Writing about travel is simply more fun than writing about everyday life. Things are new and exciting, and the unexpected becomes much more a part of the everyday experience. It´s my first full day here in Nicaragua. I arrived in Managua yesterday morning after a long but not so bad trip from San Francisco, via San Salvador. This time around, I was unable to get a deal on a first class ticket, so I rode in the coach section, which was less comfortable but more interesting. I spent much of the trip chatting with the woman sitting next to me, who was traveling with her two kids to visit family in Masaya, Nicaragua where she was from. I didn´t get much sleep, which was too bad since it was a night flight. Also on my flight was the daughter of one of my coworkers from Hayward, who was traveling with relatives to visit family in Guatemala.
When I arrived in Managua, I headed to the bus station, where I ate a quick meal (fried chicken, salad, rice, beans, tostones and a drink) then caught a bus to Esteli. I wasn´t in a big hurry, so I decided to take the ordinario which is the slow bus. As usual, it was a school bus, and since it was an ordinario it stopped just about everywhere, making the trip anything but short and direct. I´d never taken such a long slow bus during my previous time in Nicaragua, and it was an experience. At every stop, all kinds of people entered the bus, selling various items ranging from mangoes to chips, chicken tacos and pasties to water and cure all balms. There were an alarming number of children, which was sad because this time of year kids should be in school. But this is Nicaragua, one of the western hemisphere´s poorest countries, and the informal economy is where people go to seek their livelihood if they have no land or other work. To me, it´s a sign of the poor ability of our neoliberal economic system to distribute resources and allow people to pursue work with dignity. Perhaps I am more aware of it now than before, after reading Mike Davis´Planet of the Slums, which is about the growth of megacities and the rise of a class of people excluded from the formal economy in the Global South (though some of these trends could be said to be taking place in the US on a smaller scale), and David Harvey´s A Brief History of Neoliberalism. The latter work documents the rise of neoliberal economic theory, it´s replacement of the post-War embedded liberalism in the late 1970s and the negative consequences its´implementation has meant for especially for the global south but also for working people in the US. But I won´t get into all this too much right now, except that when I see people or a country in a precarious economic situation, I don´t blame them but a global economic order that creates a few winners at the expense of most people.
The countryside between Managua and Esteli was spectacular and green. The bus passed pastures, forests, small towns and rice fields before winding up into the mountains. As we neared Esteli, the clouds drew heavy over the sky and rain--which had been threatening all day--began in earnest. For the last part of my trip, I shared my bench seat with a young student traveling to Esteli, we chatted about all kinds of things especially movies and pop culture but also the fact that like many Nicas, she has a few family members working mojado (undocumented) in the states. I managed to catch a break from the downpour in Esteli when we arrived to catch a cab, I headed to Ermenlinda and Luis´ house where I had stayed during my previous visits to Esteli. No one was home, so I went to inquire at the store next door whether or not they still rented the house, they replied yes and just as I was about to go find a quesillo around the corner, a deluge of rain began. I spent an afternoon in the house and store of an extended family, drinking soda (I know I´m not supposed to do this, I´m a nutrition teacher) eating various baked goods and chatting with the people who were living and visiting the house. Like many Nicas, this particular family was kind and hospitable. Many members of the extended family shared the house, which was owned by the mother, who is working in Los Angeles. The roof was in need of some repair, as the storm intensified so did the leaks in the corrugated tin that also served to aplify the sound of the rainfall. It wasn´t always easy to understand what people were saying, but as the afternoon passed, I found myself getting back into the habit of speaking only in Spanish, and better being able to grasp the particularities of the regional accent here in Esteli. The rainstorm was as intense of a downpour as I´ve ever seen, turning the street into a river, which only a few vehicles braved (I felt bad for the occasional bike that made its way through the muddy water that flowed like a small river down the street). The torrent of water continued all afternoon, along with thunder and lighterning, tapering off only at night. Eventually Camilo, Luis and Ermelinda´s son, returned to the house, and I took my stuff over there for the night. I grabbed a quesillo and fell asleep early.
After nearly twelve hours of rest, I felt refreshed (a couple cups of coffee helped with that) and ready to take on the tasks of the day-buying rubber boots and catching the afternoon bus to Lagartillo. That is, unless Rawley appears and we decide to do something in this area this weekend. But most likely I´ll be making the two hour journey through the mountains this afternoon. If that´s the case, I probably won´t be posting again before next weekend. The plan is to spend the week in Lagartillo, doing some Spanish classes and assisting with the school garden project, whatever that entails. It will be great to see everyone there, and see how life is different during this rainy time. It will also probably mean spending a few hours in the afternoon waiting out the intense downpours under some kind of shelter.
When I arrived in Managua, I headed to the bus station, where I ate a quick meal (fried chicken, salad, rice, beans, tostones and a drink) then caught a bus to Esteli. I wasn´t in a big hurry, so I decided to take the ordinario which is the slow bus. As usual, it was a school bus, and since it was an ordinario it stopped just about everywhere, making the trip anything but short and direct. I´d never taken such a long slow bus during my previous time in Nicaragua, and it was an experience. At every stop, all kinds of people entered the bus, selling various items ranging from mangoes to chips, chicken tacos and pasties to water and cure all balms. There were an alarming number of children, which was sad because this time of year kids should be in school. But this is Nicaragua, one of the western hemisphere´s poorest countries, and the informal economy is where people go to seek their livelihood if they have no land or other work. To me, it´s a sign of the poor ability of our neoliberal economic system to distribute resources and allow people to pursue work with dignity. Perhaps I am more aware of it now than before, after reading Mike Davis´Planet of the Slums, which is about the growth of megacities and the rise of a class of people excluded from the formal economy in the Global South (though some of these trends could be said to be taking place in the US on a smaller scale), and David Harvey´s A Brief History of Neoliberalism. The latter work documents the rise of neoliberal economic theory, it´s replacement of the post-War embedded liberalism in the late 1970s and the negative consequences its´implementation has meant for especially for the global south but also for working people in the US. But I won´t get into all this too much right now, except that when I see people or a country in a precarious economic situation, I don´t blame them but a global economic order that creates a few winners at the expense of most people.
The countryside between Managua and Esteli was spectacular and green. The bus passed pastures, forests, small towns and rice fields before winding up into the mountains. As we neared Esteli, the clouds drew heavy over the sky and rain--which had been threatening all day--began in earnest. For the last part of my trip, I shared my bench seat with a young student traveling to Esteli, we chatted about all kinds of things especially movies and pop culture but also the fact that like many Nicas, she has a few family members working mojado (undocumented) in the states. I managed to catch a break from the downpour in Esteli when we arrived to catch a cab, I headed to Ermenlinda and Luis´ house where I had stayed during my previous visits to Esteli. No one was home, so I went to inquire at the store next door whether or not they still rented the house, they replied yes and just as I was about to go find a quesillo around the corner, a deluge of rain began. I spent an afternoon in the house and store of an extended family, drinking soda (I know I´m not supposed to do this, I´m a nutrition teacher) eating various baked goods and chatting with the people who were living and visiting the house. Like many Nicas, this particular family was kind and hospitable. Many members of the extended family shared the house, which was owned by the mother, who is working in Los Angeles. The roof was in need of some repair, as the storm intensified so did the leaks in the corrugated tin that also served to aplify the sound of the rainfall. It wasn´t always easy to understand what people were saying, but as the afternoon passed, I found myself getting back into the habit of speaking only in Spanish, and better being able to grasp the particularities of the regional accent here in Esteli. The rainstorm was as intense of a downpour as I´ve ever seen, turning the street into a river, which only a few vehicles braved (I felt bad for the occasional bike that made its way through the muddy water that flowed like a small river down the street). The torrent of water continued all afternoon, along with thunder and lighterning, tapering off only at night. Eventually Camilo, Luis and Ermelinda´s son, returned to the house, and I took my stuff over there for the night. I grabbed a quesillo and fell asleep early.
After nearly twelve hours of rest, I felt refreshed (a couple cups of coffee helped with that) and ready to take on the tasks of the day-buying rubber boots and catching the afternoon bus to Lagartillo. That is, unless Rawley appears and we decide to do something in this area this weekend. But most likely I´ll be making the two hour journey through the mountains this afternoon. If that´s the case, I probably won´t be posting again before next weekend. The plan is to spend the week in Lagartillo, doing some Spanish classes and assisting with the school garden project, whatever that entails. It will be great to see everyone there, and see how life is different during this rainy time. It will also probably mean spending a few hours in the afternoon waiting out the intense downpours under some kind of shelter.
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