When in Rome...

Shortly after 4 this morning, I woke up in a cold sweat, jolted from my dreams by a bloodcurdling and inhuman sound. A brutal and unspeakably violent act was being committed just mere yards away, as I lay frightened and motionless beneath my sheets. Screams that pierced the still morning rang out for a few terrifying moments, and then finally all was silent. When at last the terror subsided, I collected my wits and stepped outside to witness the carnage. Before me, two monstrous roosters skittered away from my sandaled feet, licking their wounds from a little pre-dawn joust right outside my bedroom door. As they disappeared back into the tropical undergrowth, I sighed, grabbed my toilet paper, and headed towards the outdoor latrine. Just another morning in Los Rincones.

Los Rincones, which means "The Corners", is a small farming village in the Masaya department of southwestern Nicaragua. I've been living here for about a week now with my host family as I train to become an agriculture volunteer in the Peace Corps. Located just a few kilometers from the town of Masatepe, Los Rincones is a world apart. Here, the sound of cars and trucks on the highway gives way to the mooing of cows, the clucking of hens, and the barking of dogs. Plantain and coconut trees soar overhead, as mangos, avocados, and oranges ripen in the ever-present sunshine. About 800 people call this place home, most of them small-scale farmers. Among them are the members of my host family, which consists of Teresa and Bacilio, their five children Eli, Fatima, Jasmina, Rey, and Luis and two little grandchildren, Luis and David, who are 4 and 5 years old. The family has been wonderfully hospitable to me, taking me into their home, feeding me, and giving me everything they can spare to make me comfortable. The house is small, especially for 10 people, but anyone can see that it is filled with love and support.

In just one week, I've gone from being completely culture-shocked when I was dropped off with little more than a passing introduction to the family, to being just another member of the house, taking part in the daily life of a Nicaraguan farm family. I've had to make some adjustments along the way, but that's part of the fun, and its been interesting to see the parallels between my life in the U.S. and my new life in Central America. A typical weekday usually goes as follows:

4am: Wake up to the ridiculously loud crowing of our undoubtedly evil roosters. In the pre-dawn haze, I can now identify each rooster by its own distinct crow. There's the tall white one with its pitch-perfect COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO, the slightly speckled one that sounds like a 70 year-old woman who's had a life-long affair with Marlboros, and the one with the green feathers that sounds like an annoyed teenager lamenting his parents' lameness. I usually roll over and try to go back to sleep.

5:30am: Wake up for real this time. I slip out my bedroom door which leads right into the yard to use the latrine, brush my teeth and shoot a nasty glare at the roosters. I then grab my soap and towel and head out to use the outdoor shower, a neat little concrete job that just about covers me from the neck down and lets the nearby bulls stare at me while I shampoo my hair. Unlike most houses here, our shower actually has a pump-fed shower head. However, whenever the water decides to disappear, I have to use a bucket to wash myself. I should also mention that the water is Arctic-cold, but as the day's humidity begins growing at first light, nothing feels better than a chilly dawn shower.

7am: Eat breakfast. Breakfast is always hearty and usually consists of some rice, beans, fresh fruit, plantains, coffee, and a glass of fresca, or freshly-squeezed fruit juice. Food here is very hearty and keeps me going all day long, although I do miss nice leafy vegetables.

8am: Go to Spanish class. Also living in Los Rincones with host families are Jonathan, Nessia, and Mary, three other Peace Corps trainees. From the results of our interviews in Granada, we were grouped into the same language skill group and have class most days at Nessia's host family's house with our language teachers Ramon and Gloria. In just one week, I already feel a lot of the Spanish I learned back in the day being dusted off and restored to the front of my head.

12pm: Break for lunch. I walk back towards my house for lunch, past the pulperia (corner store) and the borrachos (drunks) who are already quite hammered before mid-day. One of them, Armando, finds it hilarious to say "Gooooood morning!" regardless of what time it is. I usually respond in an equally obnoxious "Buenooooos Dias!". Lunch is definitely the main meal of the day and my plate is piled high with rice, beans, plantains, cheese and more rice.

1pm: Return to class. Fighting off the inevitable food coma from our gargantuan lunches, we usually have another hour or two of language instruction before starting our technical planning sessions. In the coming weeks, the four of us trainees will be responsible for starting a youth group to help us plant a garden, tree nursery, and compost pile in Los Rincones. We've found that playing frisbee or soccer near the local school draws kids right to us, so I don't think we'll have much trouble finding some kids that want to plant some veggies with some gringos.

5pm: Return home. The pre-dinner hour usually consists of a bit of reading in between being entertained by Luis and David, my little host brothers. They are my best teachers and have all the patience in the world when I ask them the names of different things for the hundredth time. They've also knighted me with my own Nicaraguan nickname, "Sudor", which appropriately enough means "sweat".

6pm: Dinner. Dinner is usually a bit smaller, but almost always contains "gallo pinto" or fried rice and beans, which is the staple of the Nicaraguan kitchen. After dinner, I sit down with most of the family to watch their favorite telenovelas on TV. Watching these Spanish-language soap operas has been doing wonders for my language comprehension, but I'm still confused a little by the plot lines. One of them, "Tomorrow is Forever" has a cast of at least 50 main characters, while another "The Face of Analia" has some sort of cyborg lady cop that moonlights as a stripper. I think even if my Spanish was perfect, I still wouldn't get it.

8:30pm: Bedtime. For the first time since I was little, I find myself regularly going to bed before 9. Its actually kind of nice getting a full night's rest and waking up with the dawn. Once the sun goes down and the telenovelas wrap up, there's really not much to do except read or sleep. And besides, the roosters will be crowing outside my door in just a few hours anyways.

(Internet is not available where I live and is cussedly slow at the internet cafe in Masatepe, but I´ll try to upload some pics in the coming weeks.)