Although this conversation was sort of awkwardly forced in between the dying process of my bug “friend,” I did eventually get a chance to talk to my tica family about their opinions on Nicaraguans. They said that there is a lot of discrimination towards them because they look a little different than the “white” ticans, they have a different accent, and they are the group that gets picked on. My family said that it seemed that many “Nicas” who are employed in Costa Rica have lower status jobs that don’t pay as much, such as a house cleaner or maid. My tico uncle compared them to how the United States culture perceives Mexicans, which seemed to be an accurate comparison.
Upon actually visiting Nicaragua, it was much different that I expected. The first things I noticed were the beautiful mountains (or volcanoes) and all of the bananas on our way in. It could have been the area of the trip that I was awake or not reading for, but there was a stretch of the trip where there were lots of banana plantations. I was also amazed by the historical city of Grenada. I realize this is a tourist perspective, but the way that the history is captured and maintained is beautiful and I was really glad to see the buildings. The non- tourist perspective is looking deeper at the beautiful old buildings and what it behind those well kept walls.
I was prepared to see poverty a lot differently, after Linda explained how the children beg and how obvious it is. Yes, the first moment we got off the bus there were at least four children making their woven souvenirs, there was the man selling sunglasses, the teenagers selling hammocks, the frail old women asking for food… It was a lot more openly visible than in Costa Rica. I had the mindset that instead of being concerned and heartbroken, I would try to ignore the children and only help when I could. I knew that if I didn’t do that, I would get so wrapped up in not being able to help every single child, I wouldn’t enjoy my trip and would probably not have been a pleasant person to be around. The first full day, we went to the hammock place, an organization run by a man from the United States who is “employing” children off of the streets (many blind, all homeless and in poverty) to make hammocks. This was such an inspirational place; there was a contagious energy there, a glimmer of hope. The genuine smiles of the boys melted my heart. I could see some of our group was a little uncomfortable with the boys handling our money and getting change for us, but I think it was a beautiful way to learn responsibility and accountability. They seemed proud that we were interested in their hammocks and there is nothing better than seeing children with “nothing” able to value and find joy in “something.”
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| Breakfast at the hotel, not horrible fruit.... but I think i'm getting spoiled by Costa Rican perfection!!! :) I did love that white pineapple though... SO different and SO TASTY!!!! :D |
Something extremely different was the lack of fruit stands in Nicaragua. Although our tour guide said agriculture was the number one export of the country, it sure didn’t seem like much of it was kept in house. The very few fruit stands that I did see had a small selection, it didn’t seem like a source of pride like in Costa Rica. I wonder what the reasons behind this trend. Is it possibly because the best fruits are exported? Is it because the prices are too high? Was it because we were in Granada and not other parts of Nicaragua? Are there easier or more tempting ways to make money? Also, the fruit we at for breakfast was pretty average quality. Everything at the hotel screamed “classy” and “up scale,” except for the fruit. I mean, the white pineapple was good, the watermelon was good, but the star fruit was dry and the bananas were pretty brown. There could have been many reasons for this, fruit is hard to keep in its perfect form for long, and none of it was “bad.” I was just surprised it wasn’t better or at least as good as the fruit in Costa Rica, especially at a classy hotel.
The prices of the food were also shocking! I am always surprised how expensive things are (overall) in Costa Rica, and this was the opposite feeling in Nicaragua! Everything was so very cheap; I saw a steak dinner on a menu the first night for just five dollars. It was also interesting how everywhere we went took dollars and local money, I guess that happens in San Jose too, but I never really pay attention to it since I always have colones. Another thing that was fascinating to me was the wealth distribution, or should I say, drastically obvious unequal “distribution.” One of the open doors on the street led to piles of donated clothing where hungry, unclean children were digging through them. Elderly people, who would sit with a cup or their hands open and ready to receive donations, inhabited street corners. Then there was the opposite, the luxurious mansion summer homes taking up entire islands were nicer than all of the houses we passed by bus, on land. What was horrible to find out is about 55% of the houses were owned by wealthy United States-ians, 33% owned by wealthy Europeans, 12% were owned by wealthy Latin American people. Although these are statistics I remember from the tour guide and I don’t have a real citation on them, I feel like they can’t be too far off. That’s quite a difference though, to have such extravagant islands and then so much poverty. Even though there’s really rich people and really poor people in Costa Rica, I’ve yet to see the really poor people and it seems like there are more opportunities to be middle class. The social pyramid, wealth distribution, seems a little more balances in Costa Rica than Nicaragua.
This trip to Nicaragua marked more than just my birthday and a wonderful celebration is not all I’m taking away. The organization where the boys were making hammocks, Tio Antiono Centro Social, really stuck with me. I love seeing the hope and potential for changes, even if they start small. I have to believe that things can get better. I have to believe that there is something more out there for these children… a way for the elderly people to die in peace. The more I learn about these people, the more I learn about myself. This is why I cannot be a teacher, I feel like there is something a little harder to look at, something a little more controversial, a little harder to fight for… To anyone realistic, poverty will never end. To the positive, hopeful ones… it’s a process that needs to be taken one person at a time. The last thing that really resonated me was what I saw on the postcards. There were the usual beautiful animal, volcano, beach, and typical pictures on postcards, but then there were the black and white “great depression style” poverty postcards. There were some with children looking sad, hungry, and completely hopeless, as well as elderly people too. What does it say about a country if they want to send pictures of poverty as postcards to remember a trip? Is that a sense of pride? Is that a sign of hope?
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