In April 2011, I experienced a trip like no other. A service trip to Nicaragua during Holy Week highlighted my eighth grade year. Traveling with my mom, brother, my friend Quinn, her mom, and her aunt, we began our week-long learning journey. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get Original Essay We arrived at the Managua airport late Tuesday afternoon. Conveniently, to get to the hotel where we stayed overnight, we simply had to cross the street. The hotel did not reflect the socio-economic status of the country. Bright green foliage lined the outdoor paths leading from one building to the next. Statues and fountains were located throughout the hotel and enriched the landscape. After a pleasant night's hotel stay, my travel companions and I boarded a bus that took us to our final destination. The old school bus belonged to the organization of the woman we were staying with. The children who benefited from the organization had painted their handprints on the sides of the bus. Before we even arrive at our destination, we could talk about the importance of the Circle of Empowerment organization. The Circle of Empowerment organization works to provide Nicaraguan citizens with more knowledge about healthcare treatments and procedures and to build a strong education system for their children. The organization provides support through a clinic and health workers, Saturday school for children, the opportunity to sponsor a child's education and a local library. As we traveled, the organization's founder, Meg Boren, told us all about her work. As the bus bumped along the road, the true sides of the country began to show themselves. Propaganda for the upcoming elections cluttered every billboard along the street. The houses became smaller and smaller as we moved further and further away from the main city. The houses soon became shacks and huts, not even qualifying as homes. The tarpaulins served as roofs connecting two or three makeshift walls. It looked like the buildings could collapse at any moment. The bumpy ride was almost over when we reached a gate. My brother got off the bus to open the gate and hold it while the bus passed. We continued bouncing for a while longer until we reached a large house less than 200 meters from the Pacific Ocean. About 100 yards from the house was a pavilion-like structure that Meg called a "ranchero." The “ranchero” consisted of a high thatched roof over a tiled floor. Between the pillars that supported the roof hung hammocks that swayed in the light wind. Some sets of tables and chairs invited guests to socialize or share a meal together. "Welcome!" the maids of the house came out to welcome us and help us with our bags. We unloaded and Meg led us to our rooms. Quinn and I shared a room on the south side of the house. We unpacked our clothes in the dresser that threatened to tip over at any moment. After everyone had finished unpacking, we sat down together for our first meal in the early evening. “So tomorrow,” Meg began, “we will go to the village of Aposentillo. There we will help paint the church." "Please bear in mind," continued Meg, "these people have practically nothing. Many people experience harsh culture shock when they arrive in a country like this. I just wanted to let you know." Then my mother asked the question we had all been asking ourselves.“So what about all the billboards about the election? There seemed to be more of them than there are in the United States” “The government here is very corrupt,” Meg stated bluntly. “Elections are not a time you want to be in this country. We don't have a stable government. I fear that if someone underdog wins the election, there will be civil unrest. ""Oh," my mother replied. “All your years of work and your financial investments could be stripped from these people in a matter of months. Sometimes we take for granted how stable our government is, even though it is anything but how perfect.” When dinner was over, the sun still filled the bottom of the sky, like a child who didn't want to go to bed yet the beach. “Well,” said Meg, “we'd better go to bed early. I'm sure you're all tired from the journey and we've all got a big day ahead of us.” The next morning we woke up bright and early After eating a traditional Nicaraguan breakfast of fruit, beans, eggs and juice, we changed into our painting clothes and boarded the bus to head to the church. . Upon arrival, a group of Nicaraguan children greeted us as we got off the bus. Meg said goodbye to the children and led us to church. The one-room, doorless building had been cleared of chairs and was empty. Cans of paint sat in the center of the room. "Hola!" a man of about 50 years old approached us. He had dark skin, dark hair, and milky eyes, which set him apart from the others. “Hola,” we all responded with smiles. “This is the pastor,” Meg told us. Then she turned to him. "Hola, Pedro come estas?" He smiled. "Well done, many thanks for helping us!" “He said, 'Thank you so much for helping us,'” Meg told us, not that I needed to hear that. Quinn and I had been studying Spanish for nine years at Our Lady of Guadalupe, a Spanish-language immersion school. This gave us a good knowledge of the Spanish language. We especially excelled at listening and translating what others said. After talking with the pastor for a while, we got to work. Spreading out over each wall, we ran the brushes up and down. Many people had shown up for this event. I could see at least fifteen adults scattered around the area, playing with children or doing their own work. The children ran around and played. A guy came up to me and asked, “Puedo ayudar?”, which meant, “Can I help?” I helped him brush the wall with paint a few times. Then we stopped so he could see the work he had done. He smiled, thanked me and ran away. Shortly after my arms got sore from painting so much, a man took my work. Quinn, my brother Alex, and I volunteered to entertain the children while the adults finished the painting. We played soccer and kickball, losing both. Then we thought of a game that everyone could win: Limbo. Alex grabbed the handle of a broom and placed it against the side of the building. I explained the instructions as best I could in Spanish and the game began. Although unfair because the kids were much shorter than us, we still enjoyed the healthy competition. Finally, the last coat of paint covered the walls and it was time for some fun. The bus took everyone back to Meg's house. We really enjoyed the ranchero food cooked by the waitresses. Then everyone dived into the water. We played and competed. At one point my brother pushed a log up.