Diplomom08’s Weblog

From what I read, fall is

beginning to hit in the States, at least in areas where the foliage normally turns from green to gorgeous yellows, oranges, and reds, before the leaves drop to the ground.  Having spent most of my childhood in a part of the south where these changes did not occur (green leaves to brown overnight), I have grown to appreciate the splendor that is autumn in the Mid-Atlantic and Northeast.

This year, for obvious reasons, the only change we might observe here is to crank the A/C a bit more, as the days seem to get progressively warmer and more humid.  Or maybe it just seems warmer, since tomorrow is October 1, and by now in northern Virginia, we'd at least be pulling out sweaters or throwing on the occasional jacket.  Instead, I am enjoying photos that friends post on Facebook, baking pumpkin muffins courtesy of tetra-pak organic pumpkin, and thinking that I will only need a sweater at work for those days when  it seems the A/C is overdoing it.

There is another change I am not seeing here and before I mention it, I will just say how grateful I am.  For if there is nothing more disturbing when back in the States, as when I see the gorgeous fall colors corrupted on an annual basis by the pink.  You may remember this post I wrote early last October.  I was trying desperately not to be smacked by the pink, and yet, true to form, I managed to spend the whole month being hit with it.

While I have seen a few items here and there, to include a pink ribbon on the ajo polvo (ground garlic) at the store (yes, this is inexplicable to me, too), or the cover of a local magazine that discusses Cancer de mama (Really? Amazing how everyone seems to forget men are also affected), that is about the sum total.  There is a  local race, but it is under-advertised (by U.S. standards) and I have only seen one small poster on the local highway thus far.

What does this spell for me?  Total and utter relief.

There is nothing worse, in my opinion, than not only being diagnosed with something so awful, but to have it happen in the middle of an "awareness" month.  The problem is that there is no dearth of awareness, especially in the U.S.  There is pink everywhere in October, if for no other reason than companies want to look good by sharing in the pink.  After all, if you slap a pink ribbon on something, everything will magically be okay.

Let me assure you, that's not the way it works.  A pink ribbon does not change your diagnosis, it does not save your boob, it does not keep you from a painful surgery and recovery (or five, in my case).  A pink ribbon does not mean money will go anywhere.  When you see that pink ribbon, do you stop to look at the fine print? Do you read exactly where the money will go, what money is left after various and sundry administrative fees are deducted from it, corporate style salaries are paid, and the cost of advertising is removed? Do you find yourself buying a product just because it has a pink ribbon on it, because someone you know was affected, and you just want to help? 

If so, then stop.  Stop and find out who slapped that pink ribbon on the product.  Find out where the money goes (and if it's that giant K company, I would put that product back on the shelf and stop buying that brand), and what exactly it's how it's going to be used.  Ask yourself if you are buying the product because you really need it or because you somehow feel even the pittance of money that goes to said organization will really help.  Put the product back, write the name down, go home and then research the heck out of the product, the organization benefiting from said trickle-down donation, and decide if then that purchase will really do any good.

The reality is that no amount of pink ribbons will stop this from happening, nor will it give back to those of us who have lost so much throughout the years.  The truth is, the pink is just a giant slap in the face that reminds us every year for 31 days that a nasty cell infiltrated our bodies and forced us to have a few really bad weeks/months/years.  Corporations that may well make cancer-causing products then try to convince us that since they put a symbol on their product, it somehow means they really care and want to help us. If you want to donate to a facility that actually performs research, send the money directly to them and bypass the middle (and very expensive) man.

Breast cancer appears to be the only sickness that is supposed to be deemed as cute and pretty.  People seem to believe if you hand someone who is dealing with it a cutesy plaque with a pink ribbon, he or she will be so enraptured with the color, that somehow they will forget the doctor visits, the tests, the constant invasive questioning, the surgeries, the pre or post-surgical treatments, and most of all, that he or she may have lost a body part that not everyone deems necessary, but some  like to have.

The flip side of the coin is that people focus so much on awareness of one topic, they completely forget about others issues or that awareness, in and of itself, does very little.  Awareness did not save me from anything.  It did not change the course of my treatments, and in fact, if I needed awareness in any arena, it would be what it would be like to live with all of the changes the surgeries would foist on me. I knew when something was not right with my body and that's why I went to the doctor. Not because of a pink ribbon or a bra campaign on Facebook, but because a lump that does not go away after a week or two might not be mastitis.  Just like if I had a loose or painful tooth, I would go to the dentist. I don't need someone telling me every day for a month to see the dentist if my tooth hurts.

I would love to see less pink and more time spent on awareness of post-surgical and treatment changes.  Doctors tend to spend so much time focusing on the "getting rid of" that they forget just how much damage it can do to one's body and mind.  I know if I knew then what I know now, I would have radically scaled back my primary surgical choice and reminded my surgeon that it was my body she was dealing with, not hers. Survival factors (though I have no plans on dying from anything but crankypants old age), would be no different and I would feel less mutiliated (yes, really, some of us actually feel that way…and you know what? It's okay!)

I would have been far more vocal with my first oncologist and fired her the moment she told me that "No chemo was not a get out of jail free card," while discussing the Tamoxifen issue.  After all, if this wasn't my fault (something I was repeatedly told), why was I to feel that I was supposed to be in jail?  Never mind that she could not prove to me that Tamoxifen could be helpful, even more importantly, not fatal with my family history of pulmonary embolus issues. Last, but not least, she told me she would not be held liable if anything happened to me. Um, right.

I would have loved an awareness that my getting back to normal revolved not around overtreating something that was removed from my body and likely never to return, but simply getting on with my life. The counselor who told me to just "take 18 months off" had clearly never been through anything similar and I would have given anything for her to be aware of the pain her words caused me. 

Instead of shaking in my boots and just trying to breathe when the first radiation oncologist screamed at me that I "might be stage 3" (no evidence to support that from any tests),  I would have told him where to stick in and walked out of the room.  In fact, the only doctor who I still would consider seeing (but I don't need to do so) from the first *set,* if you will, is the plastic surgeon.  He actually commented that he was grateful I didn't fire him. I just smiled and nodded, but probably should have told him that since he treated me like a person with a few brain cells to rub together, I did not find the need to send him down the not-so-primrose path the others took.

Let's have awareness that those who are dealing with this issue might need nurturing, hand-holding, or just a day to bloody forget about all of the decisions they are struggling with. They might want to not stress about meals, extra money for child care, or who is going to walk the dog while they are recovering.  Be like all of my amazing friends around the world who brought me food (okay, those in the tri-state area), organized said bringing of food, collected donations (insanely helpful for the extra daycare Nick needed), brought me warm blankets, and called to gossip about anything but what I was going through.  They took me to lunch, we stressed about Foreign Service stuff, and they kept me going when I was enmeshed in a sea of painful pink.  They didn't use words like battle or survivor (those are also on my bad list), but instead reminded me about the joys of bidding and insisted on conversing about where we would go next.  And…that got me through.  Not glittery pink scarves or not walks that went nowhere (and required insane amounts of money just to register), but friends and their awareness of what really mattered.

Most of all, take fall to be aware that life is short and needs to be enjoyed. Put down that pink-beribboned item, go outside and breathe in the autumn air. Enjoy the foliage, go to a corn maze, and pick some apples or pumpkins.  Life can be short for any one of 18,000 plus reasons, and buying into the pink ribbon program (like the $200+ pink Uggs) won't change that.  Do think of us when you pick a pumpkin (we will miss that this year), just don't pink it, k?

Two weeks ago Nick

came home from school and let us know that his teacher was away due to a death in the family. He wasn't entirely sure whether it was her mother or grandmother (and at one point, decided it was both). I sent his teacher a very general email the following Monday and offered our condolences.  She replied that she was overwhelmed by the outpouring of love from the children when they learned of her grandmother's passing, and that Nick had offered sweetly, "My grandma went to the sky, too." 

I normally try to be a bit more original, but I thought last year's post said it quite succintly.  Feliz cumpleanos,Mom, from all of us, especially from the Little Guy who adores you and knows of your importance despite having never met you.

Love you and miss you. 

Que busca, mi niña?

Was the refrain I heard over and over, from the moment we stepped into the local market in Managua. The kindly grinning vendor, garbed in the traditional Nica outfit, and not at all overwhelmed by the large basket balanced ever so delicately on her head, was sure she could help me. It was our second trip to the Roberto Huembes market and to say it dwarfs the Masaya market is an understatement.  While I was really just looking (my common refrain), I couldn't help but be charmed by her insistance, even if I was well-stocked on cacao or rosquillas.

We investigated the Huembes market for the first time two weeks ago when we had a borrowed car and a need to escape our home.  Our house is large and beautiful, but isolated and we are still adjusting to not having a wealth of neighbors or kids simply running around all hours of the day.  We packed ourselves up and as Cait was busy snoozing, as teenagers are wont to do on weekends, we took our empleada instead.

I'd love to give directions to the market, but if you know Managua, you know that's a bit difficult. I'd say it's 20 minutes from our house, not in the direction of Masaya and that's about as close as I can get.  The market itself stumbles around a large area of Managua and is not confined to one building. We had little trouble finding the turn for parking, but then did not know what the guard-like person was selling in the middle of the road when we turned in. Parking passes? Lottery tickets?  We opted out and attempted parking in the first lot to the left.  The spots just seemed odd, so we backed out, went back out to the left and found a larger, more spacious lot with lined spaces.  After parking and declining the ever-popular car wash offer from the lot guards, we headed into the market.

The outer shops reminded me of Masaya.  Cookies and other sugary treats were proffered constantly.  Stopping to look or even check one's watch will have several people offering samples or pointing out the goods they have to offer.  We had nothing in mind on the first trip, other than allowing our empleada to give us a brief tour.  It was more intense and packed than we expected and this surprised the kids.  They were a bit overwhelmed, and we ended up limiting our purchases to thread and doughnuts (well, at first glance they looked similar).

The thread was a happy surprise. Very inexpensive and a wide variety of colors.  The "doughnuts" were actually a type of cookie that seemed to taste like corn.  A bit crunchier and not as sweet as we expected, but now we can say that we've tried them. I've done a bit of searching, and if I've found the right recipe, they are called rosquillas and are a sort of doughnut-shaped cornbread cookie. 

Perusing the wares…

We left not long after the doughnut discovery, but ended up back at the market only a week later.  The office in which I now work had thoughtfully created a city tour and several of us opted for the excursion that would give us an overview of some of the more historic areas.  Many of the areas covered were on my previous trip, however, Peter had not had a chance to see any of the sights and the tour guide was able to offer interesting historical tidbits. 

We began in the original downtown that has never really recovered from the earthquake in 1972.  We were not able to visit the cathedral or see the eternal flame, as there was a rather large event taking place.  However, we did get a chance to enter the waterfront park that we opted out of during our first tour a month prior, Puerto Salvador Allende.

It seems to be touted as sort of a boardwalk style entertainment area.  There are several restaurants and had a festival with local dancers on the day we visited.  While it was very different from the other areas of downtown Managua, there didn't seem to be an overwhelming amount of actual activities.  There was an extremely clean and bright playground (actually, most play areas are very colorful), however, there was no shade and even past noon, the sun was shining brilliantly.  We are not even to the really hot season, and we could not imagine staying there longer than half an hour or so.  There was a walk out to the lake, but the fence surrounding it was a bit obstructive of the view and of course, there would not be any water activities due to the pollution.

A recycling bin! I was beyond pleased. I think it's amusing every item on the trash can is actually compostable and not trash, but still…this is good.

After 30 minutes there, we were sufficiently sweaty and packed back into the air-conditioned bus.  We continued through the city and even returned to Lome de Tiscapa.  It was gorgeous, as usual, if not a wee bit warm.  The final leg of the trip had us revisit the Huembes market.  I was a bit weary after the long ride, and had nodded off several times on the bus, but figured I needed to give the market a go in case I missed something the first time.  Did I ever…

Wow! Blurry, but you get the picture…

We didn't really peruse the meat section, but wanted to capture a view of it.

Yep, dog food in bulk.

Turn a corner and tables are magically filled with everything from potatoes to ginger, and corn to spices and flowers and….Vegetables seemed so ripe and recently picked, unlike much of what you find in the stores, and the selection was far larger than I had seen at any fruit stand.  No idea if anything was remotely organic, but at least it looked fresh and had to be straight from the farm. To say it was a coup to find this place would be an understatement.  The bag of tomatoes ran me 80 cents and the ginger…maybe 20 cents?

I can't say it's easy to find on one's own if you are only in town for a bit, but if you have a few days to explore or live here for any length of time, the market is worth a visit.  If not for the fresh produce, perhaps for the local outfits (the children's traditional clothing is so bright and happy), then perhaps for a small wooden toy or other locally made treat.  Be cautious with your belongings, but enjoy, as it is definitely a shopper's paradise for local goods.

Little signs…

that our house is finally feeling more like our home. Yes, I know home is where the heart is, but sometimes it's nice to have a few items that just really remind you of your family and not just Drexel Heritage.

UAB or Unnacompanied Air Freight is finally delivered to our house nearly 6 weeks after it arrived in country. It actually beat us to the Managua, if you can believe that.

I had just unpacked this when he arrived home from school. Like Christmas…no, better.

After two months of waiting, I finally have my new tea kettle, a small moving treat.

Hours of play…hours. Best thing we packed in the UAB.

The cat also found a play spot.

Stroke of genius: thinking to throw the plasma car into UAB at the last minute. Nick, riding around our extremely not-so-traveled (and gated) street. The little hill just ahead leads to the large, flat area that is our driveway (and play space).

Last, but not least, today's DIY project: Nick's indoor playhouse. It's still in process, just needs a bit of decorating and a lamp, according to Nick.

China gives the playhouse two non opposable thumbs up.

The only thing that we discovered that had been lost yesterday. 

Yep, another tooth. Nick lost his other bottom front tooth while at school.

And the car?  HHE (boat freight/household effects)?  Well, the car is on a boat making its way here and the HHE has been here for several weeks, so it should only be a matter of time.  Now to enjoy a cup of coffee in *my* mug….

Surprise! Someone is

growing up quickly and it's making me a wee bit sad. Yes, it is my birthday today, but no it's not me.  Well, not growing up at least.

I should thank everyone first for the birthday wishes.  I ended up having a very quiet day at home, minus the incessant banging in the front hall (the former rock garden in our living room is being replaced by a tiled in area and will be a mini-study of sorts).  I was able to get in a run, take a 2 hour nap, and shower before the kids came home from school, so a fabulous day right there.

Watermelon & feta salad, mushrooms & rosemary in a soy ginger vinaigrette and a carpacchio of corvino. Or yummy, as we call it.

Peter decided we should have a dinner out, so we stopped at Ola Verde.  I was even treated to dessert on the house by the owner, Carla.  My dragonfruit cheesecake arrived complete with a glowing candle and was, as is all food at Ola Verde, simply delectable.

We went straight home after dinner as Peter had something *terribly urgent* to do. I was carted off to the family room with Nick where he made several excuses as to why we should just stay there for a few minutes.  Not long after that, I was called into the dining room and surprised by cake and presents!

Surprise! Cake and presents! The kids baked this while we were at dinner. Are they awesome or what? (If you are counting, yes, it's a 2 dessert birthday.)

By far, though, the biggest surprise of the evening?

Can you see what's missing?

Someone lost his first tooth.

It had been loose for a few days (he was a bit, uh, perturbed when he first noticed) and he spent quite a few minutes really wiggling it tonight. Finally, after much discussion, he decided I could reach in and attempt to gently tug on it (I think the loose-ness was getting to him).  Five seconds later, and the tooth was out.

As if it wasn't enough he started Kindergarten this week, now this.  Well, it certainly made for a birthday I won't forget and how does one write Tooth Fairy in Spanish?

And they are off….

Well, actually, they are back now.  However, for quite a bit of time today, all three of my children just…disappeared.  Something called a school bus showed up, swallowed up my kids, and the next thing I knew, tears were springing into my eyes as I had just put my baby on the school bus.  All three babies in fact, one of whom is taking AP European History this year.  You know, the one who used to babble on and on about her father working in the "Ombassy" in "Caracalus" is now a high school sophomore.  The middle baby is starting middle school and my uber-wee one started kindergarten.

Not only was the bus on time, it was, in fact, early and showed up at 6:19 (yes, A.M.).  School starts at an hour in which no one should be awake, much less in school, but this is actually a blessing in disguise as guess who else has to get up at the same exact time to get ready to go to work?  And guess who gets to sleep in on non-first days of school?

Nine hours after they left, they arrived back home.  Nick gave a quick summary of school while getting off the bus, "It was fine, okay, it was all fine!"  A very subtle way of asking me not to interrogate him about the first day I suppose.

All in all, things went well and the kids seemed thrilled to go.  After all, we still don't have a car, so it's go to school or stay home and pick up litter/watch tv/color/watch mom pull her hair out and you know, that kind of fun only lasts so long.  I suppose it's also a good thing that the academic year has commenced as I *may* start work soon.  I accepted the job of Co-CLO coordinator and I have oh, so many ideas and very eager to get going. 

They said to label everything!

 Until I start, however, I have a few other things to accomplish…like labeling everything Nicholas owns that *might* go to school. Thank goodness for Mabel and her labels!

* I know, uniforms, what's up with that?!  I generally do not like them for a variety of reasons,  having worn them for some time in school.  They did not accomplish the task of putting everyone on *equal* ground when I had to wear them and I've always been thrilled my kids could be themselves in school.  However, here things appear to be different and they actually like them, so whatevs, right?

Somewhere in the Middle

is exactly where we are right now.  We are still busy exploring, albeit more on foot than in a car, since el carro just left Baltimore Thursday night (fingers crossed it will be here in a few short weeks), and I am finding myself back in that unique sort of limbo of being neither a resident nor a tourist.

I find myself walking or (even better) running around the neighborhood like I own it, but I still can get lost on the way home.  I pity the poor dogs who appear to be owner-less and worry about the scarily scrawny cats slinking through the sewer. I wonder when I will drum up the courage to head over to the comedora and get my gringo self a true Nicaraguan lunch meal that could feed an army for USD $2.

I envy those who have the grazing cows and chickens. I wonder how one is so lucky to have such a variety of fruit trees in their yard.   A trip to the the miscellania or the pulperia for an extra mango or banana is never necessary, if you have your own orchard.  We were excited to disover both naranja agria and limon in our yard (sour orange and lime), but I still find myself having a pang of jealousy when I run past the full trees, ready to drop the fruit at any moment.

A sweet pooch making a meal out of a dried out coconut…not an uncommon sight.

Last week, we opted for a leisurely walk through the neighborhood. We have had 2 major holidays in the past 10 days and I wanted to glimpse the church that hosted the reason for the holidays, that is maybe a 1-2 miles from our house. 

While not an easy walk, as one must navigate twisty one lane roads (no sidewalks) that are occupied by everything from tuk-tuks to speeding SUVs, it is definitely an interesting one.  As I've written before, unlike other areas, our neighborhood is a mishmash of housing and life styles.  The moderno y privado condominiums are right next door to a small house of corrugated metal with chickens in the front yard and a clothes line strung from the door to the nearest tree (note to self: reminder to string up clothes line out back).

Chickens are everywhere here. While I'd love to have a hen in a backyard coop, rather glad the roosters are a mile or more away.

The new condominium complex…

The house across the very, very narrow street.

A tuk-tuk or moto-taxi racing along said street.

The entrance to the gravery, as Nick calls it (or cemetery for everyone else). 

Unlike cemeteries in the U.S., many graves appear to be more homemade. Simple crosses clearly carved by hand, and plants dot the tops of the graves rather than elaborate monuments. However, I found them to be more meaningful in that they were likely created by family and friends.

Another grave with a touch of fancy glasswork…

Las Sierritas Parish Church, where the celebration begins and ends. Well, the celebrating continues long after Minguito returns home, but…

I'd write more on the topic, but I think a better explanation of the holidays can be found here.  While there was definitely a bit of drunken revelry and other less formal celebrations happening, there is a very serious belief in the power of Santo Domingo. I have heard stories of that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.  The kind that make you want to see the celebration up close, inhale the scents and the sights and the sounds of the day.  Now if I can just find a local friend to take me next year so I can better appreciate and photograph the day…

Saying good-bye,

or "See you later," as we often do, is one of the hardest parts about being in the Foreign Service.  You arrive at post, meet many new folks, start to make new friends, and then within days or weeks, it's already time for one of your new amigos to leave post. Sadly, this is happening to us today.  Two new friends are leaving post and we can only hope that my incessant chattering about FS life (and how to find everything you need to know about FS life via a Google search) repaid a wee bit of the kindness they showed to us in our first few weeks.

They not only showed us Granada two weekends ago (how time flies), but one of them managed to carve out a great deal of time during the weekdays, despite her impending move, in order to show us around Managua.  Last Thursday afternoon, she took Nicholas, Kelsey, and I on a whirlwind tour of downtown Managua, to include Parque Historico Nacional Loma de Tiscapa. 

Now, remember as  you read that we are so very new to the area.  While we are trying to get out and about quickly, we are also attempting to settle in and learn as much as possible about our new home.  So, I may not include as many details as I should in these first few posts, only as I am still learning and gathering information. For instance, our first stop on our downtown area was an emergency bathroom stop.

I don't necessarily recommend trying to randomly find a public toilet downtown or at least along the shoreline of Lake Managua.  Easy to locate, it was not!  We eventually found a bar/restaurant that was not open, but had a restroom.  The lone occupant lounging at a table did not mind us borrowing the restrooms, but not sure that will always be an option.

We attempted to drive further up the shoreline, as we heard there was a boardwalk.  It's entirely possible we were already on the boardwalk and didn't know it.  We simply found a bunch of restaurants and bars that were open-ish.  There appeared to be a fairgrounds, and beyond that what *looked like* a water park.  Unfortunately, there was a fee to drive into the park and no information given out about what was actually there.  So, we made a quick u-turn and vowed to investigate online before returning to the possible water park.

Our first real touristy stop was the old cathedral of Managua. An imposing stone edifice that sadly cannot be toured by anyone other than the guards who quietly watch it from inside.  The 1931 earthquake damaged it greatly, and while it was repaired, the 1972 earthquake just about destroyed it completely.  While it is still standing, it is not safe to be toured. I have heard conflicting reports about whether it can or will be repaired, so only time will tell. 

There are rumors of very wealthy couples being able to utilize the cathedral for wedding ceremonies. However, due to it's precarious state, one must follow along a certain path or risk further damage or injury.

The old cathedral is located in the Plaza de la Republica, near the Palacio Nacional de la Cultura that houses the Museo Nacional.  We opted to save this for another day, and after ambling around the plaza a bit more, the LG offered a rare photo op.

The LG allows a photo at the War Memorial.

Our tour guide of the day then offered that we might like to visit Loma de Tiscapa.  This was maybe a 1o minute ride, including a windy road up to the top of the elevation (note: it runs 20 cordobas to enter the park).  Up, up, up we went, past a military complex on our left and amazingly colorful playgrounds to our right.  While they are not the fancy-pants playgrounds of the U.S. (slides are metal! Swings are made of wood!) they seem to satisfy those who stop to play. In fact, we had every intention of partaking in the fun, but the kids, well, all of us, were a wee bit hot, tired, and parched by the time we were leaving Tiscapa.

That's lake Managua in the distance…

This is the canopy or where one starts his or her zip line tour over the Tiscapa Lagoon. It goes off to the right for what seems to be an insanely long distance. My stomach hurts just looking at it… maybe next year? Oh, did I mention you can also do the zip line upside down?

The Tiscapa Lagoon. It really is amazing to view it from the Canopy (beginning of zip line tour).

The shadowy monument to Augusto C. Sandino, a hero to many, who was assassinated here in 1934.

We also visited the (very few) remains of the former presidential palace.  It was also seriously damaged in the earthquake of 1931 and destroyed by the 1972 quake.  A few walls remain just a few meters from the zip line entrance.  There are also remains of a former prison just a few steps away.  Apparently, "going to Loma" didn't always have the same meaning it might have today. 

The last task of our day was to attempt to feed Nick's leftover hot dog bun to a stray dog hunting around ceramic pots in the parking lot.  Yes, I realize a hot dog bun may not be the healthiest choice, however, the kids were so upset to see yet another starving pooch looking for anything to eat.  We see so many on a daily basis and it's just heartbreaking.  In our case, it may be wallet breaking, as Nick gave me yet another lecture the other day on "dogs with no owners" and how we need to feed them, take care of them…and he always manages to say this when I have just glimpsed from meters away, the ribs of yet another hungry puppy. Not every one appears to be on his or her own, but just so many of them have that appearance.  Another topic we need to learn more about and we certainly have the time.

Our schedules are picking up

and the days seem to be moving faster. Instead of waking up and wondering what will we do each day, I'm beginning to wake up and wonder what we won't do.

It ended up being a packed day that began with nothing more than a hair cut for Cait on the schedule. We managed to finagle lunch out and shopping with friends (just school uniforms, but another item checked off our to-do list).  After a brief stop at home, I headed out for an unexpected dinner with new friends.

Dinner was just lovely.   We dined at one of my new favorite restaurants/organic markets in Managua, Ola Verde.  The owner has created a fabulous indoor/outdoor cafe that serves only the best organic treats in the area and at quite reasonable prices.  

Starters included the tray of treats shown above (tofu, pita, tzatziki, shaved carrot slices with dill, mushrooms with rosemary and a slice of eggplant with a tomato salsa atop).  Three of us easily split, but it could also double as a dinner for one.  

I wondered if the gazpacho and my vegetables Indian style (curried and served with raita) might be too much, but it was perfect.  The amounts are not the gargantuan American style plates, but just enough. Filling, but not overwhelming and my glass of house sangria was the perfect accompaniment.

We ran out of time for dessert or coffee, but I still managed a few minutes to peruse the market.  I found fresh bread, pitas, tortillas, and a slice of dragonfruit cheesecake to split with Peter later tonight.  The owner had offered when we first met two weeks ago that she might have a connection for organic butter.  Tonight she was able to place an order, and on Tuesday, I will have at least 4 pounds of real butter for our baking needs.  (Butter here is not 100% butter, but a combination of margarine and butter, and we are not margarine folks…).

Even better?  I had a chance to chat with the owner about possible activities for those of us interested in learning more about cooking (local treats, pasta…you name it) or the farm-to-table movement in Nicaragua.  Normally, that really piques my interest.  However, it has also become work-related for me.  As of yesterday, I accepted a part-time position and let's just say that I will be quadrupling my efforts to ramp up my knowledge of activities and explorations within Nicaragua.  

It seems like we just arrived and I'm already thinking that we *only* have three years here…here's hoping we make the most of it.