Nicaraguan Gallo Pinto!

Good morning, the Nicaraguan Way!

Per the request of some friends, I awoke early this morning to make you all breakfast!  A complete "desayuno Nicaraguense!" In Nicaragua, a complete breakfast include: Gallo Pinto (rice and beans), fried plantains, eggs and other things such as fresh cheese and sour cream.

Since I now reside in the United States, I'm conscious of time and therefore I've made some modifications.  In conclusion, quick and easy Gallo Pinto!

Ingredients:

1 pound red beans (or 1-2 cans red beans)

1 cup white rice 

1/2 onion

cilantro

1/2 bell pepper

olive oil

Salt to taste

chicken broth

chicken bouillon

Directions:

1.  As far as the red beans, you can either boil your own beans or use canned red beans. If you choose to boil them, it is recommended that you let them soak the night before to speed up cooking time.  But if you're busy like me and forget to soak them, you can simply wash the red beans, add twice the water as the beans to a pot and bring to boil.  Let the beans cook slowly on medium heat.  Add salt to taste towards the end of the cooking for tenderness.  If you add salt too soon, the beans might not turn out as tender. When using canned beans, drain the liquid.

2.  Rice.  If in a hurry, you can steam white rice in a rice cooker or a pot.  But if you want to be more traditional and make a less mushy Gallo Pinto, you may cook the rice as you boil the beans. 

a.  Sauté chopped yellow/white onion, bell pepper and cilantro to taste in about 1-2 tablespoons olive 

     oil.

b.  Add 1cup of white rice without washing to a pan and sauté until slightly golden brown.

c.  Add chicken broth or water to cover the rice.

d.  Add salt or cubes of chicken bouillon to taste.

e.  Cover and let it boil.

f.   Reduce heat and let it cook slowly until the water is gone and the rice is puffy and soft.

3.  When done cooking the beans and the rice.  Add about 2 tablespoons of olive oil to a pan.  Fry the beans and gradually add the rice.  Serve immediately and enjoy!

4.  Now, here's the quick U.S. way:

a.  Use previously steamed rice or left overs.

b.  Use canned red beans, drained.

c.   Sauté onion, bell pepper, olive oil and salt in a pan.

d.  Add drained red beans and white rice; fry until well-mixed.

e.  Serve and enjoy without any guilt!  After all, you have all day to burn the calories!!!

Note:  Nicaraguans use red beans, Costa Ricans use black beans!  Both taste delicious :-)

Modifications:  Traditionally, lard or other types of oils are used.  I've substituted olive oil or grape seed oil for a healthier meal!

Marta A. Lomeli, Guest Blogger

Our guest blogger this week is Marta A. Lomeli, author of Cuentos from the House on West Connecticut Avenue. Her keen sense of humor is contagious.  Marta A. Lomeli is one of those amazing beings that know how to enjoy life to the fullest.  She has over twenty-five years of teaching experience, over ten years in the martial arts, and years of community involvement: youth mentoring programs, police community relations support, and precinct walking. Beginning with her college years, she was well-known for her original cartoons, many of which were published in college newspapers. She has had poetry published, as well as many articles on personal safety and self-defense for women and children.A few years ago, she achieved the rank of second degree black belt in Chinese Shao-lin Kempo, an ancient form of martial arts. She managed to reach this goal even though she was a single mother for a number of years.She has discovered other wild ways to enjoy life, such as skydiving, public speaking, and painting. Today, she is "retired," but keeps busy by being a full-time "baby wrangler," taking care of her toddler grandson. She enjoys participating in Las Comadres networking Comadrazos and the Las Comadres Book Club. LasComadres.org

http://www.amazon.com/Cuentos-House-West-Connecticut-Avenue/dp/1403381488/ref=sr_1_fkmr1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1393743793&sr=8-1-fkmr1&keywords=cents+from+the+house+in+west+connecticut+avenue

Here it is!

Saludos! I am Ileana's "Comadre." We were not born relatives. We did not become relatives via any religious ceremony, but we are Comadres nonetheless. We are friends for life.

I had the good fortune to read Ileana's book, Shattered Paradise: Memoir of a Nicaraguan War Child, and it touched my soul. Selfish person that I am, I thought, "How can my writing ever compare to her beautiful prose? Her childhood had beauty and peace until the chaos of war turned things upside down." I wanted to jump into her book and pull her out of that horrible danger, but that isn't how books work. 

It is an honor to be a guest in her blog. Today, I will share with you the little juicy bits of inspiration that I read to myself every now and then:

           

“Start writing, no matter what. The water does not flow until the faucet is turned on.”

--Louis L'Amour

“Certain things they should just stay the way they are. You ought to be able to stick them in one of those glass cases and just leave them alone.”--J.D. Salingerl, Catcher in the Rye

“If only there could be an invention that bottled up a memory, like scent. And it never faded, and it never got stale. And then, when one wanted it, the bottle could be uncorked and it would be like living the memory all over again.”--Daphne Du Maurier

Among other things, I am a culture vulture and proud of it. I don't think that you are less of a Chicana (Latina, Hispanic, whatever) if you adapt and make it your own. Wasn't it Paulo Freire that used the words "man as the creator of culture?" For the sake of a discussion, let's talk about cultural traditions that could could affect a family's future.  Since I'm not writing a book or a thesis here, I won't be listing to the million of examples that are possible.  I'll just choose one example: Quinceañeras, a girl’s 15^th birthday celebration!

First, a disclaimer, I didn't have a quinceañera. My father, did, however, give me a $20 bill. Not much? It was in those days! I was born in the 1950s. We lived at the poverty level. I didn't expect my dad to give me anything more than a hug. I think that Mom made enchiladas or something. That was always appreciated. I would have felt guilty if they had spent hundreds of dollars on a party for me while they had sons in college that were scrimping to get by, working dangerously long hours in the summer as fire fighters. Not many scholarships for Latinos in those early days. 

When I became a sixth grade teacher, I once overheard a fellow teacher chatting about her daughter's upcoming birthday. We were in the faculty lounge, eating lunch, and I heard her say, "I'm all about letting kids learn from making their own decisions. So, I gave my daughter the choice: I'll take her to Europe in the summer, or I’ll give her a quinceañera. She chose the quinceañera. I'm going to get a limo for her and everything!" For those of you who might not be familiar with this celebration, the cost of a quinceañera could be as much as a wedding. It is not rare that often times, families might have to choose between celebrating a quinceañera or paying for college.  

Did you ever come across such choices?

Cheers,
Marta A. Lomeli

Review for Shattered Paradise!

Great friends are like a good marriage, correct?  We share the good and the bad :-)  Today, I would like to share a wonderful review for my memoir, Shattered Paradise: Memoirs of a Nicaraguan War Child!

http://www.latinabookclub.com/2014/02/review-shattered-paradise-memoirs-of.html

Heron's Path Review

Ever since a little girl, I’ve been fascinated by paths and remote roads that lead to who knows where.  I recall building secret paths in Mama’s garden using a stick.  Then, my plastic animal figurines would find their way around.  Heron’s Path by Alethea Eason, although not exactly a book about a little girl like me, reminds me somewhat of my childhood, my two lovely sisters and even the frightening river I had to cross every time we would travel to the farm in the forest. 

When I picked up Heron’s Path, by Alethea Eason, I chose it first for the beautiful cover and the title, but later it became a good reminder about the strength of the human spirit.  Heron’s Path is a beautifully written story about two sisters, Katy and Celeste and about the enchanting tales of the Nanchuti.  The current of the river, the mystery of dreams, the meaning of life and growing up all come to life through Alethea’s magnificent writing, which gently guides the reader to the end through a path of courage and love.  This lovely read is ultimately about the gift of sisterhood and the thrilling mysteries of life. 

Alethea Eason is a writer and teacher. Her latest publication is Starved, a sequel to her humorous middle grade science fiction novel, Hungry.

The Village Sang to the Sea

Where to travel next for my great inspiration?  Other than writing, working and traveling, reading is my other passion.  The other day, I picked up a novel from a bookstore, simply because I fell in love with its title:  The Village Sang to the Sea.  Then, I proceeded to read the novel and my imagination took flight.  The end result of my reading: Desire to someday visit Lerici!

Lerici is a village in Italy said to be “The pearl of the Poet’s Gulf.” It is called the Gulf of Poets because the great Romantic poets, Percy Shelley and Lord Byron often visited it; and Percy and his wife Mary, author of FRANKENSTEIN, lived in Lerici. The picturesque village is the southern tip of the Italian Riviera.  Just north of the Gulf of Poets is the famous tourist destination of Cinque Terre, "The Five Lands," and south of the Gulf is Pisa and its also famous, "Leaning Tower."

Lerici appears to be an inspirational paradise for artists! It is an enchanting village, which reminds me of my own native village in Nicaragua, City of Mist.  The village of Lerici is surrounded by splendid green hills, rich in history and breathtaking landscapes.  In his lyrical memoir, The Village Sang to the Sea, author Bruce McAllister magically transports you to different worlds, yet you wish to remain in the captivating village of Lerici, Italy. The events that flow through this beautiful book are enchanting and riveting. The Village Sang to the Sea is an unforgettable book!

As a boy, Bruce Mc Allister lived in magical Lerici, learned Italian, and attended school in the shadows of its castle, like the protagonist in the novel.  McAllister is now a science fiction, fantasy and literary fiction author who has appeared over the years in literary quarterlies, national magazines, college textbooks and "year's best" anthologies like, Best American Short Stories 2007. The Village Sang to the Sea has been compared to Ray Bradbury's Dandelion Wine and Something Wicked This Way Comes.  Bruce McAllister lives in Orange County, California, with his wife, choreographer Amelie Hunter.  He works as a writer, writing coach and book and screenplay consultant.  

http://thevillagesang.com/

Have you visited or lived in Lerici? Share your experience/s :-)

Poetry, Australia and John Holland

Dear friends,

I introduce to you all my first guest blogger and author: John Holland from the beautiful Australia!  As you all know, I love to highlight beautiful places and wonderful people. 

John Holland grew up in outback Australia. Living on cattle stations (ranches) his father Jack Holland managed in Queensland, the Northern Territory and the Kimberley.

He has been a stockman (cowboy), miner, road worker, speech writer/media officer for a Queensland state member of parliament and a newspaper columnist.

John now lives in Townsville, tropical North Queensland and writes full time.

Check out his website: http://poetrysansfrontieres.weebly.com/

His writing credits include:

Dry Bones (Stonesthrow Poetry) :  http://amzn.com/B00AAX3N7E

Under The Dog Star (Hammer & Anvil Books): http://amzn.com/B00E64XY2M

His work has also appeared in the anthologies:

Ink Angels (Allpoetry)

Found Patrick (Regina Sokas)

Rawahi (Lazarus Media)

His work has also appeared in the poetry magazines:

Danse Macabre

Umphrose

Mystical Muse

Spontaneous Spirits

The Mozzie and many others.

Presently working as a co-author with Californian author Nia Simone on a novel set in Australia and America. 

I look forward to sharing some of his amazing poetry sometime :-)

New Year: New You

New Year: New You! It's a tradition, as the year ends, we make new resolutions.  Mine is to lead a positive life and to live life to the fullest. As many of you know, I was born in Nicaragua during times of war and survived not only to tell a story but to also serve as testimony that life is beautiful and it's ultimately whatever WE make of it. Throughout the years, I've learned that successful people (spiritually and financially) tend to share the following skills: 

1. Adapt: learn to adapt. Life isn't always what we think it is. Do as Bruce Lee once advised, "become water."

2. Persist: if you don't pursue your own goals, then who will? Never, ever give up for a good cause. But don't confuse giving up with taking a step back, sometimes the view is better from a distance.

3. Reinvent yourself as necessary. In our new world, nothing is truly organic and that includes us and our dreams. Sometimes, it is necessary to run a data analysis on our own selves and reinvent our skills, goals and dreams.

4. Dream to Achieve: Author Joseph Gutiz describes dreaming as a skill.  A skill to keep you motivated, to keep you focused and energized. Dreaming is vitamin to our souls.

5. Balance: a life well-lived is well-balanced. What's the point of achieving, if you're not enjoying? There's a time for everything: for crying, for laughing, for living.  Learn to live!

6. Forgive but don't forget: Learning to sincerely forgive is therapeutic. Not forgetting ensures you don't make the same mistake twice!

7. Only compete if you're an olympian! In other words, let others do their own thing and don't overdo yourself in trying to keep up.  Their dreams are theirs.  Your dreams are yours. However, unity is a nice recipe for success. 

8. Keep only the positive, discard the negative.

9. Prioritize. In my hierarchy of needs: God and family come first, the rest I leave to destiny and determination.

10. Love yourself. You are beautiful and unique. Your happiness and confidence will radiate to others.

11. Stay Healthy: Health overrides all of the above. Happiness begins within. Diminish stress for it doesn't help you with anything. Eat healthy, take walks and see the world...who knows, you might discover new and exciting new venues ;-) Live every moment as if it were your last.

Overall success is defined by how well we learn to adapt, by how well we forgive and how persistent we become at NEVER GIVING UP! With that being said, we must learn to enjoy and accept what we have and pursue what we desire diligently.  Happy New YOU!

Life

The irony of life: a game of chess guided by predictions, choices--the element of time.  What makes us interesting beings is the ability to go through life unnoticed, to blend amongst the ordinary and the grand, and to camouflage a past to where no one can tell it ever existed. But at the end, we return to who we once were and still are--keepers of memories.--Ileana Araguti

Upcoming Book Reading and Signing

Dear friends,

I will be reading and signing SHATTERED PARADISE at the beautiful Upstart Crow Bookstore and Coffee House on August 8th, from 6:00-8:00 p.m. Hope to see you there :-)

Upstart Crow Bookstore and Coffee House
835C West Harbor Drive, Seaport Village
San Diego,CA 92101. 619-232-4855

Shattered Paradise: Memoirs of a Nicaraguan War Child

                                                                                        Now Available at Amazon! Click on the cover!

“Wonderfully evokes Nicaragua’s enchanting beauty and the enormity of its loss.”—Kirkus Reviews

"Descriptive and compelling, Shattered Paradise brings the reader to this magical land, its folkloric culture and its diminishing wildlife." —Maria Beltran, Readers' Favorite

WHEN  I LEFT NICARAGUA, I swore never to return. Twenty-four years have passed since I left my native land. “Someday, you will return,” Mama once said.  Her words were prophetic. Twenty-four years later, I found myself alongside Mama boarding an airplane to Managua, Nicaragua, and by sunrise I fell asleep. In my dream, I saw a little girl. She hopped over colorful frogs in the lush Nicaraguan rain forest. Howler monkeys swung from vines as the melody in my headphones rebounded off their cries—scattering leaves.  “Fasten your seat belt,” a gentle voice interrupted as we arrived to the land of my dreams. 

My hazed eyes turned to the window as if expecting to see what I’ve dreamt. Instead I saw volcanoes, remnants of the 1972 earthquake and a land, which appeared as viewed from a map: triangular, verdant, cooled by the Pacific Ocean and cradled by the waters of the Caribbean Sea. “We’re here!” announced Mama as we exited directly to the outdoors of the airport. The heat and the humidity of Managua seemed worse than when I left the country and my silk dress became one with my skin.  As we traveled away in an air-conditioned shuttle, I saw beautiful landscapes, murals painted with faces of heroes and graffiti that read “Patria Libre—Free Nation.” The streets were different from my new homeland; they lacked signs and names. But somehow, the third world country inspired tranquility, as smiling vendors pushed wooden carts and children played soccer in the streets with a deflated ball.

Later, when we arrived to our destination, I stood before the Mere Pacificum as bestowed upon it by Ferdinand Magellan to denote the peaceful sea of the Pacific Ocean. Its gentle waters wickedly hypnotized me into a tsunami of memories and as the sun settled, I saw hues of red, orange and yellow seemingly merging from the magnificent sky into the vast sea. The sea appeared calmer than usual and the sand caressed my bare feet as if loving me again, as if to remind me that my life wasn’t always a sad story. And to make matters worse, my skin failed to distinguish between the smooth sand rubbing against it and the velvety touch of the scattered leaves back home, the isolated cabin amid the cloud forests.

It was on that beautiful day, that I was forced to remember through the ripples of the water, how as a child in that heaven; I once enjoyed a world most could only dream of: endless days of riding horses through forests of warm rain and adventures on moonlit nights to the sound of distant jaguar cries. And as I closed my eyes, I could still see her, the rebellious curly haired girl running freely through the fog, rolling from the top of verdant hills that were scented by coffee blossoms and pungent orchids.

Desperate to cool off, I further immersed my body into the gentle waters of this peaceful sea. But the sand continued to impersonate the leaves of my beloved forests, delivering an electrical current throughout my bare feet, tickling them—the way the leaves used to feel when I removed my red water boots. To add to my moment of bliss, the warm breeze of the sea whispered into my ears—that all had ended. But as I recall, it was Mama who insisted that it was never my fault, but rather the curse of my elephant’s memory, the type that never forgets.

It felt strange to be back. I no longer felt at home and the natives saw me as a tourist, for I was disguised as one. I spoke with an accent, not native to Nicaragua or my naturalized home back in California. I wore the look of a Californian girl: Billabong sandals, Rip Curl shorts and a tank top covering my neon swimsuit. My mother in the other hand, attempted to give me away; she wore a white kimono with colorful embroidery and plastic sandals. For sure, they thought of us as tourists attempting to assimilate into their culture. If only they knew the truth, that I’ve known this land earlier, when the forests were denser and the towns were speckles in between the mountains—silent. If only they knew...that I once killed the spirit of a little Nicaraguan girl, but had returned to revive it once more.

Shattered Paradise: Memoirs of a Nicaraguan War Child was inspired after this visit.  I couldn't keep the memories of this beautiful country all to myself.