Last week I had a tarantula in my room. Yes, a real tarantula. It was obese, hairy, and gave my host sister a heart attack when she pulled the blue flannel curtain away from my window. After admiring the giant arachnid and persuading it to return to the wild (with a coat hanger and two hysterical eleven year olds), I thought about my visitor and how this was just one indication out of many that my life does not resemble the being it was six months ago.
Or even one month ago. Days spent in language, tech and safety classes and nights spent under three or four blankets are now days spent playing Marco Polo in the river with local kids, teaching impromptu classes at the local school, or helping the locals construct a “galpon” (or chicken coop) while nights are spent under nothing but a mosquito net. The Spanish here is an altogether different beast than Sierra Spanish, the most noticeable difference being that the folks here drop the ends of words and talk like they’ve just injected caffeine into their veins, and I feel like I’m back in my eighth grade Spanish class. I can get by pretty well with just smiling and nodding, though that only works about 75% of the time. When there’s a longer pause than necessary in the conversation it’s usually because somebody asked me a question and is waiting for an answer. Then I’m in trouble.
With the structure of training gone my days are varied and filled with “unexpected’s”. I never know if the teacher will disappear for an hour in the middle of the class I am visiting, leaving me with 10 energetic 7-11 year olds (tip: books and markers are life savers! ). Or I might get lucky walking the hour to the bus stop and catch a camioneta…though when the weather is cool walking is preferable, and if I’m even luckier I could catch a glimpse of the howler monkeys that frequent the trees along the road. I could wake up one morning to a week of no electricity or running water. Though even this has its benefits, since without electricity I wouldn’t have experienced the most stunning firefly display of my life. Some days I come home to find the grandkids Nidia, four, and Jonah, six months, waiting at the door (well, just Nidia), and Nicol (the 11 year old sister of Nidia who lives with us permanently), Nidia and I go down to the river to play Marco Polo with the local kids. Last night Bernadina asked me if I wanted to take a walk with her, and before I knew what had happened I was sitting in a living room with several strangers singing to the Virgin Maria.
A little background about my site: it’s a small coastal community comprised of about 300 people who farm, raise cattle, or fish for a living. The community is divided into three parts: comunidad abajo, media, and arriba (lower, middle and upper). I live in the middle.
As before I live with six other people, and share one bathroom, though this arrangement is easier because we have the river, which is quite enjoyable for a wash or swim. My host family consists of my host parents, three brothers and one sister (though she’s actually my host niece), two dogs (down from seven. We had puppies!), and one unbelievably tiny cat which I’m surprised has lasted this long. There is running water, though it's pumped directly from the river, so we either boil it before drinking or drink bottled water. I eat rice three times a day, supplemented by beans, shrimp, platanos (fried green bananas), fish, chicken,sometimes vegetables, and always accompanied by coffee, tea, or juice.
But, like the Sierra, the people are warm, friendly, and welcoming. They love to share food and conversation (I can just share the food at this point). For the next two years I hope to be doing the same!
