This past weekend I had an excellent opportunity. Actually, my last three weekends have been pretty awesome. Two weeks ago, I went out with my SALT friends Emma and Paul to a tourist market near where Emma lives. Then, we met up at a great coffee shop with our other SALT friend Kayon. It was a great day full of English and laughing and almost napping in a mall. Then the following weekend Eva Chermack, the SALT coordinator, and her daughter came. We went to Granada, a very touristy town, and ate waffles. It was a good day too. We went up this church tower and saw the whole town. This past weekend though was also pretty awesome. I went to Chinandega, a northern province, to the town of El Viejo. It is about 80 km from the Honduran border. My friend invited me to go with him so I did. I had the chance to meet his whole family, including the cutest kid in the world, his niece, and his friends. One group of friends are lifeguards. The local Red Cross sponsors free training focussing especially on Holy Week, when everyone in Nicaragua goes to the beach. This particular week, the big head honcho guy came so he naturally had to teach so the actual instructors who can actually teach went swimming. So, I didn't actually participate in their training, but instead went on a bit of a swim in a salty canal for about 1 km. It was wonderful to be back swimming, also wonderful that I could take a break on a dock and chat with new friends. Apparently one of them now wants to date me, but I don't want to date him. It was very different than my lifeguard trianing. For example, I could already swim when I began training, and I also wore a bathing suit while training. In Nicaragua women don't really wear bathing suits (so when I go swimming with Nicaraguans I just wear shorts in addition to the bathing suit). In Nicaragua people also don't really swim. The teachers then decided that they would try and glean any lifeguarding information from me that they could, but I discovered that the ones who are in charge actually know what they are doing. Hopefully they teach this to their students. After this, I went to the beach. But as if I were Nicaraguan. As already mentioned, Nicaraguans don't really swim. So, I went to a ranchón (thatched roof thing with a restaurant) and looked at the water, drank some gaseosa (the most popular drink in Nicaragua is, I'm convinced, pop) and had a lovely afternoon. While I was there, I met someone I knew from Managua. It was really weird. But since we at MCC think there are only about 3 degrees of separation in Nicaragua, not that weird. So, different but good. That is an attitude I will try and preserve.

I have, up to this point, been rather silent on my host family. Let me tell you about them. My host mom's name is Miriam and she takes care of me by feeding me and answering lots of my questions and she takes me to church. She is very helpful, for example, in telling me where to get my glasses fixed, where to buy clothes, where to buy a Spanish Bible, etc. My host dad, Gregorio, watches a lot of TV and just retired. I barely understand him when he talks. My host sister Aracelly is shy but very nice. We sometimes go to the gym together. It is funny for me because of my lack of skill but I am not sure she feels the same way. Their grandson Enrique also lives with them. He is also shy, but nice. There is not very much family life in my house. However, I think my house is really a lot better than some. Apparently many Nicaraguan men drink a lot of alcohol but no one in my house does. Apparently most families watch soap operas while they eat supper. Mine is kind of scattered, and mostly watches the news. That is a much better option I think. I also have my own room (although the back wall is not really a wall so much as see through bricks covered by a blackboard), and it opens out onto the porch in the front. I like the porch a lot and often read there in the evenings. I also have a TV in my room, so sometimes (ok a lot of times) I watch it. I get way better cable here than I ever will at home, so I should take advantage (right?) That is all for now...next update will tell you about a trip I took across Managua

On Sunday mornings I go to church. This fact is, in and of itself, not that exciting. But don't worry. It gets better. I wake up, shower, do some laundry in old clothes, iron, put on said ironed clothes, and then I wait. My host sister spends about one hour trying to find appropriate clothing. Then, I go on a bus (crazy driver, breaking down optional) to church. Since the bus goes through the central market, it's pretty full. Then, after the market, the bus passes two orange houses, and then we get off, hopefully while the bus is not moving, and walk about 2 blocks. I go to my youth B Sunday school class (22 to 32 years old) where I learn about the book of Matthew. Actually, we just finished it this week, so maybe next week we start on Mark. There is a boo, but everyone seems to leave it at home. But no one forgets their Bibles (except me). Then, I engage in somewhat awkward small talk with fellow youth, lament the fact I only come on Sundays (in Nicaragua, many churches have services almost every day. Mine only has about 4 a week, and they are for different groups within the church, like youth, women, and a prayer meeting. In that way, it is an oddity). Then, we go into the still-decorated-for-Christmas sanctuary. It is then time for birthdays, visitors, and singing. Last Sunday we sang two songs I knew in English. It was great. Then there is some Bible reading (often from Lamentations, strangely enough), and the sermon, prayer and singing the doxology, then leaving, greeting and chatting. Last Sunday the minister preached about gifts, the New Year, and a variety of other topics. Since I often use the sermon for "personal meditation" when my host mom asked me what Bible verse the pastor had just asked us to find, in order to read responsively, I had to confess I had no idea. But she just laughed and asked someone else. This particular Sunday, doña Melba, my host mom's friend, drove us home. This was a nice gesture, by a nice lady (who told me after my time in Nicaragua I should be a missionary in Kazakhstan, or in a neighbouring country), and would have been nicer, had her car not overheated. She and my host mom were adding water to it, and then a man told them they had to add water, then wait for 20 minutes. So that is what we did. The crazy breaking down yet surprisingly on time bus would have been a better option.
Stay tuned for the next exciting edition of Rebecca's life in 2008... On Sunday mornings I go to church. This fact is, in and of itself, not that exciting. But don't worry. It gets better. I wake up, shower, do some laundry in old clothes, iron, put on said ironed clothes, and then I wait. My host sister spends about one hour trying to find appropriate clothing. Then, I go on a bus (crazy driver, breaking down optional) to church. Since the bus goes through the central market, it's pretty full. Then, after the market, the bus passes two orange houses, and then we get off, hopefully while the bus is not moving, and walk about 2 blocks. I go to my youth B Sunday school class (22 to 32 years old) where I learn about the book of Matthew. Actually, we just finished it this week, so maybe next week we start on Mark. There is a boo, but everyone seems to leave it at home. But no one forgets their Bibles (except me). Then, I engage in somewhat awkward small talk with fellow youth, lament the fact I only come on Sundays (in Nicaragua, many churches have services almost every day. Mine only has about 4 a week, and they are for different groups within the church, like youth, women, and a prayer meeting. In that way, it is an oddity). Then, we go into the still-decorated-for-Christmas sanctuary. It is then time for birthdays, visitors, and singing. Last Sunday we sang two songs I knew in English. It was great. Then there is some Bible reading (often from Lamentations, strangely enough), and the sermon, prayer and singing the doxology, then leaving, greeting and chatting. Last Sunday the minister preached about gifts, the New Year, and a variety of other topics. Since I often use the sermon for "personal meditation" when my host mom asked me what Bible verse the pastor had just asked us to find, in order to read responsively, I had to confess I had no idea. But she just laughed and asked someone else. This particular Sunday, doña Melba, my host mom's friend, drove us home. This was a nice gesture, by a nice lady (who told me after my time in Nicaragua I should be a missionary in Kazakhstan, or in a neighbouring country), and would have been nicer, had her car not overheated. She and my host mom were adding water to it, and then a man told them they had to add water, then wait for 20 minutes. So that is what we did. The crazy breaking down yet surprisingly on time bus would have been a better option.
Stay tuned for the next exciting edition of Rebecca's life in 2008...