Sunday, February 12, 2006

Bullriding Nica style

WHO: Essa (aka Vanessa)
WHAT: Peace Corps, Environmental Education
WHERE: Nicaragua
WHEN: Sept '05 - Nov '07
WHY: La vida es un carnaval

Kinda longwinded last week, so I'll try keep this entry short and sweet. I've been helping in the natural science library - we're writing a couple of grants to support a white paper recycling project in city as well a book-mobile to serve the rural schools around the department. I can tell the librarians are pretty frustrated with the local government support...I get an earfull each time I go visit them. The reliance on NGOs and the gov't is heavy. I've introduced the idea of a bake sale to the librarians...they seemed open to the idea...we'll see...

I've also been working with the local equivalent of the Bureau of Land Management who is in charge of developing watershed management plans for the area, and have been asked to do a presentation for the Environmental Commission (if there still is one...our monthly meeting has been postponed twice this month).

I thought I'd post some pics from the rodeo Celine and I went to last weekend in her town - photos thanks to Celine.

Usually the bull rider gets his oportunity to ride the bull until he gets thrown off...then he gets lassoed to remove the cinches...

then the "toreros" do their thing with their red capes or hats.

Half the spectators (usually doublefisting men) are IN the bullring, and when the bull comes close, they climb the fence to escape a gorging. Because of all the people, it's sometimes hard to see the bull.

Even the icecream salesman hangs out in the ring. People throw their trash and empty bottles into the ring - serves as amunition to launch at the bull.

A well-equiped bullrider - chaps and a hockey helmet. Perhaps a little liquor, too - to make him "braver" the locals say.

Thanks for all the packages! I feel like Christmas finally came - one ever increasing necessity for those inclined to send care packages...nag champa insense. One of my friends thinks there must be a dead dog around, because every so often the breeze brings a whif of something rank into my house. So, until he decays...


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