"I'm A Stranger Here Myself"

I couldn’t help but think of Bill Bryson’s “I’m a Stranger Here Myself” so many times while I was home last month. Having not lived in the United States most of my life I tend to refer to his book often. I have done a lot of reading on 3^rd culture kids but it never ceases to amaze me that I never feel like less of an American than when I “go back” to “my” country. I flew in to the Denver airport on November 13^th for an unexpected visit home. As usual my system was stunned by all the American odors, noises, and temptations. I had already been back during my service once before in July and so everything was a little less shocking, I had mentally prepared myself for things like the smell of cinnabon in the airport, the multiple TV’s with all English news in the waiting areas, and the bathroom stalls being large and automated. But things still gave me a “homesick” kind of feeling and in a very different way than when I had come back from living in Europe. One major difference being that when I was a kid I knew exactly where I was from… I was from America but I lived in Germany or Holland, I had American parents we lived overseas because of my dad’s job (I had practiced that explanation so many times). This is a big difference I feel now when I am back in the states, people always want to know my reason for not living in “my” country, and suddenly I do not have a practiced response. I have no EXCUSE for not living in my country, this time my parents didn’t make me, I choose to not live here. Sometimes people still take me by surprise with their genuine dumbfounded surprise at my rootlessness; I chose to go to school in Canada instead of the United States, and right after I chose to serve in Peace Corps Nicaragua. WHY would you do something like that?

I would like to make the side note that although ALL these choices I have to make often STRESS me out (they seriously, STRESS ME OUT) all my travels have shown me that many people do not have the luxury of choosing where they live or how they are going to earn their living. The world is my oyster, and it is mostly a gift but it comes with it’s own challenges.

I feel so lonely and out of place when I get back to the states. It feels like everyone has their people, their groups their comfortably designed lives. I do not have a life here, and I never have. I feel most comfortable being “The American” (but you can’t be specialy labeled that when you are already IN America) As a foreigner, I am automatically interesting (especially in Nicaragua, EVERYONE wants to know who I am and what I am about) When I landed in Denver, though, suddenly NOBODY CARED why I was here, no one stared at me, called me gringa or chelita, no one chose to start conversations with me, cause I just look like everyone else (and probably  because no one cares, in an American airport, who you are and why you are there, they see travelers everyday. I never thought of the possibility that I may miss being stared and gawked at all the time. I guess I always took it as normal and I became so accustomed to that way of socially interacting for the first time that I never learned the regular way to start a conversation, the way that normal people do. In the past people would look at me-know I wasn’t from the same place they were, either because of my shoes or my American accent (even in Canada both those things were telling) and they would ask “where are you from?” and BAM I led the conversation, people were always interested for at least 2 minutes and then I could usually hold my own asking them questions when the geography of it all confused them. I am used to being the dancing monkey at social events, and pretty comfortable in that role.  In grade school it was “this is my granddaughter Alicia she lives in Europe and speaks German”. In college it was…this is Alicia she lives in Holland, “pot is legal there!” Now I live in a small Nicaraguan country town and I am SO CLEARLY a foreigner they shout “guuudbye” as I walk down the street (instead of the traditional greeting of “adios” perhaps to make me feel ‘more at home’ or just to let me know that they know, I am not from there. Whatever, the tactic people ALWAYS recognize me as different they come up to me and ask me why I am here and what I am doing. The thing is, that this is not something new for me, since I was 18 I have never been at a social gathering and not had people approach me. Until I come back to the states…perhaps I act proud, but really it is that I am very unpracticed at initiating conversations because I am always the one answering the questions…

What do you do in an airport when no one knows why; it is exciting that you can order a turkey cranberry sandwhich with a chocolate chip cookie, and why you can’t tell the difference between a quarter and a nickel??? Do you explain yourself to people? You can’t even call your best friend on the phone to sympathize because you don’t have a cell phone that works in this country…Tell me, what American does not have a cell phone and can’t tell the difference between a quarter and a nickel??

During my Peace Corps service, I have had some awkward non-american moments among all my American volunteer colleagues. When topics like “tail-gating”, “beer pong” or some specific hot sauce that EVERYONE knows about and miss and I awkwardly laugh along not quite understanding the context. Or when sports seasons roll around and I don’t know that the super-bowl is not the same thing as march madness, let alone the names or locations of the sports teams. The thing that frustrates me is that it is not for lack of interest that I don’t know these things, but because I HAVE NEVER LIVED HERE. There is certain knowledge that is very much assumed when people meet me, a white girl with an American accent serving in the Peace Corps. If I only knew what this information was I could research it, just like I would do when I travel, to be well informed about a country and it’s culture before I visit it, but NO ONE TELLS YOU these things, there is no magic list called “things you would know if you had grown up in the U.S.” (Although you can bet I have mentally compiled one) Never again will I call Staples, Paperclips or think when college age boys say they went “tail-gating” they were closely following behind someone’s car…but all these things are learned through embarassing mishaps where my big mouth does not help the situation but my ability to laugh at myself (learned from being a foreigner all my life) has served me well.

The assumed knowledge people think I have (which I do not) and other assumption people make when they look at me, which make me uncomfortable have also been an important reminder my whole life that you should not assume you know anything about a person just by looking at them. People are full of surprises. The world is becoming a smaller place. To serve in Peace Corps you have to have American Citizenship, I think we often assume we have all these cultural aspects in-common just because we all have American Citizenship and joined the Peace Corps, diversity in Peace Corps and the greater world, is not just skin color, religion, or sexuality, we all bring different knowledge (and lack-thereof) to the table. I may have not grown up in the United States but not every American nor Peace Corps volunteer did, and even if they did, people have different family traditions, languages they speak at home, practices they considered acceptable. So next time you are having a discussion with a Peace Corps volunteer don’t assume they know the magic list of things you think “any american would know” because we are all American and we are all different and that is what makes us so special.

Moving

Hi Friend's and Family I wrote this when I had just moved into my house. It has now been a month and I am loving it! We installed electricity and I am very comfortable. I also just received funding to start my improved stove project and have already built two in my town! It is looking like this will be a busy month! Much love!
 

Moving:

I have moved a lot in my life. I have moved houses in different countries, cities and rural areas, with my family and pets, with friends, with other people’s family’s and pets, and by myself. As a child my mom did most of the work, then as a college student I would usually come up with some “creative” way of moving like; leaving the majority of my stuff on a blanket outside of one of my sketchy run down living situations, where an even sketchier person would pick it all up and- hopefully re-purpose it. I moved every year in college between apartments in Toronto near the University, and once to New Zealand. I moved a lot. It was always different- I was never organized, but there was always a looming deadline, and a limit on what I could take with me; like airplane baggage limits or apartment space.

In all my experiences the hardest part about moving was logistics. So after a year in site when I decided to move down the street to a different house (the equivalent of half a block) you would think it would not be “algo del otro mundo” for yours truly with oh so much varied moving experience.

Not so, it was by the far the most stressful move I have ever made. But thank goodness for my adoptive Nica family.

In no other move have I have never had to be so diplomatic, or make so many amends to “landlords”, try to manage with so much gossip, hurt feelings, and politics. For perspective’s sake; the year before I left for University; my parents separated, we owned our house in The Netherlands (which we had to find renters for) we had to separate and pack-up all of Dad’s stuff so he could move to the Ukraine, and all of my stuff to go to University in Toronto. My mom flew to Colorado with our dog and cat, and my brother and I flew to Washington (not before we missed our plane and my dad had to turn around his packed up car to come “rescue us” from spending the night in the Amsterdam airport). I never thought I would have a harder move than that, but I did.

The actual logistics were super easy, I just had to load up my stuff and put it into sacos, and halar it down the street. I loved my little casita, it was perfect for me, but for months I had not felt “tranquila” there, and had been thinking about moving. After my electricity had been cut off multiple times by my neighbors, and someone had defecated on my front step when I had not paid my rent in time, I decided to move, I figured out all the logistics and told me neighbor (also my land lord) my intention of moving. He was angry. He wanted to know what my “motives” were for moving and for me to sign a paper saying that had taken good care of me, and fulfilled their obligations. He told me that this was going to give them all “verguenza”. I explained he had done everything right and I was very grateful, but that I was moving just because I wanted a bigger place. The next evening, after I told them I would be moving, his daughter came over crying saying “Que larrrrrgooo esta ahora, para mi es un gran tristeza que se va ( mind you; I moved like 5 houses down) In the morning his wife came out and asked if I will still “sell” them my “refri” when I leave, and what would I do with my bed?? And my stove???…Suddenly, my neighbors didn’t seem to care whether I was present, but more if “mis cosas” would still be readily available to them when I left the country.

The flip side to all this difficulty is the family whose house I live in now, lovingly helped me halar my things to the house “a caballo y a tuto” they helped me clean the house to get it ready, put nails in the walls so I could hang everything I own, to avoid those “ratones bandidos”. They moved my incredibly heavy lavendero twice, to make sure it was where I wanted it, and offered to spend the night on the floor so I wouldn’t be scared. Sometimes our real host family is not the one we are assigned, but I feel so lucky I found one that loves and cares for me so much.

The next morning I went over to my old house to ask how they had ‘woken up’, talk about baking together and the stove we are going to build in September, and everything went so smoothly I could not believe it. After I swung by my adoptive family’s house and they said they had 3 surprises for me! 1. They had repaired my rubber boots for me! 2. They had framed the picture I had given them of us, and 3. They had bought the electricity cable to install in my new house, so I won’t have to feel “tan triste y sola”. (the only disadvantage to my new house, is there was no electricity).

I have lived in my new house all of 4 days. I have visited my old neighbors every day, I have had lots of visitors too, who never would visit me at the old casita because they didn’t like my neighbors, my new landlord is the best Nica dad a girl could ask for, and today he came over after working in the field all day to build me a “caja” for my vegetable garden and avoid chickens as much as one can in the Nicaraguan campo.

So as usual my worrying did not pay off. I made the mistake of assuming this move would be like any other. Really! When is any process as simple in Nicaragua as it is in the United States? Why would I think that moving houses could be done in one day, if it took me 3 days just to buy my gas stove. But the preparation paid off, I’m glad I did not spread chisme about my neighbors, and instead found an alternative and told them. It took me over 3 months to arrange my move, from one completely functioning house to another. And it never would have been possible if it weren’t for my adoptive Nica family!

Dear friends and Family.

 As I am home visiting my mom I wanted to give you an update on Georgina's studies. She is doing very well in school and studying very hard. She goes to class on Saturdays but almost everyday I come over she is busy studying! I know it seems strange to only have class once a week but she is in school from 7:30am to 3:30pm all day with a 30min lunch break. The school system works very differently in Nicaragua, but it works better for her because she continues to work at home during the week supporting her family and doing house work. Her first semester's grades were published right before I left. Below is a link of the official grades. Here i have translated the results.

English: 85%
Elective: Pass
Communication: 80%
Mathematics: 67%


https://docs.google.com/viewer?a=v&pid=gmail&attid=0.1&thid=13886744c8cad8e4&mt=application/pdf&url=https://mail.google.com/mail/?ui%3D2%26ik%3Dd66b0f740f%26view%3Datt%26th%3D13886744c8cad8e4%26attid%3D0.1%26disp%3Dsafe%26realattid%3Df_h4my5v1f0%26zw&sig=AHIEtbQZwzKEhuv90Mfz_TMX6NYmT1GjTg&pli=1

She sent you all a big flowery thank you, "to all the people she does not personally know, but who are so kind and loving to send her money to study and improve her life" she is sooooo grateful to all of you, as am I. Thank you for all your continued support and please let me know if you have any questions.

Love,

Alicia

May Pole- Just a panga ride away

 

May pole is a big celebration on the Atlantic coast of Nicaragua. May is also when the rainy season starts here. I experienced both and it was wonderful!

According to my trusty volunteer sources, May Pole came to the Atlantic coast of Nicaragua with the English and they turned it into their own…I have to say I like their version a lot more!

First you should all know that the Atlantic Coast is the Caribbean side of Nicaragua, and even though the country itself is about the size of New York state, it is very different depending on where you are. On the Atlantic Coast of Nicaragua, they speak Spanish, and Creole (which is a crazy mixture of English Creole and Spanish words mixed in) I cant understand it, AT ALL!, but it is probably the sexiest language I have ever heard!

There are fewer volunteers on the Atlantic coast because it has even less infrastructure and some parts are very dangerous. In general the Atlantic Coast is much less developed, the main city Bluefields being the exception. There is also a lot of racism within Nicaragua, and the rest of the country does not have a good grasp of what the Caribbean side has to offer. The volunteers who do live there have worked very hard to try and spread cultural awareness between different parts of Nicaragua through national pen pal programs and educational videos. They organized a fund raiser trip for May Pole which I ended up going to and it was quiet an adventure!

Even though the country is not that big, transportation here takes a lot longer, especially to Bluefields which only has one access road. There are only two ways to get to Bluefields; pay $100.00 for an airplane or pay $25.00 and take a 9 hour bus ride overnight, wait in a terminal for 2 hours, and then you are just a 2 hour panga ride away from your destination. Guess which one I did? That’s right! I am still takin’ the long way round!

Above are panga's and their passengers lined up waiting to leave at 5am

The bus was not so bad because a lot of volunteers went (about 20 of us) so I felt safe traveling in numbers and I actually fell asleep. The way back was way worse! Apparently there is an even longer way to get back if you take a chicken bus (transformed from an old American school bus) the whole way…and during the day…which means so much sun and people selling stuff, and sweaty men sitting next to you lifting their shirts up to expose their giant round bellies, and cool themselves off while dripping all over you. Incase you have forgotten American school buses are not made for fat adult men, and even for kids they have a limit of persons..well not here! As many as can squish in-go.

Anyway, it was still a wonderful trip. Aftering waiting in a boat terminal for the first “panga” or river boat to arrive, and fighting with a large woman from the coast at 3am for trying to charge me double for the bathroom, we slipped and slidded down the wet docks and got on our two hour river boat ride…it is an understatement to say I was grumpy, from two hours of sleep and an argument I never had a fighting chance at winning. But I got some coconut bread and gallo pinto in my system, took a cold shower and rested for a bit in the stifling heat that is Bluefields. The nights were much more pleasant and we were supposed to go out for drinks and dancing but the electricity went out so we all ended up just sitting around in the dark, but I think we all are used to that, and it is a lot nicer to sit in the dark with company then alone!

 My friend Molly and I, waiting for the Panga boat at 5am

I was only there for 4 days so I really had to make the most out of it! The following day I took another panga to “El Bluff” which was just a beautiful island off of Bluefields, completely undeveloped. When we got off the boat we could not figure out where to go, and so one of the passengers offered to show us (this is what I love about being a Peace Corps volunteer, even when you are not in your community you are recognized as part of a network, most Nicaraguans know someone from Peace Corps, and you are automatically accepted as a non-tourist). There was not a soul on the beach and we just walked up and down, after which the black flies chased us into the ocean so we swam for awhile and then got back on another panga to go back.

 The beach at el bluff.

When we got back in the afternoon the May Pole parade had started each “barrio” or neighborhood had a different costume and a different look. They were all dancing in the streets playing the drums, and it was by far the best parade I have ever seen here (probably because there were no scarry looking ‘saints’ dolls being carries around) We sat on the corner, watching the parade, eating a local dish called “Run Down” which is anything cooked in coconut milk, but traditionally cooked with turtle meat, so ofcourse I had to try it!…it was a bit chewy, but good and creamy. However, later I found out that turtle meat is not exactly a sustainable fishing practice with turtle meat, and that it is a bad practice, so if you go! Best have your “Run Down” with fish or shrimp instead…but I am still glad I tried it. J As the parade neared an end we just joined the party and started dancing with them. Men had spray paint cans and lighters….it was like a super dangerous firework show…people were dancing super intensely…grinding on each other, breaking it down, it was mesmerizing. That night we had a big party and stayed out until the wee hours of the morning. It poured down rain, but that did not stop us, we just kept dancing, soaking wet and barefoot.

 Above: My friend Molly eating Turtle Run Down. Example of some of the costumes in the parade.

Dancing in the rain after the parade. My friends Molly, Michaela, Elise, and I.

The next day I woke up feeling completely fine, which greatly surprised me, since I had been drinking the local rum all night… but perhaps dancing in the rain washed everything away??? Anyway we got up early to go to the next adventure in Pearl Lagoon…just another panga ride away! It was about a 2 hour ride in boat that kind of  looks like a long tail, we rode through the mangroves and it was quiet lovely until it started to pour down rain, then out comes this big plastic tarp and the people start putting it over our heads…and so we sat all 15 passengers squished in this river boat, bent under a plastic tarp, listening to the clashing of the wind and the tarp and feeling the big rain drops pound down on our heads….It was such a nice way to make the transition from the big drum party the night before to our next island adventure.

Above: Me soaking wet, after one to many morning panga rides... Bellow: Friends in a kayak in Pearl Lagoon.

Now mind you, a stormy rainy day is not the best weather to go explore lots of tiny little islands in a Panga, but we went any way. Once we got to Pearl Lagoon, we met with the volunteer who lives there, filled up on some trusty gallo pinto cooked in coconut oil with eggs and a hot roll, and we went to go find out about hiring a boat out to the islands. We headed into the restaurant area where the boats leave from (it was about 9am) and there are just a bunch of guys drinking beer. They start asking lots of questions about Obama, and why some states have legalized gay marriage, and what religion we are..these men were wasting no time… but neither were we. Neing the weathered volunteers we are and functioning on two hours of sleep, we through out all the perefect phrases to avoid any confrontational conversation! Biding our time, trying to steer the conversation in a safe direction, we wait to take off on our island adventure.

We are no longer in the safety of mangrove forests but in the open seas on a rainy day.…Big waves start appearing and it was two hours of me wishing I was in better shape so all my fatty parts would stop bouncing around uncontrollably and using all of my bus riding and snowboarding skills together to try and ride the waves through the hard surface of the Panga…people were getting thrown off their seats and most of them ended up just sitting on the flooded boat floor…I held on so tight my arm was soar the next day. But paradise was just a panga ride away!

 Kate and I pulling away from our little island paradise back on the Panga.

The island of the pearl keys are a hidden gem, which I am sure will soon be discovered, but right now the difficult transport makes them slightly inaccessible, and they are still pristine beaches,, with nothing but palm trees. For lunch we ate fresh fish and shrimp cooked in coconut oil under yet another black plastic tarp, eating out of big plastic bowls and huddled around the fire, soaking wet in our bathing suits, trying to explain to the panga driver Jimmy, , that contrary to popular Nicaraguan belief it would not harm us to be wet and be nearby the fire. That night we saw the local night life, of mostly crusty old men (the same ones who had been there in the morning) nursing beers and trying to talk politics. We fell asleep to the familiar buzzing sound of mosquitoes and woke up to the familiar itching body after yet another two hours of sleep. However, this time there was no panga ride in store…it turns out the panga is the best way to go because we left on what would turn out to be a 12+ hr journey back to Managua, full of people shouting their good for sales through every possible air vent and waiting for inexplicable amounts of time to pull out of bus stations, all the while being dripped on by your sweaty neighbors belly.

Would I do it again???? I am not sure… but I am happy I went, and it was the first real adventure I have had outside of my site, and you all know: I am all about those character building adventures!

Adjustment measured in latrine comforts and biting bitters

Hello all!

Long time, no post!

I think it is a good sign that I have not written a blog post in longer than forever! Yes, friends and family take it as a good sign that you have hardly heard from me at all! It means that not only have I been a busy volunteer bee, but that less things surprise and shock me…I am finally adapting to it all, and no longer feel the need to share these oddities with all of you. But I know you miss them so, my new found comfort level with latrines and bugs will serve as perfect token examples to make up for my absence.

A consequence of my new found adaptation is that I no longer dread using my latrine, I actually rather like my latrine, and sometimes wonder why we need flushing toilets inside the house. I never thought the day would come! Truth is, it is rather relaxing to a stroll outdoors on the way to do "your business". I walk up the three rather quaint cement steps covered in moss, careful not to slip, and I crack the latrine door made of zinc, without fear of what I my find or smell there, I know longer examine the makeshift walls of wood and plastic for biting insects or holes, I calmly lift the wood tablet cover off and fan the seat for awhile allowing any flies to escape so they will not fly up my bum (which they do tend to enjoy doing ( I even have a friend who said one time she un-zipped her pants and several flies flew out…)

Anyway I do not worry about this, because I have a system. I calmly sit down, not closing the door completely so that I have a nice view and a nice breeze, I place myself on the low cement seat, and do my thing. 

My latrine ettiquete has come a long way. I have learned that NO ONE bothers to use the latrine for peeing. With good reason, it is a pointless process. You stroll there, with toilet paper in hand and fly swatter in the other and listen as my pee went down the pee tube, making a satisfied slurping sound, it took me months to realize that, because, my latrine is a dry composting latrine, the liquid pee is separated and just comes right out of a tube on the ground next to the latrine, you literally can see the little puddle at the end of the tube as you walk back to my casita. This phenomenon would explain why sometimes my back patio smells of urine. I have now learned to not bother- my chamber pot gets a lot of use and in the morning I unbolt my door take a breath of fresh air, and chuck my pee into the neighboring plot! 'When in Rome'...

My point of telling you all this is not only, imagining you all being amused, shocked, a bit disgusted, and making my mother want to visit me even less, but to say that this is all my new normal, and it doesn’t bother me at all, not even when I am sick, in fact I am so well adjusted to my house and my latrine, I do not want to stay in hotels when I am sick but rather be at home, and I do not like using any other latrine, but will sprint back to my house if at all possible in order to use my own “creature comforts”.

As for the bugs.. Those of you who know me, know I am not the biggest fan of bugs…especially biting biters; such as; mosquitoes, ticks, fleas, anything that makes you itch really. Well I have had it all here, and I know from volunteer stories that I have not had the worst of it. I have not gotten Dengue (knock on wood) nor have I had lice, which I thought I had this week and made my neighbor girl do a careful hair examination…she did not find anything but dirt, so apparently I was being paranoid, but for good reason. I have had fleas, lots of mosquito bites, scabies, rashes, and all sorts of itchy things. I have found so many weird bugs, and killed so many cockroaches and spiders, and searched out more than my fair share of mice.  (I know you all can’t wait to book your tickets right now!)

Point being I used to freak out way more when I found a spider or cock roach, and now I am adjusted, I just slip off my sandle and kill is quickly and efficiently, with only a slight cringe… There are also these little white bugs that only come out at night, and swarm for like an hour around the light and then they die and the pigs come around and eat them up. They do not bite or anything but they used to drive me insane! Now I just site there, and let them live their short lives and enjoy watching the pigs incorporate them into their diet, recycling at it's best!

 My life here is not really about bugs or latrine, even though they are daily occurrences, and a rather popular topic among volunteer circles. Just like most of you I spend a good deal of my worry and anxiety on my work. Am I doing a good job? Is it sustainable? Will I be an effective volunteer? At this time last year I was freaking out about packing and listening to Spanish tapes in my car, and reading people’s blogs trying to guess what life would be like. On May 11^th I will have one year in country here… and be welcoming the new trainees arriving into the Managua airport. I have been chosen to be a “Greeter” which means my views and opinions will be some of the first real life experiences they will hear. I am really happy to be doing this, I remember our “volunteer Greeters” as incredibly impressive and interesting people. I hope I can fill their shoes. I asked my boss why he chose me and he said because the new volunteers are scared they know it is going to be hard, but they need examples of how it will be worth it!  So, most likely, my opening story will not be about bugs nor latrines, but I know they will ask- because that is always a big concern about both. And despite all those discomforts it is worth it! The adjustment period can be difficult but you really can get used to anything! 

Like I said, it is a good thing I have not written I have been busy and happy. This entry is by no means a good representative of what I do daily, but it does show you that even the 'famed' discomforts are becoming easier. As for work, 6 out of 7 days a week I love what I do, I feel like I am finally doing what I want to be doing, helping people improve their lives and making a difference, even if it is a drop in the bucket. There is always an off day where I feel underappreciated and underpaid! But doesn’t everyone?

 

Next entry will highlight some of my progress as far as projects go...but I am waiting on some funding right now and don't want to jinx myself!

I would like to add as a side note! I am living in the countryside of Nicaragua- not all of the country is like what I am describing- as I edit this blog post i am sitting in an air conditioned hotel room in the city, after a nice hot shower! I don't want to deceive you, there is plenty of luxury, it is just expensive, so you should visit, and perhaps you can pay for it as well! :)
Here are some of my bigger bug friends!

Love to all!

Georgina Update

Hi All!

Just a quick note that Georgina is doing very well in school and she has a big exam this saturday. I will be updating her grades as soon as possible.

In other news I was invited to welcome the new in-coming Agricutulre volunteers, which is a pretty big honor because only 2 people out of our group get chosen! Imagine that in a month I will be celebrating my one year in country! Thanks for all the support!

More soon!

Love You

Georgina update: Georgina Passed her exam!

On February 7th I found out that Georgina passed her exam! We were all so happy, jumping around hugging each other!

Georgina and I would like to say a big thank you to all of you who have donated. 

She had her first class this Saturday and was showing me all the things they had done in class. Even though she is technically studying nursing she also takes classes in all the basics, including English, so I am hoping she will continue to improve, the studies her and I started, when she was originally applying for a scholarship in the United States. English is a very utile tool here, regardless of what area  you work in!

Some of you have emailed me questions...I hope this answers the majority!

1. Are we still accepting donations?

YES, of course we are still accepting donations, especially now that we know she passed her exams!

2. How will the process go?

This is a bit more complicated. It is all a work in progress, here is what I have so far.
-Require recipets for everything
-Require all her report cards
-have a monthly 'meeting' where we discuss how it is going and what there is to report.
The way we have agreed to do it up until now is that her dad loans her the money, she pays for things and then brings me copies of all the receipts, I in-turn pay her back. We had made a budget before she started, for a monthly total of twenty dollars. I am not sure whether I will give her that money monthly, or whether I will wait for receipts every month, assuming that costs will fluctuate depending on the materials she needs and the courses she takes. I would like to have a set system in place that is independent of me, so that when I leave it will require minimal interaction.Do any of you donors have a preference or idea?

I am thinking about designing a separate blog so that those of you who are interested can check that out, but those who are not, do not need to read about it all the time! However, right now the idea of designing a blog or website is super overwhelming and honestly I have been avoiding it!

Below are some questions I had Georgina answer (in Spanish) about her studies...it was my version of an application process :) 

Georgina’s Scholarship information

Education

Graduated High school November 25^th 2005
6 months of Business classes in a University in Managua 2006
Computer Class certificate 2007


Experiences

Worked in Managua as a house keeper

Supports her parents household by cleaning, cooking, washing, ironing, ect.

Makes and sells hand made crocheted items

Is my counterpart in the kid’s saving bank I started in January

1. What would you be able to achieve with a degree in Nursing?

First of all I would have a degree, I would also be able to help people, a way to give back what has been given to me by others. I would also acquire knowledge while working in my profession, gaining experience as I go.

2. What would you be able to earn your first year of work?

While I am doing my practical I would earn half of a normal salary about 2 thousand cordobas ($ 90.00 a month). Later my full earning potential as newly certified nurse would be between 5-6 thousand cordobas ($230.00-$270.00) a month

3. Would you be able to continue studying after this degree?

I could choose to specialize in something in medicine if I wanted to continue studying, but I am not sure yet.

4. What grades would you need to study in the best university in Nicaragua for nursing, UNAN, Leon.

I would need an average of 91%

5. Why do you hope to study nursing?

In my life I have had experiences that I think support this study, I have taken care of family members after they have had operations or during times of serious illness or complicated pregnancies. I have always felt capable to help the greater population when it is necessary.

6. What are your long term goals?

Get my degree and work in the field of nursing, thereby establishing my own economic security and independence.

Happy Valentines Day everyone! Lots of love and more updates soon on both Georgina and I!