To my faithful readers sorry I’ve been negligent recently. I really don’t have a good reason to give.

I’m getting worse and worse about taking photos. When I finish whatever activity I am doing I look back and think, damn it would be nice to have a couple photos.

Any-Who…

Last Friday a friend of mine invited me to visit her family who live outside of town in an extremely remote/rural community. Initially I had said I couldn’t go because I had a meeting the next day in another but closer community, but apparently the two communities are a short 45 min horse ride away so they were going to loan me a cousin and horse in the morning, so I agreed, what the heck, go see something new. We took the local public/private transportation out, a big white covered truck, about halfway to our destination. From there the truck continues its route in another direction leading away from my friend’s town. From there we set out on foot. It had been raining all day so the path was a muddy mess. We happened across her Uncle who walked with us a ways. My poor friend, always looking adorable had planned on her brother meeting us with horses, and was traveling in these cute little pink and white heals and was having a hard time navigating the path. I ended up carrying both our bags for a bit. When she was about ready to give up, her brother indeed showed up with two horses and we took off.
So this was my first time on a horse. As a child I had been slightly-not-quite-terrified of horses. Don’t ask me why, I think it had something to do with their teeth and intelligent eyes. I like dumb animals; you can predict what they’ll do. Horses they’re smart and seemingly unpredictable. Well my friend jumped on, and me behind her. Man was I sore the next day, even though the poor animal was pure skin and bones, it was still wide enough to have me walking funny for a day or so after. Anyway the path was wet, and at points rocky and slippery, both riders of the horses constantly were reciting short prayers hoping the horses didn’t fall. We skirted around the base of a steep and jagged mountain/hill. They call them hills, but they’re nothing like hills in Maine. Maybe someday I’ll take a photo.
So we left at noon and at about 4 we arrived at her house. Dirt floors as expected, no light a small cement holding tank for water running off the mountain, houseful of kids, chickens, a fairly bravo (aggressive) pig, horses, and of course, dogs.

We ate a modest diner of beans, tortilla, rice, and some sweet corn-ish bread. The family was amazingly hospitable, and welcoming (unsurprising as I´ve decided that’s how people here are). That night we all piled into one tiny room which had 3 beds and a hammock for 5 people.

In the morning, I woke up at around 6 and got ready for the hike back. Apparently the river was too high for the horses to cross so I was to go back by foot. The community where I had my meeting is about a 2 hour walk over pretty rugged terrain. It had rained all night and the river was running high and fast. But nothing that I felt uncomfortable with, unlike my friend´s mother. She was on the verge of tears with fear that I would drown. I assured them I can swim and dove in backpack wrapped in a plastic bag in tow. I think because the mother can´t swim the river in general scares her, and to see this tiny little foreigner jump in was at about her limit.

My friend´s little 12 year old brother (Much too grown up for a 12 year old, I guess that happens when you´re the oldest male in the house after your father dies) walked with me along the river until we met up with the road. The path split off into a variety of other smaller trails, and I would have for certain lost my way alone.

When we arrived at the road, he had to hurry back as it had started to rain again, and the river was sure to rise more. I was terrified that something would happen to him because he had to cross the river from help me. I got a phone call the next day to say he was fine.

The children here learn to swim by watching others. No one teaches them, or tells them * `hey watch that your feet don´t get caught under the rocks and sucks you under.` Every year numerous children are lost in the many rivers, lakes, lagoons, and beaches of Nicaragua.

I took off up the trail crossing many streams. At one point I crossed one which was actually hot! I was freaked out thinking it was some factory which was contaminating the area and I had waded through it, but come to find out there is a vent nearby where the water is heated up thermally and runs off. I´ve made a point to try to get back there and check it out sometime.

Well after my two hour walk, blistered and borderline dehydrated I made it to the house where I was to have my youth group meeting. We talked about ¨making health choices¨ (hey the girls chose the theme, and mhmm that’s my work).

At around 2 I headed to the park to catch my bus home, and was informed that I´d missed it. I almost cried; it’s another 2 hour walk back to my town. As I started walking back someone yelled to me that the covered truck was running an hour late and by the skin on my teeth jumped on it and made it home.


The day didn’t end there, I had my host´s mother´s birthday to help cook for, and celebrate. Try as hard as they could no one could get me up to dance, or force the famous Flor de Caña into me (rum). Finally I made it to bed at 10. It was an amazing and adventurous trip for which everyone here was mad at me for (¨it’s not safe for a foreigner alone out in the middle of nowhere¨ they tell me, when actually its more dangerous when you’re in the towns because that’s where the dogs and the drunkards are)

It was worth the sore legs, to see more of where I live, and get to be out doors for a bit.