Best of times, worst of times

We just finished an exhausting week in Las Nubes that felt like two. In one week, I walked 45 minutes uphill to class everyday, I got really sick from some of the food my family fed me, I slept on the cold floor in a house without electricity or running water, and for the majority of the week I felt isolated and ignored by the family with whom I was supposed to integrate. During the other week, I lived in some of the most beautiful country I've seen, I helped teach two mostly successful classes in Spanish at the elementary school, I hiked to and swam in an amazing and amazingly cold waterfall, and my family and I started to get along well, especially my little brothers.

I had thought about doing this entry in 'Tale of Two Cities,' simultaneous differences fashion in order to emphasize the dichotomous feel of my week, but thought better of it. In short, it was incredibly challenging at times, but now, sitting in touristy Volcan, I kinda miss Las Nubes.

Las Nubes means 'the clouds,' and is appropriately named. Every afternoon, the clouds roll in like fog to the Bay. In the picture above, my house is about to be engulfed.

The first night, I got to the house when it was already dark. On top is my room, or more properly, sleeping space. On the bottom is what it looked like without the camera flash. That night I felt like John Muir; it was great. I slept about nine hours a night that week. It is pitch-black by 7:30, the only light coming from the small, car battery-powered television around which everyone hovers in the next room to watch Tierra de Pasiones (Land of Passions), their favorite telenovela. Whatever your stereotype about overwrought, ridiculous, steamy latin soap operas, multiply that by Desperate Housewives and you might be somewhere in the neighborhood of the glory that is Tierra de Pasiones.

So I slept well, which was good because I needed the energy. My family lives down the hill from the part of town where we had class, but up another hill from there, so it was literally uphill both ways. That, along with the elevation (about 6500) and the Ghandiesque diet, and I think I'll be drilling a new hole in this belt really soon. And it was cold. Too cold for a river bath, which was the only means I had all week.

I feel like I'm complaining, and maybe I am. But it was a good week overall. I was ready to wave the white flag on Wednesday. A war was raging inside my stomach and my family was bringing me my food to eat alone like a prisoner. But I got better, and things got better. I think I learned this week that I need to learn patience. By Friday, by brothers we following me around like my brothers in Santa Clara, and the host parents actually laughed at a few of the jokes I made about Tierra de Pasiones. Also, we went to the waterfall. That's me waistdeep; I'm proud to say I was the first gringo to go in. Not the first overall though, my little brother Jose Luis was doing laps in the 40 degree water before we'd even put a toe in.

This morning I managed to finally get a picture of all the kids together. Usually one or more is working out in the field. This is the best one I think. Looking very responsible and like the older brother is Jose Luis in the green shirt. Josue is next oldest and the reason that he looks like mischievous Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes in the picture is because he was able to force shy Edwin (far right and two years younger) to be in the picture. Luisita is the youngest and the only girl, and she's all smiles one-on-one but maintains a cautious eye when the brothers are around.

We have Saturday off, but tomorrow we're due in Rio Sereno, which is right on the Costa Rican border, where we'll have Technical Week. I really hope that's not as bad as it sounds.

A few other odds and ends:

The Spanish word for fertilizer, abono, is the same word used for down payment, which I guess makes sense in a weird way. 300 dollars to fertilize your future ownership of a Ford Fiesta.

Not to be too political, but since my uncle Steve brought it up, I do in fact, work for the government. And, as he was quick to point out, that means that I, in a roundabout way, work for George Bush. This is tragically undeniable, but Steve wasn't done, going on to say that the better I do, the better he looks. A man has to draw the line somewhere, and I'm drawing it here. In the State of the Union speech made famous by the term 'Axis of Evil,' he stated his plan to double the Peace Corps budget while instead choosing to cut it the next year. So hopefully, the better I do, the dumber he looks for having chosen to do so. Not that he needs any help.