Tomorrow marks the day of my final journey home. I use the word home very loosely, of course, because as of right now I´m not sure if such a place actually exists. I know for sure that I will be living in Logan, Utah. I also know that all of my things are there. What I don´t know, is where I will be living when I get there. Oh well, I guess I´ll just figure that out when I get there.
Tomorrow I fly from Managua to San Francisco, with a lay over in Houston. After 10 hours of travelling, we will hop on BART (if BART is merciful and the strike is postponed for another few days) to head for Oakland. I still have one final commitment to fulfill in Oakland which is officially labeled as a debriefing. More likely than not, though, it will consist of us sitting around sharing stories and anecdotes with the other volunteers with very little official business what so ever. Next stop: Grandmas´s! Assuming BART is still operational, I´ll hop back across the bay for a nice relaxing visit in Daly City with the family. BART permitting, we´ll venture into downtown and do the regular sights.
After 3 days in the Bay Area, I set my sights on the majestic Rocky Mountains. I´m flying into SLC, but I´m still not really sure how I´ll be making the 100 mile trek north to Logan. A few freinds hinted at being free to give me a ride, but no response probably means no dice. I guess I´ll soon find out if a shuttle exists! Once I get into Logan, I have all of one evening to get settled into wherever I´ll be staying (until I find a permanent home, of course) before I need to report for duty on campus. I´m not sure what classes I´ll be taking (likely some form of Advanced Calculus and Fluid Mechanics) or what my work schedule will be, but I do know that some semblance of a consistent schedule is starting to look rather promising after all of this living I´ve been doing.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
A Taste of the Carribean
For my last full weak in Nicaragua, I decided to try something new (keeping in spirit with my theme for the summer). Destination: Little Corn Island. The Corn Islands are off the East Coast of Nicaragua, and despite being Nicaraguan territory they have very little in common with the rest of the country. The only way to get to the little island is by boat, and no moter vehicles are allowed once you´re there. Sounds perfect!
I had two options of getting there. Either I could shell out the money to fly to the big island (and then boat to the little island), or I could have spent two days hopping from bus to bus to boat to boat. I chose plane. After spending so much time taking busses around western Nicaragua, it was cool to get to see it all from above. I only stayed awake for half the flight though (which of course is my usual habit). Lucky for me, eastern Nicaragua is all forest without much to look at. The boat from the big island to the little island was definitely worth the six dollars. We lucked out and missed the rain, and the turmoil of the waves gave us quite the exciting ride!
Upon reaching the island, I hopped off the boat and hiked straight to the east side (which looks out into the carribean sea without anything else in sight). I found the spot recommended by a friend and claimed my own piece of paradise for the week. At the "hotel" I was staying at, I had my own private hut on the beach - bathroom and mosquito net included - and all of the ocean I could ask for.
Looking back on it, I´m not sure how it all went by so fast. I had more than enough time for all of the required experiences: snorkeling in crystal blue water, running on the white sandy beach in the mornings, watching the waves from a hammock, reading to the sound of pattering rain, eating fresh fish almost every night - the list goes on. If I had spent any more time there, I may never have been able to leave. The way of life is too laid back to worry about anything but whether or not I´m hungry enough to actually get up and do something about it. It´s a shame I have this whole graduate school thing looming in my future, otherwise I very likely would have become a permanent beach bum and started guiding snorkeling and spear fishing trips for a living.
I had two options of getting there. Either I could shell out the money to fly to the big island (and then boat to the little island), or I could have spent two days hopping from bus to bus to boat to boat. I chose plane. After spending so much time taking busses around western Nicaragua, it was cool to get to see it all from above. I only stayed awake for half the flight though (which of course is my usual habit). Lucky for me, eastern Nicaragua is all forest without much to look at. The boat from the big island to the little island was definitely worth the six dollars. We lucked out and missed the rain, and the turmoil of the waves gave us quite the exciting ride!
Upon reaching the island, I hopped off the boat and hiked straight to the east side (which looks out into the carribean sea without anything else in sight). I found the spot recommended by a friend and claimed my own piece of paradise for the week. At the "hotel" I was staying at, I had my own private hut on the beach - bathroom and mosquito net included - and all of the ocean I could ask for.
Looking back on it, I´m not sure how it all went by so fast. I had more than enough time for all of the required experiences: snorkeling in crystal blue water, running on the white sandy beach in the mornings, watching the waves from a hammock, reading to the sound of pattering rain, eating fresh fish almost every night - the list goes on. If I had spent any more time there, I may never have been able to leave. The way of life is too laid back to worry about anything but whether or not I´m hungry enough to actually get up and do something about it. It´s a shame I have this whole graduate school thing looming in my future, otherwise I very likely would have become a permanent beach bum and started guiding snorkeling and spear fishing trips for a living.
Monday, August 3, 2009
A Final Farewell
Saturday was my final visit to Malacatoya, the village in which I´ve spent the majority of my time here. It was, as most goodbyes are, bittersweet. Jaime, the director of AsoFenix, and I drove from Managua to Malacatoya so he could help me bring my things back down to Managua (a task too burdensome to be done on the busses here). On the way up, of course, Jaime stopped in at least three different places to talk with various people about various projects he´s helping with. While his business can be frustrating when you need his help on certain things, his entreprenurial spirit is truly inspiring.
Upon finally reaching Malacatoya, I was astonished to find that there was a crowd of people outside of the Pulperia (the one "store" in the neighborhood, akin to a convenience store), even a cop with an AK-47 was present. I tried not to dwell too much on the reason, and headed straight into the crowd to make my way into the Pupleria to claim my boots I had left there on my way to Managua last week (to get to my house, it´s a twenty minute hike up muddy trails). It didn´t register until after someone had handed me my boots without ever really acknowledging me, but the crowd was there because of a recent death in the community. No more than an hour before we arrived, the father of one of the men in the community had passed from heart problems. It wasn´t until later that I actually realized the huge faux pa I commited by barging into the home and asking fro my boots while all of this was going on.
While it was a little shocking and tragic, I can´t say it was entirely surprising. I don´t mean to lessen the significance of this man´s death, for I didn´t even know hime, but it seems to be common in developing countries. In my short time in Kenya I knew of at least 4 deaths connected to someone I met there that happened within that month. My time here, though, has only shown me 1 death. I suppose thats something.
Moving on from the morbid, I return to my last afternoon in Malacatoya. As I started my assent up to my house, it started to rain. Of course, it rains at least once a day in Malacatoya, so I wasn´t too upset and was prepared enough to have my rain coat with me. My family was there, minus the Dad, and I had my chance to say so long and thanks for all the beans. I packed my things into my oversized backpack and started down the mud slide of a trail. It´s sad to know I won´t be going back anytime soon, but I learned more from them than I´m sure they know. My foreign country experience has been made that much more real because of the Bravo´s, and for that I thank them.
While I may be done with my time in Malacatoya, I am far from done with my time in Nicaragua. I´ve still got several more villages to visit, a solar water distiller to build, and my final report to finish. All this needs to be done ASAP so I can have some time to venture off into some remote corner of Nicaragua that I will never forget!
Upon finally reaching Malacatoya, I was astonished to find that there was a crowd of people outside of the Pulperia (the one "store" in the neighborhood, akin to a convenience store), even a cop with an AK-47 was present. I tried not to dwell too much on the reason, and headed straight into the crowd to make my way into the Pupleria to claim my boots I had left there on my way to Managua last week (to get to my house, it´s a twenty minute hike up muddy trails). It didn´t register until after someone had handed me my boots without ever really acknowledging me, but the crowd was there because of a recent death in the community. No more than an hour before we arrived, the father of one of the men in the community had passed from heart problems. It wasn´t until later that I actually realized the huge faux pa I commited by barging into the home and asking fro my boots while all of this was going on.
While it was a little shocking and tragic, I can´t say it was entirely surprising. I don´t mean to lessen the significance of this man´s death, for I didn´t even know hime, but it seems to be common in developing countries. In my short time in Kenya I knew of at least 4 deaths connected to someone I met there that happened within that month. My time here, though, has only shown me 1 death. I suppose thats something.
Moving on from the morbid, I return to my last afternoon in Malacatoya. As I started my assent up to my house, it started to rain. Of course, it rains at least once a day in Malacatoya, so I wasn´t too upset and was prepared enough to have my rain coat with me. My family was there, minus the Dad, and I had my chance to say so long and thanks for all the beans. I packed my things into my oversized backpack and started down the mud slide of a trail. It´s sad to know I won´t be going back anytime soon, but I learned more from them than I´m sure they know. My foreign country experience has been made that much more real because of the Bravo´s, and for that I thank them.
While I may be done with my time in Malacatoya, I am far from done with my time in Nicaragua. I´ve still got several more villages to visit, a solar water distiller to build, and my final report to finish. All this needs to be done ASAP so I can have some time to venture off into some remote corner of Nicaragua that I will never forget!
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