una epifanía no entendida

I returned to Mexico from my trip to Nicaragua last Friday night (well, very early Saturday morning), but it has taken me until now to write about it here, in this relatively public forum. And even now, I find it hard to put into words what went on, but something very powerful happened to me while on this incredible, perspective-expanding, blew-me-out-of-the-water adventure. I have this nagging suspicion that I discovered something very fundamental about myself, the world, or both. What that epiphany might be, however, I still haven't figured out. Surely, the real import will become clear to me only later in life. Until then, I present you with the facts, mostly in photograph form.




Where did we go?
Ciara picked me up from the Managua airport (1) and we went in taxi to a bus station where we caught a rapi-bus to Chinandega (2), where we caught a local bus to our groovy little hostel, Rancho Esperanza, in Jiquilillo (3). Here I would like to note that Managua is where more than a quarter of the country's population lives (in real life), Chinandega is the hottest place in the world (in my very accurate opinion), buses in Nicaragua are generally used school buses from the USA, repainted with fangs, flags, and religious figures. Jiquilillo is a secluded beach area which is home exclusively to fishermen and English-speaking tourists. From Jiquilillo we took about a million different forms of land transport over the course of an entire day (which sounds awful, but which was very cool, complaining cuñados aside) to arrive in San Ramon (4), the small town where Dylan and Ciara are living. There I stayed with them and their host family, Doña Aracely, Don Agustin, and their god-daughter Rosa. At the end of my stay, I made the journey back to Managua for my flight back to Mexico.





The view from the main "lodge" at our hostel in Jiquilillo. Guests stay in the cabins, which feature sand floors, bamboo walls, thatched roofs, and plenty of beach-kitsch.




This is my room in San Ramon, simply equipped with the essential: a bare lightbulb, a table, a mosquito net, and the most comfortable bed I've slept in for years. I had always imagined sleeping under a mosquito net to be confining and unpleasant, but quite the opposite is true; it feels very safe and comforting.




The view of the house in San Ramon from the street. We spent countless hours seated here chatting, playing games, reading, and saying Adio' to anyone who happened to walk by. (The other gringos and I also spent hours getting stared at relentlessly by all passers-by.)



The house, from the Doña's very impressive garden.




Rosita, my Nicaraguan sister. I promised her that I would come back to San Ramon, a promise I fully intend to fulfill.




The Nicaraguan version of a tamal, called nacatamales. They consist of corn masa, rice, tomato, potato, meat, and some sort of mildly spicy sauce, all wrapped up in banana leaves (and tin foil), then boiled.




Doña Aracely, Dylan, and Ciara with makeshift mustaches! I haven't laughed so hard in a very, very long time (and I'm not sure if the Doña has EVER laughed so hard. This was the only photo, out of at least a dozen, where she has contained her laughter enough to keep her mustache in place.)




A sampling of beautiful woven fabrics




One of the women who weaves said fabrics. She is part of the El Chile women's weaving cooperative, which is empowering women, reviving a traditional indigenous art, and creating a whole host of geniously constructed bags, wallets, cases, purses, and scarves.