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