Cocodrilo

That means crocodile. And that's what the Estrellas call my cleats because there is a large hole on the right side of my right cleat where the leather attaches to the sole, as if it has a mouth. All my shoes have taken a beating here. The strap of my flip flops snapped off one day when it was raining. The sole of my nicer sandals became completely unglued. My Toms are a much different color  than when I bought them, and have a permanent mud line crusted around the bottom. My sneakers, the only completely reliable pair of footwear I have left, are definitely not white anymore either. My shoes have had to work a lot harder than normal, since I walk around more here than I have ever walked around anywhere in my life. They also have to brave a lot of elements daily; heat, water, mud, sweat, broken glass, excessive amounts of rubble, and many times unknown substances. I'm okay with having ugly, beat up shoes but I guess I never realized how culturally important shoes are here--a status symbol of sorts. 

One of the more frustrating parts of my job is listening to these girls who have very little complain about some dirty or fraying cleats that we lend them to use, or claiming that certain cleats don't fit them solely based on their appearance before actually trying them on. It really fried me, and I always questioned why in the world they weren't simply grateful that they had shoes to wear. One day at practice Karla bluntly asked me, "¿Por qué llevas esos tacos?" (Why do you wear those cleats?") "¿No puedes comprar nuevos?" (Can't you buy new ones?) Not entirely sure how to respond, I just said, "Me gustan mis tacos, me traen suerte." (I like my cleats, they bring me luck.) I'm really not sure about that luck part, it was just something to say at the time. Thinking about it now, that big hole started a really long time ago and I probably should've bought new ones before moving to Nicaragua to coach and play soccer for a year. However, buying new cleats would have meant that I was starting a new chapter. Which I was. But I wasn't ready to completely let go of the last chapter, or let go of my cleats that I wore every fall for the past 4 years on dewy fields for 6:00am preseason practices, or 6inches of snowy fields for our very last quarterfinal game against Amherst. Maybe that reasoning also explains why I'm 22 years old and I still sleep with my ratty stuffed animal cat? I digress. 

The girls were shocked that I wasn't embarrassed about my cocodrilo cleats, and then it hit me, that shoes more so than any other material item are a big deal in this culture. It's important for them to be cute, clean, and in good condition. Otherwise, it is obvious that your family is very poor and can't afford shoes. This new understanding that shoes are a sense of pride here has helped me relax when girls call perfectly good cleats "fea" (ugly). I also found a parallel in the sense that some of my shoes carry a sense of my pride too, despite being for very different reasons. Though I do need new cleats, it pains me a little. I'm proud to wear my cleats because I'm proud to have played Bowdoin Women's Soccer--ESPECIALLY because this year's team clinched a home seed in the NESCAC playoffs, dismissed Hamilton, beat Amherst in dramatic come-from-behind penalty shootout fashion, and nearly took the title but fell to Williams in penalty kicks in the final. Oh and then they received and at-large bid to the NCAA playoffs and advanced past the first round in another dramatic penalty kick win before falling to the 6th nationally ranked team in the nation, Ithaca, by a mere 2-1 score. This is the sole reason for my lack of blogging. I apologize, and I digress once again.

Shoes are important because they accompany you on every journey you take in life--and you can't judge someone else until you've walked a mile in theirs. So on Thursday night when Anyeli was nearly in tears that none of the cleats in the bodega fit her feet and she couldn't wear the ones she already had for Saturday because they were beginning to slightly detach from the soles, I kept my calm. Saturday was a big day. We hosted the 3rd annual Global Peace Games here in Granada, and I don't blame the girls for wanting to look and feel their best. “The United Nations’ Global Peace Games for Children and Youth are an opportunity for young people all over the world to demonstrate their commitment to make the world a better and healthier place and their central role and solidarity in the mission of global friendship, peaceful solutions and nonviolence.” (taken from the website) This was the first year that we had an entire tournament comprised of only girls teams, and it was awesome. The Mariposas were able to split into four teams and the Estrellas split into three. We invited other teams from schools and other neighborhoods to compete as well. Flaca and Helen co-coached one of our groups, Techo coached another, and I was assigned to a third group. It was my first test of coaching solo, of which requires an entirely unique set of vocabulary that I never really learned anywhere despite all my years of studying Spanish and is something I've almost entirely picked up since being here. I was nervous, but luckily I had some of the most patient and cooperative girls on my team. We played 7v7 games all morning, 3 points for a win, 1 for a tie, and 0 for a loss. After all the teams had played each other once, the top two teams in terms of points played a final match to determine the champions. We tied our first two matches, 0-0. In our third match against Helen and Flaca's team, our offense broke out for 3 goals from three separate girls for a 3-0 win. That gave us 5 points which was good enough to tie for 1st with a girls team from Diocesano (a private school in Granada). We carried a lot of our momentum from our third game going into the final match up, and all the Mariposas who came running over to our field to watch the game (after having won their own championship in their division) didn't hurt either. Cheers of ES-TRE-LLAS! ES-TRE-LLAS! were deafening, and made it hard for me to communicate with my players but perhaps my shouts of "SUBAN!" (Push up!) or "ESTAN PEGADAS!" (You're all clumped together!) or "APRESIONAAALA! DALE!" (Put pressure on her, let's go!) really weren't the important things they needed to hear in order to win. They had an overwhelming amount of support from their fellow Estrellas and the little Mariposas who truly look up to them as role models. Maribel ripped a shot from the right side past the goalkeeper's outstretched arms and into the left corner of the net, and the crowd (and I) wen't wild. That goal proved to be all we needed, and the game ended in a 1-0 victory for the Estrellas. 

The awards ceremonies were short and sweet as everybody was hungry and hot and itching to get back to the office, but so joyous and dignifying for all the girls as well. We hopped back on the bus, the victorious teams with medals around their necks and Vilmania clutching our giant new trophy. The entire town knew our names by the end of the morning as we rode through the streets screaming "GA-NA-MOS!" (WE WON!) and "FÚTBOL SIN FRON-TE-RAS!" the entire way back. It reminded me a bit like riding a fire truck around Danvers with the Destiny after winning States, except that was a bit more like this: 

And riding home with the girls was way more like this:

I've already fielded a lot of questions from other people that I know in the community wondering what the heck we were doing on that crazy bus I feel like it spoke for itself. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face for the rest of the day. It was a beautiful, exciting, and gratifying morning and a great reminder of how much I love being here. Even if my shoes don't ;)

Parading to the field

Ma teeeeam

Ericka, Karla and Vilmania

One of my faves

Signing the Global Peace Games pledge

I promise to respect all life, reject violence, share with others, listen to understand, protect the planet, and contribute to the development of the community.

Hangin' with Rosa in between games

Awards Ceremony!

Mariposa medals

Estrella medals

Ganamos!

Amor, Paz, y Fútbol

KPope