Our plan was to take a bus for a bit, and then horseback ride the rest of the way to our cook's husbands finca or farm/ranch thing. Then we were going to stay the night and help milk the cows and stuff in the morning. We were all pretty excited as we packed our bags full of the weekend essentials. I didn't bring a backpack with me, so instead I got out my mini dufflebag and I just wore it like a backpack. (Yes, dad, the little blue one that you tried to talk me out of bringing because I wouldn't need it).
So we woke up around 530 Saturday morning and we met Frank at his house around 600. Before we left we told our neighbor, Miriam, where we were going. She insisted that I take a hat. So I borrowed her black cowboy hat that has "Espana" written on it. She also promised us that she would watch our house for us. Then we hopped on a bus and we were off! Except I was so tired! 530 is early. So a couple times I woke up with my head laying on the shoulder of a random Nica woman sitting next to me... I would apologize really quick and then she would laugh at me, and then I'd be dozing off again in a few minutes. So around 830 is when we got off this bus. So it ended up being a little bit longer than a two hour bus ride, and we are in the middle of nowhere. There is literally the road, trees, and two little snack shacks. And so then Frank starts talking around with the people and it turns out that we can't get the horses to ride up to his finca, we have to walk. Which is cool, I totally love hiking and the scenery was gorgeous. Everything was SO green. It was all so beautiful that I really couldn't bring myself to take a picture of it because I knew the picture wouldn't do it justice. Basically we hiked through a forest/jungle that looked like it was straight from a National Geographic magazine. Tons of canopies The butterflies were EVERYWHERE and they were huge.
So it took us 2 hours to hike the 7 kilometers (4.3 miles) all the way to the ranch. Along the way we passed by three young boys. Two of them carried sling shots and the third had a machete tied around his waist. I asked Frank how old he thought the boy was. Frank said probably 9 or 10. All I know is that that particular nine year old is already more BA than I could ever hope to be... So when we got there we found ourselves instantly surrounded by a swarm of chickens, puppies, and piglets. And Frank's cousins who live on the ranch sat quietly in their doorway and waved to us. We're not quite sure if they knew we were coming or not, and we're also not sure if we're the first white people they've ever seen, or at least talked to.
Our first activity was eating lunch. Tortillas, beans, rice, and goat cheese. A very typical lunch here. And when I say very typical, I mean that's exactly what they eat every single day for lunch.
Just outside of their house they have a little covering thing that they built themselves. It's probably 20 yards from the trees where they tie their horses, and 30 or so yards from where they keep their pigs, goats, and cows. It's supported by six beams made of logs and then the roof is sheets of tin. So our next activity was to hang up our hammocks where we would sleep that night, but pretty soon into that the Nicaraguans had to step in, un-do every knot we had tied, and show us how it should have been done. So pretty soon we had all our hammocks set up, and they noticed that a couple of them were right along the edge of their little shade structure thingy, and its the rainy season. So the men break out their machete's and start adding onto their awning. Within a couple hours they had doubled its size. Just for us. These people literally went out of their way to build a roof over our heads, and we were complete strangers. It was a really touching act of kindness.
But then we didn't know what to do next... I offered to help a 13 or so year old girl while she was cleaning, her one word response was "no." ("No" actually means "no" in English as well, just in case none of you were aware). So we lounged around on our hammocks for a little while, and then a 9 year old girl named Giselda wanted to show us some llamas. A little side not about Giselda: her mouth is very full of spit, she stutters, and she speaks Spanish very fast. Those three elements combine into making her nearly impossible to understand. But we know that she wanted us to go with her. So we followed her up this steep little hill to the prettiest view I've probably ever seen in my life. We could barely make out a herd of llamas on a far away hill, and we just sat and enjoyed the view while trying to decipher what Giselda was telling us. She told us the exact boundaries of her dad's land... she told us about the neighbor who was abusive to his wife and then when the police came he stabbed one of them so now he's in jail... she pointed out her school in the distance... apparently, they run home from school, but on their way to school they walk as slow as they can... she told us about the witch who cures people's sicknesses... she told us about how they had to build the fence right in front of us because some old lady fell down into the valley below and died... and she told us lots of other things that I didn't understand.
Eventually we went back to the house and it was time to pick out the chickens for our dinner. So they grabbed some chicken feed and poured it out in a line. Then all the chickens ran to eat, and with the feed being poured out into a line, the chickens conveniently formed a nice little line. While they were eating the Nicaraguans argued about which ones they wanted, and when they decided, they just snuck up behind them and grab them by the legs. They then took them into the kitchen and slaughtered them. And that was that.
So then they didn't let us help make dinner, so we just chatted in our hammocks while the sun started to go down. By the time we ate dinner it was completely dark. And there's no electricity except for one light bulb for their entire house, and flashlights. This actually worked to our advantage. Because we ate dinner in the dim light we couldn't really see what we were eating. And it was delicious! We could recognize the rice and the potatoes, and we knew the meat was chicken... but I'm pretty sure they didn't gut them all the way out. I got an A in Anatomy my senior year of high school, and I realize that doesn't make me an expert, but I'm fairly certain that there was still a liver and possibly a pancreas in my chicken. But, like I said, it was really dim, so that was great.
The family waited until after we were done eating to start eating, we felt so bad. But we're assuming that that's just a part of their culture or something. We chatted with them while we were eating, and they were waiting for us to eat, and apparently their family has been living on that finca since our cook's husband's uncle's great grandpa bought the land. So basically like 4 generations... I think. So while they ate we got ready for bed. Except most of us decided to just sleep in the clothes we wore that day. And two of the girls came back from the latrine/bathroom, with reports of a scorpion being inside. They had photographic evidence, so I decided I was going to hold it. Scorpion sting or bladder infection? Defiantly the latter.
So we all crawled into our our hammocks, and Frank pointed out the silence. All you could hear was the river, the crickets, and the occasional cow or chicken. My hammock was the closest to the edge of the awning, so I was even able to see the stars. Then a puppy wandered nearby, and I scooped him up into my hammock with me. I translated some pillow talk between Frank and some other volunteers, and then Frank played some bachata music on his iPod. Sitting there, in the middle of rural Nicaragua, in a hammock, looking at the stars, listening to bachata, with a puppy falling asleep on my tummy, I was probably the most content I have ever felt in my entire life. I thought to myself, "This is probably going to be the best night of my life."
It totally wasn't.
We asked Frank what kind of nocturnal animals lived in this area, and he said there wasn't any thing that would hurt us. And that if their was, the dogs would protect us. So it wasn't really comforting to hear the dogs start barking like crazy every half hour or so. But eventually they quieted down. Then we heard shuffling on the roof of the awning, and Julia asked Frank what it was. He pulled out his flashlight and shined in on the roof from his hammock. He said it was probably just chickens, and then he let his flashlight wander a bit on the ceiling above us. Then his flashlight found a spider. This was not any spider. I feel like peoplel expect me to exaggerate the size of this spider, so I have to double exaggerate just so you guys understand how huge this thing was. It was easily the size of Rhode Island.... Ok, that was a bit much. But for real, no exaggeration, if it were to spread out its legs it would be a little bit bigger than a dinner plate. It could have easily eaten our faces off. But Frank's flashlight only paused for a second and he said, "no hace nada" or "he won't do anything." So I knew he wouldn't do anything... but I was too scared to ask what it could do.
Eventually we all drifted off, including Peluche the puppy (but I do remember thinking to myself, "if I get tics or fleas, I know exactly which puppy is responsible). Peluche would run in his sleep and then somehow his paws would always find my nose and then he would stop. And Peluche is not exactly a clean puppy haha. After a couple of hours though Peluche was done sleeping with me and he jumped out of my hammock. It was at this point that I realized a couple of things. 1. Puppies are warm. 2. It was cold outside... way colder than I have ever been in Nicaragua. 3. I did not plan accordingly for this cold. I had on long pants, but I was wearing short sleeves and didn't bring any warmer clothes with me. 4. The fetal position is pretty good for warmth. It is not so great for your back.
Needless to say, it was a very long night, for everyone. I was so happy when I woke up to the sound of a rooster crowing. Morning at last! I sat up and opened my eyes... And tried to open my eyes again. And tried again. And then I realized my eyes had been open, but it was still pitch-black outside. Apparently, roosters also crow when the the moon rises... and they continue to crow for the rest of the night.
Around probably 4 in the morning I woke up and a few of the other volunteers were awake as well. We agreed that it was the longest, worst night of our lives. Then we checked a watch and found out that it was only 2.
Did you guys know that you can totally get motion sick from sleeping in a hammock that won't stop rocking? You totally can. And it sucks.
After another hour or so (we checked the watch again around 3), I finally drifted off again. And the next time I woke up it was because Peluche was nipping at my foot through my hammock, and then he started wrestling his older brother right underneath my hammock. And then a few minutes later one of the sisters herded the families dozen or so goats right past my hammock and out to the pasture. It was 530 and their whole family was up and about. We watched them milk the cows and feed the chickens. They were fairly insistent that as their guests we should not lift a finger. So we packed up our hammocks and got ready to go.
But one of our team members who wasn't feeling well the night before was very sick this morning. She was definitely not going to be able to make the two hour trek out to the bus stop. We could wait for a truck, but it wouldn't come until around 3. So while Frank's aunt was making some herbal tea to help Rachel, Giselda grabbed Julia and I and she wanted to show us something. So we consented and we ended up hiking up another hill, and then she told us about the little store that her friends family has...she showed us the river that they sometimes wash up in... she told us how the people there say that lions and tigers live in this jungle/forest... she told us that she's never seen them, but the people say that their there... she showed us her family garden... we met her friends from school... she showed us every plant and which ones you can't eat and which ones you could... and she explained that the people here don't like the bigger bananas because they have the bigger seeds, but we tried one and it was THE MOST delicious piece of fruit I have EVER had in my entire life.
Then by the time we got back the girl was almost ready to try and start walking back. We were almost ready to try and head out when one of the family members came up the road, wielding a machete and dragging something with a vine...
It was at this point that I wished I did not speak Spanish. I wish I didn't understand Giselda when she ran out of the house to go look at the vine-drug thing yelling, "Look! Look! He caught a rattlesnake!"
For those of you who even know me fairly well, you are probably aware that I have a phobia of snakes. So, as I do every time I see a snake, I started hyperventilating and crying. Full blown panic attack. Giselda tried to comfort me by telling me in Spanish that it was dead, don't worry. But it didn't matter. I hadn't even seen it, really. There was a bench blocking it. But I had heard Giselda announce it was a rattlesnake and I lost it. One of the other volunteers made me lay down and focus on breathing, while Megan, the other Country Director, explained that I've had some bad experiences with snakes. So the man drug it of to who knows where and eventually I calmed down. The good part was that it was probably one of the smallest snake panic attacks I've had. The bad part was that the snake was already dead, and I didn't even see it.
So there we were, a bunch of Americans, lounging in our hammocks day and night. One of us throwing up right and left. Another one having a panic attack. We were a hot mess. They brought out some fresh milk for us. We're pretty sure it was goats milk, but it had been sweetened by something, and it was hot. It was delicious.
Then we were informed that it was sweetened with coffee. So I drank coffee, on the Sabbath. Megan says we're all going to hell and she's going to tell our bishop on us... So we threatened to murder her right there like the chickens we ate for dinner. She dropped the subject.
The girl who was sick and half of the team started walking while we waited for some oranges that Frank wanted to take back. They were gone for 45 mins and we caught up to them in 20. We were traveling at a pace that would take us 4 or 5 hours to get to the bus stop. And then a miracle happened! A guy with a small pickup truck drove by and was willing to give us a ride to the bus stop. He was seriously an answer to many prayers.
Then after the 2 hour bus ride back, we were finally home. We barely had our front gate open when Miram, our neighbor, rushed out her front door. When she saw us she was like, "I knew I heard someone open that gate! My cute little children are all home early!" That lady is 50x more effective than any watchdog I've ever heard of.
So basically, that was our weekend adventure at the finca.... Of course, they invited us to come again any time...
Hopefully tomorrow I'll have time to write a blog post about the service and the projects we're actually doing, not about our weekend getaways, but for now I am absolutely exhausted.
Here's us and Giselda, I'll post more pictures when I get them from the other volunteers!
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