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Traveling Throughout Latin America This Hispanic Heritage Month – Nicaragua

I’ve had the chance to travel throughout many countries in Latin America. As we continue celebrating Hispanic Heritage Month, I want to share a couple of my favorite spots in the countries I have visited. Hopefully, you too will get inspired and visit our wonderful lands. ☺️

A view of the farming lands in Nicaragua from an ecoresort just outside of Managua.

The very first country I visited was Nicaragua. Here I stayed for a month with a family on the island of Ometepe, in the middle of Lake Cocibolca (aka: Lake Nicaragua) after a few days in Ticuantepe.

Ometepe is magical. It’s a small island with two volcanos, one on each side of the island. There is a lot of ecotourism in this area. However, I did not do the traditional tourist path as I was there with a small group of Christian self-appointed missionaries from my time with a religious group back in college. I stayed with the family of the pastor who welcomed us there. Every morning, someone would bring fresh milk directly from the cow’s udder. A person selling hard breads would come by also, and the family would buy a couple of pieces of bread for breakfast. Their regular diet was so foreign to me at the time! For breakfast, they would have gallo pinto — rice with pink beans –, cream, fried cheese, and bread with coffee. As we shared more about our respective cultural cuisines and I shared what a regular breakfast was for me, they switched their menu to a fried egg with cheese and coffee. Way easier for my system to adapt! Ha!

Since I grew up in a household were people did whatever chores needed to be done regardless of your gender, it was amusing for my Nicaraguan siblings to see me helping the women in the kitchen, helping with the cleaning of the dishes, and such things. I also helped with some construction work they were doing and other traditional “male” responsibilities. But the conversation always turned to the curious thing about me doing “women’s” chores.

Exploring the island of Ometepe with local residents was great. We walked almost everywhere. We got to meet amazing people with big hearts. The island is full of wonder and it’s a great place to visit outside of the traditional tourist paths, although, not many people would consider Nicaragua a tourist destination. (Something that I appreciate, as I am more interested in visiting places to learn about their cultures and engage with the people, not to do traditional tourism.)

Metropolitan Cathedral of Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception, the Roman Catholic Cathedral in Managua.

During that trip, I also got to visit the city of Masaya. This was an adventure! My group was just three young women and I. One morning, we took the bus to Masaya from Ticuantepe. We walked to the main road to take the bus. The bus was bursting with people, but still, our guides for the day — two young men from a local church — basically pushed the three women into the bus, and then signaled me to walk with them to the back door of the bus. Where would I fit in this overcrowded bus? Well, they jumped to the back of the bus, one holding on to the small ladder buses have next to the back door, the other right on the rail of the back door. They signaled me to jump to the rail, I held on to the frame of the back door, my feet on the rail below, and the arm of one of the men around my waist so I would not fall. We rode like this for some time until at several stops later we could move to inside the bus. I was more amused than afraid, and it was the best way to experience Nicaragua. I haven’t stopped taking risks while using different modes of transportation throughout Latin America. Masaya was beautiful. It’s a city full of color and creativity. Lots of artisans call Masaya home, and you can find beautiful handmade pots, sculptures, and all sorts of art.

I returned to Nicaragua with my seminary to support the work of “Seeds of Learning” based in Ciudad Darío. This place was also special. Rubén Darío was a Nicaraguan poet who transformed literature in Spanish by founding the modernist movement. Being in his hometown, visiting the tiny home where he was born, it was really magical experience. The other amazing experience I had in Ciudad Darío was visiting a small Baptist church near the nonprofit we were working with. As we arrived, there was a woman sweeping the floor. The service wouldn’t start until late, but she went to get their pastor so we could meet him. The pastor was an elderly man, with the marks of age throughout his body, but full of joy and passion for the work he did.

Visiting the First Baptist Church in Ciudad Darío with my seminary classmates.

Ometepe, Masaya, and Ciudad Darío are some of my favorite places in Nicaragua. The Roman Catholic Cathedral in Managua is spectacular and its modernist structure in the midst of the very old city streets and architecture is a reminder of the way in which our countries live between our past and our future. I can’t wait to be back in Nicaragua someday soon (we were supposed to go there this year for my birthday in a week, but life had other plans.) I want to drive around more parts of the country and explore more of its beautiful nature and the good hearted nature of its people. I want to eat as many nacatamales as I can, also!

As Nicaraguan singer Carlos Mejía Godoy once sang:

“Ay, Nicaragua, Nicaragüita

La flor más linda de mi querer

Abonada con la bendita Nicaragüita

Sangre de Diriangén…

“Ay, Nicaragua, sos más dulcita

Que la mielita de Tamagás

Pero ahora que ya sos libre, Nicaragüita

Yo te quiero mucho más…”

Happy National Hispanic Heritage Month!

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Christmas Memories in Exile

I remember a picture the other day. It was a picture with my sister and I, in front of a Christmas tree. I couldn’t remember what we were wearing, but I do remember that it was taken in the house we grew up in. It was taken many Christmases ago.

When you move as much as I have, memories are all you have left when important dates come up. Living away from the place you consider home means that you always carry with you the memories of special dates. Christmas in particular is a difficult time for me. I grew up in the mountains of Puerto Rico, where the weather this time of the year is cold, but not freezing cold as it is where I live now. The holiday music is festive, cheerful, loud, at a fast tempo, and is everywhere. Caribbean sounds fill up the air; not the slow, often dark, and to me, sad songs with northern European origins. Christmas music for me is drums and guitars, is tambourine and maracas, is güiro and cuatro. Parrandas fill the nights with music as people gather late at night and go throughout their neighborhoods signing traditional music from house to house. All homes are always ready for parrandas. There’s always food: hot chocolate, crackers, guava paste, queso de hoja (a type of homemade white cheese), and of course, the last home that is visited must prepare an “asopao”, or soupy rice with either chicken or pigeon peas.

Our Christmas tree at home was always humble. I still remember the year when my dad decided to just take a coffee tree and wrap its branches with aluminum foil. We placed lights and ornaments and it’s still the most beautiful Christmas tree I had ever had. The tree on the picture I remember was humble as well. We had gone to my grandfather’s farm and cut a pine tree. It did not have the aroma of the fir trees or the spruce trees, but it was beautiful in its humbleness. We put garlands and ornaments and musical lights on it. The tree would not have presents. Ever. Presents were not to be placed under the tree or given on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. We had to wait until Epiphany, the Feast of the Wise Men, on January 6th. The day before my sister and I would gather some grass for the camels, place it on empty shoe boxes, and place those under our beds. The Three Kings will leave present then… and we will have a week or two to play with them before going back to school.

When you live in exile, or away from home in any form, these memories are all you have. You remember the holiday, and the music, and the presents, and the food, and the family time. You remember that nothing will go back to what it was. You remember that life goes on and you must adapt.

I found the picture among my things. My sister and I are wearing pajamas. The Christmas tree looks as beautiful as I remember. It brought back all the memories of Christmas past, in the mountains of Castañer, waiting for parrandas and for the music. It is Navidad; it is home.

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