10 Feb 2009
6:06 PM
My room, E-369 Colonia Máximo Jérez, Managua
I think this post will be interesting to look back on in 3 months. I might still come back to the States disillusioned, disappointed, and dumb. But right now, at the risk of sounding overenthusiastic, I have never been so optimistic about, well, anything, as I am about the life I'm going to lead for the next 15 weeks.
It's almost dinner time, so I'm just gonna let it all out in a quick unedited (well, OK, I edited a little) rant of unfettered praise. Every aspect of this program complements or enhances some other part. From the moment I stepped of the plane, there has not been one minute I have not felt completely immersed and engaged.
Every morning we're in Managua, we have 3.5 hours of intense (in every meaning of the word) Spanish class. I'm in the most advanced of the three groups which is taught by a tough old bird named Araceli. Like apparently everyone in this friggin country, she was a guerrillera, and boy does it show. She has a disarming smile, but she pounces on insufficient answers like a tiger and can rip your argument (and grammar) to shreds in seconds. The class itself is like no Spanish class I've ever had. Everything is en contexto. This is no abstract listing of imperfect and subjunctive verb conjugations. Spanish classes are hosted at UCA (Universidad Centroamericana), a 25-minute walk from our barrio, and a part of the Spanish curriculum is an intercambio, discussions with UCA students our age about our lives. Despite what you might think, it's surprisingly unawkward, and the students seem as interested in our middle-class American lives as we are about theirs.
In the afternoons, we have 3 more hours of class (almost all in Spanish) at a Health Studies Center just outside the colonía. These rotate between lectures on the history and culture of Nicaragua and preparation for our Independent Study Projects. But again, this is not your average history course. Everyone who is coming to speak with us (including our Academic Director, who has a hole in the side of his head from his role as a military leader in the Frente) has been deeply and intimately involved and affected by the country. I've spoken a lot about the revolutionaries so far, but we'll also be hearing from contras, top Nicaraguan intellectuals, the step-daughter of the President, feminists, investigators, politicians, campesinos (farm workers), and others. The lecture I just came from, a whirlwind review of Nicaraguan history up to the present day, was easily the most brilliant, moving, and engaging 2.5 hour academic experience I've ever had.
And then, of course, there's the country itself. I'd say the biggest stroke of genius the organizers had was the location of our homestay. The Colonia is a "working-class neighborhood", but there's a lot lost in translation when you compare to what we'd call a working-class neighborhood in the States. We're not living with the poorest of the poor or the richest of the rich. If such a thing as an "average Nicaraguan family" exists, we're living with them. These folks have enough to get by, but besides a few luxuries (the television is almost always on and they have their own car), not too much else. The water turns on at about 2 AM and is shut of at some unknown time in the morning, so every family has massive buckets they fill up for use during the rest of the day. Horse-drawn wagons share the road with Toyota Corollas. I wake up to the sound of roosters and street-hawkers.
In this way, as cheesy as it sounds, we're never really out of the classroom. These families have agreed to open up their lives to us: their homes, their stories, their beliefs, their dreams. The SIT "office staff" are much more than their title - they're unbelievable sources of information, inspiration, and kindness. Everything is a lesson in Nicaraguan culture, from the 25-minute walk to UCA is a cultural lesson in itself (lets just say, the crosswalk has yet to make it to Nicaragua) to finding a place to eat lunch to buying notebooks (I still don't understand the check-out system at our local librería). This is the real deal, man.
OK, fauning rant over. Dinner time. Pics of my house and family later tonight or tomorrow. Maybe I'll have lost my wide-eyed wonder by then.
6:06 PM
My room, E-369 Colonia Máximo Jérez, Managua
I think this post will be interesting to look back on in 3 months. I might still come back to the States disillusioned, disappointed, and dumb. But right now, at the risk of sounding overenthusiastic, I have never been so optimistic about, well, anything, as I am about the life I'm going to lead for the next 15 weeks.
It's almost dinner time, so I'm just gonna let it all out in a quick unedited (well, OK, I edited a little) rant of unfettered praise. Every aspect of this program complements or enhances some other part. From the moment I stepped of the plane, there has not been one minute I have not felt completely immersed and engaged.
Every morning we're in Managua, we have 3.5 hours of intense (in every meaning of the word) Spanish class. I'm in the most advanced of the three groups which is taught by a tough old bird named Araceli. Like apparently everyone in this friggin country, she was a guerrillera, and boy does it show. She has a disarming smile, but she pounces on insufficient answers like a tiger and can rip your argument (and grammar) to shreds in seconds. The class itself is like no Spanish class I've ever had. Everything is en contexto. This is no abstract listing of imperfect and subjunctive verb conjugations. Spanish classes are hosted at UCA (Universidad Centroamericana), a 25-minute walk from our barrio, and a part of the Spanish curriculum is an intercambio, discussions with UCA students our age about our lives. Despite what you might think, it's surprisingly unawkward, and the students seem as interested in our middle-class American lives as we are about theirs.
In the afternoons, we have 3 more hours of class (almost all in Spanish) at a Health Studies Center just outside the colonía. These rotate between lectures on the history and culture of Nicaragua and preparation for our Independent Study Projects. But again, this is not your average history course. Everyone who is coming to speak with us (including our Academic Director, who has a hole in the side of his head from his role as a military leader in the Frente) has been deeply and intimately involved and affected by the country. I've spoken a lot about the revolutionaries so far, but we'll also be hearing from contras, top Nicaraguan intellectuals, the step-daughter of the President, feminists, investigators, politicians, campesinos (farm workers), and others. The lecture I just came from, a whirlwind review of Nicaraguan history up to the present day, was easily the most brilliant, moving, and engaging 2.5 hour academic experience I've ever had.
And then, of course, there's the country itself. I'd say the biggest stroke of genius the organizers had was the location of our homestay. The Colonia is a "working-class neighborhood", but there's a lot lost in translation when you compare to what we'd call a working-class neighborhood in the States. We're not living with the poorest of the poor or the richest of the rich. If such a thing as an "average Nicaraguan family" exists, we're living with them. These folks have enough to get by, but besides a few luxuries (the television is almost always on and they have their own car), not too much else. The water turns on at about 2 AM and is shut of at some unknown time in the morning, so every family has massive buckets they fill up for use during the rest of the day. Horse-drawn wagons share the road with Toyota Corollas. I wake up to the sound of roosters and street-hawkers.
In this way, as cheesy as it sounds, we're never really out of the classroom. These families have agreed to open up their lives to us: their homes, their stories, their beliefs, their dreams. The SIT "office staff" are much more than their title - they're unbelievable sources of information, inspiration, and kindness. Everything is a lesson in Nicaraguan culture, from the 25-minute walk to UCA is a cultural lesson in itself (lets just say, the crosswalk has yet to make it to Nicaragua) to finding a place to eat lunch to buying notebooks (I still don't understand the check-out system at our local librería). This is the real deal, man.
OK, fauning rant over. Dinner time. Pics of my house and family later tonight or tomorrow. Maybe I'll have lost my wide-eyed wonder by then.
Gene - keep your "wide-eyed wonder"...it sounds like excitement and appreciation to me! Really nice to read what you're doing AND see where you are living - and with whom.
ReplyDeleteThe 'hood says hello - as would Tucker if he weren't curled up asleep. More snow tonight...maybe... Enjoy the warmth! Best, Marian on Oval Dr.