Thinking ¨finding oneself¨ applied only to wanderlust beatnicks, I ignored its implications. However one phrases it, one of the biggest parts of growing up--exacerbated by living abroad--is finding a way to anchor oneself. Without family or friends, there is no discernable point of reference. One is left with a matrix of previous perceptions and pretentions on which to build, but there is certainly no architect but myself.

After my recent vacation to the fabulous colonial house my friend is sitting in Granada, there were things that I had missed. I put off one meeting and completely blew off another. With the excuse of the fiestas patronales further complicating lengthy bus travel, I was easily let off the hook. After a week of no classes, and having forgotten to mention to anyone that I was judging a competition an hour South of me instead of giving class the following day, I had come back to a mess of my own making.

This tension was compiled by senseless jealousy that all of the guys in my group had found a girlfriend or at least a playmate. By yesterday morning I was sour and an hour outside of town at a coffee farm. The whole day became consumed by a beautiful rainstorm. With no chance of escape or making it to our second appointment, my counterpart, the producer and I buckled down to work. We got all the paperwork immaginable out of the way by the afternoon.

The rain begrudingly halted as though it had run out of water but not the energy with which to dispell it. Conversation had turned to native plants. Our host took us out to his modest plantation while fog and clouds silently unzipped themselves from one another. I stood on the flatbed of the truck smiling as we passed under trees spewing Spanish Moss-like barba del viejo. I smiled so hard I found myself laughing at how miraculous the spectacle was: thousands of glossy coffee plants dwarfed by monstrous trees bedragled by barba del viejo. This is my Nicaragua.

Being unanchored as I am and thus subject to every emotional squall, I find it hard to remain politically neutral. Peace Corps policy is officially neutral, and we volunteers are obliged to follow suite. The Danielista* party headquarters are directly across the street from my humble abode. Sandanista songs about ¨Killing the Yanqui¨ and ¨Kill the Gringos¨ play day and night. Those don´t bother me because they are often coupled with Michael Jackson or Stairway to Heaven. What does bother me is that my host mother lost her job as a high school teacher last year because of being Liberal. My host sister and counterpart will be losing the same job this November because she will vote Liberal.

*US backed Somoza dictatorship overtaken by socialist Sandanista party in1979. By mid 1980´s, the Sandanista party--headed by Daniel Ortega indefinately--had increased public welfare and infrastructure, though was no less oppressive than Somoza. The Contra army began in the town two hours North of Yalí, La Rica. With US support and unneccesary ruthlessness, it overtook the Sandanistas. Free and fair elections have been held since 1991. Because of a party split in the last elections, Daniel Ortega won the presidential seat for the old Sandinista party, FSLN (mockingly called the Danielista Party). The FSLN has since disabled the participation of various political parties. They have also rigged the upcoming municipal elections through dislocated polling and obvious gifts to party members. Weekly, the FSLN blatently delivers livestock or construction material to party members.