Socioeconomic Contrast Tour

Do you know what a socioeconomic contrast tour is? I didn't. I mean, the name spells it out pretty nicely, but I didn't really know what it was. I got to go on one though. It was interesting. See, in Nicaragua there are a few families that own a lot and have a lot of money. However, most of the country lives on two dollars a day, or about forty Cordobas. Two whole dollars. The point of this "tour" that we went on was to show this extreme in Nicaragua.

The marketplace was full of people of all ages. People were milling around buying and selling all sorts of things. At this one marketplace everything could be found, foods, clothes, hair accessories, toothpaste, the list could go on. And on.

We got into groups, or families, and were given forty Cordobas. We were instructed to use the money that we were given to buy food for a family of four or five for a day. It took finesse to find the best prices for beans and rice, two staples of a Nicaraguan diet (to make yummy gallo pinto), and anything else that could be afforded to add variety to a diet. This exercise was not a new one to me. I did a very similar one when I did a short term missions trip to the inner city of Fresno. This idea of not having nearly enough money to supply a single hearty meal for one's family was something that I have been grappling with since that summer I went to Fresno. What was different about this "tour" was the next stop.


After we purchased the food at the market (which we took back to those that were preparing our food for the week) the whole group headed over to one of the malls in Managua. It was less than a ten minute drive away from the market and it was air conditioned and nicer than some of the malls I have seen in the United States. Did I mention that it was virtually empty? And Sundays, the day of the week that we were there, are the busiest days! The mall only sold clothing, shoes and electronics, like I said not much different than the malls we see in the United States, and interestingly enough the prices were in both dollars and Cordobas. The prices were also well over my own budget for clothes. And the brand names plastered on the advertisements and tags were all too familiar.

This is where my heart started to wander into thought. In my ear I heard that the sad reality is that most of these malls in Nicaragua are a great way to harbor and hide money laundering. That is the only reason that the malls are open air conditioned and serving the wealthy Nicaraguans and tourists. Yet, they are open and shoving a facade into the minds of people. This facade that there are people making enough in Nicaragua to keep this place open, but the reality is that these malls do not need the people of Nicaragua to stay open-- except to be employed by the empty stores.

And then I started to think about my family. What would it be like if they were still in Nicaragua? During this whole trip I was not able to separate myself from my familial identity. I don't know if I would ever be able to. No matter where I am. It was just on hyper-radar while I was there. So, that was the socioeconomic contrast tour. A little un-climatic compared to the rest of the trip. Just like this post.

I Got Back from Nicaragua 17 Days Ago

I meant to have my pictures edited and blog updated 15 days ago, at least. But, of course, I decided to make a quick trip to Seattle; and finishing up my internship and helping plan my sister's wedding took priority. In all honesty, I put it off for an even longer time because I was not sure where to start. I still do not know where to start, but I have decided that chronologically is probably the best for the sake of my memory and the sake of the organization of pictures. And, my photographs often portray things much, much better than I do so I couldn't move forward without them. So, here we go...


I landed in Managua, Nicaragua late on the night of Saturday, August 1, 2009. My flight had been delayed and then customs and grabbing my bag took longer than expected. In the meantime I met a Guatemalan man who was married to a Nica. He was meeting his wife and daughters in Nicaragua to visit her family. They had already been there for two weeks and he was joining them for the last leg of their trip. He and his family live in Oakland, California now. He told me how safe Nicaragua was, how friendly people were and how pretty it was. He said that his country was nice, too, but it is not safe. He said it is so hard to say that about one's own country, but it's the truth. He said it was so hard to say that. I swear those same exact words and feelings have slowly gushed out of my dad's mouth more times than I can count. He told me that his girls were doing well in school and he makes them do extra work in the summer. I told him that they would appreciate it some day. He said he hoped so. I promised him that I had always wished my dad taught me Spanish and I was glad he was teaching his girls. He smirked.

My new Guatemalan friend helped me fill out the customs forms (during my trip, my arrival and my departure I was given all my paperwork in Spanish... I think it's my last name) and walked through customs with me. I was expecting to be nervous throughout all of this, but I felt very comfortable and calm. From the second I boarded that plane in Houston to the time I de-boarded nine days later in Houston that calm stayed.

As we were getting through customs he asked who was picking me up. To which I answered slowly with, "uh, well, I think someone from the organization will be out there with a sign or something."

To which he responded, "you don't know who is picking you up?"

I laughed nervously, "Not exactly." He assured me that his wife had a cell phone I could use if no one was out there with a sign. It's true what they say about the culture of Central Americans, friends quickly become family. It took me years to realize that Alfaro was not me uncle John's last name and he really is not related... at all. He is not even Hispanic. Who knew?

I did end up finding a sign with my name on it, waved good bye to my first friendly encounter and was swiftly taken away by a taxi driver, named Michael, and his wife. We weaved through a parking lot of cars as I answered Michael's questions. He laughed at me when I told him that I didn't know who was picking me up. He couldn't believe no one told me. I got into his blue car and we were off to wherever it was that I was staying. As we drove Michael and his wife conversed as Michael intermittently pointed out various stores and explained the driving, er, etiquette of Nicaragua. Gallo Mas Gallo is one of the best fast food-like places to get chicken, and On the Run (which took me a few minutes to realize that he was literally saying On. The. Run.) was a gas station that had a mini mart with tons of Nicaraguan things, like Flor de Cana, the rum of Nicaragua.

When I finally divulged that my father was Nicaraguan, Michael looked into his rear view mirror at me and said, "Ah, I had a feeling when I saw you that you were Nicaragüense." I laughed. I still don't know if he was trying to be nice or if he really thought that. For my pride's sake, I am going to pretend like he had a feeling I was a a Nica, despite my features and freckles. Michael told me that my group was a bunch of old men. He had met some of them earlier. He thought it was funny that I was going with that group but was sure I would have a good time. Michael also could not believe that I had signed up for the delegation via the Internet. He asked me how I knew it was safe. I didn't know what to tell him. Why do I trust the Internet so much? I mean, it had a .org address. He said he was taking me to CEPAD and asked if that sounded right. Again, I had no idea and said, "sure."

He turns around, looks me in the eye and says, "Natalie, how do you know that I am even the person you are supposed to be with? You don't know anything!"

"Well, you had my full name on the sign didn't you?"

He laughed.
I did end up at the hostel, CEPAD, and found a group of strangers who just happened to be with Witness for Peace. I had arrived. And we were all off to bed after a long day.

Today I am going to Nicaragua

By the time this is being read this statement will be true:

Today I am going to Nicaragua.

I am not entirely sure of everything I will be doing there and I am sure there will be many a blog when I get back. As of right now I know what was given to me in an email that I am passing along here:

While the itinerary will be subject to change, some of our plans include: a contrast tour of Managua; visits to a liberation theology based catholic church and cultural center, a fair trade women's sewing cooperative, an organic coffee farm, and a nature reserve; meetings with a Nicaraguan economist, a government agency that promotes foreign investment in Nicaragua, a community organizer in one of Managua's poorest neighborhoods, members of a coffee cooperative that has been fair trade certified, union organizers in Nicaragua's garment sector, and representatives at the U.S. embassy; and travel to Matagalpa city and homestays with families in a rural coffee-growing community near Matagalpa.

I am. Going. I am going. Iamgoing!

I realized that I never blogged about going to Nicaragua this summer. I think it is mainly because it had not really sunk in that I was going. Tonight, on the other hand, it sunk in. It sunk in really deep. I bought my plane ticket!!

On August 1st at 7AM in the morning I will be taking of from San Francisco and will be in Managua, Nicaragua after a long day of traveling at 8PM. Yep, 13 hours of traveling. Good thing I like to read. I will spend nine days with Witness for Peace to learn about fair trade and free trade in the coffee industry in Nicaragua. On August 9th I will be meeting up with my uncle and he will be showing me around his native country for a few days.

I finally get to see and experience Nicaragua. This has been a long time coming and part of me wants me to jump out of my skin and the other part of me wants to retract into my shell and never come out. I am so excited to take pictures and come home with visuals to share with those around me. I am nervous because my Spanish is shaky. I cannot wait to eat a Nacatamal. I am so excited to be hot all the time.

I love to travel. I love to see new places. But, this will be different because I am going to come home and I am going to want to go back. I just know it. I am going to come home and my heart will be broken. But it will be so good.

SeaTac to SFO

Welp, my flight was delayed a good two hours so I am sitting here in the SeaTac Airport. I am going home for the summer, leaving Seattle and my Seattleite friends behind for two and a half months. I am excited to finally get back to California, even if it is only for a little bit, to spend time with my family, my dogs, my friends and, maybe most of all, the Mexican food. Oh and I cannot forget the sunbathing on my deck.


I am hoping for a good summer filled with reading and relationships. I plan on cramming my head with knowledge about microlending, immigration issues and figuring out what is it exactly that I want to do with my life after SPU.

Right now though, I am focused on goin' home.