Devil's Advocate

Think Again: The Peace Corps
by Robert Strauss

The reason the Peace Corps is overlooked as a development organization has a lot to do with the youth and inexperience of the majority of its volunteers. Equally important is its unwillingness to decide if it is a development organization or an organization with a mission “to promote world peace and friendship,” as stipulated by Congress in the Peace Corps Act. It would like to be both, but finds itself falling short on both objectives because it cannot decide which is the more important.

Last week I discovered this article in Foreign Policy written by a former Peace Corps Country Director. It's a somewhat critical view of Peace Corps and its effectiveness, and asserts that many widely held beliefs regarding Peace Corps are actually myths.

Paul and I feel a little conflicted because we agree with many of Strauss' arguments, but also don't want to think our time here has been frivolous. We will leave Nicaragua in less than six months, so at this stage in our service we're beginning to think about the mark we'll be leaving on our community. This might not have been the ideal time for us to stumble upon this article, but it's worth thinking about and I wanted to share it here.

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Trash

In Masaya we're pretty lucky because we get regular trash pick up three times a week. Some of our friends in smaller cities have to wait a lot longer or just burn their trash like their neighbors. The truck usually comes in the morning, but we can't put trash out too far ahead of time or the dogs will tear it apart. There's really nothing worse than coming home to a ripped apart trash bag and your trash strewn all along the road for the whole neighborhood to see.

Several men walk alongside the truck all day long, picking up the trash and throwing it into the back of the truck.  To alert people that the trash truck is coming there is a really loud bell that is rung as they're coming down the street, and Dora has learned that that bell means something exciting is happening. Usually we forget or are asleep when the trash truck comes, so we're always frantically running around trying to put everything in one bag, run to the front door, unlock several locks, and put the trash on the sidewalk. With my inferior human ears I sometimes don't hear it until it's already passed, but now Dora is quick to alert us and we don't have to worry about keeping stinky trash bags for an extra couple of days.

These guys just walk alongside the truck and pick up trash bags off of the sidewalk:

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Danny's Guest Blogging: Part Three: Reflections

Holly and Paul were two of my best friends in high school.  We have kept in touch since then, but our AIM chats and emails about their life in Nicaragua could not accurately convey just how much their lives have changed while serving in the Peace Corps.

Holly and Paul, without even realizing it, have become quite proficient at Spanish.  The moment that best illustrates this is when Holly and I were patronizing the fine establishment known as Tip Top. I stood alongside and watched as Holly and Tip Top lady discussed in Spanish the several different combinations of main courses and sides in the family meal, and after this two minute conversation, Holly turns to me and asks, "Does that sound good to you?"

Perhaps Holly assumed I was paying attention during my two Spanish courses in high school, but most likely, she didn't even realize that she was speaking in Spanish--ordering food in Spanish is commonplace, something she does every day.  I doubt Holly and Paul realize how impressive it is to a uni-lingual observer such as myself that they are able to communicate with people in two different languages while I can barely do it in one.

The transportation system in Nicaragua was also quite foreign to me. I expected standing-room only, hot and sweaty Nicaraguan buses where roosters and people ride side-by-side, but I didn't expect that all in one day, we would utilize every mode of transportation ever invented: we took a boat back to Bluefields, a cab to the airport, a plane to Managua, and a school bus back to Masaya.  It's not even the varying forms of transportation--it's also the entire system for making reservations.  When I want to fly somewhere I go to expedia.com.  When they want to get around in Nicaragua, they go to the airport or bus terminal or harbor and hope the plane/bus/boat isn't full yet.  If it's not, they are awarded with their very own boarding pass, which I'm pretty sure was incorrectly taken literally by a Bluefields Airport worker at some point.

Nicaragua is an amazing place; it would make a great vacation spot or even a fun place to live if you approach the area with the right expectations.  I visited expecting to see how the other half lives. Nicaragua is the second poorest nation in the hemisphere, and certain areas are debilitatingly poor and dangerous--places where trash lines the side of the roads, and bums sleep on every sidewalk.  But there are comparable areas in every major American city too.

While Nicaragua does have impoverished areas, it also has beach areas and panoramic views that rival anything America's coastal cities have to offer.  Still, though, Nicaragua will not provide you with the creature comforts of America--but, as far as I'm concerned, that's the entire point.  If you're accustomed to eating McDonald's every day and having food brought to you (which, admittedly, I have been in the past) and going from one air conditioned place to another, then you're probably not going to like it.  But if you're willing to step outside of your boundaries then you'll likely discover that not only can you get by with way less, you might even be happier.

It is possible that my one week stay does not give me the authority to speak on this matter.  I had my own personal translators and photographers following me around for the duration of my short stay,
and they used their knowledge of the area to keep me out of trouble and show me the best that Nicaragua had to offer.   My week in Nicaragua was a vacation--I knew the poverty, the cold showers, and the muggy weather were temporary, and once I left I'd return to a familiar and comfortable America.  Holly and Paul don't have that luxury.  Still, though, I feel that the Peace Corps experience--both the good and the bad, and I know Holly has a list of the bads--is invaluable and will pay meaningful if not financial dividends later in life.

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Danny's Guest Blogging: Part Two: Poshing It

Later in our adventure we left the East Coast and headed to San Juan del Sur on the West Coast.

The bus ride was something any Central American traveler must experience. Standing room only, roosters in bags, hot and muggy--exactly what I wanted.

When we finally arrived at San Juan del Sur I felt like I was in a completely different country. Geographically the city is quite close to Masaya and Bluefields, but culturally, it felt worlds apart.

Our time in San Juan del Sur was mainly spent exploring the city and swimming at the beautiful pools. We also ran into some other Peace Corps Volunteers on vacation and spent the night watching the sunset and exploring the city.

The rest of our trip was spent traveling back to Masaya, seeing the local sites, tasting the local foods, and reflecting on the best trip of my life.

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Culture Awe: Masaya and San Juan del Sur

After our trip to paradise in the Pearl Keys, it was time to return back to the Pacific side for the second half of Danny's trip. We spent most of my birthday in an epic Amazing Race-style journey in which the tasks were to beat the Swedes and make it home: Paul and Danny rose before sunrise to buy tickets on the earliest panga (boat) back to Bluefields, once in Bluefields we spent the morning looking nervously at the clock hoping we could make it off of standby on to the earlier flight back to Managua, and then took a taxi and a bus and a neighborhood shuttle to get back to our house. We eventually did make it home in time to unpack our sandy clothes, greet the dogs and dog watchers extraordinaire Nicole and Caitlin, and have the the fanciest birthday dinner that Masaya has to offer--Papa John's Pizza--before going out on the town to celebrate:

The next morning, we went to San Juan del Sur so that we would have seen both the Atlantic and the Pacific in the span of a day. Danny got the quintessential Central American bus ride, complete with a rooster in a sack in his feet and a bus driver that spent a fair amount of the trip sending text messages:

Surprisingly, we made it safe and sound to San Juan and spent the afternoon having lunch in a pretentious but lovely bookstore/cafe, walking along the beach, and exploring the new shops that had popped up since our last visit in April.

After our semi-rough accommodations in Pearl Lagoon, Paul and I mentioned to Danny that there were, in fact, nice hotels in Nicaragua. Easily the nicest place in the country is Pelican Eyes in San Juan del Sur, and Danny insisted that we go. Pelican Eyes is a beautiful resort built on a hillside overlooking all of San Juan del Sur and the harbor; its three infinity pools make for some pretty amazing views. Here is the uppermost infinity pool and the middle infinity pool:

Me overlooking San Juan:

In addition to really nice pools, the little villas are awfully nice as well, complete with their own private patio outside:

Paul mentioned earlier our criterion about places we visit having animals around that we can play with. Pelican Eyes has a non-profit veterinary clinic that rescues and cares for many animals in the area, and has its fair share of dogs and cats that call the various villas their homes. Our villa, we found out, is the home of Azerbaijan:

Azerbaijan was constantly scheming to get into our room, either by running in open doors or climbing in though windows. Unfortunately, he was not a friendly cat, and would bite any time we tried to pet him, pick him up, or disturb him in any way. Azerbaijan claimed the entire room as his own; when Paul climbed into bed for the night, Azerbaijan made it quite clear that the bed was his domain when he attacked Paul's feet from under the covers where he was hiding.

After our one night in Pelican Eyes' Pacific paradise, it was time to go back to Masaya. Danny had wanted to test out his intestines of steel by consuming Nicaraguan street food, but due to the negative effects parasites can have on vacations, only on the last day were Paul and I willing to let him take the risk. He started with a drink from a plastic bag, chicha:

Then moved on to some enchiladas and salad in the market:

And then graduated up to this unidentified meat (later identified as undesirable pork parts) made in this part of the bus depot:

And finally the night ended when we shared coconut milk out of a freshly macheted coconut:

We have come to regret tempting the intestinal parasite gods with much less, but much to our surprise, Danny never ended up getting sick. Aside from that glaring flaw, I think Danny got the quintessential Central American vacation he was looking for.

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