to cook for ourselves this past month). Finally, we just really like this area. The town is surrounded by mountains and has excellent hikes in all directions. Not to mention that it has a rather homey feel and is a good base for various excursion trips to northern Nicaragua. So with that said, we are feeling content in our decision. We plan on using our time here to also research our next destination in Central America thoroughly and begin planning for our spring travels. This blog will still be running with all the details and will hopefully contain an interesting story now and then. We will be posting picture soon too!

From the melancholy lowlands of Leon to the fresh-air highlands of Matagalpa

2009-01-05T13:31:00.001-08:00

Happy New Year from Northern Nicaragua! We had such an adventurous day of New Year’s travel, that today is one of those times where I must write before I forget any of the details and absurdities. It all really began on New Years Eve in Leon. Why were we in Leon? Well, Leon is one of the oldest cities in Nicaragua, with fine architecture, the country’s largest cathedral, and a vibrant student culture due to the university located here. Travis and I left our 1-month home of Granada on Sunday morning, and decided to head north for a week to see a few more of Nicaragua’s hidden gems. Before hitting Leon, we began by visiting an un-touched ocean side pueblo, Las Penitas, where we stayed in a lovely cabana on the sand with a direct view of the Pacific Ocean. The sound of the waves crashing at night was awesome, not to mention the stars we could see in the sky. It was exciting to see the Pacific again; strange to think this is the same ocean we swim in at home. We figured we deserved a little seaside retreat for 2 nights being that we were spending all the holidays without our families and the traditions of home. It was quite a find, as any comparable place on the west coast of CA would cost probably 10 times what we paid (it’s hard to beat $20 a night). On Tuesday afternoon, we took a 1-hour chicken bus ride inland to Leon. Although Leon did indeed have some stunning churches and the cathedral, Trav and I struggled to bond with this city and never did discover a sense of place in our wanderings there for two days. That said, we were ready to head out of town on New Year’s Day.

As a side note, the holidays have not been a favorite part of our traveling schedule. This is surprisingly not because we’re away from the comforts of home (although we have definitely missed our families), it’s actually because these days are very inconvenient for travelers. I originally assumed we’d enjoy the holidays here because of the unique different traditions we’d experience and the citywide fiestas. Instead, the streets are dead quiet, everything is closed and shuttered, taxis are harder to find, and the bus schedules are infrequent and flighty. Even when we stayed put with our family in Granada on Christmas Day, I really missed the town’s lively and welcoming atmosphere. Although there are the very late night fiestas that draw the people outside, most Nicas are inside their homes passing the time peacefully with their families. When you are traveling in a city without a “home” to just relax and enjoy the traditions the day brings, it’s typical to crave the 2nd best thing, which would be a familiar hotel lobby, a cozy coffee café or a restaurant filled with people to pass the time in. When these things are not available to you, we’ve found that loneliness beckons and melancholy can set in pretty quickly. Unfortunately, on New Years Eve in Leon, these emotions lead to a downward spiral of negativity, unnecessary fears, and uncertainty about our developing plans and purpose for the next few weeks. Fortunately, we are in a much better place (emotionally and physically) now, a few days later. But hey, in case you hadn’t already guessed, when you’re traveling long-term like this, not everyday is filled with excitement and ease. Ho-hum days are pretty typical for us too.

So anyway, back to my story about another epic day of travel for Travis and I. Our need to be flexible in this journey really began, unbeknownst to us, when we dropped off our load of laundry at the “Laundromatic Express” on New Years Eve morning. In our brief Spanish conversation with the owner, we understood that our laundry would be ready for pick-up at 3pm that afternoon, but we could retrieve it anytime before close at 7pm. So, after spending the day seeing some local cultural sights, Travis and I returned around 5pm and were rather alarmed to find the establishment locked up. With our bus leaving the next day in the early afternoon, we decided to cross our fingers and pray they’d be open tomorrow. However, this was highly unlikely knowing how the city would be a sleepy place on New Years Day. As far as a backup plan, our only thoughts were to show up the next day, knock on all the surrounding doors of neighbors to see if they knew where the laundry owner lived, and maybe she’d be kind enough to come in for a few minutes to let us retrieve our laundry. If not, we just had to set our minds to be okay with the fact that we might have to spend one more night in Leon.

On the morning of New Years, we headed straight to the Laundromat on our way to breakfast and were not surprised to still see it shuttered. Because we were hungry and have previous experience knowing we don’t operate well in this famished stage, we chose to eat first and then figure out what to do about our predicament. It was now 9:00am, and our bus was to leave at 2:45pm. Plenty of time, right? Well………. we got VERY lucky. When we returned after breakfast (we ate at a quiet, sleepy hostel because all the local establishments were closed), the door was opened and the owner was sitting outside on a plastic chair waiting for us to come by. She was just as happy to see us as we were to see her. Our guess was she wanted to close back up after we left and spend the rest of the day at the beach with her family, like every other Nicaraguan family in town. It was SO kind of her to come in- she said she ended up closing early the day before, and thought we might be needing our laundry today so she came in to wait for us to pick it up. And we did! Good thing we came by early so she could take the rest of the day off. Obstacle #1 cleared up- the plan to leave the city was back in the works.

With it now being 10:30am, we needed to check out of our hotel and kill some time in the next few hours before our bus. Again, with everything closed, there was not much to do. So, we headed to a different hostel cafe that had free wireless Internet, and did some research for our next few weeks of traveling. This hostel was called “Bigfoot Hostel,” and it reminded us of why we don’t stay in these types of popular, dormitory-style backpacker places when we do these little side trips. These college age, international, groups of “kids” are interesting for people-watching, but there’s something about this crew that is just dirty (from months on the road living out of a backpack), lost (kids who don’t know what to do with their lives so don’t want to return home) and lonely (we see many solo backpacker travelers- writing in journals, reading books, or just staring off into space). Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not knocking down the backpacking culture because there is definitely a time and place for it… but for the immersion purposes Travis and I have for this year, being a part of this unique vibe of people does not fit into the experience. Plus, we don’t fit in to this group of kids, nor do we want to try! However, as we sat in this hostel among these kids slowly waking up and wondering around with their New Years Eve hangovers, we couldn’t help but feel some of the out of place/lost in space spirit in the air making us want to leave this town even more.

Finally, it was 1:45pm… time to head to the bus station. It took a good 10 minutes to hail a cab on the dead street, but finally a driver in a blue car came by and pulled over for us. He assured us he was a taxi driver and asked us where we needed to go, but we were hesitant in getting in the car because we didn’t see the taxi sign. Fortunately, the security guard to our hotel was watching this scene and he assured us that this guy was indeed a taxi driver. The 5-minute drive was worry and stress-free, but I guess I should mention that the driver finished the can of beer he drinking on the way to the station! Another first-time experience for us. We were just hoping it was his first beer of the day.

So here we are now at the bus station. It looked a bit different today than when we arrived (about 90% less people). Although we never found a tourist information office that was open, we had asked multiple sources the previous day if the buses would be running on schedule on New Years and they assured us everything would be normal. Then again, in comparing our 3 guidebooks, none of them listed the same schedule for bus departures, but the 2:45 time seemed the most popular. But, because we still didn’t feel absolutely confident about this fact, we wanted to get there on time in case things didn’t go as planned. Although the bus stations look completely unorganized with colorfully painted school buses everywhere, it’s actually always been very easy for Travis and I to find the bus we need. This is because each bus is manned with a driver and the “2nd hand man” who’s job it is to find the passengers and get them onboard. They do this by yelling out the destination city, over and over again (i.e. “Managua, Managua, Managua!”), especially when confused people like Travis and I walk by. If they’re not saying the city we’re traveling to, we ask them where that bus is and they always know.

We weren’t so lucky today. The first few people we asked said, “Matagalpa? No mas hoy. Manana” (“Matagalpa, no more today, come back tomorrow”). “What do you mean tomorrow?” we thought… “Everyone assured us the buses would be normal today!” We were pretty devastated by this news because we really, really wanted to get out of town. We split up, went in different directions and sought other opinions. But even after these attempts, word at the station was for us to return to town and stay another night. Big bummer. Then, we hit a stroke of good news. One of the busmen must have noticed our desperation to leave town. He walked over to us and told us there was another option to Matagalpa at this hour. This was to catch the 3-hr. bus to San Isidro, then transfer at that station for another 45-minute ride to our destination. Although this would add 1-½ hours onto our trip, we’d at least get there this evening. Turns out we had 3 minutes to make this decision, because the San Isidro bus was pulling out of the station. We hopped on and were off!

Without having a chance to first pull out a map and make sure that San Isidro was indeed on the way to Matagalpa, we plunged in to the bumpiest, craziest bus ride I’ve had in my entire life.
About half of the distance of our trip was a road under construction. Therefore, we were on a makeshift side road composed of dirt, rocks and big holes. Travis and I had the back seat of the bus so we could keep an eye on our luggage, and some of the bumps were so intense that we actually got air and were lifted off our seats! Sometimes when you looked ahead to the front of the bus, it looked so tweaked and twisted from the curves and bumps that it seemed like it would break in half. It was absolutely wild. To add to it, the poor child next to us had some type of flu or motion sickness, and she spent the first hour vomiting. Nice. We actually found the whole ride to be a major workout. We had to concentrate so hard in just staying upright in our seats and not flying to and from that it took the air out of us.

Three very sore and tiring hours later, we arrived in the sleepy, nothing-of-a-town San Isidro. Travis went around asking where to catch our next bus, and when it would arrive. He received a similar reaction to the one we had at the bus station earlier. “Well, it’s supposed to come every ½ hour, but today… I don’t know, it might be an hour, maybe two…” Being that it was getting dark and we were standing on the side of a dimly lit highway in Central America, we used our best safety senses and decided it was time to hire a cab. Fortunately, this was easy to find, and within a ½ hour we were in Matagalpa. The only problem was this driver refused to take us to our hotel and wanted to drop us off at the bus station. We repeatedly asked him to deliver us to our desired address, but he kept saying no. Because of the language communication difficulties, it took us forever to figure out that this driver was not a licensed driver for Matagalpa city limits, only for San Isidro city. In these cases, the drivers can only drop you on the outskirts of town, and it’s up to you to find another cab. Finally we understood.

The next crisis was where he dropped us. All guidebooks say not to hang out near bus stations after dark… and here we were standing alone when the driver pulled away. Of course, it was located on the bottom of a dark hill, and within minutes Travis and I were huffing our luggage up the hill to find some better light and get out of that sketchy place. As we were fleeing we encountered a very drunk man on the street who not only was rambling random words to us, but also kept trying to touch us. This totally unnerved the both of us (me more than Travis… Travis knew he was just drunk, not harmful) and we wanted another cab so badly we were practically hailing every vehicle that drove by. Finally a cab pulled over for us. It already had two people in it, but the driver invited us in as well and said we’d have a few stops along the way. No biggie, at this point we didn’t care. Of course, we didn’t know that every time he dropped someone off, he’d pick up the next Tom, Dick or Harry that needed a ride. It was classic. We made like 4 random stops across town before we finally arrived at our hotel, the “Fuente Azul” (Fountain Blue).

We were so happy to be there! For the first time in our Nica travels, the hotel owner actually had our name written down and a room ready for us (we’ve showed up at three other hotels in the past few weeks, where we had called ahead and made reservations, but they had nothing marked in the books). To make things better yet, this is the cheapest and largest room we’ve had, it has the biggest and softest bed, and HOT water! After 6 weeks of cold showers, you have no idea how excited I was!

Well, this is where this travel journey ends. We’ll tell you more about Matagalpa and why we’re here later (another intriguing language/home stay program… this time just for a week), but I just had to share about the difficulties, highlights and adventure of this little trek across the highlands of Nicaragua on New Year’s Day.

A Few Nicaraguan Tidbits

2009-01-01T09:20:00.002-08:00

Being immersed in a new place and culture for longer than a week definitely opens more windows than the casual tourist might experience. This has been one of the many fortunate elements of our journeys this year. Our month in Granada has been a testament to this type of travel, as Trisha and I have gained significantly more insights into Nicaragua than we otherwise would have. That said, here are a few interesting tidbits about this place we would have missed with a smaller visit.

Friendly Nicas: The tour books are correct; this is a very friendly country. Sure not everyone here is sugar and spice, but the majority are overwhelmingly amicable and interested in getting to know you. A good example is from the coffee shop Trisha and I frequented while here. At least three of its employees have gone out of their way to introduce themselves, ask us numerous questions, and refer to us by name every time we stop by. One woman in particular befriended us to the extent of inviting us to her home to celebrate Christmas (we had to decline as we had Christmas plans with our host-family). On another occasion while sitting near the giant Lake Nicaragua, an older police officer came and sat next to me only to chat. Despite my less than fluent Spanish skills and inability to catch all of what he was saying, he spent a good half hour just passing the time in conversation. Even some of our cab drivers have shared about their families, asked us about trips, and given us their insight into the essence of Nicaragua.

True Nicaraguan Transportation: Having Granada as a base camp has allowed us to make numerous excursions to nearby venues. With the luxury of time on our hands, we have been able to experience the true method of Nicaraguan travel- the yellow school bus. Nicaragua does have a variety of bus options, such as the comfortable intercontinental lines (similar to very nice Greyhound buses), express mini-buses, and inter-city buses. However the suped-up yellow school buses are the true method of transportation for the majority of locals. These brightly painted buses usually come in a variety of colors and designs and are fitted with roof racks and rear exhaust pipes that reach to the sky. They are cultural lesson all their own.

The actual concept of riding in a bus in an unfamiliar, non-English speaking country, sounds difficult on paper. It turns out that in Nicaragua it couldn’t be easier. You first begin by searching for the bus station in your town, which is usually a large dirt field. There will be at least one or two people directing you toward this field should you be lost. Once in the lot, finding your bus is a piece of cake. Simply look at the signs on the top of the buses where the final destination is clearly printed. These destinations never change, as a Granada to Masaya bus is always a Granada to Masaya bus, or visa versa. After locating the bus, listen for one or two men shouting repeatedly at the top of their lungs the final destination of your bus. This yell will be replicated throughout your destination, as all the people your bus will be stopping for along the way (the whole way) will need to hear the bus approaching to get ready for the brief second they will have to hop on. For the few who actually get on the bus at the original destination, the departure usually occurs close to the hourly of half-hourly interval, but many times when the bus is close to full. The bus will likely be packed after a few stops, but this makes little difference as more people, means more tickets sold. While waiting for the bus to depart, you can stock up on goodies as a steady stream of venders climb aboard to sell food, sodas, candy, and other various items. A popular purchase item is soda, which is poured into a plastic bag and slurped out with a straw, and when finished, dropped out the window for disposal. As mentioned before, once your bus departs, be prepared to stop multiple times to pick up anyone along the road who wants a ride. Of course everyone pays for a ticket no matter when you begin your ride, and all tickets are inexpensive. For the remainder of your trip just marvel at the scenery, checkout the locals, breath in a little dust, and bump along to your next destination.

Traditional Nicaraguan Christmas: We spent Christmas with our host-family in Granada and witnessed a typical Nicaraguan holiday celebration. Christmas festivities are reserved for the 24th, with the 25th being reserved for recuperation time. Although Trisha and I ate early that night, the family did not begin until around 10:30 p.m. Dinner can be even later in some circumstances on this evening, as that is the tradition. Pork stuffed with something tasty was on the menu, along with a small side salad. Our host family members are not big drinkers at all, but on this night the downing of beers began around 9:00 and went on throughout the evening. Supposedly the three major holidays here have the tradition of putting-back cold ones, and working off the hangover the next day. Although no one in the family got drunk, the atmosphere was golly and music and dancing ensued. At 11:00 the family, and extended family, took their respective rocking chairs, lined up on the sidewalk in front of the house, and began their Christmas dinner. Their meal was the same as the one we had at eight, although they consumed a few more helpings than us.

At around 11:30 p.m. as Trisha and I were trying to keep our eyes open, the rocking chairs were moved next to the giant plastic Christmas tree and present opening began. 98% of the presents were for the two grandchildren in the family, as gift exchanges among friends and family members in Nicaragua is not typical. Our family gave us a few Nicaraguan keepsakes such as a keychain and maraca. At 12:00 p.m. as the Eve turned to Christmas Day, the city streets filled with loud fireworks as all households celebrated in unison the Navidad. Our family had a long roll of fireworks similar to those of the other households. These fireworks produced no light, but instead deafening sound. We plugged our ears for a good five minutes as the fireworks exploded and then eventually resumed the celebrations. Trisha and I hung in there for about another twenty minutes and then called it a night. The remainder of the family stayed talking and drinking beer until around 3:00 a.m. And that was Christmas. The actual day had no festivities, but we were told many of the locals headed to the lake for the day. I never found out as I spent all day in bed with some flu-like symptoms.

Nicaraguan Streets: Want to see if those new shocks on your car are worth the price you paid? Come here and test them for free. This is the land of the pothole and open manholes just waiting to swallow up an untested driver and their auto. It is also the land of roaming horses and livestock, along with stray dogs and processions of humanity making their way along a side street or interstate. Sure, there are many roads that are quite normal, and everyone seems to do just fine on both the normal and treacherous. But there are times you can’t imagine the talent is must day to keep your car in one piece if driving were part of your daily routine. I think of one side street near our house where there is a 4 foot by 6 foot hole in the middle of it. I’m not sure if this was roadwork that was one day abandoned, or some cruel joke the neighbors are waiting to see someone literally fall for. Regardless, I pity the person who doesn’t see that obstacle in the middle of the night. I also remember one day watching a horse standing in the middle of the main thoroughfare in Granada. It was minding its own business, eating the grass that lined the median of the busy street. The cars, bikes, and motorcycles that zoomed by didn’t seem to mind either, as this symbiotic occurrence was as common as the days are hot here. After two hours of teaching, I returned to find the horse chewing on new grass only a few paces away from the original destination with motorists making their way around in the same speedy way. Oh yeah, there was another time when Trisha and I passed a manhole full of water. No big deal we thought, it’s just a big hole full of water. To our amazement a head suddenly popped up through the black water and what looked like a local worker making some repairs below appeared. With a screwdriver and wrench in his grasp, he took another keep breath and descended into the dark abyss of the manhole. By the way this watery manhole was not blocked off at all and had cars proceeding as normal in all directions.

The Other Nicaraguans: – I am not referring to the indigenous populations that inhabit many of the remote interior parts of Nicaragua. Nor am I referring to the Nicaraguans of African decent who inhabit the Caribbean side of the country. The other Nicaraguans are actually not Nicaraguans at all, but the mostly European and some Canadian and American citizens who have purchased real estate here and set up homes and/or businesses. Basically, there are a lot of Europeans (mostly Germans and French) in the more popular tourist destinations here who own many of the hotels, restaurants, and cafes. Trisha and I have found this two be a two-sided coin. On the one side, these establishments are typically very lovely, well run, and employ only locals other than the owners themselves. Some establishments such as the famous Selva Negra coffee plantation and guest chalet are run by third generation Germans in Nicaragua. So they have put their time in. On the other side, we often wish that the best places here were not foreign run or established, but rather 100% Nicaraguan. The large majority of businesses and shops, and many hotels are Nica, but they can vary significantly in quality. I am not sure of the consensus of opinion of locals on foreign business folk, but there seems to be good relations. For us tourists, it can provide for a nice establishment, but somehow the authenticity seems depreciated.

Cruising Nica Style: Although I’m sure this form of transportation is not unique to just Nicaragua, the locals here do it exceptionally well. And that is the art of turning a normal bicycle into a family mini-van. Since bicycles are an excellent choice for scooting around town quickly here, why not add another two or three people? It is not common to see a father riding a bike, the mother sitting sidesaddle in the middle holding a baby, and another young one holding onto the handlebars in front. More common are men riding their wives or girlfriends around (always sitting side-saddle) or boys and adolescent males riding their friends around (not sitting sidesaddle….ouch!) However it’s done, they do it effortlessly. Trisha and I rent bikes often, and are sweaty and breathing hard in no time at all. The locals, always well-dressed and clean, never seem to break a sweat as they pedal the family through the hot side-streets of town. The balance they must have! The women sit across the bike like they were sitting on a sofa in a living room. And the little children are too cute as they grasp the handlebars with all their might. Although no one wears helmets while cruising, I think it's safe to say accidents involving balance and spills are rare among the Nicas. This form of transportation is definitely and art-form, and one done well by the majority who live here.

And those are just a few tidbits from this interesting country.

Odds and Ends of our Nica Lifestyle

2008-12-23T18:36:00.004-08:00

A daily run-down of our Nicaraguan life…

Our days here in Nica are passing by pretty quickly considering the slow pace of life here. We’ve fallen into a familiar schedule (which we learned doesn’t take long for us to develop in new places) and look forward to each day. Days begin early when we wake up before 7:00am to take our cold showers. We have our own little shower in our room, which is quite a gift as it adds to the privacy we have here, despite the fact that we’re living with a family. We head out to the dining area of the house around 7:30am, where Javiera has our breakfast ready and brings it out to us at the table. There is no typical breakfast here, as she tends to bring something different out everyday. I was really excited the first day when we had yogurt, corn flakes and fruit- my breakfast of choice at home. I thought for sure we’d have that or something similar everyday, but we’ve only been served yogurt one other time since then. Sometimes we get a piece of buttered bread with Nica cheese on the side, other times we get a sandwich of sorts containing the tiniest piece of ham I’ve ever seen. Twice we’ve been served a tasty scrabbled egg dish (our favorite), and three times we’ve been served only a plate of fruit. We really never know what to expect for this meal, but we do always get a cup of Nescafe. Oddly enough, even though we are living amongst coffee farms galore here in Central America, instant coffee is what is served everywhere. We just learned why this is, and it is of course due to the price of the coffee beans- the beans here are mostly grown just for exporting, where as the locals get what they call the “leftovers,” because it’s more economic for them. Apparently the same goes for rice. The good rice they grow gets exported, and the Nicas consume the leftovers. This just doesn’t seem fair to me!

After breakfast, we head out on the street and take our short 7-block walk to our school. The first 2 hours of instruction are usually spent in conversation, then we take a short break. Travis and I have found a cute panderia (bakery) a few blocks away and head there each day for delicious and cheap pastries. They know us there now and are always friendly as we place our order. It’s not quite the same as our favorite morning café in Madrid (I especially miss the coffee!), but it’s a perfect replacement for now. If there are other students at our school, we’ll usually spend a few minutes getting to know them as well during these breaks. But, with the economy as it is and the recent political situation in Nica due last month’s election, tourism is down and so is the number of students at Casa Xalteva. This week it’s just the 2 of us and one other person!

After another 2 hours of instruction (these hours focused more on grammar lessons and verb conjugations), we’re assigned our homework and head home for lunch at 12:15pm. This is more than 2 hours earlier than we ate lunch in Spain! We’re used to it now though, and are always starving on our short, but hot, walk home. Again, all we do is walk in the door and within moments our hot meals are placed at the table. We’ve asked many, many times if we can help in any way (even if just by bringing out the food to the table), but we’re always turned us down and served instead. Javiera dishes up portions personalized to each of us (based on size and what she remembers from what we’ve ate in the past), so we have no choice in how much of each type of food we’d like to eat. Instead, we try to eat what in front of us and that’s that! Regardless of whether it’s something we love or can hardly stomach, Travis and I have both done a pretty amazing job at consuming some very unique foods that we’d rarely eat if we were cooking on our own. (More on what we eat later…)

After lunch, Travis and I have about 10 minutes to catch our breath before we head back out the door just before 1pm, back to Casa Xalteva to do our afternoon volunteer teaching. We teach our first class of intermediate students together, with our focus mainly on conversational lessons and games based on different conversation topics. In this class we have 4 students- 3 of which are in their early 20’s (2 are Spanish teachers at Casa Xalteva) and one 11-yr. old named Gregory whose English is too high to be in the lower-level class with kids his age. Gregory actually speaks at a level higher than all four. Although this little age difference forces us to get a bit more creative in finding applicable conversation topics for everyone, we make it work by keeping it simple and having enough planned to allow for a lot of variety. Because I have needed some extra time this month to work on my psychology graduate school applications, Travis teaches the 2nd English class on his own. This class has 3 younger kids (9-13 yrs.) who are at a much lower speaking level, so it is a little bit more challenging to teach them. However, Travis of course plans highly engaging and structured topical lessons for them each day, and I’m more than sure the kids are probably having a great time learning with him.

Travis joins me back at the house around 3:20pm, when I put the computer away and we plan our afternoon excursion. Because we did a lot of organized touring the first week with our school, we’ve spent the last few weeks exploring on our own (which is truly our preference) on foot or by bicycle. It’s been so fun for us to be back on bikes again after 3 months. We found a nice rental shop where we can rent for $1 an hour. Sure, the bikes are very decrepit, used and rusty, but they do the job and the squeaking of the chains just adds to the adventure. We’ve quickly established our favorite routes that include the following criteria for us: great scenery, wide streets to allow for room and safety from traffic, semi-level terrain and safe areas for “gringos.” Of course, just like in Spain, we’re always stared at as people here find it strange that we would actually take a walk or a ride for exercise. This is especially true in Central America as for most, walking and riding bike is the main mode of transport. Many Nicas like to yell random comments out to us to use the small amount of English they know. It’s not surprising for us to here things like “Hey gringos…. What’s up…. Hello…. Good-bye….” etc. When I’m alone, the comments double, but that’s why I’m not alone often.

Around 5:00pm we return to our casa, take another quick cold shower, and settle into our 2 plastic chairs. Here we aim to get our homework done before dinner, while at the same time watching a little American teli in the background. We actually have more cable channels (about half in English, subtitled in Spanish) on the TV in our bedroom than we did at our apartment in Pasadena. Around 6:20ish every night Javier calls us and says “a la cena” or something like that (It’s time for dinner). So, we head to the dinner table where, like at lunch, our pre-served dinner is sitting there waiting for us. Dinner is getting increasingly difficult for us to consume. Mostly, because it’s about the same every night with maybe a little variety in the way the same food is prepared or presented. Like, instead of the beans and rice being served together as the traditional gallo pinto, they’ll be served separately side-by-side. Or, there will be cream and hot sauce on the table to put on top of the beans and rice. Sometimes, we’ll get a tortilla with it, other times a hot dog bun (random). If we’re really lucky, we’ll get a tiny little cabbage salad. For the last week, I’ve taken 2-3 tomatoes along with me to eat with my dinner because I’m dying for some nutrients from vegetables. You’d think Javiera would get the hint and give us more veggies, but I guess this is just not typical in her family. Oh well. They cost about 20 cents from the vendors on the street, about a block from our casa. Dinner is definitely the small meal here… lunch is a much better portion.

We finish our day by heading out each evening to one of our two favorite coffee shops/wireless internet cafes in town. We’ve found there to be great coffee and ice cream at each (as well as food which we sometimes have to order because we didn’t get enough to eat at dinner), and we’ve even made a few Nica friends with the coffee clerks (Xisis is our favorite- she even invited us to her house for Christmas Eve). The other day they asked if I could help them out with another costumer. I wondered what they might need, and it turned out they needed a translator! I was so excited that they actually considered my Spanish to be decent enough to ask me to translate for another couple. It was a joyful little moment of pride for me (however, don’t ask how jealous Travis was that they didn’t ask him… I know it had nothing to do with our Spanish levels, it most likely was because I’m a girl and they’re girls… you know, a bonding thing… at least that’s how I reassured Trav!).

So anyway, at the internet cafes we catch up on the outside world, finish any homework, plan our English lessons, and research our next travel plans. We typically shut down the place each night when they close their doors at 9:00pm. Although these cafes have been great havens for us, we don’t necessarily love being among the gringo clientele there. Not the best local scene- strictly the traveler and backpack scene. I guess it is somewhat interesting to see where these tourists are coming from in the world (we’ve found there to be more Europeans and Canadians here than Americans, and many more girls traveling in big groups than guys), but we still prefer to be among natives rather than the traveler crowd. I think that if we were taking a traditional vacation something like this wouldn’t matter, but with this year’s goal to live among the people and the culture, when we’re in an “Americanized” coffee shop it sometimes feels just a little too comfortable and familiar.

Once again we return home and ring the little doorbell to our house to be let in. That is at least if our family is not sitting out on the sidewalk in their rocking chairs (5 out of 7 nights they are). After a brief day’s end Spanish conversation, we retreat to our nice private room in the back of the house and settle in for the evening. And that is the day-and-the-life of T&T in Nicaragua! Of course, we only have one more week of this lifestyle, and have yet to finalize our next steps in Central America (still haven’t chosen what country we’re living in next). As always, we’ll keep you posted as soon as we know ourselves!

A few tipico (typical) mealtime traditions when living with a Nica family

We can’t leave Nicaragua until we tell you a little bit more about the food we’ve been eating. Although the variety is not vast here, it has definitely been unique and different enough to make for a blog entry. I’ve already shared with you about breakfast, so we’ll start with lunch…

**Lunchtime is the main meal of the day here, so if we are going to be served meat during the day, it would be at lunchtime. Therefore, if we’re not served meat, we know that it might be a “hungrier” day for us because dinner won’t have it either. That might mean stopping at a hot dog stand later in the evening to keep Trav’s tummy full. (Oddly enough, hot dog stands are everywhere here! Just like you’d see at a baseball game. Being that baseball is so popular here, that’s a big reason as to why it’s the same with hotdogs.)

**All meals are served with homemade “fresca” (freshly made tropical juices) to drink. And this does not just mean one type of juice per day or week, this means a new, fresh made juice at every meal! Apparently, it is similar to an insult here if you only serve your guests water. Nica’s want to “show their best” in their hospitality and serving fresca is a must. Additionally, if juice were not served, it would reflect that the family might be poor and of course the family does not desire this image. We’ve learned there are a few exceptions to the “juice rule” though- you never drink juice with soup (just water) and with fish you drink coca-cola (“Mr. Big” is the popular coke brand here).

**Lunch is always served with platanos (plantains- a savory type of banana). This is true in every household in Nicaragua. We are lucky that our family prefers boiled plantains rather than fried, because most families consume the latter. Although I couldn’t handle eating this fried food everyday, the fried ones are excellent and we’ve enjoyed them a few times at restaurants here. Although you wouldn’t think a banana-like food would go with every lunch, I’ve grown quite fond of them and enjoy the bit of sweetness with my meal. Travis has had a harder time finishing his lately, but hey, it has been over 3 weeks of them already…. Wait till we get to the cheese.

**Many meals are served with this typical slice of Nica cheese. I don’t really know how to explain it so I’ll use Trav’s description: “It tastes like moldy socks.” It has a similar consistency to feta cheese, but the taste is very sharp and strong; it can overpower all the food on your plate. This cheese is not kept in the refrigerator, and is sold outside in the fresh air markets covered only with a small piece of saran-wrap (if you’re lucky) to keep away the flies. Just having that image in your mind when it’s sitting in front of you on your plate makes it a little hard to consume. We’ve guessed it’s served so often because it’s a very cheap alternative to serving meat. Therefore, it often shows up with our beans and rice at dinner. Again, this cheese is most enjoyed by Nicas when it is fried up and served with your meal. However, the one time Javiera did this we did not clear our plates- so I guess she got the picture and has not prepared it this way for us again. I’ve surprisingly developed a taste for this cheese and I think it flavors up the beans rather nicely (especially with a little hot sauce added). Travis on the other hand is “tapped out-” he doesn’t even worry anymore about possibly insulting them by leaving it on his plate- he just absolutely cannot stomach it. It’s actually pretty funny to watch him roll his eyes when he continues to see it on his plate everyday. This time, Javiera is not getting the clue. He tries to pawn it off on me just as I try to pawn off any of my extra food to him, but even though I like it, my portion is more than enough!

**Gallo Pinto! This is the most famous dish of Nicaragua. Basically, it’s beans mixed with rice, but it’s flavored well in the way it’s cooked (with onions and spices). Most Nicaraguans eat gallo pinto every night. In fact, it’s pretty typical to always have 2 warm pots stewing on the stove each day- a pot of beans and a pot of rice (this is absolutely true in our house). Oh wait, there’s also the pot cooking the plantains. Anyway, the beans are of the red/black variety, and the rice is your basic white grain. Surprisingly, although we’re served this meal for about 5 out of 7 dinners per week, it still tastes pretty good when we’re hungry and the carbo load definitely fills us up.

**Regarding vegetables, I miss them! I’m not sure if it’s just our Nica family, but to find one vegetable in this house can be a challenge. There’s two occasions in which we have vegetables. First, if they are included in the preparation of a meat dish. For example, a chicken or pork cooked with onions and tomatoes to add to the flavor. Second, if we’re lucky enough to be served a tiny Nica salad on the side. The Nica salad is diced white cabbage, a few thinly sliced carrots, slices of a green pepper (a variety I’ve never seen before), dressed with a tart vinegar dressing. Sometimes it’s served on top of a cooked yucca (a thick squash) with fried pork rinds- this dish is called “Vigeron.” We don’t mind this salad (without the yucca and pork), but wish it was bigger and contained more GREEN veggies. I’ve had the hardest time dealing with the lack of veggies in my diet, since they are among my favorite things to eat. Oh well, you can’t change cultural traditions…. And I’m pretty sure Javiera wants to show us her Nica cooking in the most authentic way (not in a way catered to our veggie-craving diets).

**A sampling of a few meals: (sorry I can’t remember any of the true Nica names in Spanish for these dishes… I can’t even understand them when Javiera tells us what they are. I just get the gist of what’s inside, how it’s prepared, and why it’s a Nica favorite)

-Vigeron: Granada’s most famous meal. As explained before, it is a boiled yucca (spongy potato-squashy thing) placed on a plantain leaf, topped with thinly sliced white cabbage, chopped native grown green pepper, and fried pork rinds mixed together in a vinegar flavor. We’ve had this served to us several times at the table, but also at our “padre’s” kiosk in town where it’s among one of the 50+ places in Granada where it’s sold.
-Greesa?: It was called something like that. It was this chopped up white squash that resembled a zucchini- was boiled and mixed in a cream sauce with spices. This was served for lunch with rice and plantains.
-The spaghetti and rice day: This was classic- when have you ever been served pasta and rice on the same plate for the same meal? Anything goes here- a type of spaghetti mixed with a white sauce and some onions, served with rice next to it. Talk about a carbo load.
-Carne and vegetables: We’ve had many lunch meals with some type of red meat or pork that’s been stewed with a tiny selection of vegetables, served again with rice and plantains. Each dish has it’s own special name as Javiera brings it proudly to the table and gives us the title. Although the first several dishes of this type of food tasted like great comfort food, we’re noticing now that regardless of the different meats or veggies used, it’s all starting to taste the same. Oh well, it still fill us up and home cooked meals are definitely better than any other more expensive alternative!
-Bean soup: Probably my favorite dish. The beans here have actually been the tastiest beans I’ve ever had in my life. Much preferable to me over rice. Beans have never been a big part of my diet or a favorite of mine, but now they are a staple in my daily intake and I actually crave them when dinner time roles around. Something about the savory way they are prepared flavored with sautéed onion, seasonings and salt, makes them just right. Anyway, one day Javiera made for us a soup with the traditional beans pureed, and it was delicious. It was topped with sliced white cabbage and cheese. The surprising thing about it was when I took my first bite; I discovered a fully in-tack hard-boiled egg just below the surface (shell off of course). We had a great source of protein that day!
-Pollo Asado: Travis’s favorite. Simple chicken grilled to perfection. Usually served with fried plantains and a cabbage salad. We haven’t had this in our casa, but it’s Trav’s favorite to our when we’re out at a restaurant.
-Sopa de pescado/pollo/vegetables: My favorite. I love the huge bowls of soups here, again served in the restaurants not typically at our house, filled with tasty broth and many vegetables. My favorite is at this local little joint where for just $2 I get a huge bowl full of veggies. We sometimes stop here before or after dinner time to get our nutrients.

This about sums up our daily eating habits in Nicaragua… Would you say we're eating like the locals, or what?

El Rezo

2008-12-20T18:47:00.002-08:00

Ever been to a Rezo before? Neither had we until last week, when we were lucky enough to experience our first one. Our Rezo was held at the house of our Nicaraguan home-stay family, and had been a highly anticipated event for weeks. The family spent the previous two weeks planning the details, budgeting their money, and inviting neighbors and friends (270 total) to this interesting event. So what is a Rezo exactly? Well it’s a bit tricky to explain. As our family described, a Rezo is a gathering of family, friends, and neighbors at a home to sing, pass out treats, and most importantly honor the Virgin Mary. Sounds simple enough, right? In reality, this event turned out to be far from what Trisha and I had envisioned it to be.

Our home’s Rezo was to begin at 7:00 on Saturday night, with the arrival the 270 invitees (only 200 actually made it). During the day, the family had worked on setting up rows and rows of white plastic chairs in the back yard, along with the construction of a giant altar to the Virgin. The altar had five grayish steps made of wood, each with designs that looked like stones or pebbles. One of the family members attached a hose in the back of the steps for water to run down. Above the altar were words of worship inscribed in Spanish. The top part of the altar had a small plastic statue of the Virgin Mary, along with what appeared to be a mini-baby Jesus, and I think Joseph and few Wise men.

Once the guests arrived, seats were taken and a five-piece band made their way to chairs sitting adjacent to the crowd. Trisha and I wondered which family member would act as the master-of-ceremony, but discovered no one seemed to be responsible for that job. So instead the band sat around, the crowed quietly conversed, water rolled off the altar, and Trisha and I viewed the crowd. Soon enough the band began to play and the first row of old women started belting out songs in Spanish. We had assumed the entire crowd would be singing, but found that the majority were still conversing quietly or focused on things other than the altar. This pattern of the band belting out music and the old ladies in the front row singing went on for about an hour. There was no priest or leader or even prayers to the Virgin Mary.

The uniqueness of the Rezo increased as the minutes passed. The mother and sisters of the family took to the rows and began passing out various items to the crowd. All in attendance first received a popular sweet, pink drink made from corn. Although not my favorite beverage, the majority downed theirs quickly and were given seconds. Five minutes later, the mother and sisters began round two and passed out medium-sized plastic cups full of sticky, brown, fruits that looked a lot like baked-beans. These “nacimentos” as they were called, begin green and are then pickled using vinegar and sugar. Just touching the cups made our fingers sticky. Unlike the pink drink, everyone seemed to be saving their nacimentos for later.

As the band played on and the front-row singers sang, another round of Rezo gifts were bestowed on the audience. This time large plastic bowls were passed out to everyone. Each bowl was filled with super-sweet treats bought in the local market, along with small little candy bars. We were also given matching spoons to go with our bowls. The children in the audience were given a supplemental plate of sweets, in addition to rubber balls.

The most perplexing items passed out during the night were the two raffle tickets each member of the audience received. The tickets were perplexing because no numbers were ever called during the night. I was holding my numbers all night in anticipation of winning something cool, but never did hear a number called. Who won? I saw one old man in the front row receive a large plastic Virgin Mary, but don’t know he won it.

The bowls and raffle tickets were the last of the gifts. The band finished playing promptly at 9:00 p.m. and made their way to the door in a hurry. About this time we began looking around, and surmised that this was the end of the Rezo. No announcements of an end, just people collecting their plastic cups, bowls, mini-cups, and spoons and heading for the door. There was a little socializing, but not much. We wondered if we had missed something.

Fortunately, the Rezo ended with a bang. Once out the front door, guests remained on the street while large wooded structures in the shape of bulls and covered with firecrackers were lighted. This pyrotechnic display was even more interesting as a man held the lighted bull over his head and ran up and down the street. The loud fireworks were somewhat deafening in the narrow streets, but entertaining non-the-less.

And that was the end of the Rezo. The planning, anticipation, and preparation came down to an hour in the backyard around a makeshift altar, a five-piece band, and an unusual variety of presents. Although different than the spiritual service Trisha and I had anticipated it to be, we deducted that a Rezo was an opportunity for a family to give presents to their neighbors. For us, it provided a cultural lesson and a chance to see some Nicaraguans celebrate a Christmas tradition.