With a bit of hesitancy yesterday I hopped on yet another Ticabus coach - this time bound for El Salvador. While a part of me was eager to explore somewhere new, the other part was quite content and at home in Nicaragua - with gallo pinto for breakfast, Eskimo ice cream in the afternoon, and a return to favorite restaurants in León, El Sauce, on Ometepe Island and in San Juan del Sur at night. This particular tug-of-war feeling is one we all know well; life presents us with a fork in the road where we must choose to take a familiar route or that of the unknown. The first is secure and elicits an air of confidence; the latter could either be incredible or disastrous, and requires a hop, jump or possibly even a full fledged leap of faith. There is no absolute directive to guide our choices. As we all live within our own contexts, so too will our decisions be different. For me, on this journey I am trying to take Robert Frost´s ¨road less traveled¨, and like him I´m also finding it has made ¨all the difference¨.
My good friend, Lloyd, has joined me for my last few weeks. After flying from Conakry, Guinea to Paris, and then to San Jose, Costa Rica, he caught an 11 hour bus ride to Managua where we finally met and hugged - just after he put down the hand-carved Lenke wooden drum he lugged all the way from his original port of embarkation. It´s still unfinished, so we´ve been visiting welders, carpenters and most recently a butcher for goat skin. It was fresh so we salted and stashed it in a plastic bag. Crossing into Honduras and then El Salvador I was slightly concerned our odd package might raise eyebrows, but we got lucky and only received a ¨Bienvenidos¨ - ¨Welcome¨, from border officials.
In the first twenty-four hours what has made the greatest impression on me in El Salvador is the genuine kindness we´ve been shown. Getting off the bus in San Miguel, Christian - an El Salvadorean guy about my age teaching in San Salvador handed me a slip of paper with his phone number and said: ¨por cualquiera cosa¨, for anything. He wasn´t trying to strike a deal or pick me up; the simple gesture was honestly friendly and meant a lot to me. Having helpful contacts in any new place is always advantageous. Then, minutes later while Lloyd and I were fumbling through the Lonely Planet to find a map of San Miguel a middle-aged man approached us with a toothy grin and asked ¨May I help you?¨ His English was impeccable. He was a private driver and offered to take us all the way to Playa Las Flores, our final destination. We explained we were traveling with a tight budget; he nodded, said ¨no problem¨, and then told us how to find the bus terminal. We strapped our backpacks on and started walking drum in hand down a main street, two blocks later a patrol car slowed with two policemen inside. My initial reaction was one of worry - I wondered ¨had we done something wrong?¨ - but I soon realized the officers´ intentions were just like the others´, only to be helpful to two gringo tourists. We were personally escorted to the bus station and had great conversation along the way.
Lloyd and I have now found our niche in golden sunrays on Playa Las Flores. We´ve rented a little hut for the week - with ceramic tiles over our heads and a pine-scented door opening up to what is practically our own private beach. On our patio is a woven hammock, sturdy clothesline and picnic table for two. A string of colorful little fishing boats belonging to locals stand parked out front, all with their own name - ¨Karla Vanesa¨, ¨Queiri¨, ¨Cristal¨, and ¨Isabelita¨. Our days are not organized around a clock, rather, we time our trips into town at low tide because the alternative route is twice as long. It´s lovely.
And with that, I sign off for now. It´s papaya smoothie time; wishing you sweet -
14 January 2009
There is a particular green paint coloring innumerable walls in Nicaragua. It´s lighter than lime, somewhat minty and matte - versus sheen. It covers buildings - inside and out; anyone who´s been to Nicaragua and is reading this may likely be nodding their head in agreement. More than once I´ve wondered where all of the paint came from, whether gratis brushes were also part of the deal, and why this exact tint of green was selected.
Three of the walls in the room where I sit now have this distinctive hue; the fourth is more of an unfinished makeshift partition - a basic wooden frame with a covering of cardboard-thin cork-board platelets. There is a three foot gap to the tin roof ceiling so all sound - murmuring voices, a fuzzy television set, cat´s meow and that clanging just outside the house creates an orchestra of noise somewhat difficult to drown out. The only decorative piece adorning the room is a cherub-like picture of Divino Niño Jesus - Divine Baby Jesus, with arms raised and wearing a golden crown. Just beside my bedpost and on the wardrobe as well is an etched name - Árlen. She is my host sister.
I am back in the barrio - neighborhood - of Ciudadela, Managua, an area in Nicaragua´s capital which is noted more for poverty and crime than anything else. Rumor has it the vibe is especially ¨caliente¨ - hot - at the moment; ten masked men jumped a neighbor a few days ago, and last night a parked patrol car caught everyone´s attention with its flashing lights. Eavesdropping, I found out the police officers were there on account of another assault.
I´m with an eclectic group of nine from the U.S. and one bloke from Ireland who now lives in San Francisco, California. We are not here for a specific project-based purpose; after explaining this to a Swedish woman working with Asociación de Mujeres Sol Naciente, an organization collaboratively building solar powered ovens in northern Nicaragua, she curiously asked: What then is your connection? Why are you here together?
In a sense I can understand her initial bewilderment. Both in person and on paper we are a sundry lot - ranging in age from 20-77, and dressed in our own unique styles - with university logos, goth apparel, wearing canvas hats with plastic silverware strapped to one side and donning embroidered flowery tops. Professionally, we are just as different. We are college students studying economics and earning Master of Divinity degrees, or at work with our vocations - with people who are homeless, and ironically enough, in the mortgage business. I think Maria has the most interesting position; she is a designer for Hallmark greeting cards and weekend photographer.
What brings us together to Ciudadela Nicaragua is a desire for experiential learning and connection. We´ve been staying with host families and sharing our stories, observations and realizations in reflection as a group. Each of us has experienced a challenge in some way shape or form. For some, a language barrier is a frustration; there is only so much which can be communicated with facial expressions, hand gestures and doodles. For others, adjusting to a different lifestyle is difficult. There are days with no water for washing and hours of electricity blackouts; beans and rice for every meal also can get to be a bit much. My internal struggle has something to do with wanting to fix, to solve, to help ¨improve¨ what I may see as a broken situation. I want to buy Augustina new glasses because her´s fell and shattered, and Engel orthopedic shoes; his knees bow in making him pigeon-toed and he falls a lot. I want to buy fruits and vegetables for everyone and cook for the community; there seems to be so much sickness and malnourishment. Árlen who is 18, and Nubia who is 28 both deal with a lot of abdominal pain and gastric intestinal problems from poor diets; ovens are a rarity so most food is fried.
In bringing this to consciousness I realize two things - first, my backpacker budget does not allow me a lot of economic freedom; and there will always be a need no matter how many people I might be able to help. Second, I do not wish for my relationships to be principally financially based; there can be somewhat of an oppositional force between cash-flow and meaningful connection. So what is the significance of all of this - both for me personally and for my relation to the world?
With gaining greater understanding of myself and my thought processes, I feel less pressure and stress to try to take responsibility for every need I identify, and instead try to allow for giving to happen as I am able. Gestures may be small; today I bought a man on the bus some water for one Córdoba - about 5 cents. Sometimes I´m capable of doing a bit more; last year I rode my bike from California to Kentucky and raised just over $1,000 for the Colegio San Francisco, a primary school for children in Ciudadela Nicaragua. Our last full day in the barrio we gave the school exterior a fresh coat of paint - not a minty matte green but indigo blue. In following months hand-written letters will keep us in contact with friends in Ciudadela. This was my second visit to the barrio so I´ve got two host families to write to. I look forward to my next trip to Ciudadela, hopefully winter of 2010 - with the addendum often heard in Nicaragua - ¨si Dios quiere¨, if God wills it.
Three of the walls in the room where I sit now have this distinctive hue; the fourth is more of an unfinished makeshift partition - a basic wooden frame with a covering of cardboard-thin cork-board platelets. There is a three foot gap to the tin roof ceiling so all sound - murmuring voices, a fuzzy television set, cat´s meow and that clanging just outside the house creates an orchestra of noise somewhat difficult to drown out. The only decorative piece adorning the room is a cherub-like picture of Divino Niño Jesus - Divine Baby Jesus, with arms raised and wearing a golden crown. Just beside my bedpost and on the wardrobe as well is an etched name - Árlen. She is my host sister.
I am back in the barrio - neighborhood - of Ciudadela, Managua, an area in Nicaragua´s capital which is noted more for poverty and crime than anything else. Rumor has it the vibe is especially ¨caliente¨ - hot - at the moment; ten masked men jumped a neighbor a few days ago, and last night a parked patrol car caught everyone´s attention with its flashing lights. Eavesdropping, I found out the police officers were there on account of another assault.
I´m with an eclectic group of nine from the U.S. and one bloke from Ireland who now lives in San Francisco, California. We are not here for a specific project-based purpose; after explaining this to a Swedish woman working with Asociación de Mujeres Sol Naciente, an organization collaboratively building solar powered ovens in northern Nicaragua, she curiously asked: What then is your connection? Why are you here together?
In a sense I can understand her initial bewilderment. Both in person and on paper we are a sundry lot - ranging in age from 20-77, and dressed in our own unique styles - with university logos, goth apparel, wearing canvas hats with plastic silverware strapped to one side and donning embroidered flowery tops. Professionally, we are just as different. We are college students studying economics and earning Master of Divinity degrees, or at work with our vocations - with people who are homeless, and ironically enough, in the mortgage business. I think Maria has the most interesting position; she is a designer for Hallmark greeting cards and weekend photographer.
What brings us together to Ciudadela Nicaragua is a desire for experiential learning and connection. We´ve been staying with host families and sharing our stories, observations and realizations in reflection as a group. Each of us has experienced a challenge in some way shape or form. For some, a language barrier is a frustration; there is only so much which can be communicated with facial expressions, hand gestures and doodles. For others, adjusting to a different lifestyle is difficult. There are days with no water for washing and hours of electricity blackouts; beans and rice for every meal also can get to be a bit much. My internal struggle has something to do with wanting to fix, to solve, to help ¨improve¨ what I may see as a broken situation. I want to buy Augustina new glasses because her´s fell and shattered, and Engel orthopedic shoes; his knees bow in making him pigeon-toed and he falls a lot. I want to buy fruits and vegetables for everyone and cook for the community; there seems to be so much sickness and malnourishment. Árlen who is 18, and Nubia who is 28 both deal with a lot of abdominal pain and gastric intestinal problems from poor diets; ovens are a rarity so most food is fried.
In bringing this to consciousness I realize two things - first, my backpacker budget does not allow me a lot of economic freedom; and there will always be a need no matter how many people I might be able to help. Second, I do not wish for my relationships to be principally financially based; there can be somewhat of an oppositional force between cash-flow and meaningful connection. So what is the significance of all of this - both for me personally and for my relation to the world?
With gaining greater understanding of myself and my thought processes, I feel less pressure and stress to try to take responsibility for every need I identify, and instead try to allow for giving to happen as I am able. Gestures may be small; today I bought a man on the bus some water for one Córdoba - about 5 cents. Sometimes I´m capable of doing a bit more; last year I rode my bike from California to Kentucky and raised just over $1,000 for the Colegio San Francisco, a primary school for children in Ciudadela Nicaragua. Our last full day in the barrio we gave the school exterior a fresh coat of paint - not a minty matte green but indigo blue. In following months hand-written letters will keep us in contact with friends in Ciudadela. This was my second visit to the barrio so I´ve got two host families to write to. I look forward to my next trip to Ciudadela, hopefully winter of 2010 - with the addendum often heard in Nicaragua - ¨si Dios quiere¨, if God wills it.
06 January 2009
Writing to you from Ometepe...
A 20 minute hike, 30 minute bus ride and 40 minute stint in a pick-up truck with three other nomadic travelers brought me to Moyogalpa, which has the only ATM on Ometepe Island. It was a mission and a half to get here, so I´m spending a leisurely day catching up on communication, possibly visiting a museum which supposedly hosts Nicaragua´s largest collection of decorative funeral urns, and definitely going to the cash machine before returning to Zopilote for stone oven pizza tonight.
Ometepe is an island in the middle of Lake Nicaragua. It´s known for its two majestic volcanoes - Concepción, which is still active, and Maderas, which is not - plantain production and ecological friendliness. Organic farming practices and Permaculture projects abound. This way of life is not part of a trend, it has not been externally imposed - it´s simply the way it is and always has been. Pesticides are expensive and in essence, unnecessary; the volcanic soil is nutrient rich. For the most part islanders seek to self-sustain or barter with a neighbor. Zopilote receives a gallon of fresh milk every morning. It´s deliciously creamy, but when it´s gone no hay más hasta la próxima mañana. I wake up early to ensure I get one full cup.
Zopilote is a transient community grounded with the continuous efforts of two Italian brothers. There are hammocks, tents and a few dormitory beds to sleep in; most people who arrive are environmentally interested and aware, seeking to learn through living. All waste is separated - recycled and composted when possible. There is filtered water available - not in disposable plastic bottles for 20 Córdoba (1 USD) apiece, but from a tap. And at reception there are always free bananas; yesterday I ate eight.
I try to live life by the motto: ¨All Good things in Moderation¨, but I also believe there is space for time of indulgence. At the moment I´m nursing sore muscles from my climb to the top of Maderas, and bananas are supposed to be helpful for lactic acid build-up. Round-trip, we hiked - stepped over and ducked under fallen branches - smucked through shin-deep mud, teetered back and forth between tree trunks to maintain balance - and stumbled over roots for eight hours. I made the trek with seven gentlemen - four Canadians, two Alaskans and Héctor, our Nicaraguan guide. It was an unforgettable experience, and I´ll happily share the photos as soon as I can find a USB cable to upload images. Until the next post, sending each and everyone of you amor y suerte - love and luck!
Ometepe is an island in the middle of Lake Nicaragua. It´s known for its two majestic volcanoes - Concepción, which is still active, and Maderas, which is not - plantain production and ecological friendliness. Organic farming practices and Permaculture projects abound. This way of life is not part of a trend, it has not been externally imposed - it´s simply the way it is and always has been. Pesticides are expensive and in essence, unnecessary; the volcanic soil is nutrient rich. For the most part islanders seek to self-sustain or barter with a neighbor. Zopilote receives a gallon of fresh milk every morning. It´s deliciously creamy, but when it´s gone no hay más hasta la próxima mañana. I wake up early to ensure I get one full cup.
Zopilote is a transient community grounded with the continuous efforts of two Italian brothers. There are hammocks, tents and a few dormitory beds to sleep in; most people who arrive are environmentally interested and aware, seeking to learn through living. All waste is separated - recycled and composted when possible. There is filtered water available - not in disposable plastic bottles for 20 Córdoba (1 USD) apiece, but from a tap. And at reception there are always free bananas; yesterday I ate eight.
I try to live life by the motto: ¨All Good things in Moderation¨, but I also believe there is space for time of indulgence. At the moment I´m nursing sore muscles from my climb to the top of Maderas, and bananas are supposed to be helpful for lactic acid build-up. Round-trip, we hiked - stepped over and ducked under fallen branches - smucked through shin-deep mud, teetered back and forth between tree trunks to maintain balance - and stumbled over roots for eight hours. I made the trek with seven gentlemen - four Canadians, two Alaskans and Héctor, our Nicaraguan guide. It was an unforgettable experience, and I´ll happily share the photos as soon as I can find a USB cable to upload images. Until the next post, sending each and everyone of you amor y suerte - love and luck!
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