Something to Say

It's not easy to think of things to write, even if the world is full of inspiration. I've been neglecting this blog for months, and it's not the only thing; I've also been ignoring my journal. I've been keeping a journal off and on since I was seven years old. Since Semester at Sea, I haven't ever gone more than a few days without writing in one of my little books. That habit made contributing to this blog super easy. But for the last six months or so, I've had a hard time finding material to scribble for my own personal enjoyment, and I haven't been able to think of anything that I feel I need to share with the citizens of cyberspace. I don't know if this has something to do with getting older or if it's just that I don't feel like I have anything worth sharing.

I admit that sometimes I feel like writing reveals too much vulnerability -- something about giving voice to my inner musings makes me a little nervous. But I've also gained so much from doing just that; sharing my thoughts has often been the most rewarding part of my day, sometimes even my year. But I also recognize that the greatest inspiration for me has always been my experiences -- pushing my boundaries, trying new things, feeling the extremes of the human emotional spectrum. I don't really feel like I've had any exhilarating conversations or experiences in a long time. In fact when I think about it, the last time I felt exhilarated was somewhere between Boise, Idaho and Laramie, Wyoming. The Rockies always get to me in a good way.

Since December, I moved to Philadelphia, started a new job, got my own apartment, and met oodles of new, interesting people. But those experiences haven't translated to written confabulation. Fortunately, something completely exhilarating should occur in the next week. My sister is going to have a baby, and for the first time my genetic line will be extended into the next generation. I'm more excited than I was the first time I took a transatlantic flight, more pumped than when I first set foot in the Amazon rain forest, more giddy than I felt at the top of Cerro Chirripo in Costa Rica. I don't have to work hard, save money, organize arrangements, or anything. But this amazing thing is going to happen to me, to my family, to the world. A new person is going to join us on this floating blue marble, and because he/she will share my blood, it's special. I never got that before. And when I think about it, I definitely feel like I need to shout it to the world.

The Last Day

Managua, NICARAGUA -- It's my last day in Nicaragua, my last day of traveling for a while. I arrived in Managua around 9:00 this morning, which was surprising because I didn't leave Granada until almost 7:30, but the bus was efficient, although packed. I quickly found a room in a part of the city that Lonely Planet describes as "quiet and leafy." Well, it's not only that, but also close to a mall, lots of restaurants, and 50-cent per hour internet. My room is a double with a private bathroom, and it costs $15 for the night. The owners are super helpful, and I'm loving it. The Lonely Planet guide lists the hotel as "Nicaragua Guesthouse," but it's actually called "Backpacker for Backpackers." I know that doesn't make any sense, but neither does "Mochilera de Mochilera," the Spanish name that is also written on the front sign. No matter, the place is a mini-paradise.

This area of Managua reminds me a lot of Zapote (the area where I lived in Costa Rica). It's middle class and everything is colorful. It's actually almost suburban. The streets are a lot better here than they were in CR, though. Pretty much everywhere has better streets than CR... I bought fresh baked bread (2 loaves for a dollar) at a nearby bakery, and purused shoestores in search of new footwear. I wore through two different pairs of sneakers on this trip. Since today's search was unsuccessful, I am heading back to Maryland (where supposedly there is snow on the ground), with a pair of torn up mesh-sided sneakers and black flip-flops that are beginning to curl at the heel. Ah well, as I return to the land of climate-controlled buildings and cars, I have a feeling my footwear won't matter nearly as much to me as it has for the past 5 months.

Anyway, I am totally tuckered out, even though I haven't done a whole lot today. Basically, I am ready for home. This trip has been such an adventure. Although the last leg was a bit of a disappointment, I still feel great about the whole thing. I loved Granada, and I made a few really good friends in La Prusia. I hope we all keep in touch, and I think we actually will thanks to these good ol' internets. Leaving La Prusia was harder than I expected. As I walked down the dirt lane for the last time, I kept passing people I realized I was going to miss. There were lots of hugs and kisses and well wishes. It's amazing how quickly that community opened its arms to me.

I have to admit I am already researching discount airfare from Baltimore to Mexico City. I hope to go back for a visit around Easter. Another teacher from Instituto Heslington wrote to me about his own rough transition away from Mexico. "I think you're suffering from Mexico withdrawal . We had it good there. Didn't we?" We sure did. It's hard to be so spoiled and not realize it. I wish I hadn't taken so much for granted in Mexico. The food, the weather, and most of all the company. I'm happy to say I think I fully appreciate it all now, and when I go back I am going to soak up every drop of wonderfulness.

Signing off from Latin America...