Characters on my travels

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I am glad Mitt Romney dropped out because if he became president I will not return to the United States for a long time. I know I have not posted for a while I have been too busy having fun. I know this blog has a huge fan base. Thousands of people rely on it every week and I have let you down. Anyway, I am in El Salvador right now. Just outside of Santa Ana the second largest city in this country which is roughly the size of Massachusetts, and has a larger population than Washington state. I have decided to stay a year at an orphanage with 500 children and a staff in which only a few people speak English. So hopefully my Spanish will improve. The children are 3 months up to 21 years old. The older ones help the younger ones after they themselves go through the program. I am a few hours away from the coast if I want to surf on the weekends or an hour away from a large lake and volcano. This idea of mine to volunteer for a year looked great on paper, but once I started I remembered I don’t really like children. Well, I guess I am going to have to learn.
Actually, I am doing great. Eventually, I will teach English to the high school girls and boys as an after school program. I am learning carpentry from another volunteer from Ohio who skinned a poisonous snake yesterday and is going to make a belt out of it. Personally, I like to use alive snakes as accessories like they do in all great music videos. Let me tell you about some of the other people I have met along the way. Traveling gives me an opportunity to meet people from all over the world with different perspectives. From crazy war veterans with two teeth to a 21 year old from Iceland who ran for public office when he was 19 to an Australian soap star.
Let’s start where I left off. After Esteli in Nicaragua, I came to the orphanage to spend Christmas here I met some interesting kids. One in particular was a funny kid. His name is Bryan. All the Orphanages in this organization throughout Central America have a soccer tournament each year. In November it was in El Salvador. Bryan decided to do something you would see in a movie. He is a 14 yr old and he wanted to go see his girlfriend in Guatemala. So, instead of running away like a normal kid, he held onto the undercarriage of the Guatemalan Orphanages’ Bus. He made it 7 Kilometers from the Guatemalan border, about an hour and a half holding onto the undercarriage of the bus. A car pulled the bus over because they saw him under the bus. He was shaking and had no energy, and had to go to the hospital. But if that car didn’t see him I am convinced he would have made it.
After Christmas in El Salvador I went back to Nicaragua for new years. I arrived in Managua, the capital of Nicaragua, and did not know where to stay so I went to the nearest hostel. I relaxed during the day. Everybody I talked to along the way said “do not go out at night in Managua it is dangerous.” So naturally I wanted to see what they were talking about. I met the guy who owned the place. A 40 year old underachiever, who said he studied guitar for ten years, but played like an average ten year old who never studied guitar. He wanted to go out to see what was going on the city. He brought his motorcycle out of his room and rolled it out the door. I jumped on the back and we drove around to different bars and nightclubs. I noticed old men in uniforms with batons walking around the neighborhoods blowing whistles. I asked the underachiever what was going on and he told me. These were the neighborhood security watchmen. They would blow their whistles to let the thieves know they were there so they shouldn’t try any funny business. These security watchmen looked like 60 year old zombies with barely enough breathe to blow the whistle so they didn’t deter me from robbing other gringos. Anyway, we went to different bars and clubs in different neighborhoods and I didn’t see anything too dangerous. I watched the 40 year old walk up to multiple women of different sizes, shapes, and shades of brown and return back to me to report that they were “putas.” I wondered why this guy didn’t have a wife. We returned back to the hostel on the motorcycle and encountered a group of transvestites walking into a bar. The underachiever expressed his homophobic view of the lady-men walking to go dancing with unsuspecting gringos and I couldn’t help but think. Well, from an outsiders view looking at us together, straddling the same bike, their might be some homophobic views sent in our direction. Irony, sweet irony. We arrived at the hostel unharmed and I robbed a few more gringos before I went to sleep.
I decided to go to San Juan del Sur for new years, which was the first city I stayed in when I arrived two months earlier. I wanted to see a few people I had met earlier. When I arrived the city had morphed into an MTV spring break destination, with frat boys who must have thought natural selection was very relative in today’s human world because they worked on their muscles like they would have to fight their way out of world war three very soon. Their weapons? Poundings, rufies, and cheap beer brotha. Then there were the locals who had dollar signs in their eyes. I tried to find a single room and the only one I could find cost $100 a night. If I came any other week the room would cost $5 the receptionist told me. So, I stayed at the school where I learned Spanish for free. The owner of the school was very gracious. I went out to survey the scene the night before new years. All the rich Nicaraguans come to San Juan del Sur for new years festivities. The ones I met were not particularly friendly. Some of the people I met two months earlier were still there. They were Germans doing their year of “service” that all young Germans are required to do. I am not sure what service they were providing. I was not too excited about the scene and was relieved to meet my former Spanish teacher who invited me to go to his pueblo for new years. I accepted but first I had a day of surfing. I went to a close beach and rented a board. I am not a great surfer, but for some reason I have an unwarranted confidence. It was shattered when I arrived at La Playa Madera. I went out into the water and rode a wave for what seemed like 20 seconds but was probably closer to 1.5 seconds. I got out of the water with a pompous smile. Then I watched a small girl bring her board into the water. I watched, waiting to laugh at her attempts. A large wave started to curl as the girl proceeded to stand on the board with her forearms then removed her arms from the board and stood on her head. It was in that moment that I realized how small my balls shrank in the temperate waters of the Pacific. I will never be that good at surfing. Anyway, I went back to town to meet up with my ex-teacher. We jumped in a taxi and were off to a small pueblo outside of a small city. I was excited to see how a small pueblo celebrated new years. We arrived to my friend’s farm and I met his god-parent who was also the town drunk. He sat me down and explained to me the Spanish phrases that are unique to Nicaraguans. There were about 6 phrases but it took about 45 minutes to explain them. By the time the conversation was over I wanted a drink. So myself and my ex-teacher walked downtown, which consisted of one street with a restaurant, a store, and another store with the same products and the same prices. The town’s economic situation looked grim, but would be an easy example to use in beginners economic classes. The first person I met was a 14 year old girl that questioned (directly translated into English) “Can I eat you?” I kindly refused her offer, mainly because it looked like she had enough to eat already. The lights went out in the pueblo, and did not return for the rest of the night, but there was no problem because I had already seen the bright lights of downtown. We moved on to my friend’s families house and started drinking rum. I did not know I could speak Spanish so well until I had four or so glasses of rum. I had conversations with uncles, aunts, nephews, moms, brothers, sisters, grandmas, and grandpas. They were very kind people and loved to dance and shoot off fireworks. The rum kept coming and when it was out we went to find more. At midnight I was at a table with 8 Nicaraguans that I had never met until that night and we were making jokes, singing drunkin’ songs, and “salud”ing each other every 10 seconds. After that we decided to go to a bar in a neighboring city. We arrived to old drunk people sloppily dancing in a tent. It was then I realized sleeping was not a bad option. The next thing I knew I woke up to a new year and had no idea where to go next… to be continued. I am tired of writing and some orphans are knocking at my door.

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Photos

Bryan
Byran with imaginary girlfriend

NPH
The kids that I work with

Comments

[Sean Boyle]

Sounds like a good time
Oh hey brotha, Wow! Evin your stay in Nicaragua sounds a lot like my experience here in the the homeland, except riding on motorcycles with 40 year old dudes, chubby chicks trying to eat me, and wearing live snakes as belts. The drinking however continues to be a commonality that we are both share. I'm sure you have better optinons in South America. Everything in Europe is so damn expensive. I find myself purchasing what is called "Bass" on a normal basis, probably the worst tasting and headache producing beer in the world. I'm still lovin it though. Well it looks though all is well with you and gosh darn it, that makes me happy! Until next time bro. Be sure to check out my Ireland albums on facebook when you get a chance. Alright, love ya bro.