Napkins

So we are out for trivia with friends from around the world, Holland, Australia, Germany, the States at our favourite Irish pub. There isn't actually trivia because it was mother's day, but we manage to sit outside with three tables pushed together, exchanging idioms and email addresses and stories of where we are from and what we do.

At one point me and Becky leave the table to get ice cream from our favourite heladería just at the end of the street. We have been to that place often enough that the servers are starting to recognize us. Last night was a different crew, probably because we don't usually do ice cream at ten, but there we have it. Becky asks to try a flavor and as usual it is delicious so she proceeds to order. The lady serves her and then offers her napkins. I say, "Becky, take the napkins" so she does, but the lady serving us goes "¿Como se dice?" and I tell her napkins, those are called napkins.

She smiles and then serves me my pistachio-chocolate-almond delight. Asks me "napkins?" and we smile, and we laugh. I say si, gracias and she says you're welcome.

Sometimes people just kill me.

Defying death like it's my day job.

Our hostel room is all quiet and breezy with our fan on at the moment. The back of my calves are shredded by the experience of this morning that has us all needing a little siesta before the Saturday night begins.

We woke up in time to get a pretty decent breakfast as part of our package deal. Of course the sun was bright and hot as anything, one of the hottest mornings we have had yet. From the cafe window we can see the giant orange truck-bus that will take us to our destination. Our guide's name is Anthony, as legitimate a guy as any with his bulging biceps and swinging dreadlocks and just barely accented English. We pile on this large contraption, all 34 of us sitting on benches facing each other for the hour's ride to the base of the volcano. I had to stop making eye contact with all of the locals we passed by so I wouldn't feel like the epitome of gringo. Sometimes I'm weirdly self conscious like that.

There were quite a few Americans, quite a few Canadians, and a handful of Europeans, Scotland, Ireland, Germany, Holland and Iceland. We were all appropriately chatty, exchanging hellos, where are you froms, what brings you to Nicaragua, etc. (side note in this: on my plane ride from Atlanta to Managua, my neighbor was a friendly German man and we got to chatting for a bit. Being all nervous excited about going, it felt in a way very reassuring to meet another person heading to Nica. He was going to a language school in Granada and kept me company throughout our customs line before going separate ways. Hearing all these stories and plans and adventures from all these different people has had a similar effect on me--that being that I continue to feel less and less insane for choosing to volunteer in Nica. I think if I ever have doubts of what I'm doing, all I need to do is find a hostel full of young people from everywhere living out of backpacks and traveling, because as much as it's like okay, we are painfully not from here, we are also in a relatively similar boat. That's what I felt when chatting with all these international gringos gone thrill-seeking.)

The bus ride was bumpy as all heck, somehow maneuvering the soft volcanic sand that had taken over since the main road. Tree branches flying everywhere, the horizon one of forest smelling jungle trees and volcanoes. What a fiery landscape Nicaragua has....it feels very much alive with all of its volcanoes, all of the steamy sulfur vents and strange hot winds that speak of this our vibrant earth. We stop at the park entrance which has this strange pit of at least fifty iguanas all just hanging out. By this point we have been prepped briefly for the 45 minute hike up Cerro Negro, having taken our "before" photos at the park entrance. Three minutes more on the bus and the jungle has stopped, leaving a rocky, ashy, dark landscape. Everyone was all nervous laughter and jokes and to my great delight quite a few people commented on how this is like Mordor. Yes my friends, that is right. I was about to hike into Mordor.

(It is now significantly later in the day, the city covered in rain. All the old buildings look especially magnificent.)

We got tossed our over the shoulder orange cloth bags containing the jumpsuits we would don, picked up our boards and double checked that we definitely had our goggles. And let me just clarify that by boards I mean pieces of plywood with a square of some sort of very slippery plastic that would help us go faster. There was a rope with a handle and a small triangular section for your bottom. And that was pretty much it. Didn't question it really, even though we easily could have constructed this out of scrap materials in our garage back home. Seems legit.

We began our ascent moving through the rocky sections, feeling very much like epic explorers, like fantasy novel characters out on a grand adventure. Or at least, I was feeling that way. I always feel that way about things like this though. I think part of my adoration of hiking and walking and riding and climbing and adventures on your own two feet and on horseback comes from the little Kelly who will forever be reading books in the backyard, there but not there because imagination is such a great reality. I love that it's like I'm walking into Mordor, or traversing magical lands or trekking to find the answers, like all the characters fully realized in their comfortable novel lives. Lives I've visited again and again. And doing things like that in REAL LIFE are all the cooler because it is REAL LIFE. So even though I may not have swords or crossbows or magic or dragons, I'm doing all that is possible for our human condition.

Because there is magic in the way the old lava spill has coated the land, how the ground folds and crunches beneath you feet, the funny trees on the funny hills in the distance, looking forever like a Dr Seus book. And there is magic in the people taking silly pictures, self conscious but not, humming the epic theme songs of Jurassic Park and Indiana Jones and Star Wars (which I supplied for the Americans who were singing the songs when they couldn't remember--nerd for life), all of us silly and spontaneous and in awe of what this landscape is. Spectacular.

This volcano climb was much less grueling than Concepcion, but it was out in the open with no shade of which to speak. Luckily there was a steady breeze and the occasional cloud cover, which made the whole hike quite a joy for all of its tricky footing and steep inclines. It wasn't long before we made it up to the "top"; top being the point from which we'd ride. Before suiting up we walked to the edge of the crater, where Anthony scratched the surface of the dirt with his foot and steam issues out of it, hot as anything from the very active volcano beneath our feet. A WAY COOL WAY TO SPEND YOUR SATURDAY! On top of a volcano, feeling the waves of steamy heat, taking those must-have pictures jumping by the edge. (another side note: best decision to buy my camera--it has this incredible speed in taking pictures so it can entirely capture those midair shots, not to mention underwater....so I literally got the COOLEST picture ever of Becky and our guide Anthony ninja-kicking combat style mid air on the edge of the crater. Gracias mi camera!)

And then it was time.

The orange jumpsuits were overly large and all patched up from previous rides. Anthony demonstrated the basics of boarding, at which point everyone sort of stuttered at the thought of our bums on the very back end of a piece of wood barreling down the side of the volcano...yikes. Braking was tapping your heels, steering was tapping whichever direction you wanted to go, and the general position was lean back, hands vertical on the rope and hold your legs off the ground. Ladies first, of course, because chivalry is "alive and well in Nicaragua"....*suspicious eyes*..... And then somehow I was first of the pack to go. Gulp. Pulled my goggles on down and then after a reminder not to get off till the board stopped, WHOOSH. Down the effing volcano!

I realize that perhaps whoosh sounds a little bit corny, but that's what it sounded like. The wind whistled in my ears, throwing rocks and pebbles in my face, coating me with a layer of grit and dirt and volcano. Hit a huge bump but managed to hang on as the board sped towards the end. At this point it became nearly impossible to keep my legs up so I scratched and shredded at my pants...ouch. But also way awesome. I'm not going to reveal my speed (because there was a man with a speedgun timing each of our runs), but I'll let you guess in the comments. Note that the record speed for Bigfoot Hostel boarders is 91km/h. The record speed today was 80......the slowest speed was 16km/h. I figure I came probably like 16th or so out of 34 boarders. ............ Hahaha sorry that makes it sound like there is some sort of mathematical equation for my speed. There definitely isn't; just know that next time the motto is No Fear instead of Let's Try It. ;)

Being the first one down, I had time to readjust my ears to the silence. Speeding down that volcano was wind-grit-noise-exhilaration, the board grating over the fine rocks. Soon thee other girls started arriving, all of us covered from scalp to shoes in volcano dust, all of us laughing and dirty and loving it, cheering for each orange clad daredevil as they came tumbling or speeding or crawling on down. Nothing like an adrenaline rush careening down a volcano to instantly boost camaraderie levels. All too soon after all the excitement, we loaded back onto that orange truck, sweaty and sticking together, cracking open our victory drinks and enjoying the victory cookie.

And of course our drive back to the hostel is about fifty times bumpier and seven times more cheerful than the ride there, which is to say we were an enormous group of dirty gringos hollering through the jungle. At which point I held on to the side of our transport and just took it all in. Typical me to get all philosophical while everyone else is reliving their experiences through excited jolting stories, but there we have it. The top speed champ who didn't answer questions about himself but asked them of others. The waving hands of the curly-haired American. The goggle dirt line across the back of an Irish man's head. How the Scottish couple swayed with the wild bus ride. How everyone cheered, rolled their eyes at the Americans, laughed. How human all the human peoples are.

We bundled out of the truck back at the hostel and enjoyed our free mojitos for completing the trip. Food shower nap repeat, pretty much for the rest of the night. What a day. What a crazy day.

And what a life. There is a CNN report out that lists volcano surfing on Cerro Negro as number two in the Top 50 things to do before you die. And a reader's digest list puts it at number four for one of the most death-defying travel experiences in the world. Hence why you could say I've defied death today ;)

Keep dreaming magical dreams and keep doing magical things. And as the bathroom walls at this hostel say: "I believe in growing things, in things that have grown and died magnificently."

dftba
-k

Corre corre corre corazón

I have titled this post thusly in due respect for this number one hit pop song here in Nicaragua. We had it blasting in our ears as we rode in one of those bicycle rickshaws to our hostel for this weekend.
I can't say I've ever stayed in a hostel so this is quite interesting. Everyone here is either Australian, Canadian or American, as best as I can tell, though I am sure by the end of the night we will all be much better acquainted. It is almost strange to hear other people speaking English so consistently and without fail. I can't imagine what it will be like when I get back to Canada and I will understand all of what is being said. Honestly at the moment I can't say I enjoy being surrounded by English speakers....an I just weird like that or what? I enjoy the challenge of trying to understand what's going on and trying to piece together poco a poco and participate in my environment with what limited capacity I can.

Our plan for the weekend is volcano boarding on Cerro Negro and then a tour of this university-city with some of the oldest buildings in Nica. And then on Sunday we get to trek back to the nation's capital and back home to Granada in time for one of our staff's son's first birthday! Which should be quite the experience, considering it is a real Nica party and we will be on our own for communication. LOVE IT!

I shall post as the weekend goes and as the wifi allows. Because sometimes you have to push the boundaries of what you know and spend the ride with the wind in your face watching volcanos roll by.

dftba
-k

This is it...

So I have given myself a time limit for this post, in order to take advantage of however much energy and night I have left, in addition to Spanish homework and laundry. The little things. But oh, what a weekend.

We set out for San Juan del Sur on Friday afternoon, on one of the hottest bus rides of my life. Not that it mattered because once the bus tarted flying through the roads, the breeze helped out a bit....also saying anything is the hottest of my life gets a bit redundant because everything is so far. Literally for less than two dollars we travelled like 2 hours to our destination. And oh, what a destination. I posted some sunset pictures earlier, but they can hardly capture the sea breeze and the pacific ocean crash on the sloping shore and the sunset and the quaint beauty of that small town. Which of course we all fell in love with. Here is the story of that love:

We walked along the beach looking for a hotel and landed at the one we'd looked up via interwebs..... It was a little bit removed from the town but okay enough. Enough as in there were beds and air conditioning when the power was on. Otherwise sorta growsy but who's counting. We've yet to do the hostel thing, so we aren't allowed to complain. We headed out for dinner and drinks by like 8pm, and struck gold. This restaurant bar dance floor was two tiered, palm frond roofs right on the beach. (just needed to point out that right now Paradise by Coldplay is playing.... Quite appropriate) Never order me drinks after an afternoon of sweating out my weight in water because I drank those daiquiris like they were nothing. ..........not sure how appropriate that is, but I'm on the other side of the world sort of, so go ahead and judge in your cozy Canadian life if you'd like. ;) Dinner was delightful, made more so by the fact that there was this magnificent lightning storm all around us, illuminating the palm trees and hills and the strange Jesus statue on the ridge top that made everything feel slightly sacred if just because there would be this figure illuminated every so often by cloud to cloud lightning tht rippled through the sky. At one point our power flickered out, and it was just us and the others on this balcony underneath lightning bugs and a million stars in half the sky and a million clouds with lightning bolts on the other half. It was.....surreal.

By 9:30 me and Alicia and Becky were back from walking Alan back to the hotel (cultural do: always move in groups) to hit up the dance floor. Well, we had a second round of drinks (....or fourth?) and watched the silly crowd of Nicaraguans and gringos and hippies move to the music. And then we danced and we cried and we laughed and had a really really really good time take my hand lets have a blast an remember this moment for the rest of our lives (.....bonus points if you knows the song from which that line comes). It seriously was a blast though, I have to say. I hugely enjoyed the crush of people, all the bodies and all the moving and all the breathing, drunk lungs inhale, exhale. The waiters moved through everybody, grabbing a shoulder here and an ass there, just a jolly good time. We met some Canadians, got kissed on the cheek by a Spanish man, danced on by a short Nicaraguan and generally touched by all the people. Which sounds like the creepiest thing but really it isn't, or wasn't. Especially because you could just look out at the lightning and then close your eyes and you are just part of humanity again, low and grounded and gritty and sweaty. So I guess I like dancing, then... I'm not a fan of the people so smashed they could barely stand (many of those) but it was funto see people like one of the Canadians, poor fellow, too awkward to know how to dance in such a situation, unable to just go with flow and do the locomotion. Which makes for much private hilarity.
We returned from this dancing escapade by 1, tired and sweaty but definitely exhilarated from such a great night. Promises of a next time floating in the air. And of course by this point our air conditioner is not working due to a lack of power, so it is quite humid all around. And of course when the a/c does turn back on, it is set to freezing, so the night turns into one of shivers under inadequate blankets. BRING IT ON.

As per my post yesterday, we had breakfast on the beach and then wandered the town. At which point, by a cloudy daylight, we are in love with it. Small and cleaner than Granada, the locals are way less aggressive (and hy aggressive I mean catcalls and whistling) and there are way more tourists but they are the kind of tourists that half-live there, tanned and with the body of surfers. Oh, the surfers. I will just let you imagine that.

We spent the afternoon on the beach, where I pulled in a spectacular sunburn (I wonder how many times I will curse the damn malaria pills for increasing my sensitivity and therefore my usual chances of burn) and played in those rolling, salty pacific waves. Lunch was at sushi-q, a place you'd least expect to find in Nicaragua but lo and behold there it was and holy CARP it was delicious. Back to the hotel. For naps and plans before heading out to another of the popular haunts for dinner. And they gave us free shots, which was cool, and tasted like that banana medicine of childhood, which made for a really strange time. At this point some members of our crew were quite drunk (I'm pointing a mental finger at Alan but shhhh) but all was good. We migrated back to the bar from the night before but the crowd was less, probably more drawn to the beach party going on down the road. We called it a night by 12, revived a girl who passed out in front of us, and finally got our air conditioning right.

This morning me and Alicia headed out early. Gosh I can't even write these words without getting all tight in the throat and prickly eyes from how spectacular the ensuing experience was. By 6:30 we were outside our hotel, and along comes whiz zing this big silver truck with a wonderfully cowboy-hatted woman behind the wheel, Blue. She picked us up and drove us to her ranch where we were to go for our ride.

I honestly can't find words for that experience. Check out their website ranchochilamate.com for an idea of how cool they are, or just google reviews of their place. Oh my lanta.

It is Blue and her partner Jamie (Jeremy) on this beautiful lot in the foothills of the Rivas department of Nicaragua, with a custom designed and built hacienda, by Jamie, who was a construction manager in Vancouver for 25years before picking up to live a dream after his kids grew up. They had these two dogs that came bounding out to greet us, friendly as anything, rivaling the kindness of our ranch hosts. The place was just gorgeous; we got outfitted in our hats and boots and a pair of borrowed jeans before Blue took us around for a photo shoot. And then we went down to meet our horses.

I'll just take a minute to remind you of how lush and growing and green everything currently is in Nicaragua at the moment. So imagine this kind of rainforest-jungle growth and magical trees and howler monkeys swinging from branches above us and the magpie-jay birds and the parakeets and the buzzing cicadas.

My mount was this sturdy little rescue named Bandito, who grew up on the beach but had been subject to ear-twisting and not nice things. He was responsive as heck beneath me and so eager. The horses were all so pretty, Nicaraguan sized for the most part, but healthy. We set out then through the scattered village in the hills, waving hello to children looking out from windows, crossing rivers and pigs and chickens and bridges. Over the hills and valleys and through cattle farms and forests, saying hola, buenas días to the friendliest people with all the time and no money. It was spectacular, passing under monkeys and poison spike fire ant trees and flowers and greenery.

And then we arrived at the beach.

This was the survivor beach where they filmed two seasons back to back or something like that. It is framed by these rocky crags on either side, trees and hermit crabs and driftwood-strewn sand splitting a river from the sea. And bless our luck, you could literally see Costa Rica from where we were. My god. We enjoyed a cold beer under the trees, talking about horse smell and life plans on this semi-famous spot. Blue told us about the Nicaraguan survivor winner who came back to ride. How during the game, the players can't talk to each other unless the cameras are rolling. Which sounds ridiculous, but also way more like a survivor situation- lots of alone time pondering with bouts of frenzied conversation and doing. It seemed strangely poetic, this game show in this country and the silence and the trees. Bandito didn't want the cookie I offered him, but he was literally chomping at the bit once we untied and mounted up.

Oh, my goodness. Could that little caballo ever GALLOP! We raced across the beach, swerving around the men fishing and the family playing on this Sunday morning. We charged across that sand, legs churning and wind blowing, my hat wishing to fly, my heart already doing so. Bandito galloped and galloped and galloped, lathering himself with sweat and panting but loving life, his beautiful ears pricked forward and heart pounding under the saddle. We slashed through the ocean surf, turned tight western circles of excited-horse expectation and literally raced the wind.

There are some feelings that words can capture, and then there are moments like this. As we approached the end of the shore on our third or fourth gallop, I caught my heart in my throat and laughed to myself. Who is so silly as to cry, the crashing shore and the costa horizon and the riding. Something moved me, has moved me for how spectacular that was. It was a gem of happiness and such the perfect moment of everything I could ever want in my life...horse and sea and sky and the ability to go anywhere, feel everything.

The amazing didn't end there either. Once we left the beach, we literally rose through an enchanted forest, with those monkeys and their monkey babies, passing by dangling vines and leafy tendrils and this unbelievably adorable porcupine. I wish I could give all the sad people of the world a face like that porcupine, sweet and innocent and wise and natural, curious of the world and us strange, strange beings. And then we were back on the road through the village, if you could call the stretched out collection of shack homes that, but not just any road. The trees formed that perfect canopy of all dreams, petals falling softly, a little kid standing in the middle of it all with her small dog. This a shout out to you, Anne Marie, and all my film+lit buddies. It was exactly out of three seasons, just different colours.

I'm telling you, there are things in this world that are just the way they need to be, so unbelievable and precious and all the evidence in the world of the way we are, of the hearts that beat and the hearts that feel and excuse all this but I just...yea. I don't know if I can put these feelings onto the interwebs, make them into anything tangible because I don't know if they can be translated. I think they just need to be felt.

And I wish you the very feeling-est of feelings, the very softest of flower petals falling over your wondrous head. There is so much lovely in the world, so much beauty. I never want to forget that, how you live a moment and then it is a memory but it is still there in your heart that makes you human. There is so much lovely to be beckoned, so much to be made of your time here. So many parrots to sing to you, laugh with you, so many friendly dogs and galloping horses and shy kids waving and river stone splashing and lightning struck trees and magic to be made and shared and found, again and again and again, here and there with him and her and you and me.

I have way missed my timeline for finishing this entry. There is always more to be said, even if it is just to say how I can hardly speak of this life. This is it, you know. In all the ways and hows and whys of the this and the it, however you define them.

It is also it because we have reached the point of no return. The normal vacation time of one or two weeks has been coasted on through with Spanish verbs and volcanos. We are now approaching the next phase of our stay here, which is that we aren't leaving. We are also forbidden to speak English, starting tomorrow, so there is that adventure to come. Spanish time it is.....which reminds me of my Spanish work yet to be done.

So, for this week I encourage you to find the magic in your life and in your world. This isn't some crazy lady from the southern hemisphere preaching love and peace. This is me saying that there is a lot of world to be discovered, a lot of life in everything you do. Grace and magic and lovely.

Use your real eyes.

dftba
-k

Diacachimba en San Juan del Sur

Rebels, this one is for you.

What my morning looked like.

Es la verdad

Some photos of the journey so far. I am keenly aware that 14 days ago I was not here, and now I am at the loveliest place on this side of the earth.

I am here

looking out from our balcony window at the very big tree and the branches and the birds that don't stop until the sun goes down and then the bats take over and how beautiful is that and I am sitting here thinking about how we are all affected. How differently each of our voices sounds and how we know what we know and the way mosquito bites itch and how you never feel something until you do and how we are all so blessed to breathe this air and cursed to let it go again and how we attach ourselves to people and places and things and all that matters is the meaning we put behind it and the rituals we create and the sweat that rolls down your face and the little kids in their little kid laughter with their little kid knowing and the whiteboard markets running out of ink and dangling bracelets on thin wrists and wide hips and salsa swiveling on sweltering nights and how much greater we are and how much tiny we have and how there are stars in the night sky that have been there for years and how you cup water in your hand to watch the liquid of it, know you will always be this person, you will always make these choices, you will always find which flower it is that makes the stars beautiful.

I look forward to the sunsets of Sam Juan del Sur this weekend.

dftba
-k

Cultural do: Isla de Ometepe

Okay so I am sitting here with my lidocaine spray on sunburnt shoulders, questioning how I'm going to make it the three feet from this table to my bed...I'm hoping for a half crawl that will involve no muscle movement at all....not sure if that is physically possible but no worries. Just.... Volcanoes are really big. More on that later. Also, this will be a long post.

SO! Okay I don't like to brag but I think I may have just experienced either the coolest or one of the top three coolest weekends of my life. I tried not to compare how my weekend would have been spent in Canada because all that matters is that I am HERE, living in this country with these people. Oh, these people.

As I mentioned already, we went to la Isla de Ometepe this weekend, our first of many weekend adventures to come. It involved a 4:30 wake up Saturday morning and a predawn fast-walk to the bus station for the Rivas buses. We walked past all the market people setting up for their day of selling. I tried not to stare too much at the rising sun over their tired faces and empty stalls, tried not to feel like I was dreaming, seeing the most common sight, the most uncommon in the world for all of its simple glory and sweat. We made it to our "bus station" in more than enough time...and by bus station I mean an enclosure for the buses to pull in, chickens and dogs underfoot, children and mango sellers and snack vendors and rivasrivasrivasrivas being called out. The bus ride was a cramped and tired affair, though I was sandwiched between Alicia and Becky, who had the aisle seat and the worst deal, with several different pelvises making their way into her face. And so it went.

The bus ride was bumpy, a remodeled yellow school bus, but we passed through some very real, very Nicaraguan countryside. So many animals, too, scattered on the fields and fields....and I can safely say that about 80% of the horses here look quite passable by Canadian equine standards. Which is excellent because I really don't think I could handle being surrounded by starving ponies. Don't get me wrong, there is a fair amount of rib and hip bone visible, but for the most part all the living things seem okay cared for.

Time was tight but we miraculously made it to the ferry, this white and blue affair that sailed us in our morning faces across the lake. Windy as anything but beautiful, what with the two volcanoes ringed by sunshine and clouds, growing closer and closer on the watery horizon until we were tree branch detail distance away. We were met by a driver once we stumbled off the ferry, feeling better for having stood in the breezy sun instead of a smelly bus for the last hour. His name was Wilbur and he looked like any regular punk.....okay punk is a bit strong, but like jacked arms and white cap turned backwards. The van we piled into (there were 6 of us for the weekend...the aforementioned Becky and Alicia, plus Alan, and Max and Sami, who are dating) was quite spacious. We started our island tour at Charco Verde for breakfast, which hit the spot, and then a fairly epic hike on the way to a beach through the nature reserve. Saw monkeys, lagoons and beautiful vistas of this gorgeous little island. The swimming spot was amazing. Like....amazing. The waves, the lake water, the pure refreshment after such a morning, which included a fair amount of sweat and dust kicked up by our hike there. And a sunburn, of course, thanks to the additional sensitivity of my skin to sunlight from the malaria pills. But holy moly I was being little kid dolphin splash happy about that swim.

Wilbur took us next to the amazing Ojo de agua, which I can only explain by assigning you some tarea. Assignment? Google 'Ojo de agua Ometepe nicaragua' or some variation thereof and enjoy the gorgeous pictures that follow. It was every bit as magical as it sounds, natural spring water and a tree swing into the clear, brilliant pool and fresh coconuts and drinks. Not too tourist-ed either, though it is the off season. Also that coconut of yesterday's post, containing a heavy dose of just-tolerable drinking stuffs, to put it nicely. To all of those who've ever doubted me- I finished it except for a sip I gave to Alicia. Took down the coco loco at Ojo, thus performing what the hip to the jive youths would call a "yolo".

We were fairly fried in every sense by that point, so we chose to head in to our hotel. Hotel Villa Paraiso, which is just what it sounds like. A gorgeous lot overlooking a GORGEOUS beach with the softest sand I've yet experienced. We organized ourselves, cooled off as much as possible with cold showers on tap, and then got ready for the evening. Which sounds like way more work than it was. Most importantly we booked our tour for the next morning to hike the Concepcion volcano before catching the ferry and the last bus back to Granada.

We walked to a corner store, picking up snacks and electrolytes for our five hour excursion. A Gatorade, three granola bars and a bag of trail mix for just about three dollars. Sometimes it's the little things that get me, like the baby chicks running in the yard opposite the small store, or the shopkeeper turning on the light for us to browse, or the smile of the cashier lady when we brokenly make our way through a transaction.

Dinner was long and drawn out, ordering appetizer then drinks then meal then drinks then dessert, feeling the sunset and laughing like the gringos we are, tired and burnt and slaphappy. Bedtime by 8:30 except it was interrupted by fits of much laughter. No regrets. I actually slept with a damp towel wrapped around my shoulders because of the burn. No, family, don't go judging me like that. Blame it half on the malaria pills this time.

Too soon our alarms went off and we stuttered through yet another round of predawn preparations. Except this time I could stand and appreciate the sunrise as much as I wanted, considering our hotel was on the eastern coast, thus illuminating the palm trees against fading stars with sunshine rising like kings behind the clouds. I swear the way the light exists in the sky will never fail to captivate me.

We jumped into the tour van this time and made our winding way to breakfast. We passed by a kid standing the street with his dog. Once he saw it was a tour bus, he started waving and dancing. And kept dancing through the morning, I presume, because I watched him dance beneath the morning sky and thought of laughter until he was a speck, a bend in the road, gone.

Breakfast was just plain delicious! at this man's house, front yard set with tables. Nothing like pancakes and fresh fruit and fresh pineapple juice and a kind Nicaraguan host to start the morning of a lifetime.

Backpacks filled with water and snacks (sort of), we followed Luis and Walter, the former of whom spoke a wonderful halting but eager English and the latter of which I could easily have danced the salsa with from dusk till dawn, despite our mutual lack of understanding of each the other's language, up into the volcano.

And boy. Oh fucking boy. I'm not even going to ask for an apology because it deserves as strong a use of language as that. The hike started well enough, tough crumbly volcanic rock footing past cows and giant trees and spiky fire ant bushes and enormous cicadas, and then we hit the uphill. Honestly for the next three hours, I probably lost about three pounds in sweat and pure determination, because walking 1000metres UP a volcano is about fifty times more difficult than you would think. At some point I accepted the inevitable dirt and the inevitable tree grabbing for balance and push, and just climbed out of pure grit. It was never ending, even though I was close to throwing up, even though my heart was ready to burst at one point. Because who else climbed a volcano on mother's day? Because who else is living my life? No one but me, so I grabbed all the exhaustion of the steep incline, which occasionally warranted a hands and knees crawl, and chucked it out with the water loss. I spent the first half of my day surrounded by lizards and jungle and monkeys and dying cicada sounds and butterflies and fresh air and cocoa, coffee, banana, avocado, mango and wild pepper flora and fauna. Because hell yes, the trail reached a top point. Because hell yes, I did it.

We only went to the 1000m point due to time constraints and honest exhaustion, but what a view. There were volcano clouds and intense winds and this rainbow at the base, covering the island. These are the moments of life where the world is made so beautiful by my small human-ness, by my insignificance against such a natural and colourful wonder.

And then, of course, what goes up must come down. This time I was not stuck in the middle of our pack, struggling to breath like it was my day job. The way down was about thirty times faster and just as much easier. Luis even convinced me to try running down the slopes at some point. So I did, parcouring down a volcano, left right left right don't get caught in the roots go go don't think just run and jump and careful don't fall. It was exhilarating. A nod of thanks to my trusty hiking shoes which didn't let me down at all.

And then somehow the ordeal was over. Ok "ordeal" makes it sound like some kind of mission but it was such an experience I don't know how else to call it. The struggle, the wind, the sights. At one point we were literally descending between echoing calls of capuchin monkeys, lizards scurrying away from our footfalls, the sun beaming through the forest branches. Who ever knew life could look like that.

I'm going to tell you now that it can and it does. This whole experience is still blowing my mind, but it can and totally will do it for you, too, if you can bear the comfort-shaking that comes with risk taking and adventure making. Holy crap. Sometimes things seem so much grander in perspective, troubles so much less significant, from the middle of volcanoes or on early morning bus rides or scratching enormous mosquito bites or smiling slight smiles at the little kids on the bus or listening to flute players on the sidewalk at dinner or biting your lip to keep from pity at the street children or the rooftops in the late afternoon aim or the stars from a dark sky with laundry sheets ghosting the image.

Maybe it is all of this or none of this or something similar to this or whatever you need it to be.

Look up at the moon and dream a bit and see where life takes you.

I am exhausted now-- we made it to the ferry and to the pimped out Canadian bluebird school bus that brought us back to Granada and home.

Tomorrow we are going to visit our placements, meet the important peoria we need to meet...... Which means I get to MEET MY NIÑOS !!!!!!!!! I am nervous and excited and all the jingle feelings in between.

Sleep well and do something brave tomorrow. Or smile well and do something bold today. And seriously, don't forget to be awesome. Because sometimes the world needs a little reminding of all the awesome that is out there. Be that reminder. Carry that candle, that flame.

Hasta luego!

-k

Yolo at Ojo

There will be an explanation later, but for now some pictures.

Also know that I am sunburnt as per usual and tomorrow morning we are waking up to climb a volcano.

That's pretty dang cool I would say. Pretty dang cool.

Week One Reflections: cultural do the locomotion

This time last week I was sitting in the Atlanta airport, marveling at how I was going. And now I am here, having lived a whole week.

My body is covered in many a bug bite from either an ineffective mosquito net or some very stealthy mosquitos. This I don't mind because this I didn't have a week ago.

I can only really speak in the present tense, and at that I am a combination of English verb tenses, French filler words and pronunciation and the occasional Spanish word. As horrible as my grammar is, as small as my vocabulary is, this I don't mind because a week ago I didn't even have this mucho.

A week ago I didn't have friends from Halifax and Edmonton. A week ago I didn't know the taste of gallo pinto, a week ago I didn't know the breeze off of el lago de Nicaragua, I didn't know the smells of the central market, the sounds of central park. A week ago I didn't know that such a city existed quite like this.

And now after the first week I'm feeling like I have lived in this city for a while, even though I know that this feeling is only going to intensify in the next seven weeks left to me.

Literally exactly to this hour, this minute, I was picked up at the Managua airport and driven over bumpy roads, Spanish music blasting through our car, passing burning garbage piles and country houses and the occasional motorcyclist flying by. I kept my face pressed against the window with the balmy Nicaraguan air making it feel less hot than my was. I couldn't see much-it gets dark by 7 in this country- but it was the start.

It is not hard to stay aware of wonder in this place.
(keep your eyes peeled for when I stop being so honeymoon in love with Nicaragua. It is more difficult not to enjoy all this adventure than to be complaining. Also it is just not worth it- not with the world the way it is, not with what life is.)

We went to a kickboxing class today after our last orientation activity--an amazing race. Wherein I quite literally walked the entire ciudad before heading back.....bargained for a pack of pinolillo, a cocoa and corn powdered drink mix, visited a closed down fortress an sent a postcard. To everyone I promised postcards: I know where the correas is now, so they will be on their way before the end of May. And strangely enough that little juega boosted my confidence about 107% for walking alone through the streets of Granada, preguntando ¿Donde es...? for just about everything. Esta bien. Esta siempre bien.

Right.... I meant to make this post a poetic little reflection with all the quirky things Granada has taught me so far.

And so it goes.

We are heading out to a weekend trip to Ometepe Island for Saturday y la noche de sábado, with plans for a virgjn forest hike or volcano climb or horseback ride or visit to a nature reserve before returning on domingo. I will keep you posted after this first-of-many adventure trips with these amigos.

Bonus points if you tell me why the nombre Ometepe Island sounds familiar to you. Leave it in a comment..... Hint: think pop culture.

Have a wonderful weekend and I will hasta luego!

dftba
-k

"hay" por "hota"

The breeze blows over this humid place like a tentative friend or a lady of the night, halfway there but also not. I doubt many people have been on such close proximity to bats as I have, but this is where I am the happiest kid around because our night birds trabaja a comer todos los mosquitos.

You will have to excuse the occasional foray into badly placed Spanish aquí, because I am here to aprender that beautiful rolling lenguaje. And this is where I have to pay due credit to the twelve years or so of french classes. Never have I been more well off to learn a language then where I am right now. It would be impossible for me to be where I feel I am on terms of grammar and general comprehension of I didn't have that solid backing of French. There are many similarities in the vocabulary, but more than that it is the way on which we are learning. There are exact parallels to those at-the-time tedious french lessons in these Spanish ones that I would not mind kissing the feet of all the mandatory French education classes around.

(now pause for a moment of manifesto)
If you are a fan of the world, enjoy traveling, want to be one of those European type people and know more than two languages, or be like one of those one-step-ahead citizens of the world and at least know two, or be one of those mysterious and sexy sounding Spanish speakers but it is not offered or you don't know anyone from Guatemala willing to teach you or you are debating courses in high school or you are feeling bent out at your routine mundane job-not-career, I say take French (french also in this instance meaning any language class around, because they are there). Take French and conjugate those hours of verbs and dream and soñar and rever in translations-turned-thoughts and gulp down the verb tenses and surround yourself in the masculine and feminine and subjunctive and conditional and all those nuanced forms of human communication that exist. Take French and take Spanish and explore the world without a translator. Trade your regular sounding life with something foreign and different and new and exciting and piquante and caliente and magnifico and inteligente. Take a chance. Study languages. Feel like a complete beginner and speak like less than a baby and feel how humility kicks you in the ass in a loving sort of way for doing so.
Here in this classroom of communication, schoolyard of sounds, university of unique lifestyles, college of worldly capabilities, here is where you discover a lot more about yourself than you would think. And think you will. Think and uncover and explore and realize. You know so much less than you think you do, but you are so much more capable than you think you are. Believe me on this one.

And this is only the first week.

Hasta luego amigos!

dftba.
-k

PS Feel free to leave comments if you'd like. Clearly I am a fan of communication y conversación and I would love to hear from you. En español or English or whatever it is that you speak. Also feel free to leave me challenges or things you would like to see me do or try or taste while here. Gracias siempre!

Es mi libro

Since last I wrote, I've learned the present tense conjugations of Spanish verbs, the basic steps to the salsa, seen where my volunteer placement will be (Carita Feliz--- literally "happy face") and had the chance to drink the cheapest beer around (toña) and the nectar of the gods in the fresh fruit juices we have at just about every meal. My favourite so far has to be the grenadilla and naranja (orange).

One of our orientation managers Luis gave us salsa and meringue lessons on Saturday night before we went out. You could probably accurately say I was living my dream right then and there. I would feel accomplished bringing just that back to Canada....except that was only the first day. Who knows what else I will apreno in these next semanas. Twirling and swirling and spinning and stepping and sweating. I don't think I've ever sweat so much in my life as I have in these last treize dias. ME GUSTA TODOS!

Our room is this open to the world balcony adventure, so we are woken up with the birds when the sun rises, which it does without fail at 5am every day. I don't mind this early start, even though about half the time I go back to sleep for an hour or so. It feels so much more natural to hear the birds and feel the sunshine on the other side of my eyelids for a wake up call than having to be rudely interrupted by alarm clocks. Likely once we all get started at our placements I imagine we will need a little more firm encouragement to get up as early as we'll need to after our long day before. I will be rising at like 6, leaving at 6:30 in order to walk to Carita Feliz for 7, but that's nothing compared to the 5:30 start and hour long bus ride Becky, Alan and Alicia will take everyday in the month of junio. Which is, after all, why we are here.

We spent domingo napping around the pool and ended the evening watching Gran Torino with Spanish subtitles and enjoying some Nica pizza. Earlier thy day we were given the low-down on all the cool things to do and see in this country, so we will be planning those weekend trips soon. Our first one is going to be Ometepe Island this weekend--volcanoes and lakes and fresh fish and beaches and exploring on what was once a set for Survivor. Which just tickles the fancy right out of me-- Survivor....really? On an island on a lake IN Nicaragua. Wow. I know about two thirds of North America seem to believe Nica is in Africa, but Ometepe is not *that* remote. At any rate, I will certainly report on my adventures there. I can't wait for the weekend trips to come, especially as my base of español continues to grow.....er, rather, begins to grow.

I do believe some bargaining lessons are on the agenda today, with language class in the morning as per always. We will get to meet all the important people at our placements next Monday, which will be just a small taste of the bombardment of children I will navigate in junio. :D

When it rains here, as it has the past two nights/early mornings, the streets
literally embody the smell of damp, though it never lasts long. Last night we watched a street kid make a palm frond heart and a palm frond grasshopper. He was wearing a Pokemon shirt and smiled with really bright teeth. Going out is always interesting because you always get swarmed by peddlers young and old trying to take advantage of the tourists easy pockets and guilty hearts. No gracias, no gracias, look away.

Hasta luego!

dftba
-k

Look at that moonrise

Apart from the fact that I can see a volcano, I live in Granada and I am currently where I am right now, the moon rises here are amazing. It is a full moon tonight and I think we are going dancing.

The heat is perfect and overwhelming. We learned all the rules of the house today...also not to go out alone, but seeing as I love the fellow Canadians who are with me right now, that won't be a problem. There are some children yelling in the streets, the sound of horse carriages clip clopping by. We walked through the central market, across broken pave stones, past baseball games in sweltering afternoon heat.

It has not yet been a full twenty four hours here, and I love it.

This is my life now. Me gusta.

Hasta luego.

dftba.
-k

En route part two

This airport is enormous. There is literally a food court in the middle of the concourse I'm in, and that's only one of 5 !
I'm sitting at a Los Angeles gate... I might jut be projecting but the people waiting here seem to look very stylishly LA. I don't know what I look like. Travel days like these are always just a grin and bear it kinda thing. It is something like 5 hours until I'm in Managua... Wow. I am down to the hours now, never mind days or weeks or months. That's over now.
Crazy.
But it feels really good to be on my way. I watched Canadian territory disappear beneath my feet, the plane, and suddenly everything gained a lot of perspective. Like- hello, you are ACTUALLY doing this. No more dreaming and planning. Just doing. Taking it moment by moment because I literally have no idea what's in store for me. I always get so meta about things like this, about looking back in a week, eight weeks, seeing how wrongly and foolishly I thought, how I had (have) no idea or clue or anything about this trip.
But this is amazing. Full stop. I am here and I am doing this.
I'm quite enjoying my view here, watching all the brightly-vested airport workers do their machine-type things. There is such a fascinating other-world that works away to take us places......definitely some kind of metaphor for life there.
Down one of the quieter wings of this concourse E empire, there sit probably thirty soldiers all dressed in their army colours, not talking, waiting. I passed them as I walked around this place. I wanted to say something, to sit down and ask them where they were heading, where they're from. Some were really young... And no this is not me swooning over men in uniform. More like just wanting to know their stories, their names.

Airports put me in strange moods. We are all these solitary strangers but also exactly alike, breathing and sitting and waiting in lines. And I just, I don't know, sometimes I just want to know these other human beings around me. And sometimes not. And most times I will just muse about it in some quiet corner, staring into space and wondering.

At any rate, here I am. I'm writing this at 4:30 in the afternoon in Atlanta. Who knows when it will go live, who knows when I'll write next.

Be patient. Also be kind to one another. We are all just humans in transit, one destination to the next.

dftba
-k

---

I have less than an hour left on this essentially empty plane ride to Managua. Out my window is a glorious moon and a night sky; across the aisle, the remains of a sunset, lingering in peach-orange-fire streaks on the horizon.
I am listening to the playlist I called "motivate"...I'm looking for a final boost of courage before I enter this entirely new world miles beneath my feet.
WOW! Wait wow! I just noticed this but we are flying on top of a thunderstorm right now. A huge towering anvil cloud with flashes of lightning illuminating the skeleton of the clouds. Wow. That's incredible.
Moonlight and the first stars, a sleek airplane wing and electrons jumping, highlighting the sky, this earth.

On that note, I leave you. Time to arrive.
-k

En route part one

The airport is especially warm right now. I should warn that the majority of these posts will likely be written on a touch screen, so forgive the obvious errors.
I was standing by the gate, organizing my things, so many things, when this little blond girl no higher than my knee approached. She was the most precious, precocious little thing. Her dad said "look at that", pointing to my grey neck pillow looped around my map of the world suitcase. And she goes "look at that! Look at that!" with just the most amount of sass and surprise. We exchanged some "look at that"s for a bit; I pointed out the map of the world, sitting on my heels to be at the same height. She looked me dead in the eyes and I suddenly couldn't just coo at her. I wanted to get into a political conversation about the world, wanted to talk to this small and amazed at the world creature.
I'm living moment to moment right now. Once I land in Atlanta, it will really be the start of this.
Going. Going.

Gone.

dftba
-k

the countdown

I have checked into my flight. My backpack sits patiently beside my mess of things still to be packed. Not for long.
   Unbelievable that those 176 days since I chose Nicaragua are just about finished now. In 24 hours time, I will be sitting in the Atlanta airport between flights.
And so it goes.

You can also find me here: https://twitter.com/#!/kgerlz

    I cannot guarantee I will post everyday or be very regular at all, as it depends on the wireless and the time, but here I am.

dftba.
-k