Our day of travel home was an absolute blur. We were awake from 7:30am, until 3:30am the next morning. All I recall of it was keeping tabs on the closest washrooms for Little M, making a run for the washrooms at the back of the plane upon take off with Little M in arms, and hobbling incredibly long distances on a throbbing leg.
The bright, modern airport of Houston was a jolt of modernization and accessibility of so much 'stuff' and food. But it wasn't comforting. It was overwhelming and over-processed - from one extreme to another. I just wanted our plot of land - home.
We arrived through our front door this morning at 2:30am. Before I landed my first step, my lungs deeply filled with the familiar smell of our house - clay plaster, timber beams, and a tomato seedling grow-op... My body begins to decompress. Our 80lb dog climbed up on the huge beanbag sac Little M and Hubby collapsed on, with the biggest smile I've ever seen on her face.
We slept until around 11am the next day. No groceries in the house (thank goodness for my sister coming by to clean our refrigerator while we were gone!) , so we went for brunch and then shopped for all our familiar foods. Ahhhh... produce! I missed fresh produce so much, but it was funny to see the tiny papaya's stacked up and so incredibly expensive. They were bigger than footballs in Nicaragua and so common.
We examined our garden on the way out to brunch. Only one variety of spinach survived in my greens (lettuce, spinach) rainbow. Peas are fantastic, carrots are kicking butt alongside daikon radish. Kale, eaten to the stem again, even under the row cover. I'm hunting down whatever is doing this and getting revenge. Jerks. The garden looks great! My tomatoes indoors are so tall, I have to take them one by one to the greenhouse while holding their stems. Very tall and lanky due to reaching for the sunlit window. Not ideal, but I'm so very proud and thankful they survived. LOVE OUR GARDEN! LOVE. IT.
Little M took out my stitches after dinner (I cut, she pulled, hubby held the light). hmmm... most of the skin closed to itself, and some... not so much. We named my new scar "Frankie" (Frankenstein). Hubby's face says it all and then he adds, "after a couple days you better start on the Vitamin E". uh, yeah. I can feel the lump under the skin where the facia stitches are still, or where the wound is still healing. part of the shin is numb, must have cut nerves.
There is such a lovely feeling of "Ahhhhh" - a shoulder relaxing, deep breath release of being where you call "home". It is a place where you carve out your place in the world that is most connected with your own style, energy, preferences, knowledge. Being away is adventurous and it offers so very much to learn of the world we live in and the world inside of us. But there is that state of being on alert, learning new things about your environment, striving to understand the language, traffic, customs etc., that takes a level of energy too. It is a great thing about travel that it pushes ones' normal; to bring back new things to ones' own life. But it is equally lovely to just be home - the one place in the
world I rest my head with those I love in peace.
I know there are deer and coyotes that cross our fields. I know
whatever is in our home, is by our selection. It is where I have the
right to rest, to grow, to love and be loved. It is the place we know we are safe, at peace, where we allow ourselves to be most vulnerable and most silly. There is nothing like "Home"
*follow up note: As it turns out "Frankie" grew an internal infection which is why it did not close completely. That lead to another round of antibiotics and doctor's orders for no running, jumping, lifting of heavy things for 3- 4 weeks. At the end of that time, all healed up well and Frankie is now just another scar on "The Great Skinless Wonder" (my nickname as a kid).
Tuesday, 12 June 2012
Monday, 11 June 2012
Nicaragua - The Long Road Home
The day previous was divided from today by a couple hours of sleep I got with Little M, while hubby went for his last surf. We were all a little groggy, but Little M slept well in the hours she had, her fever stayed down, as did her fluids. Huge relief!
Buck and the boys were not able to return the night before, so we said our 'goodbyes' amidst heartfelt 'thank you's with Chica, Ali & Kate, who were also a little groggy. We will see them on the other side, back home. Good times and challenges brought us closer indeed. They are all incredibly kind and lovely women.
Chica. Oh how I wish we had more time on the water together! So many waves to catch, my friend! "la vez próxima"
We returned to the Roberto Clemente Clinic to settle our balance with them - the tiny clinic we have become intertwined with, under less than ideal circumstances. To build such a place, to have such amazing people working so hard with such heart is very unique. It has a special place in my heart for which I am thankful for. I have a good sized row of stitches up my shin, but like the rest of my scars, and my unlady-like beliefs, they all proudly carry a story. This one will carry the remembrance of people with heart - both friends and the clinic.
Off we went, chasing Managua down the dusty, red roads - a three hour drive through the Nicaraguan countryside. We didn't have a map, just a screen shot of a Lonely Planet section of map and directions from our new friends, "Turn right after you go over the speedbumps.... you'll pass by the brightly coloured toadstools... right at the 'Papa Johns'..." I was a little uneasy, raising my eyebrows at hubby when they were saying it, but the directions couldn't have been better in the landscape we were in. We loved our drive and team work.
Little M slept on and off in the back, her tum holding off, but still not 100%. She was chipper and on the mend, studying a vile which contained a little Africanized bee that had met its demise. It is pretty cool when you can say your own child is one of the best people you have ever met. She is resilient, kind, intelligent, positive, goofy, compassionate and just of love. I am so incredibly thankful and proud to be her momma.
We passed through the "colourful toadstool" craftsmarket in Masaya. I'd love to visit that place one day with more time. Very cool. My eyeballs stayed behind at a roadside antique store... "oohhhhhhh..."
Finally we arrived at our hotel in Managua. We went for a lovely dinner together, then settled in for sleep for our final leg home...
Buck and the boys were not able to return the night before, so we said our 'goodbyes' amidst heartfelt 'thank you's with Chica, Ali & Kate, who were also a little groggy. We will see them on the other side, back home. Good times and challenges brought us closer indeed. They are all incredibly kind and lovely women.
Chica. Oh how I wish we had more time on the water together! So many waves to catch, my friend! "la vez próxima"
We returned to the Roberto Clemente Clinic to settle our balance with them - the tiny clinic we have become intertwined with, under less than ideal circumstances. To build such a place, to have such amazing people working so hard with such heart is very unique. It has a special place in my heart for which I am thankful for. I have a good sized row of stitches up my shin, but like the rest of my scars, and my unlady-like beliefs, they all proudly carry a story. This one will carry the remembrance of people with heart - both friends and the clinic.
Off we went, chasing Managua down the dusty, red roads - a three hour drive through the Nicaraguan countryside. We didn't have a map, just a screen shot of a Lonely Planet section of map and directions from our new friends, "Turn right after you go over the speedbumps.... you'll pass by the brightly coloured toadstools... right at the 'Papa Johns'..." I was a little uneasy, raising my eyebrows at hubby when they were saying it, but the directions couldn't have been better in the landscape we were in. We loved our drive and team work.
Little M slept on and off in the back, her tum holding off, but still not 100%. She was chipper and on the mend, studying a vile which contained a little Africanized bee that had met its demise. It is pretty cool when you can say your own child is one of the best people you have ever met. She is resilient, kind, intelligent, positive, goofy, compassionate and just of love. I am so incredibly thankful and proud to be her momma.
We passed through the "colourful toadstool" craftsmarket in Masaya. I'd love to visit that place one day with more time. Very cool. My eyeballs stayed behind at a roadside antique store... "oohhhhhhh..."
Finally we arrived at our hotel in Managua. We went for a lovely dinner together, then settled in for sleep for our final leg home...
Sunday, 10 June 2012
Nicaragua - Day 19 Little M's Scare
(I think I am missing a day or two...)
Today we had our final full day here, and what a day it was... Hubby went for a morning surf. Little M and I ate yogurt and granola for breakfast and began to clean up our apartment.
We went down and visited with Chica and the kids, and Ali and Kate for a while, and then hubby took Little M on a fantastic bike ride hunting for howler monkeys, swimming in two different pools, spotting termite nests in trees, checking the surf breaks... Those two have such incredible adventures together. I also had some really nice time just hanging with the girls, as their hubbies had gone on a day trip to get groceries and take BamBam back. I wish I could stay longer, they are a great pack.
In the evening, the gals held down the homefront as their hubbies were having some auto difficulties and could not return home. We had no more dinner supplies, so Hubby, Little M and myself decided to go out for dinner one last time. Little M seemed tired, but still wanted to go.
We arrived at the little sports bar, outdoor restaurant. We ordered pizza and a fish entre. Little M had a tummy issue, and then fell asleep, curled up on my lap before the food arrived. Hubby and I ate our dinner, having a nice chat about the close of our trip. Then when it was time to go and I went to pick her up, I noticed that she was burning up. No sweat, just burning up and her heart was racing. We got her to the car in to the air-conditioning. We made it back home, fully undressed her, put her in to an air-conditioned room, in bed and began packing up.
As we continued to check in on her, her temp continued to rise. Around 9pm, it just seemed not right. With Little M having had a febrile seizure in the past, I went to Chica to see if she had any fever meds to head it off at the pass. She gave me Children's Acetaminophen. I went back and administered it to Little M. Within minutes, she wanted to go to the bathroom. She threw up and continued throwing up. She broke down saying her arm and leg hurt, her head was so sore. We'd never seen her like that. Even when she was sick in the past, she was always such a trooper and so resilient, at worst, just falling asleep, even directly preceding her seizure and when she had pneumonia. Her strength has the ability to fool us in to thinking she is better than we find out she is and we've been mindful of that when issues come up with her. This time, what she was expressing was beyond what we'd seen of her before.
She was keeping nothing down. I knew I needed to lower her temperature. She and I climbed in the coolest shower a tropical shower will offer, and did my best to cool her head, neck, back. She cried inconsolably, saying she was too cold. "I just want my momma! I want to go home now. Can we go home now please? I want my momma!"... My heart leapt. Was she delusional? I was right there with her with her eyes open, but seeming to just look beyond. I just kept reassuring her.
The hours passed, with vomiting, diarrhea, fever diminishing, then going back up to 38.8'C armpit (internal temp of 39.3'C). Our concern was because the day was so incredibly hot and she had been out and about quite a bit. Did she get enough hydration? Everyone was feeling the affects of the sun that day, but no one seemed to have any gastro issues etc.. She was incredibly hot, but still not sweating. Her temperature was measuring just below the 40'C mark, after her temp began to drop (heat stroke is defined by a body temperature of 40'C or higher). All of her symptoms were symptoms of Heat Stroke, which is beyond heat exhaustion. Unlike heat exhaustion, heat stroke includes damage to the nervous system function and can cause organ damage, or be fatal if untreated.
At around 3:30am, her fever started going back up quickly and she began vomiting again. She couldn't keep anything down. When I gave her the showers, or put cool cloths on her burning skin, she cried out "I'm too cold momma! Please stop! Please stop!". To that point in her life, I'd never heard her wail like that. My heart was in my throat. I told her to look at me. I asked her to trust me, and she did. Fighting back tears and horrible discomfort on the cold shower floor, wrapped in icy towels being drenched with cold water, she just trembled and whimpered.
When her temperature hit 39'C again, I asked Hubby to talk to the property manager about where to go for help. He woke him as well as Chica, Kate and Ali. I think he woke everyone, but the kids. I was kind of miffed with him. Amidst my storm of thoughts, I didn't want to wake them again too. He responded that Chica would kick my ass if I didn't ask for help. She affirmed that when she came up. The three of them rallied around us and our little girl. Kate, the pharmacist, was checking meds and potential issues if it were heatstroke. Chica was just there reassuring, supporting. They brought Gatorade to replenish her electrolytes. Ali stayed with Chica's sleeping little ones.
Things were not getting better. Every time she drank sips of gatorade, she threw it up. Considering the potential for things to go really wrong if it were heat stroke, we decided it was time to go. We packed up, drenched Little M in cool water, brought a bag of ice to keep icing her, wet towels, gatorade, and we flew down the dirt roads in the 4am darkness, to the Roberto Clemente Health Clinic - the same small, local clinic I'd been to days before to stitch up my leg. We had also, coincidentally been there earlier in the day, to drop off school supplies to donate to the children. Hubby had chatted with the ambulance driver while we were there. We knew if things were really bad, we would be seeing him again to take us to Managua, hours away to the country's main hospital. We were becoming very familiar with this clinic. In between those moments that keep a mother doing what needs to be done in situations like this, I ached to just be home, but having this clinic here meant the world.
We pulled up and the glass door to darkened clinic opened as we unloaded from the car. The man went to get Dr. Flores, the same doctor who attended me. He came in to the florescent lit room shaking the heavy sleep from his mind. He looked and spoke to me as her momma, but I couldn't understand enough Spanish to get the technical stuff. Hubby took the reigns and Kate inserted concise questions including some meds she had brought with her.
Dr. Flores examined Little M. She seemingly began to perk up a bit. Dr. Flores deciphered it to be a gastrointestinal bug, rather than heatstroke. At the time, I really wished I could get more clarity as to why he thought it was a gastro bug, rather than heat stroke, so I could erase the urgency from my mind. He did not have a readable thermometer (only an old glass mercury thermometer, that he couldn't find the reading mark on), so that chunk of info was not apparent to him. He prescribed a suppository to help bring her fever down, and one other med. Very quickly she began to respond. We went to pay, but he insisted we just leave it, and to come back in the morning when things were a bit better to check in. He was incredibly kind.
The four of us returned as the new day found its light. As the sun rose, so too did Little M's spirit. We pulled up one last time, to the complex weary and exhausted. Hubby walked Kate back to Chica's and gave our huge thanks. I took Little M back up to our apartment. She was already feeling better though incredibly tired. She had just been through a relentless storm.
It is 7am now. Hubby is sleeping with Little M, keeping an eye on her and trying to get much needed sleep for our navigation back to Managua to start our journey home. I am packing up all our things, eager to just be in the comforts of our own home. I checked in with www.justanswer.com Pediatrics and got a 'second opinion' that validated the course of action we were put on. One symptom that did not fit with heat stroke was her diarrhea. Who knew diarrhea was so fantastic?...
We are so incredibly thankful Chica, Kate and Ali, for being right there with us getting no sleep to rally around our little girl, and us. They were a force of maternal strength that meant the world in those moments. We are also thankful (again) to the Roberto Clemente Clinica for their wonderful care and for being there 24/7 for all those who need it. It is a tiny clinic with a huge heart. Most of all, of course, we are thankful Little M is safe, and on the mend.
This trip has not been everything I was expecting (ha ha...). It's had some great ups and some bummers. But the bummers, in the days to come, will show their silver-lining. Five hours till we begin our journey home... "home..."
Today we had our final full day here, and what a day it was... Hubby went for a morning surf. Little M and I ate yogurt and granola for breakfast and began to clean up our apartment.
We went down and visited with Chica and the kids, and Ali and Kate for a while, and then hubby took Little M on a fantastic bike ride hunting for howler monkeys, swimming in two different pools, spotting termite nests in trees, checking the surf breaks... Those two have such incredible adventures together. I also had some really nice time just hanging with the girls, as their hubbies had gone on a day trip to get groceries and take BamBam back. I wish I could stay longer, they are a great pack.
In the evening, the gals held down the homefront as their hubbies were having some auto difficulties and could not return home. We had no more dinner supplies, so Hubby, Little M and myself decided to go out for dinner one last time. Little M seemed tired, but still wanted to go.
We arrived at the little sports bar, outdoor restaurant. We ordered pizza and a fish entre. Little M had a tummy issue, and then fell asleep, curled up on my lap before the food arrived. Hubby and I ate our dinner, having a nice chat about the close of our trip. Then when it was time to go and I went to pick her up, I noticed that she was burning up. No sweat, just burning up and her heart was racing. We got her to the car in to the air-conditioning. We made it back home, fully undressed her, put her in to an air-conditioned room, in bed and began packing up.
As we continued to check in on her, her temp continued to rise. Around 9pm, it just seemed not right. With Little M having had a febrile seizure in the past, I went to Chica to see if she had any fever meds to head it off at the pass. She gave me Children's Acetaminophen. I went back and administered it to Little M. Within minutes, she wanted to go to the bathroom. She threw up and continued throwing up. She broke down saying her arm and leg hurt, her head was so sore. We'd never seen her like that. Even when she was sick in the past, she was always such a trooper and so resilient, at worst, just falling asleep, even directly preceding her seizure and when she had pneumonia. Her strength has the ability to fool us in to thinking she is better than we find out she is and we've been mindful of that when issues come up with her. This time, what she was expressing was beyond what we'd seen of her before.
She was keeping nothing down. I knew I needed to lower her temperature. She and I climbed in the coolest shower a tropical shower will offer, and did my best to cool her head, neck, back. She cried inconsolably, saying she was too cold. "I just want my momma! I want to go home now. Can we go home now please? I want my momma!"... My heart leapt. Was she delusional? I was right there with her with her eyes open, but seeming to just look beyond. I just kept reassuring her.
The hours passed, with vomiting, diarrhea, fever diminishing, then going back up to 38.8'C armpit (internal temp of 39.3'C). Our concern was because the day was so incredibly hot and she had been out and about quite a bit. Did she get enough hydration? Everyone was feeling the affects of the sun that day, but no one seemed to have any gastro issues etc.. She was incredibly hot, but still not sweating. Her temperature was measuring just below the 40'C mark, after her temp began to drop (heat stroke is defined by a body temperature of 40'C or higher). All of her symptoms were symptoms of Heat Stroke, which is beyond heat exhaustion. Unlike heat exhaustion, heat stroke includes damage to the nervous system function and can cause organ damage, or be fatal if untreated.
At around 3:30am, her fever started going back up quickly and she began vomiting again. She couldn't keep anything down. When I gave her the showers, or put cool cloths on her burning skin, she cried out "I'm too cold momma! Please stop! Please stop!". To that point in her life, I'd never heard her wail like that. My heart was in my throat. I told her to look at me. I asked her to trust me, and she did. Fighting back tears and horrible discomfort on the cold shower floor, wrapped in icy towels being drenched with cold water, she just trembled and whimpered.
When her temperature hit 39'C again, I asked Hubby to talk to the property manager about where to go for help. He woke him as well as Chica, Kate and Ali. I think he woke everyone, but the kids. I was kind of miffed with him. Amidst my storm of thoughts, I didn't want to wake them again too. He responded that Chica would kick my ass if I didn't ask for help. She affirmed that when she came up. The three of them rallied around us and our little girl. Kate, the pharmacist, was checking meds and potential issues if it were heatstroke. Chica was just there reassuring, supporting. They brought Gatorade to replenish her electrolytes. Ali stayed with Chica's sleeping little ones.
Things were not getting better. Every time she drank sips of gatorade, she threw it up. Considering the potential for things to go really wrong if it were heat stroke, we decided it was time to go. We packed up, drenched Little M in cool water, brought a bag of ice to keep icing her, wet towels, gatorade, and we flew down the dirt roads in the 4am darkness, to the Roberto Clemente Health Clinic - the same small, local clinic I'd been to days before to stitch up my leg. We had also, coincidentally been there earlier in the day, to drop off school supplies to donate to the children. Hubby had chatted with the ambulance driver while we were there. We knew if things were really bad, we would be seeing him again to take us to Managua, hours away to the country's main hospital. We were becoming very familiar with this clinic. In between those moments that keep a mother doing what needs to be done in situations like this, I ached to just be home, but having this clinic here meant the world.
We pulled up and the glass door to darkened clinic opened as we unloaded from the car. The man went to get Dr. Flores, the same doctor who attended me. He came in to the florescent lit room shaking the heavy sleep from his mind. He looked and spoke to me as her momma, but I couldn't understand enough Spanish to get the technical stuff. Hubby took the reigns and Kate inserted concise questions including some meds she had brought with her.
Dr. Flores examined Little M. She seemingly began to perk up a bit. Dr. Flores deciphered it to be a gastrointestinal bug, rather than heatstroke. At the time, I really wished I could get more clarity as to why he thought it was a gastro bug, rather than heat stroke, so I could erase the urgency from my mind. He did not have a readable thermometer (only an old glass mercury thermometer, that he couldn't find the reading mark on), so that chunk of info was not apparent to him. He prescribed a suppository to help bring her fever down, and one other med. Very quickly she began to respond. We went to pay, but he insisted we just leave it, and to come back in the morning when things were a bit better to check in. He was incredibly kind.
The four of us returned as the new day found its light. As the sun rose, so too did Little M's spirit. We pulled up one last time, to the complex weary and exhausted. Hubby walked Kate back to Chica's and gave our huge thanks. I took Little M back up to our apartment. She was already feeling better though incredibly tired. She had just been through a relentless storm.
It is 7am now. Hubby is sleeping with Little M, keeping an eye on her and trying to get much needed sleep for our navigation back to Managua to start our journey home. I am packing up all our things, eager to just be in the comforts of our own home. I checked in with www.justanswer.com Pediatrics and got a 'second opinion' that validated the course of action we were put on. One symptom that did not fit with heat stroke was her diarrhea. Who knew diarrhea was so fantastic?...
We are so incredibly thankful Chica, Kate and Ali, for being right there with us getting no sleep to rally around our little girl, and us. They were a force of maternal strength that meant the world in those moments. We are also thankful (again) to the Roberto Clemente Clinica for their wonderful care and for being there 24/7 for all those who need it. It is a tiny clinic with a huge heart. Most of all, of course, we are thankful Little M is safe, and on the mend.
This trip has not been everything I was expecting (ha ha...). It's had some great ups and some bummers. But the bummers, in the days to come, will show their silver-lining. Five hours till we begin our journey home... "home..."
Wednesday, 6 June 2012
Nicaragua - Day 'I can't remember' (18) "Cranky Hag"
I think I'm keeping pretty positive considering almost a third of my trip has been compromised. Today was a blue day. I had a short fuse today, cranky hag. REALLY nice people around. They are making it really difficult to be such a "cranky hag", as a matter of fact. Chica, and Buck being so hospitable and giving hugs (Chica) and beer (Buck). Ali and Kate, radiating that primal glow. Kate offering me wonderful waterproof tape so I can at least go in the pool - bless her. Bam Bam with his dry humour and good food.
And then Buck starts rattling off his observations of idiosyncrasies Nicaraguans do. One of which, I think I nearly popped my stitches and peed myself at the same time when he showed us (and apparently BamBam is the one who 'does it' really good). As far as these two go, Nicaraguans have a way of pointing with their lips. Like stuttery, kissy-lips, with head still, but lips going in the direction of the subject the person is wanting to point at. I haven't laughed so hard at a person in a very long time. Probably as hard as Buck and BamBam, and the gang here laughed at me as they sat beneath "The Tree of Death" at the beach one afternoon.
I was coming in from a session of surfing - can't remember which day at this point (thanks Buck). The swell was beginning to build a bit. As I was paddling in, tired already. I timed my 'arrival landing' between the waves, but because, from my perspective, all i could see what the back of the rolling wave, I didn't see that the tide was right at the point on the beach where the it began to sharply incline. When I did catch one in that would take me just to where I could dismount my board and cooly come out of the water with my board pinched under my arm nonchalantly, my leash tidily coiled up, all with an air of confidence and style ... oh jeez... (deep breath) Instead of that, I caught one wave and was on top of it when I saw that it was shore-dumping. I put the brakes on, as well as you can in the water, and navigated around being pitched over the falls and cracked in to the shallow sand. I saved face there, but continued beyond that, until my skegs dug in to the incline of sand, and stopped my surfboard dead in it's tracks, tossing me off like a pancake shucked off a flipper spatula. I'm not a pancake though - I'm a person. So rather than landing like a pancake on a plate, I was thrown in the wash of the broken wave, collided with the sandy incline and tumbled and rolled like a breaded raw chicken across the sand in front of them, to which Chica tells me later, my husband motioned the umpire spread of arms as yelled, "SAFE!!!"
Anyways. We stayed central at the apartments today, but by later afternoon, me and Little M went to the beach. The surf was picking up. Guys were coming out of the water with 'that' look in their eyes of being in a state of adrenaline. The only way I can describe it is an electrically charged clarity. My heart sank. Missing that challenge of just putting your body against the elements, digging, paddling, pushing. "Electrically charged clarity" that comes with being completely in the moment - hyperdrive meditation combined with survival and ability. I'm sitting on the beach.
grumble, grumble, grumble....
Hubby helped me psychologically lick my wounds. He gave me an ice massage to help the swelling, and just empathized. Sometimes to make things not so blue, it just takes someone understanding how you feel, ya know? Even though he mocked me, I love him.
And then Buck starts rattling off his observations of idiosyncrasies Nicaraguans do. One of which, I think I nearly popped my stitches and peed myself at the same time when he showed us (and apparently BamBam is the one who 'does it' really good). As far as these two go, Nicaraguans have a way of pointing with their lips. Like stuttery, kissy-lips, with head still, but lips going in the direction of the subject the person is wanting to point at. I haven't laughed so hard at a person in a very long time. Probably as hard as Buck and BamBam, and the gang here laughed at me as they sat beneath "The Tree of Death" at the beach one afternoon.
I was coming in from a session of surfing - can't remember which day at this point (thanks Buck). The swell was beginning to build a bit. As I was paddling in, tired already. I timed my 'arrival landing' between the waves, but because, from my perspective, all i could see what the back of the rolling wave, I didn't see that the tide was right at the point on the beach where the it began to sharply incline. When I did catch one in that would take me just to where I could dismount my board and cooly come out of the water with my board pinched under my arm nonchalantly, my leash tidily coiled up, all with an air of confidence and style ... oh jeez... (deep breath) Instead of that, I caught one wave and was on top of it when I saw that it was shore-dumping. I put the brakes on, as well as you can in the water, and navigated around being pitched over the falls and cracked in to the shallow sand. I saved face there, but continued beyond that, until my skegs dug in to the incline of sand, and stopped my surfboard dead in it's tracks, tossing me off like a pancake shucked off a flipper spatula. I'm not a pancake though - I'm a person. So rather than landing like a pancake on a plate, I was thrown in the wash of the broken wave, collided with the sandy incline and tumbled and rolled like a breaded raw chicken across the sand in front of them, to which Chica tells me later, my husband motioned the umpire spread of arms as yelled, "SAFE!!!"
Anyways. We stayed central at the apartments today, but by later afternoon, me and Little M went to the beach. The surf was picking up. Guys were coming out of the water with 'that' look in their eyes of being in a state of adrenaline. The only way I can describe it is an electrically charged clarity. My heart sank. Missing that challenge of just putting your body against the elements, digging, paddling, pushing. "Electrically charged clarity" that comes with being completely in the moment - hyperdrive meditation combined with survival and ability. I'm sitting on the beach.
grumble, grumble, grumble....
Hubby helped me psychologically lick my wounds. He gave me an ice massage to help the swelling, and just empathized. Sometimes to make things not so blue, it just takes someone understanding how you feel, ya know? Even though he mocked me, I love him.
Wednesday, 30 May 2012
Nicaragua - Day 17
ow.
If I slept with a pillow under my knee and my calf dangling over the bed with my ankle turned a certain way, there was actually very little pain ...which also means I was not raising my leg and swelling went to my foot. Not too bad. Injuries with stitches hurt more when there are stitches in. Especially Day 2-3 when the swelling is at it's worst. Everything is just swollen, stinging, and achy pulled by those tight stitches whenever I move the skin/muscle and the bone just throbs. wah wah wah....
This morning I had beer for brunch! Go Tona (Nicaraguan beer)! The entire gang, 11 people just hung out in the pool for most of the morning and early afternoon. It was really nice to just have them around - it didn't suck so badly not being out for a surf. I just lay in the kiddie pool with my leg on the side. Kate gave me some Tegaderm patches, which are waterproof dressings. I'm saving them like they are GOLD! "Maybe..."
Ali and Kate are in their second trimester of pregnancy. They look radiant. I wasn't a great pregnant woman. I didn't glow. In retrospect, I recall it being such a primal and deep time in my life. The transition of being your own person up until pregnancy, and then being responsible for building a life inside your body and subsequently becoming a mother... HUGE TRANSITION. It amazes me women are sane sometimes and it is just expected, like it's nothing to become a mom. I'd say it is pretty huge and women don't get enough credit, even from each other sometimes.
Kate is, as mentioned, a pharmacist. She has a very calm and caring energy. I think a lot would be needed to rattle her. She's going to be a very powerful momma.
Ali is an artist. http://www.alisonhodson.com/ The work I have seen on her website has me hooked. We'll be heading up to Whistler, B.C. soon to see her work in person. I am hoping for an ocean influenced piece in the next while... hee hee! Little M loved playing with her and Ali just dove right in. She is going to be an incredibly sweet and loving mom - they both will be.
Me and hubby played Nertz afterwards and then I asked if he'd go for an early surf session so we could go watch (the bugs at sunset can be kinda crazy). Down we went the three of us. He was picking off waves like a sniper out there. Not the best conditions, but he was just carvin' it up. So great to see. Nothing better than surfing than seeing those you love catch waves. It feels like your heart is riding along with them.
Chica and Buck went out too - awww! When was the last time they surfed together? She caught a fantastic left, zipping along the face at the end of the session. Me and Little M jumped up and down cheering! Ah, the smile of someone who catches a great wave... Elation. YAHOOO!!!
A gorgeous sunset. Making "Cherry soup" on the beach with Little M. She is my magic. Jumping in to her world of play, or any preschoolers, is like being at the Mad Haters' tea party. Sometimes I have no idea what we are trying to do. I don't think she knows what she is trying to do, but anything goes. When time is short, following along can be a challenge, but it's times like this on the beach, where we have all the time in the world, where it is just funky, complete and utter spontaneous imagination. As adults, I think most of us are deficient in that. She teaches me so very much and I am thankful.
If I slept with a pillow under my knee and my calf dangling over the bed with my ankle turned a certain way, there was actually very little pain ...which also means I was not raising my leg and swelling went to my foot. Not too bad. Injuries with stitches hurt more when there are stitches in. Especially Day 2-3 when the swelling is at it's worst. Everything is just swollen, stinging, and achy pulled by those tight stitches whenever I move the skin/muscle and the bone just throbs. wah wah wah....
This morning I had beer for brunch! Go Tona (Nicaraguan beer)! The entire gang, 11 people just hung out in the pool for most of the morning and early afternoon. It was really nice to just have them around - it didn't suck so badly not being out for a surf. I just lay in the kiddie pool with my leg on the side. Kate gave me some Tegaderm patches, which are waterproof dressings. I'm saving them like they are GOLD! "Maybe..."
Ali and Kate are in their second trimester of pregnancy. They look radiant. I wasn't a great pregnant woman. I didn't glow. In retrospect, I recall it being such a primal and deep time in my life. The transition of being your own person up until pregnancy, and then being responsible for building a life inside your body and subsequently becoming a mother... HUGE TRANSITION. It amazes me women are sane sometimes and it is just expected, like it's nothing to become a mom. I'd say it is pretty huge and women don't get enough credit, even from each other sometimes.
Kate is, as mentioned, a pharmacist. She has a very calm and caring energy. I think a lot would be needed to rattle her. She's going to be a very powerful momma.
Ali is an artist. http://www.alisonhodson.com/ The work I have seen on her website has me hooked. We'll be heading up to Whistler, B.C. soon to see her work in person. I am hoping for an ocean influenced piece in the next while... hee hee! Little M loved playing with her and Ali just dove right in. She is going to be an incredibly sweet and loving mom - they both will be.
Me and hubby played Nertz afterwards and then I asked if he'd go for an early surf session so we could go watch (the bugs at sunset can be kinda crazy). Down we went the three of us. He was picking off waves like a sniper out there. Not the best conditions, but he was just carvin' it up. So great to see. Nothing better than surfing than seeing those you love catch waves. It feels like your heart is riding along with them.
Chica and Buck went out too - awww! When was the last time they surfed together? She caught a fantastic left, zipping along the face at the end of the session. Me and Little M jumped up and down cheering! Ah, the smile of someone who catches a great wave... Elation. YAHOOO!!!
A gorgeous sunset. Making "Cherry soup" on the beach with Little M. She is my magic. Jumping in to her world of play, or any preschoolers, is like being at the Mad Haters' tea party. Sometimes I have no idea what we are trying to do. I don't think she knows what she is trying to do, but anything goes. When time is short, following along can be a challenge, but it's times like this on the beach, where we have all the time in the world, where it is just funky, complete and utter spontaneous imagination. As adults, I think most of us are deficient in that. She teaches me so very much and I am thankful.
Monday, 28 May 2012
Nicaragua - Day 16 - Ouch.
Feeling a little helpless these days with regards to K and Billie. Moments throughout the day, I wonder how Billie is responding to treatments, and how K is carrying the weight of everything on her shoulders, so I send love and strength and prayers for rest and healing... (big breath)
It feels insignificant to post, but I will, because these were already written, and there is a greater cause for these posts as well. As silly as this days' post is relative to what is going on in life now, it eventually led to an inspiration that hopefully will come to fruition. So I will continue:
------------------------------------
After two days of avoiding the sun, I hunkered down, whited up "Herbie" and my face, and out me and Chica Boom went in the golf-cart. We were chargin' it! Yihooo!
Got to the beach, paddled out to the break. Put our wave hunter eyes on and started chasing waves. It felt so good to be back in the water - things were really positive. We jockied around for a bit, shifting with the occasional big ol' sets that came in and the more frequent inside sets.
The session started out great. There we were - good vibes, just doing our thing. Caught a good 'left'...
Then came an 'outside' set - a bigger set of waves. I went through the wave, but lost hold of my board. I was fine as I knew no one was around. I relaxed underwater, and when I came out the other side of the wave, I surfaced 'ready' to protect myself from the potential of my board coming back at me with the bigger winds. I couldn't see it beyond the backside curl of the broken wave. Then "CRACK!" my left upper shin exploded with a white cold pain that stole my breath. My board had submerged about three feet, and like a gigantic elastic band via my leash on my ankle, it shot back at me when the wave that took it passed. I took a big breath of air and breathed it out. I didn't have time to look at my leg and I didn't really want to either which is always funny when I do that - like a little kid "if I don't see it, it didn't happen!". I hopped back on my board and tried to build enough speed to get through the next on-coming wave to just get somewhere I could asses things (I couldn't accurately feel my lower leg through the searing pain), but my body was telling me I was heading the wrong way.
Back right in the impact zone, under I went again. Leg was not so good, the bone was just throbbing, but I could still kick my leg, which meant it probably wasn't broken. Popped up and finally took a look at it. Blood pooled out of my shin, about two inches below the head of the tibia. I could see the white of my tibia shifting around inside the gash in my leg. I swore a bit, and my heart sunk - a cut like this means stitches which means I would be out of the water the rest of the trip. I was RIGHT where the waves were breaking so it was time to move and paddle in.
Chica was a ways away, "I gotta go in" I yelled out to her. She kept paddling out encouraging me to get back out there - she didn't know what had happened. "no, I gotta go in, I cut my leg". To the beach Chica paddled with me.
We got to the beach, blood running down my leg, a round hole where you know it is cut deep enough that it's not just skin. SO choked. I don't even know for sure if it was the skeg/fin, or if it was just blunt force from the tail of my board. It moved so fast and hard, hitting my shin dead on stopped the board from moving further and bounced it back enough to surface about a foot away from me.
Chica's friends, Ali and Kate were walking the beach and saw what was going on. We got up to Chica's golf cart and headed back to the boys. Kate is a pharmacist. She is awesome. She and Chica were STOCKED with supplies! Kate supplied us with iodine to rinse and some gauze to wrap it up with. I took a shower and got ready to head to the clinic. Not amused, but it looked pretty tidy under her dressing.
Dislike that feeling of hard tugging on numb tissue, but it is a much better feeling than being stitched where the numbing meds haven't reached ...which is still easier than giving birth for the first time naturally and tearing (not to say giving birth naturally is a negative experience at all - if there were a choice, I'd do it the same again and again, but it does put "pain" in to perspective, and makes it easier to manage pain down the line).
There are about 5-7 stitches internally. Then they moved on to the skin itself. When they finished, I sat up and took a look. "Huh..." I thought. There it was, my new huge Frankenstein stitches along the ridge of my shin. ha ha! My mom's name for me growing up was "The Great Skinless Wonder", so this shin hack is just one of many, though the biggest of all I've collected. Perhaps it is like a shin-lift, and blending of all the prior scars I had. Hubby notes, I never was aspiring to be a shin model.Both Martha and Dr. Flores were so gracious and kind. They tried their best to chat with me, but thank goodness hubby has studied the Spanish he has. sigh. My knight in shining board shorts. Very grateful to Dr. Flores and Nurse Martha.
Hubby went and collected the prescriptions of antibiotics, topical anti-inflammatory, painkiller and something else while I sat alone in the room. Marta and Dr. Flores shared that they have seen many surfers here, with gashes to the face, sending them off to Rivas a few hours away, flying home on airplanes. I am fine. I can't surf or swim for the rest of our days here, and glad it wasn't at the start of the trip.
I think of what to tell my Little M when I get back because I know she is worried. "I get to play on the beach all the time now!". ...telling little ones the sunnier side is a part of being a parent. But I also can't help but feel my heart break a bit too - "suck it up buttercup. It could have been a lot worse".
I could have caught the board with my face. Oh, I already did that last week. ok. If I just had my leg over 7" maybe it'd have sat me right back on it... or gotten me somewhere else... GULP! It is what it is. [As Life has a way of putting things in check, this now means nothing more than the drive to do more]
Our friends back at the casbah kept watch of Little M. She seemed a little shy of seeing me, but we chatted about it later. She just gave me tender kisses and told me "It's ok mom, we'll have another surf trip soon!". She is my little sunshine. Plus, so many good people around it just makes stuff like this not so bad.
ouch. Power is out. I'd like put some ice on Frankie, but also can't risk warming up all of this week's groceries in the fridge. Throbbing, puffy. wah, wah... bummed.
It's just been such an odd trip. Kinda feeling like something is keeping me out of the water. I wait all year to do this - our family pays a lot (in a number of ways) to do trips such as this one. You come and chase that reprieve, that 'undoing' that vacations seem to do that brings you closer to your centre and your loved ones even. Not sure I get 'it'...
Friday, 25 May 2012
For Little Billie and My Friend, K
Taking today off of "Nicaragua" to ask for some help everyone... I write this with K's blessing.
The day before yesterday, I received a phone call from a dear friend. 'K' is the kind of friend who, when we met in 2007, we just clicked right from the start. We had so many similarities - career, beliefs, lifestyles, personal style, aspirations. She herself is a woman who spreads light, lives well, is a fighter, and an intuitive, heart-driven woman. We live about 5,000km apart, but in the big life moments since we worked together and became friends five years ago, we remain close.
As friends, we have gone through the end of relationships, the death of a parent. I had my daughter. A year later, she had her daughter Billie (and a second daughter since). When I went through my issues this February, she was there for me. She coincidentally had a similar surgery as me in April and I hope I was there for her too. 'K' is one of those friends that is special in my heart; even though we are separated by distance and time, she is just a closer friend than many. How many times I have wished for her to be just down the street.
When the phone rang and I said "Hello", she said my name and then paused. Instead of her usual vibrant voice, when she spoke, she was quiet and deep. Those kind of moments in life make the world slow... I went to my office alone. "It is Billie..." Her voice broke and then went silent. I sat down, and tears filled my eyes, I took a breath and waited. She struggled a while, and all I could offer was "What's happened?...".
Over the next moments, as painfully as she was given the same words, she struggled to relay them back to me. Her two and a half year old daughter was diagnosed with a more rare form of leukemia. The next moments, we cried together, she told me how things had lead up, and a bit of what was to come. Before long, she had to go. She was at the hospital, about to go in to see more doctors, get more tests.
I hung up the phone and sat in my office a while, getting my own self together. I went back to my husband and daughter, my sister-in-law and two year old nephew. I watched those two kiddos and my heart just broke.
I want to understand, I want to be able to wrap my head around what she is going through so I can do whatever I can to be of help or support. ...To look at my daughter and think "what if?"... That alone takes my breath away. What a horrible nightmare K must be going through. I am so at a loss that my friend has to go through this, to see her daughter fight such an unimaginable battle so incredibly young. The helplessness she must feel, just wanting to trade places. How does a mother go through this? Why does a mother have to go through this?
At the drop of a hat, I will go if and when she needs me. I am hoping, without hounding her, that she knows I will be there for her, even if it is just to get her a cup of tea and give her a hug. I'll be there.
In the time until then, my mind and heart seem to spin. My reaction is for empathy, for sadness and even anger. But if what energy is manifested by me, does go back out there, and is perpetuated, then I need to be mindful and make a decision about what I put back out there to be of help to those who are affected or life in general.
I believe in prayers. I believe in meditations, intentions, positive thoughts. I believe fundamentally, that what we exude goes somewhere, especially our subconscious thought.
Horrible things in life happen, but we, as human beings, are made to be compassionate, to be there for those we love. There is a level of helplessness people around those who need support feel, and due to not knowing where to put their energy, people can sometimes get stuck in that. What else can you do?
I don't believe horrible things in life happen to create more pain. The horrible things are horrible enough. I believe pain is meant to instigate love and healing. I hope if horrible things happen, they will at least bring people together. If we invest our thoughts in love, love will grow. If we invest our thoughts in how unfair life is, that is what will grow.
My friend, her daughter and family are brilliant. They are gorgeous and good from the inside, out. Who knows why things like this happen, but I do know they deserve to be surrounded by love and healing energy right now.
When I see my daughter and think of Billie, my heart breaks for her and her family, but for every inkling of sadness, helplessness, fear etc., I will send out many more prayers and intentions of strength, wellness, and love.
I am writing this because I am asking you to please send thoughts of healing, wellness, love, strength and faith to their whole family and especially little Billie. If your heart as a parent is moved, please send thoughts for strength and love for K and her partner, so when maybe they feel they can't go on anymore, or aren't sure how they will have the strength to continue, they will feel that love and perhaps can rest for just a little while or find an inspiration of peace. If when you look at your little ones, or recall a fight of your own, please send positive thoughts of wellness, healing, strength and love to little Billie. It is all I can think of to do to help. If there is anything I've posted, I hope that this matters.
Just posting this video again in the hopes that it may inspire and realize the power of thoughts.
Get well little Billie!!
The day before yesterday, I received a phone call from a dear friend. 'K' is the kind of friend who, when we met in 2007, we just clicked right from the start. We had so many similarities - career, beliefs, lifestyles, personal style, aspirations. She herself is a woman who spreads light, lives well, is a fighter, and an intuitive, heart-driven woman. We live about 5,000km apart, but in the big life moments since we worked together and became friends five years ago, we remain close.
As friends, we have gone through the end of relationships, the death of a parent. I had my daughter. A year later, she had her daughter Billie (and a second daughter since). When I went through my issues this February, she was there for me. She coincidentally had a similar surgery as me in April and I hope I was there for her too. 'K' is one of those friends that is special in my heart; even though we are separated by distance and time, she is just a closer friend than many. How many times I have wished for her to be just down the street.
When the phone rang and I said "Hello", she said my name and then paused. Instead of her usual vibrant voice, when she spoke, she was quiet and deep. Those kind of moments in life make the world slow... I went to my office alone. "It is Billie..." Her voice broke and then went silent. I sat down, and tears filled my eyes, I took a breath and waited. She struggled a while, and all I could offer was "What's happened?...".
Over the next moments, as painfully as she was given the same words, she struggled to relay them back to me. Her two and a half year old daughter was diagnosed with a more rare form of leukemia. The next moments, we cried together, she told me how things had lead up, and a bit of what was to come. Before long, she had to go. She was at the hospital, about to go in to see more doctors, get more tests.
I hung up the phone and sat in my office a while, getting my own self together. I went back to my husband and daughter, my sister-in-law and two year old nephew. I watched those two kiddos and my heart just broke.
I want to understand, I want to be able to wrap my head around what she is going through so I can do whatever I can to be of help or support. ...To look at my daughter and think "what if?"... That alone takes my breath away. What a horrible nightmare K must be going through. I am so at a loss that my friend has to go through this, to see her daughter fight such an unimaginable battle so incredibly young. The helplessness she must feel, just wanting to trade places. How does a mother go through this? Why does a mother have to go through this?
At the drop of a hat, I will go if and when she needs me. I am hoping, without hounding her, that she knows I will be there for her, even if it is just to get her a cup of tea and give her a hug. I'll be there.
In the time until then, my mind and heart seem to spin. My reaction is for empathy, for sadness and even anger. But if what energy is manifested by me, does go back out there, and is perpetuated, then I need to be mindful and make a decision about what I put back out there to be of help to those who are affected or life in general.
I believe in prayers. I believe in meditations, intentions, positive thoughts. I believe fundamentally, that what we exude goes somewhere, especially our subconscious thought.
Horrible things in life happen, but we, as human beings, are made to be compassionate, to be there for those we love. There is a level of helplessness people around those who need support feel, and due to not knowing where to put their energy, people can sometimes get stuck in that. What else can you do?
I don't believe horrible things in life happen to create more pain. The horrible things are horrible enough. I believe pain is meant to instigate love and healing. I hope if horrible things happen, they will at least bring people together. If we invest our thoughts in love, love will grow. If we invest our thoughts in how unfair life is, that is what will grow.
My friend, her daughter and family are brilliant. They are gorgeous and good from the inside, out. Who knows why things like this happen, but I do know they deserve to be surrounded by love and healing energy right now.
When I see my daughter and think of Billie, my heart breaks for her and her family, but for every inkling of sadness, helplessness, fear etc., I will send out many more prayers and intentions of strength, wellness, and love.
I am writing this because I am asking you to please send thoughts of healing, wellness, love, strength and faith to their whole family and especially little Billie. If your heart as a parent is moved, please send thoughts for strength and love for K and her partner, so when maybe they feel they can't go on anymore, or aren't sure how they will have the strength to continue, they will feel that love and perhaps can rest for just a little while or find an inspiration of peace. If when you look at your little ones, or recall a fight of your own, please send positive thoughts of wellness, healing, strength and love to little Billie. It is all I can think of to do to help. If there is anything I've posted, I hope that this matters.
Just posting this video again in the hopes that it may inspire and realize the power of thoughts.
Get well little Billie!!
Thursday, 24 May 2012
Nicaragua - Day 15
Another day out of the sun. My body is talking and I'm going to listen. Today off, then kickin' it tomorrow...
Monday, 21 May 2012
Nicaragua - Day 14 Rivas
The winds were taking the trees sideways this morning. Despite that, hubby went out for his 5:15am surf. I woke up today with the worst coldsore of my life on my upper lip. Can we get more upfront than that? Never in my life have I had one like this and it hurts. It's so big I will give it a name - Herbie. *@#! - I just want to grow a moustache, an SPF 70 moustache. Maybe I can make one out of all the hair I'm molting... Like most people who are prone to them, I get an occurrence when I get too much sun or when I'm run down. Less than one week left and I feel like I'm racing the clock to get my booty out there and catch some waves, but I've overdone it. frustrated, but I gotta respect what my body is saying - it needs a sun break.
We packed up and made our once a week shopping list (yesterday's shopping trip didn't yield much and we require a lot more produce etc.). An hour or so away, to Rivas hubby, Little M and myself went.
Despite the dust, the lack of amenities, and the 35'C heat, the locals are dressed in pants and shirts, all immaculately clean and pressed, whites are WHITE - again speaking to their proud nature. The pride and sincerity intertwined with the aftermath of such tumultuous events in history makes me wonder what the people here strive for? What are they working towards? What are their hopes to succeed the history they have survived? Everyone wants peace, a level of comfort, to be well, and to feed their children. But I am wondering if there is a strong desire for change? What was Nicaragua like in it's most abundant times? If the average Nicaraguan were to write the country's next chapter, what would it express? What would help this country to be all of that? Or what would it take the Nicaraguans to be all of that? Maybe I'm sounding ignorant or naive, but when you see a child the same age as your own or younger in such hard circumstances, you wonder what his/her future will be and what they will need to do to make it one that that they want. It also makes you wonder what it is you can do to help in whatever way you can.
After watching the local police drive through town in a pickup truck with some banditos in handcuffs in the back and march them in to the station with automatics drawn, we headed to the bank and then for lunch.
We chose a quiet restaurant in a hotel and sat on the patio. It was empty except for us. Little M danced around the garden fountain and we just sat and watched the city go by us on the street in front. I had the butterflied chicken, with rice and fries with a fresh mixed fruit juice. It was SO good - as Buck mentioned, chicken here is incredibly delicious. That hit the spot!
It was a quiet day in Rivas, one that seemed to match my mood - stoic, hidden and averted. Those that did engage with us, did so with a curiosity that makes me smile. I think I am so dark, they aren't sure how my Asian features fit my face. Gas station attendants washing our windshield for quite some time, trying to be subtle, but I'm right there - I see youuu!! I've seen 1 or two Asians here in the both trips I've been here, so I think I'm a bit of a novelty, or perhaps they are checking out Herbie. S'all good.
We headed back to our residence, sharing some treats of our trip with the local security guy - ice cream sandwich and cold water. That is one happy man.
Hubby went out again for a short session, while I made some Spanish-esque rice, to accompany his garlic butter lobster tails given to us by our friends who got them from the local fish guy. Yum - what a treat. A visit with Chica, Buck and the gang - super cool people.
I miss the ocean already just having been out 48 hours. My skin is missing home, but my soul sure loves this part of the world and especially the ocean here.
Good hopes for glassy, head-high, off-shore, shaded surf (ha!)... Making the drop, rail in the face of the wave, hand running through the moving water at my side, flying on liquid energy...
"Tomorrow, tomorrow..."
We packed up and made our once a week shopping list (yesterday's shopping trip didn't yield much and we require a lot more produce etc.). An hour or so away, to Rivas hubby, Little M and myself went.
Despite the dust, the lack of amenities, and the 35'C heat, the locals are dressed in pants and shirts, all immaculately clean and pressed, whites are WHITE - again speaking to their proud nature. The pride and sincerity intertwined with the aftermath of such tumultuous events in history makes me wonder what the people here strive for? What are they working towards? What are their hopes to succeed the history they have survived? Everyone wants peace, a level of comfort, to be well, and to feed their children. But I am wondering if there is a strong desire for change? What was Nicaragua like in it's most abundant times? If the average Nicaraguan were to write the country's next chapter, what would it express? What would help this country to be all of that? Or what would it take the Nicaraguans to be all of that? Maybe I'm sounding ignorant or naive, but when you see a child the same age as your own or younger in such hard circumstances, you wonder what his/her future will be and what they will need to do to make it one that that they want. It also makes you wonder what it is you can do to help in whatever way you can.
After watching the local police drive through town in a pickup truck with some banditos in handcuffs in the back and march them in to the station with automatics drawn, we headed to the bank and then for lunch.
We chose a quiet restaurant in a hotel and sat on the patio. It was empty except for us. Little M danced around the garden fountain and we just sat and watched the city go by us on the street in front. I had the butterflied chicken, with rice and fries with a fresh mixed fruit juice. It was SO good - as Buck mentioned, chicken here is incredibly delicious. That hit the spot!
It was a quiet day in Rivas, one that seemed to match my mood - stoic, hidden and averted. Those that did engage with us, did so with a curiosity that makes me smile. I think I am so dark, they aren't sure how my Asian features fit my face. Gas station attendants washing our windshield for quite some time, trying to be subtle, but I'm right there - I see youuu!! I've seen 1 or two Asians here in the both trips I've been here, so I think I'm a bit of a novelty, or perhaps they are checking out Herbie. S'all good.
We headed back to our residence, sharing some treats of our trip with the local security guy - ice cream sandwich and cold water. That is one happy man.
Hubby went out again for a short session, while I made some Spanish-esque rice, to accompany his garlic butter lobster tails given to us by our friends who got them from the local fish guy. Yum - what a treat. A visit with Chica, Buck and the gang - super cool people.
I miss the ocean already just having been out 48 hours. My skin is missing home, but my soul sure loves this part of the world and especially the ocean here.
Good hopes for glassy, head-high, off-shore, shaded surf (ha!)... Making the drop, rail in the face of the wave, hand running through the moving water at my side, flying on liquid energy...
"Tomorrow, tomorrow..."
Sunday, 20 May 2012
Nicaragua - Day 13 The Divide
Today I woke up with a swollen lower lip. It was so swollen when I first woke, it split down the middle. All the sun I've had the past two days has no doubt caught up with me. So, I stayed out of the sun today completely - off we went to the nearest little market here.
Dirt roads wove over the crispy dry geography. Rail-thin horses ran by us on the roads. A man on a homemade cart drove two weary donkeys up a hill with a trailer full of bricks. When we got to the 600sq ft concrete building, we entered the darkness to two sullen women behind iron bars at the counter-top.
The selection there was modest to say the least. Stacks of neatly packed goods, heavily dust-laden on the shelves - not from being there a while, but rather from the dust constantly kicked up by the road just outside. No produce but a basket of onions and tomatoes. Coke, soft-drinks, crackers, soaps, toiletries in supply. This is the largest store before making the drive to the city of Rivas, (population of 156,000), which is 3/4-1 hour away by car (Rivas is our city for stocking up once a week).
The two women retrieved the goods Hubby requested. My thoughts jump the iron bars to their side, wondering what they are thinking of us. "tourists..."
There is such a huge divide from what we are used to. The cultural differences, the poverty... There is an off-balance feeling here. We see how privileged we are versus the levels of poverty not often seen in to this extent at home, but how do we plug in to making a positive difference? We bring what we can fit in our luggage (school supplies, clothes etc.), but it doesn't seem like much at all. There is also consideration for not wanting to offend people by giving them things- Nicaraguans are very proud people.
There are few businesses in the area here to patronize. There are two or three truly locally owned restaurants. The owners of the restaurants we visited were so lovely and warm, one owner giving each of us hugs as we entered her establishment. We loved having more traditional foods on top of that, but upon our last trip, two people in our party became pretty ill after a night out. It can occur anywhere, but food standards are what they are when there is limited fresh water, and an outdoor kitchen on a dirt floor. Being hit-or-miss, means one meal can take a person out for days and with a young child, we chose this time to prepare our own meals most of the time.
In the area we visit, we have come across foreigners who have started and maintain projects within the community while they are here (art classes for local children, surf houses encouraging tourists to bring down what they can for the children when they come - mail service is not an option here so everything must be brought in luggage to donate), but most visitors are seasonal and we haven't come across any infrastructure set up for doing this kind of thing here.
Many locals in the two villages we are within, are employed by the tourist communities here, managing properties, cleaning or doing security. Many are employed, but it would be nice to have the communities surrounding this area thriving more than they are. The villages and houses do not reflect a great dispersion of that tourist dollar. Considering $8 per day is a good wage, labour here is incredibly cheap. Relative to the tourists that come, it would be nice to see the locals benefit more from people who wish to do more. For instance, some kind of training for massage therapy for locals to learn, then earn way better independent wages. Or authentic Nicaraguan food 'catering'- perhaps in-house cooking of meals. I'd buy our groceries and pay to have some meals made, or be taught some fantastic recipes to bring back home! Spanish-speaking groups for kiddos while there. I dunno... Perhaps these things are already available and it is just a matter of organizing accessibility of them. Gotta do more research.
In Northern Nicaragua, Jiquilillo, a group of Canadians including David Sakaki, a Kamloops Firefighter and his wife Sue, and Don 'Monty' Montgomery (Monty Beach Lodge) and the many volunteers, have been working within the local communities to build a system of "volun-tourism", giving visitors to the area the opportunity to volunteer within the communities - working with the children in the classrooms, educating locals, sorting the shipping containers full of medical supplies and clothes Canadians have donated to the area etc.. David Sakaki and the Kamloops Fire Department have also acquired and shipped down a number of firetrucks and facilitated fresh water systems for use in the villages and area. Their work sounds absolutely astounding. Donations to their cause can be made to "Kamloops Fire Department Operation Nicaragua". Please check out their website at http://web.me.com/kamloopsfirefighters/Kamloops_Firefighters/Home.html
The divide of tourists and locals is one I am not sure how to plug in to here, but I am putting it out there that we will find some ways to become a respectful, positive part of this community when we visit.
When we returned from our little grocery trip, we had lunch, played a family game of "Go Fish" ("Gold Fish" as my daughter calls it), and surprisingly, had a nap. No energy today.
This evening, there was a gathering here. Two couples, friends of Chica & Buck arrived. We shared drinks, while Bambam and Buck flew around the kitchen. When it came time to eat, I nudged Hubby for us to get going, to make our own dinner and allow them all to visit, but they threw food at us. YUM - best meal since I've been here. These guys are fantastic cooks. Shepherd's pie, fresh lobster and cucumber salad. Amazing! So full. They are so lovely. Wish they both lived closer and came to my house all the time!
Returned here with my daughter having taken a fall down six concrete stairs on the way. OUCH! Big bruise on her forehead. She was on the stairs looking up with her flashlight at the gekkos and lost her balance.
Hubby returned after I put Little M down, and we played Nertz, the card game. I like playing with him. Though it is a game of speed, we just kick back and get silly. I love our family time.
Dirt roads wove over the crispy dry geography. Rail-thin horses ran by us on the roads. A man on a homemade cart drove two weary donkeys up a hill with a trailer full of bricks. When we got to the 600sq ft concrete building, we entered the darkness to two sullen women behind iron bars at the counter-top.
The selection there was modest to say the least. Stacks of neatly packed goods, heavily dust-laden on the shelves - not from being there a while, but rather from the dust constantly kicked up by the road just outside. No produce but a basket of onions and tomatoes. Coke, soft-drinks, crackers, soaps, toiletries in supply. This is the largest store before making the drive to the city of Rivas, (population of 156,000), which is 3/4-1 hour away by car (Rivas is our city for stocking up once a week).
The two women retrieved the goods Hubby requested. My thoughts jump the iron bars to their side, wondering what they are thinking of us. "tourists..."
There is such a huge divide from what we are used to. The cultural differences, the poverty... There is an off-balance feeling here. We see how privileged we are versus the levels of poverty not often seen in to this extent at home, but how do we plug in to making a positive difference? We bring what we can fit in our luggage (school supplies, clothes etc.), but it doesn't seem like much at all. There is also consideration for not wanting to offend people by giving them things- Nicaraguans are very proud people.
There are few businesses in the area here to patronize. There are two or three truly locally owned restaurants. The owners of the restaurants we visited were so lovely and warm, one owner giving each of us hugs as we entered her establishment. We loved having more traditional foods on top of that, but upon our last trip, two people in our party became pretty ill after a night out. It can occur anywhere, but food standards are what they are when there is limited fresh water, and an outdoor kitchen on a dirt floor. Being hit-or-miss, means one meal can take a person out for days and with a young child, we chose this time to prepare our own meals most of the time.
In the area we visit, we have come across foreigners who have started and maintain projects within the community while they are here (art classes for local children, surf houses encouraging tourists to bring down what they can for the children when they come - mail service is not an option here so everything must be brought in luggage to donate), but most visitors are seasonal and we haven't come across any infrastructure set up for doing this kind of thing here.
Many locals in the two villages we are within, are employed by the tourist communities here, managing properties, cleaning or doing security. Many are employed, but it would be nice to have the communities surrounding this area thriving more than they are. The villages and houses do not reflect a great dispersion of that tourist dollar. Considering $8 per day is a good wage, labour here is incredibly cheap. Relative to the tourists that come, it would be nice to see the locals benefit more from people who wish to do more. For instance, some kind of training for massage therapy for locals to learn, then earn way better independent wages. Or authentic Nicaraguan food 'catering'- perhaps in-house cooking of meals. I'd buy our groceries and pay to have some meals made, or be taught some fantastic recipes to bring back home! Spanish-speaking groups for kiddos while there. I dunno... Perhaps these things are already available and it is just a matter of organizing accessibility of them. Gotta do more research.
In Northern Nicaragua, Jiquilillo, a group of Canadians including David Sakaki, a Kamloops Firefighter and his wife Sue, and Don 'Monty' Montgomery (Monty Beach Lodge) and the many volunteers, have been working within the local communities to build a system of "volun-tourism", giving visitors to the area the opportunity to volunteer within the communities - working with the children in the classrooms, educating locals, sorting the shipping containers full of medical supplies and clothes Canadians have donated to the area etc.. David Sakaki and the Kamloops Fire Department have also acquired and shipped down a number of firetrucks and facilitated fresh water systems for use in the villages and area. Their work sounds absolutely astounding. Donations to their cause can be made to "Kamloops Fire Department Operation Nicaragua". Please check out their website at http://web.me.com/kamloopsfirefighters/Kamloops_Firefighters/Home.html
The divide of tourists and locals is one I am not sure how to plug in to here, but I am putting it out there that we will find some ways to become a respectful, positive part of this community when we visit.
When we returned from our little grocery trip, we had lunch, played a family game of "Go Fish" ("Gold Fish" as my daughter calls it), and surprisingly, had a nap. No energy today.
This evening, there was a gathering here. Two couples, friends of Chica & Buck arrived. We shared drinks, while Bambam and Buck flew around the kitchen. When it came time to eat, I nudged Hubby for us to get going, to make our own dinner and allow them all to visit, but they threw food at us. YUM - best meal since I've been here. These guys are fantastic cooks. Shepherd's pie, fresh lobster and cucumber salad. Amazing! So full. They are so lovely. Wish they both lived closer and came to my house all the time!
Returned here with my daughter having taken a fall down six concrete stairs on the way. OUCH! Big bruise on her forehead. She was on the stairs looking up with her flashlight at the gekkos and lost her balance.
Hubby returned after I put Little M down, and we played Nertz, the card game. I like playing with him. Though it is a game of speed, we just kick back and get silly. I love our family time.
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