2012 Review in Photos

I've been living in the Nicaragua for a year now which has made me nostalgic and feel the need to look back on the last year. 

January 2012: Enjoyed beautiful traditional dances at Diriamba's Fiestas San Patronales. 

February 2012: Visited Volcano Masaya. This is a photo looking down into the crater. The crater is so large that in order to get a photo of it all, you need to be in an airplane. Also this volcano is very active. Here it is steaming awful smelling sulfur and often shoots rocks and debris out. 

March 2012: Left training and nearly burned myself making No Bake cookies on the wood burning stove, in the corner there.This is a shot of the first house I lived in here. 

 April 2012: I moved to Somoto, Madriz and began my service. 

 May 2012: Friends and I swam through the beautiful Somoto Canyon! In this photo, a few Nicaraguan children were about to jump off the cliff. I did not to that. It's like 25 meters high!

 May 2012: I took care of this adorable kitten for my host brother that gave me fleas. 

 June 2012: I beheaded a cockroach after throwing my Chaco sandal at it. Other cool things happened but I'm really proud of this.  

 July 2012: A few of my favorite girls who I work with performed traditional dances at a festival in town. 

August 2012: My best friend Tonya and sister Crystal came to visit. And I took in that adorable puppy (in my arms here) who came on vacation with us too. Here we all are in beautiful Granada.

September 2012: My world is temporarily shattered when a thief steals my puppy. This photo was used on her Missing Dog flyers that advertised a monetary reward. The thief returned her for the reward so I had to pay him to get my own dog back. Jerk. 

Ocotober 2012: Awesome friends and I celebrated my birthday in beautiful Playa Gigante. Also, I held a random baby sea turtle that had hatched and was instinctively crawling his way to the water. Sara and I helped him out a little since he was lost on the rocks. 

November 2012: I met my first centipede here after he entered my room without an invite. Watch out, they sting, have venom, and are supposedly very aggressive. 

December 2012: I ended the year by returning home to gorgeous Washington state and reunited with my Lab loves. They didn't forget me at all! :)

Here's to a happy and healthy 2013 for us all... four legged friends included of course! 

Dogs and Cats; Forgotten Victims of Poverty

Anyone who knows me would agree that it is an understatement to call me an “animal person.” Animal fanatic or Dog lover are more accurate terms. Therefore, one of the biggest challenges of living and working in a developing country is seeing the vast amounts of helpless, starving, and suffering dogs and cats that roam the streets. Some are strays. Some have homes but live with families who can barely afford to feed themselves let alone buy anti-flea shampoo or kibble.  Seeing animals hurt, makes me hurt. I will restrain myself from providing further details of the horrible conditions that some animals suffer here. Most days I can barely stand to witness it, myself.  

Which is why I was delighted to find out about Casa Lupita, an animal clinic that provides free sterilizations and consultations.  Every Thursday, they offer free consultations and every Friday is sterilization day.  My puppy, Risa was spayed at Casa Lupita on November 9^th for free. Free is one of the sweetest words to lay upon a Peace Corps Volunteer ears, it probably beats love. So Risa and I made the long, 6 hour bus trip down to Granada to get her spayed. I can’t begin to explain my overprotective nature I have when it comes to my baby girl, Risa, therefore, I did my research and checked this place out. I read numerous reviews and annoyingly sent its founder and manager a myriad of questions. All were positive.

Happy and healthy a few days after her surgery!

Casa Lupita and its staff treated my puppy and I wonderfully. She received anesthesia via a machine during her operation which is not standard here. Yes, that is right. Anesthesia is expensive so some veterinarians do these invasive operations without it. Poor animals. The veterinarian who did Risa’s operation was very skilled. Her incision was very small and he used dis-solvable, internal stitches therefore a cone was not necessary.  She also received a dose of antibiotics to prevent infection as well as pain medicine. She was groggy for a few days, sniffed and licked the incision a few times but quickly forgot about it. She has had no complications and is back to her playful self.

Another awesome and heartwarming part of this experience was seeing Casa Lupita’s impact on the community.  There was a line of Nicaraguans and their pets waiting before they opened their doors. Every Friday, it is like this. When I told people in Somoto that I was getting my dog sterilized, almost all were against it. It is not the custom here despite the massive overpopulation of dogs and cats.

Casa Lupita runs solely on donations through its funding USA organization Building New Hope that was founded by a former Peace Corps Volunteer. Best of all, you can donate online! Please do so, to help those who can’t help themselves, street animals. 

General Gender Observations

First and foremost, I love being a woman. Despite sexism, machismo, and the ever-ruling patriarchy, I am happy to be a woman. This does not mean that I do not acknowledge the challenges that come with having two breasts and a vagina. I have studied gender in school and continue to follow women’s political issues around the world. I know all about the horror and heartache that some women experience and the assumptions that result from merely possessing female anatomy. These challenges vary in intensity from culture to culture.

For instance, I did not expect making friends near my age in my site to be so difficult. Plenty of men want to be my friend but usually, even if married or taken, their intentions are clear. Furthermore, I know my reputation might suffer from friendships with only males in my site despite everyone in my site thinking that I am married to another male Peace Corps volunteer here. Maybe its paranoia but I cannot risk it. I have almost 2 years left and a lot of hope left to do more, to integrate more, and to learn more. It is clear that the Madonna complex is strong here and to work successfully within this culture, I submit. I do something that I tried so hard my entire life to not, I care about what others think. A lot. It matters here, especially for a woman. If my reputation slips, so will my influence.

However, it is a different story for my two male site-mates. Women and men pursue their friendships. Even when the women make their sexual intentions clear or they are surrounded by women. No one second guesses their quality of character. Their influence does not weaken hell it might even strengthen in the eyes of other men. I joke that they are called “El Gringo Divino” meaning "The Divine White Man" in English. Their male anatomy provides them with entitlements. Que Suerte! (What luck!)  

To a feminist desperately wanting equality for all, gender imbalance is obvious here. One day each week, I teach a health class at an at-risk youth center. I love it there. The kids, the energy, and the program are all energizing. From my time there, I cannot help but notice the stark difference between the boys and girls when it comes to answering my questions, participating, even reading aloud. The boys nearly knock each other over trying to answer first and sometimes even argue over who gets to read which sentence out loud. On the other hand, the girls are another story. If boys are present and I ask a girl a direct question, usually she retreats, looks down then around at her class mates before looking back at me and refusing to speak. When only in a group of girls, they are slightly more outgoing, more secure but still reluctant and shy. Sadly, I doubt the girls grow out of it. Proof of this is my experience working with both adult males and females here.  Males usually ask and answer questions, some even challenge me. Women, usually need to be encouraged or their answers to be guided.

Cutest feminist I know, Risa!

Regardless, I still prefer womanhood even in the Peace Corps. I get to talk about intimate health issues with other women easily and I get to inspire young girls to say their opinions out loud. I am an example to the young girls in my classes who shy away from answering questions in front of boys that they too have a voice. I am beyond grateful to be a representation of that and even more so to encourage it in the girls and women here. It makes all the challenges here both gender related or not totally worth it.

Homesick-ness

All apologies for not blogging for a while. I have been debating what to write about next. I know I can write about work, how my puppy was dog-napped (she’s back and safe now), or even how much fun I had while my sister and friends from home visited. But lately, my head and heart has been occupied with missing home and my family there so I’m writing about that. Before reading the following post, please keep in mind, I am not depressed (so don’t freak out, Dad) and am not going to quit Peace Corps and move home (so don’t get excited, Dad).  Enjoy my diary entry on missing Washington. If you have never been, I strongly suggest you add a trip to Western Washington to your bucket list. In my eyes, there is not a more magical or comforting place on earth.

I left my beautiful homeland, Washington state January 10, 2012. I have been away from its emerald, dove gray, and marine blue enchantments for almost 10 months now. It hurts. Physically and emotionally. Despite having lived in Colorado for 5 years and Kenya for a semester, I have never been away from my home and family this long. It sucks. I miss the rain, the mist that never leaves the air even on days it does not rain, and the water soaked, mossy earth that feels as if you’re walking upon foam but most of all I miss my family, crazy jumping labs and all. There have been brief moments where Nicaragua has reminded me of home. These moments overtake my senses and flush my eyes with tears.

For example, last week I spent a few days in the cool mountains of Selva Negra, Matagalpa. Believing that nowhere in Nicaragua can get cold, I laughed off my family’s advice to bring a sweater for both Risa and I. Upon entering Selva Negra, I was immediately reminded of home. It is this beautiful hotel nestled in the mountains and overgrown forest with plentiful tall trees so dense that at times you can’t see the horizon and moss grows everywhere. Also, it was actually cold. I shivered for the first time in 10 months while there. Here, I experienced the most intense and heart wrenching bout of homesickness.  One early morning while taking Risa for her daily walk, we stepped off the concrete path onto earth only to step upon the same water soaked, mossy earth like in Western Washington. As my feet sunk into the earth, a bittersweet bolt of nostalgia shot through my body and upon reaching my face, it filled my eyes with tears momentarily. For that second, I swear I smelled Washington; fresh rain drops upon pine and fir trees. All Washingtonians know that wonderful scent after it rains. Equally pristine and wild. No tree shaped air freshener or Yankee Candle can mimic it exactly. I couldn’t handle it and immediately stepped back onto the concrete.  It was torture, to be teased with something that felt so much like home while knowing you are nowhere near it.

On December 18^th, I will return to the unbeatable beauty of the Pacific Northwest. That is 78 days from now. In 78 days, I will inhale the fresh Washington air. In 78 days, I will smile while my feet sink into the mossy earth. Best of all, in 78 days I will embrace my father, my sister, and my adorable labs in the shadow of majestic Mount Rainier. 78 days from now, I will finally be treated for my homesick-ness.

The story of Risa… my laughter, my love!

 One of the hardest parts about leaving for Peace Corps was leaving my two adorable and silly labs behind. Knowing I would miss them terribly and that my life would not be complete without a four-legged friend, I had always planned on getting a dog in service and I even created a Peace Corps puppy fund before leaving. Last week, I went to my sitemate’s house to hang out and was surprised to find a teeny and skittish puppy hiding behind a cabinet. Immediately, I freaked out and wanted to chinear (rock like a baby) this puppy. Upon seeing my reaction to her, his family offered her to me. One look at her face while she was in my arms and I knew I couldn't say “no.” Dreams really do come true; I now have the cutest puppy in all of Central America.

Originally, I had named her Lupita because I thought it was an adorable name and did not know that giving a dog a human name is like an insult in Nicaraguan culture. Therefore, I changed her name to Risa (ree-sa) which means laughter because that is exactly what she adds to my life. Thankfully, I live with a very loving family here that have welcomed Risa with open arms. My host mother calls her "mi nieta" (my granddaughter) and my host brother calls her "mi sobrina" (my niece). I understand the full responsibility of having a dog here and plan on bringing her everywhere I can with me including the USA when I end my service in 2014.

Enjoy the photos of her cute-ness! I wish you all the happiness that my little Risa has already brought to my life here. 

Todo sobre mi MRSA/ All about my MRSA

July 2012 was a month full of firsts, I never wanted. First overnight hospital stay, first IV, first surgery, and first stitches. If we are Facebook friends, then you probably have read my status updates regarding my week long stay in the hospital to be treated for MRSA. MRSA is a type of Staph bacteria that is resistant to common antibiotics. It spreads quickly and aggressively and can be deadly if your lungs or heart get infected as well. Thankfully, my infections were caught early and no serious damage was done. As a result, please don’t worry as I am totally fine and was never near death. Also, if you get squeamish when reading, seeing, or hearing about gooey, bloody medical details, I recommend not reading any further. 

About 3 weeks ago, I was working with local kids at an at-risk youth center where I was bit by a sizeable spider after sitting down on a bench outside. At first, I did not realize that the spider had bit me. I felt a pinch upon sitting down on a slotted wooden bench, then saw a sizable, hairy brown spider the size of a half dollar. Figuring that the two events were unrelated, I joyously participated in soccer and volleyball games with the kids without washing the wound or covering it. By the late afternoon, the back of my thigh, where the spider had bit me was sore and swollen. I realized that the spider had bit me and figured it had venom so I called one of handy Peace Corps doctors who recommended that I take anti-histamine and ice it to reduce the swelling. Figuring it was no big deal, I followed suit. However, a day and half later, it was larger, redder, and more painful and walking was reduced to limping. Red flags were raised in my mind, so I called the Peace Corps doctor again who said that it must be infected and prescribed antibiotics. “Hallelujah!” I thought, problem solved... But I was very wrong about this. After 24 hours of taking the antibiotic, everything was worse. The pain, the size, the color… all had gotten stronger. Even more concerning was noticing a small bump on the side of my calf on the same leg that did not itch, was hot to touch, and red. All of these things were the initial signs of the first infection. In order to monitor the growth of the possibly second infection, I drew a circle around it before bed. Sleep that night was hardly possibly since my entire leg was in pain.

Upon waking up, I found the second infection to be bigger and beyond the circle. I called the Peace Corps doctor again and they requested that I come to Managua to have it looked at and treated. That phone call was followed by the most uncomfortable bus ride ever to Managua. I get to Managua see our Peace Corps doctor who takes samples by causing me necessary, but excruciating pain. In order to get the sample, she had to push the large, swollen wound and force liquid out to be tested. Since the abscess had not yet formed and it hurt without any touch or physical contact, having it pressed against for a few minutes flooded my eyes with tears. Thankfully, the doctor finally got enough discharge out of it for a sample then I was off to the nicest hospital in Nicaragua for an afternoon of tests and trying to track down the Infectious Disease specialist. Nothing calms your nerves like hearing you need to see the Infectious Disease specialist!  He was not available so they doubled my antibiotics and threw some pain killers into the mix. The next day was hell. The infection was in all layers of my skin so as the abscess was forming, all layers of skin were splitting open in an attempt to push the infection out of my body. This was a slow and painful process. Even with pain killers, I would have sporadic shocks of pain that were so strong, I would scream out loud and some so strong, I felt faint after. I did not get much sleep that night and the next day, I finally had an appointment with the infectious disease specialist.

The specialist’s office was covered with awards and certificates which comforted me because receiving medical treatment in Spanish and in a developing country that has standards, rules, and medical training different than your own is worrisome. “Whoa!” Exclaimed the highly esteemed specialist as I showed him the big infection on the back of my thigh. Not comforting. He promptly admitted me and called in the surgeon to schedule surgery on the 2 infected areas that night. At this point, I had a fever and felt generally ill all over from the infection. Also my zombie walk was no longer possible, as I was reduced to hopping on my left leg. 


I was prepped for surgery with a rather humiliating but hilarious experience. Since I could not walk or move much from the pain and the abscess was profusely bleeding. The nurses forbade me from moving. Therefore, when they were about to transport me to the operating room and noticed that I had my underwear still on, they reacted quickly by removing it then slapping an adult diaper on me instead! One nurse lifted me while the other strapped it two me just like you would do to a baby. Two sticky straps on each side. Sadly, no cartoons. Realizing, I had lost all dignity, I could only laugh hysterically.  

Before entering the operating room, they gave me anesthesia in my IV and knocked me out. However, I woke up in the operating room while they were prepping my leg for surgery. Upon waking up, I found myself strapped to the bed on my side with my arms strapped down in front of me, tubes coming out of my nose, heart monitors attached to my chest, and the freakiest sight was watching my heart beat on the monitor. I groggily looked up at the nurse and asked “Should I sleep?” in Spanish. The anesthesiologist promptly gave me more meds in my IV that knocked me out instantly.

According to my surgeon, the operation only took about 20 minutes to open, drain, and remove the infected flesh. Thankfully, no muscle tissue was infected but all layers of skin were so they had to remove a sizable chunk. The incision and removal behind my thigh was about 3 inches long and 3/4inch wide at one point. I have several stitches in the back of my thigh and in the side of my right calf that only required a 1 small one inch incision. Thankfully, after my operation, I spoke with my father and sister by phone which was comforting. I must admit the drugs were strong and I do not recall much from that conversation.

Immediately, they began giving me fluids, pain killers, and a MRSA killing, super strong antibiotic. The antibiotics were strong and the major side effects were heartburn and nausea. Reading was difficult because of the intense nausea but thankfully, my hospital room had a television and wifi! About 2 days after my surgery, a third infection began to grow on my opposite leg. Seeing as the bacteria was still active, they increased my antibiotics, drained the third lesion, and extended my hospital stay by one more day. After 6 days in the hospital, I was freed and released to a nice hotel to finish recovering for a week. After a week there, I was able to return to lovely Somoto that I missed dearly. 


Currently, I have stitches and still am unable to walk much in order to prevent breaking the stitches however; I am returning to Managua this Friday so the doctor can check its healing progress and possibly remove the stitches if they are ready to be removed. There is no need to worry. Other than some mild pain in my leg, I feel great and am very happy to be back in my site. The doctors, nurses, and Peace Corps medical office were all really great and treated me well. In no time I will be back to functioning fully! 

Awkward…

Throughout my five months here in Nicaragua I have encountered, caused, and been victim to plenty of awkward moments. I am still learning the Spanish language and have yet to learn the direct translation of the commonly used in the USA, English word, Awkward. Google translate and my Spanish dictionaries give me some translations but none are used by Nicas and used to mean other things here. Therefore, I and other PCVs I know have concluded that there is no direct translation for that awkward feeling that creeps up when things just are not right and you’re at a loss for words, but know that your friends will laugh when you tell them about your awkward moment or feel awkward themselves at your expense. The Nicaraguan Spanish vocabulary is in need of the word for awkward and my top 2 awkward moments prove it. Enjoy and please laugh along with me.

1.       After vomiting all night, experiencing massive stomach cramps, and watery stools, I assume I have a parasite and need to go to the laboratory to get a stool test done. I go to the lab for the test and submit my sample in the only bathroom there. The bathroom shares an entrance with the waiting room that is filled with sick people like me waiting to submit, urine tests, stool tests, or blood tests. Therefore coming out the bathroom, with a cup in a plastic bag eliminates the blood test option. Grossed out yet? Yes? Good. So right after I hand my stool sample off to the nurse, I sit down. A Nicaraguan man about my age, maybe younger is sitting beside me and he starts to hit on me. Really? You know what I just did and I know you’re in to get tested for something gross too. And you’re trying to get a date!?! Really?! Awkward!  To make this awkward moment even more special is the fact that he was wearing a white t-shirt with his own photo (stoic facial expression and all) printed on it. He looked better in the photo.
 
2.       First month of training. Spanish class in my homestay families living room and we are learning medical terms and slang terms for body parts in Spanish because we are health workers of course. In training, classes were in 100% Spanish also. Our Profe, says the phrase “La barba de Fidel.” Knowing that “barba” means beard, and knowing who Fidel Castro is, I assumed that she was talking about Fidel Castro’s hideous beard. So I innocently ask, “I don’t understand how men eat with those in way!?! How?” Immediately, my follow trainees bust our laughing and my profe’s face turns bright red. I sat there dumbfounded until my friend Alex was able to stop laughing hard enough to say “That is slang for, a woman’s big bush!” Realizing the horrible mistake I’ve made in Spanish, I bust out laughing until I cry while the feeling of awkwardness and mortification take over.
 
Hope you got a laugh out of these!