Cafe Solórzano...made with love.

I'd like to introduce you to some amazing coffee.  I would really like to be able to tell you where to buy it, but this coffee is so exclusive, so hand-crafted, so artisanal, that I'm afraid it wouldn't be in your budget.  But, you can dream, right?

We made five cups of coffee from the beans off of one tree that my father's uncle Octavio had given him before he passed away.  It was good to the last drop!

Oh The Glories Of The Pig!

Woke up yesterday morning to eat nacatamales.  These came from my cousin´s house.  She lives in Santo Tomas and has chickens and pigs on her property.  Nice pig.  Nice pig.  She also sent us home with fresh chicharrones.  I can´t express enough how good they were. 

If you don´t eat meat or don´t indulge in swine, then you don´t really need to read this.  Anyway, the chicharrones were just recently fried in their own fat.  My dad and I ate a plate of them hot and with tortillas and chile.  Ena Frank, my cousin, served up a large plate of them and we all commented on how it was too much, and yet I dug into that plate with my dad and if she´d have brought more, I would have eaten them too.  They were slightly chewy, just made, but she put some in a bag to take home and they´ve become crispy.  They will not go to waste.

Actually, isn´t that really the concept of the pig?  Nothing goes to waste with it.  You eat everything but the squeal and I think that if there were a way to fry the squeal in it´s own squeaky grease we´d eat that too.

Anyway, I visted Ena Frank last year with my cousin Franco´s family and my Tia Ena and Tio Chico.  At the time, they were building the house and so you could see the layout of it with the concrete walls and nothing else.  Now, it´s a proper house with rooms and tile floors and stairs leading down to the lower level with an outdoor kitchen (perfect for laying out a just killed piggy about to be turned into nacatamales and chicharrones).  Her husband Alexis, cut a mahogany tree down for the doors. They wanted to also make the ceilings mahogany but there´s a limit as to how many precious-wood trees you can cut down.  The place is right off the highway, kind of lonesome with few neighbors, though all of Alexis´ family lives nearby.

Ena Frank has a business of piñateria.  Basically she imports party favors and sells them in a little store in the town.  She goes to Panama to buy piñatas, party favors, table cloths, napkins, centerpieces, etc.  Alexis is a rancher, thus the proliferation of chickens and lovely pigs.

Later that evening, we partook of some of the chicharrones with my Tia Mireya and Tio Felipe.  People cannot resist these tasty morsels of pig fat.  Mmmmm.

Gambling

We went to Montelimar resort.  This is the resort that was once Somoza´s private beach property.  At the Casona (Big House) there is a casino.  This is where one can see evidence of my mother´s vice.  She likes to gamble.  The truth of the matter is that she´s quite lucky.  My dad gets jealous of her because she has luck in picking winning numbers, yet she doesn´t play the lottery (he does).

Once when my dad was working at Rheem Manufacturing, they had a betting pool.  My dad used to bet on certain numbers, but he never won.  My ma had a dream that my dad´s numbers won, but that they never quite saw the money.  Weeks passed and my dad forgot to play his numbers, and they won!

Anyway, she couldn´t wait for the evening for us to go to the casino so she could play the slot machines.  Dad gave us 400 cordobas (around 20 dollars).  We got two cups of one cordoba coins and played for hours.  Finally, my mom won 400 cordobas so we had my dad change them, so we could pay him back and play the rest.   The second evening, my mother announced that she would double the money, perhaps a moment of hubris on her part.  We did not.  But my dad managed to win!  He usually never plays.  I have photographic evidence of his playing.  The funny thing about him, it´s hard to tell if he´s having any fun.  He was sitting at a slot machine with a mermaid theme and I´m not sure if he understood what he needed to get to win, because everytime he pressed the spin button he took a while looking at the machine as if he was reading it.  He didn´t get excited by the process like my mother.  She was sitting at a machine that had a double winnings theme, though that did not happen.  I was at a Winning Streak machine which my mother liked because it was loud and if you got three Winning Streaks in a row it went into a digital bonus round with lots of fanfare and musica.

Now we´re getting ready for Christmas Eve.  I made the rounds with my mom to visit her old ladies, who she gives communion to.  They all know about me (of course) and all ask about my dad.  Two old lady sisters in particular were kind of fun, because they seem mischievous.  They had a table set with a Christmas table cloth and we stood around it for the prayers and the readings.  Off to the side in their dirt yard, a dog was resting.  My eyes kept wandering over to him, until I noticed that he had a missing paw.  The paw had been missing for a while, because he didn´t seem wounded at all. 

Today, the government gave out free toys and pinatas for Christmas.  There´s a carnival with rides at the centro.  There will be loads of fireworks tonight.  The firemen (bomberos) were on the news talking about the safety measures they´re involved in regarding the fireworks (polvora).  They´re only allowed to sell fireworks in certain spaces.  They´ve given safety measures to people who transport the fireworks.  Now they urge the populace to use common sense and not allow children to set off fireworks, saying that only adults should use them and with caution (meaning--not drunk!), talking about how a burn lasts forever and they want to avoid that.  Further talk of avoiding burns...while people are getting ready for their Christmas dinner...making nacatamales or cooking their chicken dinners, el bombero (the fireman) acknowledged that many people are cooking on open fires and are perhaps preoccupied with making a big dinner and the children are playing near the fire and that could be an avoidable tragedy...

Other news...el Diputado Valle is a rich dude who donates his paycheck from the Assembly every month.  This month, his paycheck went to the taxistas.  There was a line of them on TV getting money to fill up their cabs with gas and to spend on Christmas. 

Have your bets paid off this year?  What will you put your money on next year?  Thoughts people?  I´m going to do my best not to waste $$.  That´s the plan.  Save save save.  Be resourceful  in all ways...

Note:  she gambles rarely, but when she does, she enjoys it.

Hope yours is a lovely one.
Signing off for this evening, ya´ll.

Deep Thoughts: Relationships...

So I couldn´t resist the SNL reference, what with my inspirational quotes poster-like pics.
But I am thinking about relationships lately.
Look at this cute couple!

Can you believe that they´ve been together for 42 years!  I´m thinking about them, because they are such opposites, and because I´m somehow like both of them.

Mom is ultra-dynamic.  She´s always in motion.  She´s vibrant and fun and very very cheerful.  Sometimes too cheerful.  She´s also very bossy. 

Then there´s the daughter version...dynamic?  Sometimes.  In motion?  Sometimes.  Vibrant?  Fun? Cheerful?  I have my moments.  Bossy?  I´m a teacher for God´s sake.  Yes.

Dad is reserved. Often curmudgeonly.  Quite the storyteller.  Could care less what other people think of him.  Is prone to surprising displays of humor.

Daughter version:  Reserved? Sometimes.  Curmudgeonly.  Definitely.  Try to talk to me on a Monday morning.  Storyteller?  I´d like to think so. Could care less what other people think?  I have my moments.

So, I´m uncertain what makes things work between these two.  Magic fairy dust, perhaps?

As for this daughter riding off into the sunset with Prince Charming...who knows.  But here´s a pretty Nicaraguan sunset nonetheless.

Eclipse in Nicaragua

The new blog header pic is from the parental back yard.  Nice, no?

First day in Nicaragua is surreal.  Wake up and have banana and papaya for breakfast.  Shower.  Go to the dentist to get teeth cleaned for twenty bucks.  Come back for lunch.  Read through a stack of student work.  Take a few pics of the flora in the back yard.  Stalk a hummingbird.  Make a mental note:  will try to get a pic of a hummingbird, but this will be an ultimate challenge.

Watch parental units in their natural habitat and wonder how is it that Dad has stopped aging?  Somewhere along the line, he just stopped.

Observe parental units in their natural dynamic.  Mom talk, talk, talking.  Plan, plan, planning.  Dad saying, Nay.  No.  Uh-uh.  Somehow it works.  Think about relationships and the whole opposites attract thing.

Read more student work.

Take a break.  Go with Mom to a carne asada joint on the highway.  La Diabla.  Risk life and limb to get said carne asada.  (No real parking.  So you pull up along the shoulder and look for a safe moment to jump out of the car.)  It´s worth it.  Share gallopinto and carne asada and platanos maduros fritos and cabbage salad and pico de gallo with Mom and Dad.

Finish reading student work.  Enter grades.

Look at part of the eclipse.  Watch the corner of the moon dissappear.

Think about the coming new year and all the stuff that´s happened this year.  Wonder, have I learned enough?  Wonder what´s next?  Wonder what it must have felt like many moons ago to look up and see the moon begin to dissappear; eaten by some invisible monster; erased by an invisible hand?  Have faith that the moon will return. 

Go to bed.  Tomorrow, the beach!

What I learned from a cup of Nicaraguan coffee.

I think it is fitting that a few days before I leave for Nicaragua, I am at the Common Cup, meeting with Polly, getting into some heavy philosophical discussions about ejamakation in this country and what do they have here? Nicaraguan coffee. Of course I partook.

And this makes me think about my weak-ass, non-existent role in the Nicaraguan revolution. I am speaking of the ideals of the revolution, not what it has become. I'm taking about agrarian reform and education and opportunities. Here I am, a teacher of writing, but when I go to Nicaragua, I am forever a child. I am daughter of Herman and Sylvia, completely at their mercy. Have I ever thought to rent a car in Nicaragua and go about on my own? Or simply hop on a bus? I've done the bus thing before. I survived. Now I hear all kinds of horror stories. Maybe I should not listen to them. On the other hand, leaving my familia for a moment of my short (or long visit, depending on your interpretation) visit would be considered an insult. A great wounding insult.

So, there are two things I'd like to check out while I'm there. A cafe in Granada that serves as a job training program for street kids. And something Amanda Lichtenstein sent me about theater ed. But who knows. I'll be there during the Christmas season. We'll see who's available to talk and what not.

And anyway, I often wonder at my own level of dedication to this work. Am I dedicated? And to what? Do I believe in the power of education? Yes. Am I willing to put my heart and soul into it? I'm not sure.

I participated in Sensei David Rose's aikido class last night at Clemente H. S. He had a 7th kyu test set up for the kids. Sensei Garza showed up to administer the test. The kids were scared witless. They were funny. They were stiff and awkward. As I watched them, I found myself talking under my breath at them. "Don't stop. Don't stop. You can do this." I remembered how scared I was for my first test, though I don't remember the test itself. Later, David Rose talked to the boys, telling them that they exhibited a new level of dedication to the art, and that because they've shown this new level of dedication, that he would put more of an investment in them. And I thought about that and about teaching in general. It is an investment. It has been good for me to be in David's classes, because he's not just a good sensei, he's a good Social Studies teacher. I've sat in on his classes and I'm continually aware of his passion and dedication. I lack that kind of gusto. I wonder if it has something to do with belief, or what?

Anyway, he said that it matters...that even if you touch a few people it matters. I guess I needed to hear that.

So, when class was over and we bowed to each other I thanked each of the boys and said, "Congratulations." And I felt it. I felt that I was truly congratulating them and I felt that they'd been initiated into something. It's kind of like when you go through the Fiction Writing program, and after you've been through Fiction I and you turned in your 60+ pages, you've done something. And you know the semi-circle and the sense of it. And when you run into people that you sat in a semi-circle with before, you feel like you've run into long lost family; a tribesman.

And David Rose, for those of you who do not know him, is a scary looking man. I mean, he is someone I have feared on the mat for a long time. I never took an aikido class with him, because of my schedule and because I was afraid of him. He looks like a football player and when he attacks he comes at you all hardcore. He was one of my ukes for my last test and as soon as I saw that he was going to be my uke, I felt my stomach sink. I thought, "Oh shit." But, he looked like he was going to cry after the kids' test. I called him a sweetheart. It was a revelation to me. He took it well.

Anyway, he's one of those people who I can say has a calling to teach. I still doubt whether teaching is my calling. I can do it well, but I don't think I make the emotional connection to my students that I see in really really dedicated teachers. Whatever.

I think I'm more dedicated to story. And sometimes I teach story. Is that the same as being dedicated to the art and not the student? Can you do that and get away with it? For how long?

Maybe aikido is the best example of dedicated teaching. You've got people who do all this teaching, that they do not get paid for, and they do it for the love of the art and what the art gives people. So, people like Sensei Garza who works for the phone company, then goes to the dojo, and makes friends with everyone, and calls people when they stop coming to see what's up, and tries to make everyone welcome...this is dedication.

But I want to do what I want to do. And my wants are very simple and petty...I want to write. I want to read something other than student work. I want to be able to read something, just because it takes my attention (like Musicophilia by Oliver Sacks--I recommend it). I want to crochet and I want to sew clothes and I want to go out and go to concerts. Basically, I want to be on vacation. Really, this is my GLAMOROUS idea of a vacation...reading what I want when I want, crocheting, sewing, writing, aikido, yoga and sleeping until noon. Did I mention sleeping until noon? SLEEPING UNTIL NOON, without the least hint of shame. I'll make up for it by reading until 3 am, believe me, that's my internal clock. It's so hard to make my body function on normal people time.

Ok, as I write this I can see where I am at. I am ready for the semester to be over. That's what this is. I taught two classes at Columbia and I'm exhausted. I still have student work to read and grades to enter, but then I'm done for several weeks and I think I will need those weeks to recoup for the next round.

Yes it's a battle. Round 2!