Poetry Festival, School, and a Lighter in the Hammock

This week in Granada has been a slow one. Well, only if your definition of "slow" is getting up at 6am with no coffee and barely time to eat anything because you have to get to school by 7:30 and it's a 35-40 minute walk through the barrio in the morning heat. That kind of slow.

It is our first full week in school, and I'm in a different one from summer school. At first, I didn't like it. I missed my kids from summer school and was convinced I'd never bond with these new ones. Then today, a chica named Maria Jose grabbed my hand and wanted me to play with her during recess. And when Dillon, a shy 4-year-old with a bowl cut and no idea how to make eye contact, asked me to draw some letters for him so that he could then trace them, I almost cried.

Children are like that, I'm learning. They turn to trust just when you're starting to think you'll never be able to connect. Before this, my experience was limited to a few babysitting gigs in high school and college, and now I'm helping a teacher corral and teach 40 of them who do not speak my language. It gets better every day, though I'm definitely learning as I go. Among other things, I'm getting really good at saying "stop," "sit down," and "hand me your plate" in Spanish.

Besides school, life in Granada is hot, and lovely. This week is the national poetry festival, and from our house we can hear the festivities in Parque Central. Yesterday, though sweaty and tired from school, we all decided to venture out to watch a parade for the festival. It was full of dancers and bands and lots of dresses and outfits in Nicaraguan colors.

Tomorrow, we're heading north to a beach near Leon called Las Penitas. Though I've already had my fair share of beaches this year, I'm not about to say no to a weekend on the Pacific.

Spectators