One funny and one bittersweet. Take your pick, or, if you dare, read both:
FUNNY:
As for my quest to get in shape here in Nicaragua, let me tell you about the "back walk" into the community. There's a total of about 300 yards that's paved and the rest is dirt. Upon entering the dirt "gate" (barbed wire attached to sticks), you pick up a stick to scare the angry dogs that oh so lovingly greet and follow you on the path (by the way, there are two breeds of dogs here: rottweiler and nica dog. rottweilers are for rich people to use as guard dogs and do not like dark people, nica dogs must show at least half their ribs at any given moment and do not like light people. prejudice even in dogs, but I digress...) Locals will point you in the right direction, part of which includes walking through a river bed (meaning this route is only safe when it hasn't rained) and up what I call the Hill of Death. Seriously, this thing is longer and steeper than the hill on Orleans to get to the Compound and it's all DIRT (the dog stick can be helpful here to pull your body up when your legs give out). The lesson of the walk is the road most traveled is not always the correct road. Matt and I had to turn around twice the first time* because we took the bigger path instead of finding the tiny tiny gap in between bobbed wire fences. Should have known to ask directions: we literally walked around two bulls blocking our paths, which turned out to be the wrong way. Don't ever say God doesn't send signs. Door to door, the walk should take thirty minutes. With my short legs, us getting lost and Matt stopping to take off his shirt, we got to the community in a swift 45. Awesome.
*Note* The last time we took this route, it was all the girls on the way to Women's Exercise. Trying to get warmed up, we started jogging down the hill before approaching the Hill of Death (yes, I capitalize it on purpose because it's that intimidating). Unfortunately, a boy told us to wait and we stood as 8 cows passed us and then proceeded up the Hill. That's right-- we climbed up the Hill looking at 8 cow butts. Needless to say, their pace was a little slower than we wanted. We got to class un-warmed up and smelling like cow. Did I mention that I live in Nicaragua?!
BITTERSWEET:
One thing I have learned is that joy can be found in things that seem small to most people. Case in point, one of my happiest memories so far came when I brushed Mercedes' hair for an hour. Her younger sister, Ileana, was one of the first kids I met in the dump. Manna (among others) has been working to get their family out for years now. Their parents and other siblings are now out of the dump, but Ileana and Mercedes, at 15 and 16, respectively, have decided to stay behind so they can work. It's the life they know.
Ok, that's the background. so Daniel, who is Dane's doppleganger (the kids really do think they're the same person!) and a friend went into la Chureca on Tuesday and found Mercedes. When they asked if they could take her to lunch, she said she couldn't because she was too dirty. They brought her to the Manna house so she could shower.
It had been so long since she had bathed that her hair was dreading. It took over an hour to do, but we got the knots out. I kept flashing back to when I was little and my mom used to comb my hair when I was sick. These were quite possibly some of the first loving touches Mercedes had had in a long time. Afterwards, we braided her hair and she gave me a hug. It was the first time since she had gotten to the house that she looked me in the eye. Something as simple as a shower and a brush and she had regained her dignity.
My sweet friends, I do not know what God has in store for us, but I know that His plans are good. He will only give us what we can handle and we are always cradled in His hand... no matter what part of the globe we may reside.
Someone just put on the Weepies. I guess our worlds aren't that far apart after all.
With all my love,
we found a coffee shop that sells frappacinos for less than $3 (take that, starbucks). driving in lori's air-conditioned car, sipping my coffee on my way to shop, i felt like i had been transported back to the states. then i remembered that i was in a 1993 buick whose doors don't open from the inside, we were on our way to shop (for clothes) at a grocery store and a fair, and i was looking at a volcano rising above the city. my life is a dream. 
