The Adventure I was waiting for...??

Now that I have officially settled in, the high life of taking taxis everywhere, had to end. In comparison to Canadian taxi prices, or even Canadian transit costs, taking a taxi was less. However, taking local transit is even cheaper! So why not? In attempts to cut my costs, and actually get a feel for the culture I'm living in, I embarked on my local transit adventure. Working long hours at the office, mixed with taking taxis left me feeling as though I lived in a bubble. Taking the bus has definitely helped!

I was prepared for long waits... I was prepared for getting lost. Both seemed pretty guaranteed. I was unsure about what else I would encounter, but was prepared to go with the flow.

It's rainy season, here in Nicaragua. It rains every day, which makes me think that the rain shouldn't really affect things (since it is so regular). But it does. When it rains, the buses become packed, the roads go into disrepair; sometimes becoming impassable. The other night, after missing my one bus a couple times (they were too full, and drove off, leaving many trying to get on), I was determined to get on the next one. The determination payed off. This was the adventure I was waiting for! (haha) Off we went, I was barely hanging on, falling out of the front bus door. The others in the bus kept looking at me sideways, the look on their faces clearly read "what is this chele doing??" I guess it's not too common for us foreigners to take the bus... or to do it, holding on for dear life. But with so much attention, I felt pretty secure that they wouldn't let anything happen to me. As we drove out, into oncoming traffic, headlights speeding towards us, the entire bus was praying, swearing, making jokes, and calling each other crazy.

Each new adventure makes me more grateful to still be around. I'm sure it wasn't that dangerous... it was quite fun though. All in the name of saving money. My kind of day!

With Eyes Wide Open

Now that I have been in Managua for over a month, I am seeing Managua with fresh eyes. The poverty hits me harder, the sights have consequences. Window washers at intersections are not annoying, they break my heart. Not that I haven't seen this kind of poverty before; it's the number of children that hit me the hardest. Kids walking around with no shoes asking for "un peso", begging for you charity, as if one peso will help. I still don't know what to do. It surrounds you. What can one person like me do? I feel like we are responsible for our potential. We need to do what we can. It's figuring out what that is that is the hardest. With all my intercultural training, we are taught to mirror the actions of nationals, take cues from those around you. But somehow I feel this may be different. Not that one meal will change the problems these kids face everyday, but it's something. It may be what I have to give.

Last week, Lauren and I led a tour group of young American girls through Managua. We took them to a place where about a thousand people live, basically squatting in front of the National Assembly. Over five thousand people have been affected by a pesticide by the name of Nemagon. The people that live in what resembles a refugee camp suffer from ailments; cancer, lesions, genetic mutations, and several other related diseases. They have been there for several years, in protest of the inaction they have received from their government and foreign companies that made them work in such close contact with the chemical, without care of the ramifications. The girls broke into smaller groups, and walked around, asking people their stories. Each story sounded familiar and sad. At the end of the day, I am just left with questions. Always more questions.