Kaitlyn and I are finding adjustment to be a slow, inconsistent, and interesting process. As most volunteers forewarned us, things tend to be day to day. One day we feel like isolated, incompetent foreigners and the next we'll snap back to feeling totally accepted and enthusiastic.

We've found that the most productive activity for us right now is to simply "platicar", which pretty much means to shoot the shit. We've been spending the majority of our nights getting to know our neighbors, which is an indespensible, yet time consuming activity. I have never considered myself a master of the small talk, and life in the states certianly did not prepare me for the level of platicar-ing that we are confronted with in Nicaragua. Thankfully, people here don't consider long pauses during conversations ¨awkward silences¨, so we are learning to stop stressing when we've run out of things to say. Instead, spending our nights platicar-ing is rapidly helping us to feel like part of the community, as well as giving us many insights into the nuances and quirks of Nicaragua.

Below is an example of a typical, evening conversation when we first introduce ourselves. There are also ample explanations, which may be annoying but are absolutely necessary. It is also important to realize that the universal, evening activity here is to sit on your front porch. Combined with the fact that Nicaraguan's are astoundingly warm, friendly, and hospitable, introducing ourselves is extremely easy and certianly our most enjoyable activity every day.

Nica Good Evening.
Us Good Evening.

Come In! Sit Down! (plastic lawnchairs or rocking chairs materialize immediately)
Muchas Gracias.

(Introductions follow: PC volunteers, living here for two years, etc.)

Do you have kids? (Almost without fail the first question)
No not yet, we're not allowed to while we're volunteering.
That's too bad. Oh well, you'll have them soon.

Where are you from? Miami? (In Nagarote almost everyone has at least one relative living in Miami and it seems that many beleive that Miami encompases a far, far greater proportion of the population of the U.S. than it actually does.)

We're from Philadelphia, close to New York.

Is it cold there?

Yeah, there's snow there. (Highly interesting and fascinating to someone who hasn't seen it. Kaitlyn spent the good part of an hour trying to describe snow to two of her teachers.)

How do you like Nagarote?
We love it, the town and the people are very laid-back. (very true and also what seems to be the highest compliment when describing someone's town)

How do you like the food? Which is your favorite?
It's great, we love Gallo Pinto. (A bit of a stretch since fried rice and beans are a bit more simple than we're used to, but probably 99% of Nicaraguans eat Gallo Pinto at least twice a day, and besides everyone gets a kick out of that answer)

(Around now, enter a magically appearing glass of coke or juice)

After these standard questions the conversation will usually delve into issues such as their family, which is almost always very large and seems to consist of half of the population of the town (people do not move frequently from their home town, so for the most part everyone knows everyone else). We might also discuss Nicaragua's troubles, of which are always spoken of as if they exist somewhere other than where we are at the moment, and indeed any unhappiness is rarely immediately evident.

Visits and conversations here never have any type of unspoken, yet alotted time as they do in the states. In fact if we stay until the time of dinner we'll be given food (of which it is unthinkable to deny). Eventually we'll decide the it is time for us to go, which is necessary since we'll never be asked to leave.