Month: May 2018

I woke up this morning before my alarm. Both dogs were curled up next to my legs, underneath the blanket. Landyn’s arm was draped across me. And the first thing I felt was grateful for my life.

I got up, tip-toed around the stuffed suitcases and piles of clothes still waiting to be loaded, threw in our last load of laundry, and made some coffee.

I wandered around the apartment for a minute, trying to decide what task I should cross off the list next. But it was a beautiful morning–the stifling humidity lifted, and our Central Valley breeze was back.

So I took my coffee cup outside, sat in the chair with the gorgeous mountain view, and took my first sip while the dogs arranged themselves on my lap.

30 seconds of that sun-on-my-skin feeling combined with the breeze lightly blowing my hair back and I lost it.

Like, lost it. Tears, tears, and more tears.

The anxiety bubble in my chest and the knot in my stomach, frozen there for the past few days, started to thaw. It was a release, an acknowledgment, finally, of how profoundly sad I am to leave tomorrow.

After 43 applications, and a surprising turn of events, Landyn’s internship is landing us right back in Milwaukee. I think. Still waiting to hear back from a couple of his final interviews, but we’re 95% sure we’ll be back in MKE for the summer. We weighed the pros and cons of every offer he received, and ultimately decided that we both needed to work and save money for the trips we want to take in Fall, and the most efficient way to do that was to move back to Wisco.

The last week I’ve bounced between denial and talking myself into feeling excited about getting back to a life of conveniences.

Hey, we’ll have air conditioning again.

No more being at the mercy of public transportation or walking everywhere. 

It’ll be nice not to find lizard poop around the house and have a break from the bugs. 

And I am excited. I’m excited to go to Orlando this weekend for a huge cheerleading competition and be reunited with the coaching staff and my kids. I’m excited to see my family, especially the ones I haven’t seen since we left. I’m excited to see my friends. I’m excited to have a Dunkin Donuts caramel iced coffee with cream and sugar, half decaf half regular.

But down here I drink my coffee black. Will I even like that sugary, syrupy shit anymore?

I guess that’s kind of my fear about the whole thing. I came down here a very different person. This incredible place has made me more mindful, more aware, and more myself than I’ve ever been. It has facilitated what feels like my coming-of-age story.

What if it’s just Costa Rica, what if I can’t transplant this fabulous, anti-anxiety Cari back to Milwaukee? What if I start to disappear, to fade into the background of Targets and strip malls and four-lane freeways and the flat-as-a-flapjack landscape? I see toucans in my yard here…I can’t go back to brown birds now.

People in the U.S. tend to wear stress like a badge of honor. They brag about it, comparing who has more stress and why, almost as if feeling fried all the time is something to be proud of–like they’re accomplishing something by burning themselves out; I used to be one of them. But now I can’t imagine ever going back to that mindset, that lifestyle. It’s possible to move forward, to make progress, without overworking yourself. There’s nothing heroic about regularly pushing yourself to the brink of a mental breakdown.

So maybe I won’t really fit in anymore. Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll be relieved to touch down on U.S. soil. Maybe I’ll start bawling again.

All I know is that this is the best decision Landyn and I have ever made. We have flourished mentally, physically, spiritually, emotionally. We are so genuinely happy here. Costa Rica has given both of us a newfound appreciation for life and the affirmation that it truly is all about the little things.

This feels like home. So what will home feel like?

And it’s weird because we’re coming back. So it’s not really goodbye, but it’s still breaking my heart. I can’t imagine saying “see you in August” to our little puppers tomorrow. I can’t imagine saying “see you in August” to our apartment. I can’t imagine not seeing the beautiful mountains again until August.

But I think about how much we’ve relished exploring Costa Rica, and it motivates me to come home and work towards our next destinations: Belize, Guatemala, Panama, Cuba. And we have yet to explore the Carribean side of Costa Rica!

Our work here is far from over. And as much as I worry that I won’t be able to take my Pura Vida attitude home with me, in my core I also know that my transformation down here was a permanent, pivotal shift. My best me will transcend borders and boundaries.

I’m depressed to leave, excited to see my people again, and confused as to where home really is.

This has all the makings of a great story.

Until next time, friends.

Since I’m not in Costa Rica on a student visa, nor a work visa (both involved way too much paperwork), my traveler’s visa is good for 90 days.

After 90 days, there is a mandated 72-hour window in which we are not allowed to reenter. Once those 72 hours are up, we can come right back and our 90 days start over.

We entered Costa Rica on January 6th, so by the time my family left on March 27th, our time to leave was quickly approaching. So we decided to go to Nicaragua with one of our close friends, Miranda, planning the entire trip the day before we left. This pretty much set the tone for the trip: flying by the seat of our pants, winging it.

Ometepe

Ometepe was our first stop. It’s an island in the middle of Lake Nicaragua that has two volcanoes on it. We knew Ometepe was going to be the most physically-grueling part of our vacay, so we wanted to hit it first while we still had all of the excitement and adrenaline that comes with exploring a new country.

You can only access Ometepe via a ferry boat which leaves from the city of Rivas, only an hour and fifteen minutes away from the Costa Rican border.

This lake was the most outrageously turbulent lake I have ever been on. The waves were ocean-sized, and their force sent the boat lurching from side to side, front to back.

The rocking boat plagued me with sea-sickness.

The boat had three levels; Miranda and Landyn were on the uppermost level, and I was on the lowest level dry-heaving over the side of the boat.

In the midst of my hurling, I noticed I was being watched beyond the quick, wincing glances of passersby. A man was staring––I mean the most blatant, unabashed, all-out stare I have ever experienced from a stranger.

Unfortunately, women are generally used to this sort of visual invasion of privacy, but something was just off about this. I was suddenly very cognizant of how out-of-place I looked and how far away I was from Landyn and Miranda. My feelings surpassed annoyance and transitioned to unease.

But I was so sick, there was no way I was leaving the side of the boat.

The man disappeared for a minute and returned with another guy, about his age. I could see them through the narrow opening connecting the outside deck to the lowest indoor level of the boat. My original creeper pointed me out to his friend, they briefly discussed something, and they both came back out onto the deck.

The new friend sat down next to me. The original guy positioned himself in front of the door, expertly blocking it enough so that he controlled who went in or out, but not so plainly to call attention to it.

Spidey senses were tingling. There were about 5 other people out on the deck, besides my creeps.

The new friend sat down right next to me, uncomfortably close. He spoke excellent English which is why, assumingly, the other guy sent him over. He wasted no time asking me my name, where I was from, how old I was.

A father and son left the deck. I was down to three potential witnesses.

Then he asked me how long I was staying on the island. Where I was staying. How was I planning to get around. If I had any friends with me. Where were those friends. The whole conversation, his old pal is still by the door, eyes locked on me.

I’m not one to panic unnecessarily over everyday stalkers (they’re a common occurrence, even in 2018), but it was at this point that I was positive that these dudes were trying to kidnap me into a sex trafficking ring.

One more person went inside. Down to two witnesses.

The thing about situations like this, about these invasions of privacy and space and peace-of-mind, is they happen all the time. And it never gets any less awkward, it never gets any less uncomfortable, and it never gets any less annoying. It never gets any less difficult to try to decipher whether the creeper is truly dangerous.

This one I was sure about, though. And as I sat there evading his questions, trying to plan my next move, Landyn popped out of the doorway like my own personal Liam Neeson.

And suddenly they split. Just like that. For those of you reading who may not understand/believe in male privilege, there it is.

So overall, not a hot start in Nicaragua.

We got off the boat, made sure my creepers weren’t following me, and hit up The Spicy Mango for lunch. This day also happened to be Landyn’s birthday, so we celebrated with beers, bloodys, and tequila shots.

Our hostel was incredibly cool. There were hammocks everywhere, we were right on the lake, and the ambiance was so peaceful.

The only minor issue was that we were very, very far from the “town” portion of the island. There were almost no restaurants nearby, and the only one we stopped at that first night was essentially two picnic tables outside of someone’s home, and they served us a fish with the eyeball still inside.

#traumatized

After that, we were pretty much forced to eat at the hostel’s restaurant or take a $20 cab ride into town. Good thing the food was delicious and they served adult beverages.

Each stop consisted of a three-night stay since we wanted plenty of time for activities Our first full day in Ometepe we rented bikes from our hostel and rode down quite the treacherous gravel road to a waterfall trail.

It was hot. Hotter and more humid than our beloved Central Valley. The first 3km of the 4km trail was spent hiking completely uphill in the blistering sun with limited shade coverage. All aboard the struggle bus.

The last kilometer was intense in a different way–it was a narrow, inconsistent trail which involved climbing over dried up river beds and huge boulders.

But, of course, it was all worth it when we reached the waterfall. It was little and gorgeous and freezing–exactly what we needed.

The next day we planned to hike up one of the island’s volcanoes. We debated this extensively because it was considered an extremely difficult hike, and since our waterfall one was considered “easy” by the locals, yet still kicked our asses a little, we were skeptical. But we said YOLO and went for it anyways.

We met our guide at 7:30am with our lunch sandwiches packed, 3 liters of water in tow, and nerves in full force.

And I died, just as I expected I would.

It was steep. And so hot. The climb in elevation was rapid and extreme, and my already-tired legs couldn’t hang.

I made it to the lookout point about two-thirds of the way up and opted not to continue any further.

The guide flat-out said we wouldn’t have enough time to make it to the top at my current pace, but guides are not allowed to leave people behind on the trail. What conundrum: I couldn’t continue, but I couldn’t stay back. Not wanting to hold Landyn and Miranda back, I begged him to let me stay behind. What finally sealed the deal was the ultimatum of “I’m either coming with and you have to deal with dragging my lifeless corpse along or you’re letting me stay behind.”

So they forged ahead without me.

And I had a fabulous time chillin by myself on the side of a volcano, just eating my sandwich and enjoying the view.

Two hours later, they returned. Landyn and Miranda didn’t quite make it to the top, and I was very glad the guide didn’t force me to try to continue when they described to me how even more difficult the next part of the hike had been. I truly believe on a different day, had I not been so exhausted and sore from the waterfall hike the previous day and had I drank more of my water during the first part of the hike (I severely over-rationed due to my paranoia of running out) I would have been in much better shape and made it to where they did. But I did the best I could that day and that’s all I could do. #noregrets

The following day we were headed off to our next destination: Granada.

Granada

In order to get from Rivas, the city the ferry boats to Ometepe operate out of, to Granada, we had to take a chicken bus. Riding chicken buses are part of the true Nicaragua experience, and they’re essentially old school buses that have been converted into a weird hybrid bus with individual coach-bus-style seats yet the aluminum, no-frills interior of a school bus.

One man stands up by the doors, calling out to pedestrians on the streets in need of a ride, and one man waits at the back of the bus to load belongings. They pile everyone’s luggage within the back two seat rows and keep er movin’.

Our chicken bus didn’t take us directly into Granada but dropped us off about 30 minutes outside of it. When I say “dropped,” I mean literally. They announced the Granada stop, let us off on the side of a random round-a-bout, and left us there. Now what?

Luckily, shuttle companies regularly frequent this stopping point, so we packed ourselves into an overcrowded shuttle like little sardines and headed to our hostel.

Which happened to be the coolest hostel I have ever stayed in.

The atmosphere was heavenly. From the eclectic decor to the chill vibes, every bit of it was perfect. I wanted to permanently move-in.

One of the greatest perks: happy hour. Not a two-for-one special like we assumed it would be, but a free happy hour. Free all-you-can-drink rum mixers for an entire hour.

Subsequently, we were extremely inebriated every night of our stay.

As for our days, we spent those wandering around the city, finding amazing places to eat, shop, and learn about the culture and history of this beautiful, colonial town.

Previously unbeknownst to me, Nicaragua is widely known for their cigar production. So we felt it was only right to stop by a cigar shop and see how exactly they’re made.

I highly recommend this experience to anyone traveling to Nicaragua. It was so fun!

While I wholly enjoyed each of our stops throughout the trip, there was just something about Granada that I instantly fell in love with. The buildings, so beautifully crafted and brightly, boldly painted made me feel like I was walking around a movie set. No way this could be real life.

With our other full day in Granada, we decided to do an all-day tour company excursion which consisted of spending the majority of the day at Lake Apoyo and finishing with a sunset trip up to a nearby volcano, Masaya.

Lake Apoyo is an old volcanic crater that, over time, filled with water. It’s entirely surrounded by mountains and forests and contains the cleanest, clearest lake water I have ever seen.

We kayaked, floated, and relaxed with a couple beers. Pretty much my idea of a perfect day.

Our trip to Masaya, afterward, was very cool. The volcano is unique because the active crater has several openings which allow visitors to actually see the lava swirling in its depths. REAL, LIVE, LAVA.

The park workers organize visitors into small groups, allowing only 5-10 cars up to the top at a time. There, additional park workers time exactly how long visitors are up there, kicking us out after 15-20 minutes. This is because the crater and exposed lava emit high levels of sulfur dioxide, among other gases, which aren’t safe to be around for any longer than those precious 15-20 minutes.

 

The sound of the lava was probably the best part. The rolling, seething liquid made a distinct, almost thunderous sound. You could hear its thickness and its power. It gave me a feeling similar to what I get by the ocean, where I feel trivial and small but in a good way. There’s nothing more captivating, more fascinating, than standing before a natural wonder.

The next morning, I begrudgingly said goodbye to Granada as we hopped in a shuttle towards our last stop: León.

León

When we first got to León, I hated it. It was a dirtier, much less beautiful version of Granada. But as we spent more time wandering the city, it really, really grew on me. I began to think of it not so much as Granada’s dirty, uglier little sister, but Granada’s scrappy little sister. She’s rough around the edges, with some serious baggage.

But baggage is what makes people, and places, interesting. Without it, we’re dull.

León, a very liberal city, was the original capital of Nicaragua. But, beginning in the 1840s, the capital shifted back and forth between León and Granada, which, traditionally, was a more conservative city where the aristocrats resided. Finally, in 1852, both sides agreed to permanently move the capital to the neutral city of Managua (we opted not to stay here, but did pass through on the way to León).

Then in 1956, the president was assassinated in León, sparking the rise of a dictatorship that ignited a brutal civil war spanning from the 1970s through the 90s.

Murals reflecting those divisive, painful decades can be found everywhere.

Because the palpable culture and history felt inescapable and intriguing, we decided to go to the museum memorializing the Nicaraguan Revolution. I was pretty confused when we walked up to what looked like an ordinary building from the street. The miniature Taj Mahals that we call museums in the States have skewed my perception, I guess.

But this was the most authentic museum I have ever visited. Our three dollar entry fee got us a guide, and each guide was a former soldier involved in the Revolution, able to give firsthand accounts and anecdotes. The building had been the headquarters for the rebel movement; all meetings and plannings to take down the dictatorship happened within those walls. There were bullet holes everywhere––the artillery irremovable like the impact on the city.

It was surreal.

That was my favorite part of our exploration day. Followed closely by the rooftop bar we got a couple buckets of beer at, later, and then ate street food from the array of food trucks down the main drag.

For our final day in León, we signed up to go volcano boarding which entailed a hike up an active volcano and then racing down on a snowboard-esque sled.

I was terrified. I even backed out during our first day in León, since I was feeling super sick (a friend who went the week after us came home with Salmonella and my exact symptoms, so gross). But YOLO. When else was I going to get the chance to do this? Nicaragua is literally the only place in the world that you can go volcano boarding. So F it. If I passed out during the hike up, it’d make a great story.

That morning, we hopped in the back of a truck and took an hour-long drive to the base of Cerro Negro. Miranda and I were very, very quiet during the trek. But I was too far in to punk out now. You have done scarier shit than this, Cari.

And holy hell, am I glad I went through with it. The trek up the volcano was the coolest hike I have ever done, ever. The views were absolutely stunning.

The sulfur and magnesium gave off a distinct smell and colored the dirt in really beautiful ways. We could see steam coming out of the ground and feel the heat just by putting our hand on the dirt. A lot of heat, too. Not some lukewarm dirt––hot. It was unreal. I was standing on an active volcano on the Ring of Fire!!!!

Before the hike, our guide warned us that the minerals tend to attract insects, so anyone allergic to bees should be on high alert. Naturally, the only person out of the entire group to get stung by one of the giant, mutant wasps she called “bees” was me.

And then we were suiting up for battle.

After a brief chat on how to board down safely, our guide turned us loose. I was so nervous. The incline on the side of Cerro Negro increases about halfway down so you cannot see the bottom when standing at the top. Super spooky.

A few people went in front of us, and then I elected to go first out of Miranda, Landyn, and I. I sat down on my board, staring down at the bottom, and I just kept telling myself, remember this is cool, Cari, remember this is cool. 

When I was a kid, I used to have this thing about high-adrenaline activities. I would always be so terrified of whatever it was that afterward I would realize I didn’t even enjoy the thing. And I hate that feeling. So now, before I do something that has me at a hands-shaking level of terror, I remind myself that it’s cool. That I want to enjoy it. That YOLO.

And then the guy pushed me down.

And I absolutely loved it.

The tour company handed out beers at the bottom and we all basked in the supreme satisfaction that comes from facing your fears.

After a brief visit to a nearby beach that afternoon, we closed out our last night in Nicaragua with some cigars on the roof.

After a ten-hour bus ride the following day, we were back home.

And that’s truly how it felt: we were home. As soon as we got through the border security and saw the “Welcome to Costa Rica” sign, both Landyn and I felt a huge wave of relief. There’s a certain level of hyper-awareness you have when traveling other countries, and I never realized that I don’t feel that here in Costa Rica anymore until I went to a different Central American country and came back. This place legitimately feels like home.

I’m not sure where that leaves Wisconsin. Maybe it’s possible to have more than one home. Maybe after all that I’ve experienced down here, after leaving, I’ll never fully feel at home again. Maybe home isn’t so much a fixed location, but a state of being.

I haven’t quite figured it all out yet, but I am so grateful to feel such overwhelming love for this beautiful country.

Until next time, friends.

Author’s note:

It’s very strange to think we narrowly missed the beginning of the intense protests that have since broken out in Nicaragua, resulting in both injuries and fatalities of civilian activists.

I strongly encourage you to perform a quick Internet search and learn more about the oppression and censorship the Nicaraguan government is imposing on its people. You can find a couple links here and here.