14eme de Abril, San Juan del Sur

Overlooking San Juan del Sur is a statue of Christ with arms outstretched, a version of the oft-seen and iconic guardian of Rio de Janeiro in Brazil. Illuminated, except in cases of power loss (not even God can seem to mediate Nicaraguan energy resources), on a cliff face above the bay (which, in Spanish, is la Bahia, which seems much more apt and poetic), it rightly depicts an overwhelming grace that permeates the town. Tonight, for now, we have power, for which I am grateful. For purely selfish reasons, the ability to sleep, I have grown to love my ceiling fan in these past 48 hours. I do not take it for granted, and blessed the stars when it began whirling again in the middle of last night.

I rose early this morning, anticipating the start of my Spanish classes. However, as I knew though had hoped would not be the case, new students only begin on Mondays, so I shall wait until then to begin my formal training. However, the time to explore, acclimate and relax is welcome on my end, so I went about my day. Fueled on my senora’s gracious fruit breakfast (that she even cut up for me in bite size pieces, I do believe the Nicaraguan hospitality is as overwhelming as it is comforting), I journeyed to the coffee shop, where I overindulged on free refills of the most spectacular cup of caffeinated richness, grown in a farm in the north of the country. I’ve been told that the “good” Nicaraguan coffee is exported, so to find such a delightful place that has its own farm, for the good of the people (myself included), is a blessing and a comfort. I did struggle with the internet, however, and let the connectivity issues remind me that I am here for a reason. It did impede some progress I wanted to make, but decided that it was my beloved guide in the sky giving me a reason to breathe. That is not to say that connecting with those I love is not such a simple pleasure but I have obviously taken it for granted in my life.

I spent the rest of the day playing in the ocean, cooler than I had imagined in the protected bay, and finishing a wonderful book. I met up with two travelers who had just border hopped to get their Nica visas renewed in Costa Rica, and they introduced me to the fabulous indoor market (again, the Spanish word, Mercado, seems much more fitting). I indulged in a pina licuado (pineapple smoothie, fresh from the husks!), and watched them eat fabulous looking (and cheap) plates of food, and listened to their stories about farming in Central America, relaxing in between permiculture projects on the islands of the big lake, whose name is lost on me (maybe Lago Nicaragua? But I feel that is the smaller one… I will consult with my guide book in a little bit). The girl in the pair makes jewelry from scrap metal, and speaks a fiesty Spanish that commands respect and order in an otherwise seemingly disorderly environment. It is that disorder that I love to watch, and it seems to make perfect sense to me.

My newly adopted sister (or she has adopted me, I suppose) was in charge of preparing my lunch, a lovely spaghetti with hot sauce, combining two of my favorite things, along with feta cheese! Never could I imagine such a combination, but it works. I tried to impose a quick siesta, but of course the coffee and invigorating swim had me up and about, so I continued reading my book, as well as deciphering the bilingual newspaper, informing myself on local politics and events. I decided that I would try for yoga again, but had some time to swim in the sea, that invigorating coolness pulling me back in, and I attempted underwater sun salutations much to my own amusement.

I feel as though I have supported the local economy in these past two days by purchasing juice everywhere I go, and that was the case as I sipped fresh orange (jugo de naranja) at el Barrio Café, waiting for the mythical white pickup truck to bring me to the outskirts of town for yoga class. It never materialized, so I tried my luck sitting on the curb, where I found another seeking yogi waiting for the same elusive vehicle. He had successfully hitched a ride yesterday, and was glowing about the class. We chatted, and he told me about the wonderful volunteer opportunities at the mobile lending library by the church, which I had heard and been curious about already through internet research. He is here with his girlfriend, who is studying Spanish, and the pair (though I did not meet her) seem like an intrepid multilingual, multinational duo. After coming to terms with the fact that maybe yoga was not happening via the truck, we parted ways, and I walked down to the beach for the communal adios to the sun, lead by Dios thyself conducting the smoothly lapping waves. I could not resist one more dip, my third today, and glided out in the cool waters, feeling the gold then pink then orangey gray skies dropping into the ocean, beckoning night fall. I sat for awhile, watching the swirl of color, the busy hermit crabs mining the sand, the boats coming in from the open sea. Hiking back to my apartment, I felt dirty, salty, sore but alive. I bought some plantain chips from one of the little stores that pop up everywhere, each one a different living room for the surrounding houses, and climbed the stairs to my room. Knowing dinner was waiting me, I scurried like one of those hermit crabs to find an amazing plate of rice (arroz) y enchiladas on the table, and my German hall-mate showing me pictures of where he lives, which apparently is Southern California for the past thirty years. We discussed my discoveries, and he gave me tips of where to explore and what to do. We seem to have different priorities, a type A/type B approach to life in San Juan del Sur, but I appreciate speaking with someone without having to struggle for words. It is humbling to know that English is his second language, but it gives me hope that language is within my reach if I let my mind wrap around it.

I have been thinking a lot about foundations: breaking it down to build it back up, and that is the approach I am taking with this. Coming to with a beginner’s mind, and staying open to possibilities, letting my beloved guide show me the way, the light and the path which I am constantly creating anew.