I'm baaaaack

Por fin! After an 8 week blog break (4 weeks of which I was home) I decided to get back on the horse after an outpouring of support from dedicated followers. I apologize for such a long break and I too am excited to get back to get back to writing. It's been a great way for me to digest and eternalize all of my feelings, thoughts, and lessons that I have learned throughout this crazy journey. So while you all may enjoy reading about it too, just remember this isn't for you. This is for me ;)

Since my last post on Thanksgiving, I've had a whirlwind of two months. Connor came to visit and I was able to share my last two weeks in Nicaragua with him; I attempted (and semi-failed at) snorkeling, we did a monster hike up a volcano, took a wildlife tour of the isletas in Granada, and were also able to take a night tour of the active Volcán Masaya. It was an incredibly fun adventure, but easily the best part of all of it was being able to share with him the daily joys of this job; the people I work with, the girls, visiting schools, visiting homes, and making other community connections. He witnessed a hopping FSF fiesta, and he was appropriately initiated by the Nica staff with a one-minute fridge sit (exactly what it sounds like) and the classic moneda challenge. I learned not only how special it was to be able to share this experience with someone else, but it also hit home how special this experience has been for me.

We flew back home December 11, and while I accidentally threw my toilet paper in the trash for a few days I barely had a chance to  let the rest of the inevitable culture shock seep in. I had 28 days to try to see and spend time with a LOT of people, and though there was no rest for the weary I wouldn't have liked it any other way. I had a blast at home, at Bowdoin, in Boston, in VT, up in New Hampshire for New Year's and I couldn't believe it was already time to fly back to Granada come January 8th.

To be frank, I had mixed feelings upon my return. Yes, I love my job but it would be disingenuous to paint it in a perfect light. It's hard. It's hot. The challenges that face the girls I work with seem much bigger than anything I could solve in the one year that I am here. It is easy to feel drained and discouraged. It was great to be home. Yet, after a good night's sleep back in my bed in Granada, I felt rejuvenated, excited, capable and ready.

Ready to take full advantage of the next 6 months. I didn't leave my backpack at the airport this time. My Spanish flowed a bit easier than before. I met Allie and Rebecca, the two new interns that will be here until December. I reunited with Techo, Flaca, Helen, César, and Hassell and met Edén, our recently hired new Nicaraguan coach. I visited the Estrellas' homes to let them and their families know about January camp information and received big warm hugs that told me, "I missed you, I'm glad you're back." This job is hard, but it's well worth it for the little things like that.

This past week we had a crazy full week of camp with 11 volunteers from the United States and double sessions of activities every day with the girls. Yesterday during the soccer session in the morning, María Alejandra (the only Estrella with 100% attendance from last season) was unusually quiet and not putting any effort into the fun warm up drill. This caused a few teammates to snap at her since she essentially caused them to lose the hula hoop race. She walked away from the group and began to cry so I walked with her to a shady spot on the side of the field. She didn't want to talk at first, but then she opened up about a fight she had with her best friend Ericka. The fight seemed minor and resolvable so I talked to her about fights I've had with friends before and how she should take time to clear her head but that she would feel a lot better about it after talking it out with Ericka. She understood, I gave her a hug, and we went back to practice. She was still quiet, but joined in with the rest of the team for the next drill.

Today they seemed much better, but today I learned that María Alejandra is moving to Rivas (a town 2 hours south) tomorrow morning with her family. Yesterday I felt that I had made a strong and more meaningful connection with her and today I had to say goodbye.

This place and these people are so special to me, and now more than ever I realize my time is fleeting. My mixed feelings have vanished and I am ready to delve farther into these girls lives, attempt to grow this young program a little further, and focus on making whatever difference I can.

More camp details and pictures coming soon!

Amor, Paz, y Fútbol

KPope

Yes, I'm thankful. Are you thankful?

Today I will be celebrating Thanksgiving away from my family for the first time in my life. It's a confusing time since I normally associate Thanksgiving with cold weather (maybe some snow), a wonderful break from busy school work, comfy warm clothes, and a great excuse to turn a one-night holiday into a 3 day party if you're part of my family. This year, its 90 degrees with  a slight breeze, the plan is to go to a gringo pot-luck type dinner in this creepy dance bar venue, and at a table full of strangers I highly doubt we will go around asking, "Are you thankful, __________?" to which they would respond, "Yes, I'm thankful Kelly." and then take my hand in theirs and turn to the next person and ask the same question. Thanks to my cousins Holly and Charlotte, this cheesy little game happens around our Thanksgiving table until we're all holding hands around the table and then we say in unison, "We're all thankful together." I'm a little embarrassed to be revealing this in such a public forum, but I guess it's part of a family's job to embarrass each other, right?

Last year, Holly missed her first family Thanksgiving ever because she was studying abroad in London during her junior fall semester of college. Her mom, my aunt Nanny, brought a lovely printed out picture of Holly that was glued to a stick so that it felt like she was there, even if her loudness wasn't. My other four cousins, my brother, and I turned "Flat Holly" into an excellent source of entertainment that night and took many many pictures of Holly doing some crazy, rowdy things. At that point in time, I didn't know that I would be missing this year's Thanksgiving, and had I known I may have toned down some of Flat Holly's escapades. This year, she and my brother and my cousins have an opportunity for payback and I am very, very nervous for what is in store for Flat Kelly.

Yes, this year will definitely be different. Yet admittedly, it may be the first year I have truly reflected on the meaning of this holiday and considered everything in my life that I am thankful for, including things that I've never realized I should be so thankful for. Years past, I have always been thankful for the mound of scrumptious food on my plate and being able to spend time with both sides of my incredible family. When I think of holiday get-togethers, I hear the belly cackles of ze French-side cousins, I hear Piano Man/American Pie being played by my uncle Marc on the piano while the rest of us belt out the lyrics, I hear Frank Sinatra, I hear "We Gather Together," I hear Holly ('nuff said) and I have always been thankful for all of those sounds but this year I'll experience what it's like when those sounds aren't there. I'll hear the growl of a motorcycle, the ringing bells of the ice cream vendors, and the steady rhythm of salsa and bachata music, and I will dearly miss the familiar soundtrack of home.

I am sad, but more thankful than ever. This year, I feel thankful to be an American woman in general let alone part of my family. I am thankful that my ability to receive an education has never been threatened by financial, cultural, or structural limitations. I am thankful that throughout my ~16 year soccer career, I had at least one of my parents supporting me (or chirping at the referee) at 95% of my games. I am thankful that they were also sitting in the crowd at every musical concert and attended every parent-teacher meeting. I directed our first Parents Meeting for FSF last Saturday, and out of the 70+ girls we have on the Estrellas and Mariposas, 6 parents showed up. Maybe not for lack of desire or interest, but maybe because taking 45min out of one's day to learn about the extracurricular activities of their daughters isn't feasible when he or she is working tirelessly to put food on the table and a roof over their heads. I've experienced what it is to be fully supported in every single thing I do, and I've learned that it is an incredibly lucky, rare, and special gift. My parents rock, and yes I'm thankful.

For all the other people that have made me me: the 20 years I had with Grandpapa and the 21 with Grandmaman, I am thankful for their amazing genes, for their strength and grace and warmth, for their humor, for their ability to bring people together, and for that bit of stubbornness that ALL of us received. It has pushed me through the hardest of days. I'm thankful that I still have Goody and Grumpa, their smiles that light up the room and their hugs that shoo away any problems. For the way in which they have the most genuine confidence in every single one of us, that it's impossible to doubt ourselves in what we do because we've got the two biggest fans anyone could ask for on our side. I'm thankful for all my aunts and uncles that have taught me well that the party doesn't end after college, that if you've had three sips of wine it's about time for a refill, and have gifted me with some amazing life advice and wonderful conversations. I'm thankful for all my crazy cousins, for the laughs, the fights, the random games we've made up over the years. No one will ever understand the intricacies of my family the way they do, and I can only hope we're keeping all our kids awake by blasting music and dancing on tables in years to come. I'm thankful for my brother. I'm thankful that I have a lifelong best friend in him who gets along with everybody and anybody except for Yankees, Giants, and Heat fans (and probably some others too). I'm thankful that we share the same sense of humor and he knows how to make me laugh, even though he also knows very well how to push every single one of my buttons..but that's what brother's are for and I'm thankful that I don't have a sister. I'm thankful for my teachers, coaches, mentors, and friends--many of them being the sole reason I decided to take this job. Thank you specifically to Lucy and Devin who told me one day on the quad that I was absolutely crazy if I was going to pass up the opportunity to live in Nicaragua for a year. I sent in my application later that afternoon, and haven't regretted it once. Yes I'm so very thankful.

 

I am thankful that I've have an opportunity to be stretched and challenged in ways that no academic or work environment could ever achieve. I'm thankful for Larkin, Mady, Flaca, Techo, Helen, Hassell and César who all made my transition to Nica life pretty seamless. I'm thankful for the Estrellas- for Vilmania's wit, Hasly's sass, Zenia's goofiness, Xiomara's maturity, Ericka's bear hugs, Maribel's talent, Rosa's determination, Selvin's smile, the list goes on. They have taught me and humbled me so much, and their families have offered so much of themselves to make me feel like part of their community. I'm thankful for the sport of soccer and the way it brings people together and changes lives.

I'm thankful for technology so I can Skype with my family sitting around the table 4,000 miles away tonight and Saturday night. Yes, I really am thankful.

Are you thankful?

Happy Thanksgiving!

Amor, paz, fútbol, y gracias

KPope

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

For Malala

A week ago today, Mady and I had to travel to Managua to renew our 90 day tourist visas. In my opinion that is quite a milestone. I have crossed the threshold of wide brimmed hats, clip-on sunglasses, Hawaiian shirts, cameras hanging on neck straps, giant backpacks, hiking boots, and broken Spanish and into the Nica world. I have a "regular" order at my coffee shop and at my normal lunch spot, I usually know and say hello to at least one person on every block, and more often then not one of my teammates or one of the coaches or one of their friends will see me out in town somewhere and yell "Pope!" which strongly reminds me of strolling around the Bowdoin or GDA campus. And yes, my name has evolved as it always does no matter where I go to just my last name, Pope. Or Pops. Or Kelly María Pops. Or as Techo says, "Mister Pops." They're pretty convinced there's an S at the end. Cracks me up.

It is getting harder and harder to write this blog because many of the things that struck me as different and blog-worthy when I first got here now seem casual and run of the mill. When I was a 'tourist' I used to jump out of the way if a motorcycle whizzed by too close to my feet. I used to be slightly fearful and slightly in awe of all the animals (horses, goats, dogs, cats, and other critters) that roam the streets freely. The driving rules (or lack thereof), the abundance of karaoke, the use of plastic bags for food and drinks (not to carry them, literally to eat or drink out of...picture a plastic sandwich baggie full of juice tied in a knot around a straw) and the ability to ride a bicycle with five people on it all seemed wild to me in July. And just now it took me a solid half an hour to come up with that short list--I almost can't remember what kinds of things used to surprise me about this culture. The motorcycles, buses, and speeding taxis that nearly brush my arms when they drive by rarely make me flinch. The unattended animals seem second nature, one person on a bicycle at a time seems inefficient, the out of tune karaoke notes no longer pierce my ears, and I love drinking juice out of bags. 

Nonetheless, I continue to learn and continue to be surprised by things--mainly the Estrellas. On Thursday, they spent time during our activity to write letters to Malala Yousafzai, a fourteen year old girl from Pakistan who was shot in the head on her way home from school a few weeks ago by a Taliban gunman for her outspoken advocacy of women's right to education. I thought it was important to call attention to the discrimination that girls face around the world, and that while the International Day of the Girl should definitely be a celebration it is equally important to gain perspective of the many challenges and disadvantages that still plague girls. I'm not sure what I anticipated as a response from the girls, especially coming off their fun high from the party on Tuesday. It was a hard story for me to swallow and wrap my head around, let alone for these 12 and 13 year old girls right around Malala's age. I explained that she had an accident because she believes that girls should be able to go to school, but there are some people in the world that disagree and think otherwise so they hurt her.  Despite whatever challenges they may be facing right now as well, the Estrellas were filled with concern about the well-being of this girl half way around the world that they don't know, and in that moment I really understood their full capacity for compassion. Hasly had a face of disbelief, "¿En serio?" (Seriously?) she asked. Unfortunately, yes. I showed them where Pakistan was in relation to Nicaragua (conveniently we have a world map painted on the wall on the 3rd floor) and suggested that we send her words of encouragement while she is trying to get better in the hospital. Hasly again asked, "Entiende ella el español?" Does she understand Spanish? I don't know, I said, but I'm sure that someone can translate your letters and read them to her in her own language. They immediately got to work.

Hasly is arguably the smartest girl on the team (along with her best friend Lizbeth) and at times their intelligence gets them into a bit of trouble with talking back to coaches or being slightly condescending. But most of the time they just amaze me with their ability to digest any topic that is thrown at them. Hasly wrote two full pages to Malala filled with words of respect and encouragement, and it was clear that this issue really resonated with her because she is very dedicated to her own education. Translated into English, here is an excerpt from her letter:

                "Thank you for having so much courage so that all the girls in your country can go to school. I hope you continue forward because you're a warrior. I'm 12 years old and I'm in my 1st year of secondary school. You are an amazing girl, and I know you will keep fighting and succeed. You're not alone in your fight, many other girls want to go to school too, and I support you in your struggle. I hope you get better so you can go to school, and remember you have a friend in me and I really like what you are doing. I pray for the best for you. Your friend, Hasly."

I was genuinely surprised by how well all the girls handled this terrible news and I was left in pretty deep thought for the rest of the night. I think if I had a different job, the news of Malala would still upset me as it is a terribly unfortunate thing to happen, but it wouldn't have deeply resonated and filled me with rage like it did. I thought about one of the major goals of this program to keep our girls in school to better set them up for success, and Malala shares the same goal. I thought about my Lupe, a 14 year old girl just like Malala. I thought about how much life she still has ahead of her and how unbelievably unfair it would be to take that away. I'm thankful that she has the opportunity to receive an education, but also saddened by the world of struggles she will face as well. I thought about my life as a 14 year old girl in the United States, (I think that year my youth soccer team, the Danvers Destiny, won the Massachusetts State Championship for the second time and I started my freshman year at GDA where I received the best education) and how I have essentially sailed through the past 7 years of my life with amazing familial and structural support that have allowed me to pursue my goals sans obstacles. And I think for one of the first times in my life, I truly feel passionate about something, or something that matters I guess. I was incredibly lucky to be born in the United States into the family I have, but there are girls just like me with hopes and dreams that are too soon shattered by structural barriers elsewhere. In the year 2012 that just doesn't make sense, and I am passionate about doing what I can to help eliminate that inequality. 

Soccer has been my passion, my main squeeze, throughout my life which has lead me here, and being here has lead me to see things and open my mind in new ways and has sparked another passion. Whether I will pursue that one next, I still don't know, but I think there's some quote about doing what you love, and the rest will figure itself out. While I have always been skeptical of that whole philosophy, I couldn't agree more.

And finally the video that I promised, and a better peek at what I've been doing for the past 90+ days.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZlewjqAkjYY

Amor, Paz, y Fútbol

KPope

Esta es mi mano.

We are housing a hot commodity in Tres Pisos right now, known in these parts as "Monopolio." The neighborhood kids ring our doorbell multiple times a day to ask if they can play it. Since it belongs to the organization, we only lend it out to our participants; Ana and Idania who live across the street or Milagro who lives next door. Milagro just turned seven earlier this year, and was finally able to join the Mariposas. She has the kind of smile that can make you forget all your problems in an instant and eyes for days.

Milagro has also been hanging out before her bedtime with Mady and me, which I enjoy very much because I don't get many chances to spend time with the Mariposas. Milagro is always giggling at me so it's hard to tell if she thinks I'm absolutely nuts or if she actually likes the jokes I make. I have a feeling its the first one, but nonetheless I enjoy her company because she makes me feel like I'm very funny. A side note: her monopoly rules crack me up.

Running the show

"You get nine 500s and fifteen 20s, and that's all."

Whoever lands on Vermont Avenue or New York Avenue not only will have to pay an absurd amount in rent, but they will need a special vehicle to squeeze between all those houses and hotels blocking the way

This past week, Milagro has been telling any of her friends who will listen, "Esta es mi mano! Aquí." (This is my hand! Right here) And then places her hand right on top of her tiny green handprint at the bottom right of our new mural. This repeated action, as well as seeing some other girls do the same thing on activity night, has made me realize that this fun painting project to brighten up our first floor actually holds some greater importance for these girls. It's a representation that they belong, and that they are crucial to the whole, for there would be an uncomfortable gap if their hand were missing. Some of these girls are physically abused in their homes, some don't have any supportive or admirable adult figures in their lives, many parents are absent, and it's near impossible for a child to feel significant in those kinds of situations. I have struggled with how to make these girls know that they are so important with more than just telling them because words only say so much. With the mural, they are able to physically see their own mark, and hopefully they know that it's important, and that is so important to me too--the project turned out to be more than I ever could have hoped for.

And on top of that, the fiesta on Tuesday was a blast. We had a piñata which lasted all of 10 minutes before Lupe smashed it open and everyone hit the floor to fight over the fallen goodies. Afterwards, DJ Techo pumped up the music and Helen hit the lights to set the mood and I felt like I was back at a middle school dance EXCEPT for the fact that no one waited an uncomfortable amount of time to be the awkward first person on the dance floor. Evvvveryone was dancing with no hint of embarrassment whatsoever, and those girls know how to move! I was even shy at first, embarrassed by my terrible white girl moves, but soon enough I was thrown in the center of a giant circle of Estrellas and egged on to break it down for them. I wore jeans for one of the first times since I've been down here, and my Estrellas gave me millions of compliments...maybe they're really sick of seeing my chicken legs every day? I was covered in sweat after 5 minutes, and immediately regretted my decision to wear jeans but enjoyed feeling fashionable for once. I enjoyed all of it; I thought back to the painful awkwardness of being 13 and 14 at "dances" and just relished in this culture instead--the joy, the natural ability, and the complete lack of self-consciousness.

At the end of the night I was able to show my video, despite some initial technical difficulties, and for the first time in awhile the night was a 100% success. It felt good.


Link for my video is on its way!


Amor, Paz, y Fútbol

KPope

I don't know if we each have a destiny...

or if we're all just floatin' around accidental-like on a breeze. But I think maybe its both." -Forrest Gump

I've never been a firm believer in fate. I don't even think I believe that everything always necessarily happens for a reason. I definitely fall on the floatin' side of Forrest Gump's debate; not neccesarily floating without direction or purpose, but very much at the mercy of unpredictable winds that can blow us off course at any given time. It is how we manage the things that we can control, as well as how we respond to things outside of our control that determines how we turn out at the end of this whole journey.

Sometimes, however, life makes me stop to reconsider.

The past few weeks, nothing has really fallen into place or come together easily. It has been a trying time of adapting and readapting to changing plans, problem solving on the fly, and making the best out of less than desirable circumstances; very much floatin'. This week, I put my workshop planning skills back to the test to celebrate the UN's first International Day of the Girl. On Tuesday, I showed the girls a video that I had put together that featured pictures and videos of girls playing sports around the world, as well as pictures of themselves to introduce the theme for the week and the party we were going to have on Friday. We recorded interviews to create our own movie, and created a mural on the first floor of Tres Pisos. On Tuesday, the Mariposas hand-painted and the Estrellas were interviewed and last night we switched roles. The interviews were hard to hear through the volume of laughter and shouting that fills the Tres on activity nights, the paint dripped everywhere and was hard to wash off. Also, the Estrellas were supposed to have a round robin mini soccer tournament yesterday afternoon (on October 11, which is the actual Day of the Girl) but there were baseball teams covering all of our available field space so they didn't get a chance to play. I could sense the frustration as they peeled their socks off and changed back out of their cleats.

After we returned to Tres Pisos and they had all added their hand-prints to the mural, they headed home and I headed upstairs to lay down for awhile. Twenty minutes later, Cándida showed up because she had missed the activity on Tuesday and wasn't aware that our activity was going to start earlier on Thursday because of the scheduled games. She also hadn't seen any part of the mural yet and paused to stare at it. I asked if she wanted to add her hand-print, so she did, but she remained staring at the wall and I could see the gears working in her head. "What's your vision? What do you want to add?" I asked her impulsively. The existing mural on the wall had been painstakingly drawn out and painted by César, and the 60+ little handprints surrounding it nearly completed the vision exactly as we had planned it out which was a pretty rare occurrence, especially in recent days. Handing 13 year old Cándida a paint brush, and opening the can of dark blue paint for her to add her own artistic touch was a risky and potentially terrible idea, but for some reason it just felt like what I was 'supposed' to do. She carefully dipped the tip of the brush into the paint and made her first stroke. She was amazing.

I was able to stream the most recent episode of one of my favorite shows, Modern Family, today. In the episode, Claire and Phil help Haley move in to college and Phil leaves her with a book of all the things that he has learned throughout his life, called "Phil's Osophy". They are mostly funny ridiculous sayings that don't make much sense, but one that he reads is, "The most amazing things that can happen to a human being will happen to you if you just lower your expectations."I think the past few weeks have naturally lowered my expectations a little bit as for expecting things to go as planned, to be executed well, etc. and though it may seem like a negative thing, it has created a space for amazing things to happen. Watching Cándida paint may sound like an inane event, but it sent chills up my spine and is a feeling I won't forget anytime soon. I handed her a brush that had the power to essentially ruin a lot of people's hard work, but I think there was a 'reason' she showed up to Tres Pisos last night that was bigger than just being misinformed. She was meant to complete and improve that mural, and she was meant to have that opportunity to showcase her talents in a visible and somewhat public place. And perhaps all these recent unfortunate events have happened to make me willing to hand over that paint brush and less set on sticking to a grand plan.

Original vision with the Mariposa hands

Xiomara making her mark

Karla gettin' messy

Cándida working her magic, Ana Paola there with moral support

Increíble

Still a work in progress, but we're getting there!

After Cándida left last night, I went out to pick up some food for dinner and while I was waiting in line on the street corner to order my frito, I heard My Way by Frank being sung karaoke style on the next street. "...and deed eet Maiiiii Waaaayyyy" (Nica style) and to steal a quote from my friend Lauren's blog (she is working as a volunteer at a school in the Dominican Republic this year) from the book Eat, Pray, Love and Elizabeth Gilbert writes, "I thought about one of my favorite Sufi poems, which says that God long ago drew a circle in the sand exactly around the spot where you are standing now. I was never not coming here. This was never not going to happen." I still think we're floatin' around accidental-like on a breeze, but a large part of me felt like I was very much meant to be in those exact places last night and to do the things I did, see the things I saw, and hear that song on that street corner. So I think maybe Forrest was right. Maybe it's both.

Today we aren't able to have our party because our next door neighbor's grandmother is very very sick and will probably pass away in the next few days and we want to leave her in peace out of respect. And that's okay. We will treat the girls to some ice cream, and have our party on Tuesday and I will have a few extra days to complete my video. I will keep you updated with the final project results and all that jazz.

Thank you Forrest Gump, Phil Dunphy, Lauren Carroll, and Cándida for challenging me to think in new and more open ways. I'm better for it.

Amor, paz, fútbol, y pintura (paint!)

KPope

A Day in the Life of Elle...kinda

Oops. I've been slacking on my blogging. Sorry to my few dedicated followers! Here are some October thaangs:

On Sunday, the Veteranas traveled to el Estadio Municipal de Fútbol Cacique Diriangen. Located in Diriamba, about half an hour west of Granada, it is one of the three national soccer stadiums in the country. We had the great opportunity to play against one of the Division 1 Women's Premier teams. My best friend from college, Ellery Gould, is currently playing Division 1 professional soccer for a club team in Sweden right now. At Bowdoin, she was the star of the team for four years and I was always just one of her groupies. We had an ongoing joke that I should just tell people I was going to play professional soccer too, in Nicaragua, but then it actually came close to true. Who'dofthunk?  When Larkin announced it to the team a few weeks earlier, their response was one of fear. "But those girls go running and stuff," was one reaction. The idea of conditioning or fitness is rarely considered in Nicaragua, mostly because the idea of intentionally sweating more than necessary seems pretty silly when sweat pours out of your body even if you're sitting down. Nonetheless, there was a feeling of excitement in the air. We left from Tres Pisos at 7:30am in a private bus this time and I learned that the funny phenomenon of taking pictures of teammates while they are sleeping on bus rides extends outside of my small Bowdoin bubble. I also was able to experience a bus ride sans handheld technology; my teammates interacted with each other and took in the scenery from outside rather than getting lost in an iPod, text conversation, or homework. It was a refreshing change.

We pulled up to the stadium, and the reaction from the girls when we entered was pretty priceless. A hush fell over the group as they tried to absorb everything around them: the beautifully manicured field, the stadium walls that climbed up to the sky (or so it felt) and just the feeling of stepping into an arena that regularly sees the best players in Nicaragua and feeling privileged to be a part of that group. Larkin had me lead the team in a warm-up, so I traveled back in time to Pickard Field in my all-white Polar Bears uniform and began the team jog out to half field and back singing "We Ready" by Archie Eversole under my breath. The girls laughed at my high knees and butt kicks, and complained about the final sprinting at the end of the warm-up, but in that moment I felt such a strong connection to the role I have always played on my teams in the past; I've never ever been the best player but have always devoted my energy to bringing up the energy level of everybody else on the squad, and despite the radically different place and situation I found myself in, I could still find myself. I felt grounded before the game started, despite my wild nerves that were making my hands shake and my breaths short and quick.

I wore 25 on my back again, but this time wore 22 on my shorts (Ellery's jersey number). I figured if I was going to be in a Div. 1 game, I would need some luck from a fellow Div. 1 professional... but it turns out luck is only part of the equation. We also needed better conditioning, faster foot skills, and organized game play--all of which the opposing team already had pretty down pat. It was definitely a David vs. Goliath match up, but this time Goliath won pretty handily. It took us awhile to get used to the speed of play, and they took advantage of our first half jitters. In the second half, we settled in and it was a much more even keeled competition. We even scored! I crossed a ball into the box from the left wing and Larkin finished it into the back of the net! (and then the ref called it back because he said the goalie already had possession...but that part isn't important...) Despite the result, our team left the field with our heads held high because if nothing else, it was fun. It was fun to be challenged at such a high level, it was fun to play in that kind of location, it was fun to cheer each other on and work so hard as a unit to achieve a common goal. I had missed the full body soreness that followed in the days to come; a feeling of pride.

As for what's coming up:

This entire week we are celebrating the International Day of the Girl, which is a newly recognized day that falls on October 11. Girls in all the Soccer Without Borders programs around the world are also celebrating which is a really cool thing, I think. It's especially cool in this culture because being a girl that plays soccer in Granada has sort of a rebellious and revolutionizing context and our participants show up every day so eager to play and so proud to be a part of their teams. To give emphasis to this greater significance, I planned a week full of mini projects (a group art project, and some interview projects) that will culminate on Friday when we have a fiesta for our girls, full of cake and games, and show them a video that I have yet to make but it will include footage of them as well as footage from other young female soccer players around the world (and hopefully once I'm done I'll figure out a way to post it to this blog). I'm excited to give them the spotlight all week, they sure do deserve it!

The entrance

Wooooo!

One way to paint the lines on a field

Hanging out before warm-ups

Da squaaad

Still doin' it for the U Bears

Our very formal Coach Chep: Ray-Bans, a pinnie, and skinny jeans? Hmmm

Chicas on the bench

Amor, paz, fútbol, and still sore but happy legs

KPope