My grandma always tells me “patience is a virtue”, and I oft-quote her and remind myself of this adage. Going with the flow these days sometimes requires completely throwing away plans and seeing what will materialize in their place. The best laid intentions need to be re-routed to customize to the unique progression of life here in Nicaragua, and reminders of confidence, faith and willingness abound. Itches to take a lengthy hike up to the picturesque statue, or find a bicycle, are inevitably met with detours. Time shifts, the weather changes, energy lapses. I have learned to lessen anxiety by letting go and letting my beloved guide do just that, guide me through both the rapids and the more placid waters.

Saturday found me testing this faith, as I was unsure how the day would unfold. I had been invited to a barbeque at some fellow students’ house by Majagual, the beach I had been to earlier in the week that I loved so much. Open to getting to know others in the school, I packed up my bag for a day at the beach. I was told to meet the pickup truck at a hostel in town. Fifteen minutes prior to its departure, I realized I had no money with me. Scurrying back to my apartment took ten minutes, blistered feet in flipflops slowing me down. I made it back into town and to the ATM with only minutes to spare, telling myself that if I did not make the shuttle I would take a taxi out there for more of an expense with hopes of finding the rest of the group. I appeared just as the shuttle was pulling away, but it stopped, and the exasperated hostel coordinator began yelling at me to give her money (in English, as she was American), and refused to give me change as I was causing a hold-up. Forty cordobas is merely two dollars with the exchange rate, but I let it weigh on my mind heavily as I felt she had treated me poorly, even though in the grand scheme of things it was a minor detail and I had been willing to take a cab after all. I kept on reminding myself that it was two dollars, two dollars, two dollars…. I don’t know why sometimes these things eat at you when it’s not important in the bigger picture. Patience. I boarded the pick up and began the rickety ride sitting off the end of the bed in the back, holding on for dear life as we drove (and dove) up and down hills on La Chocolat. Arriving at the popular surf beach Maderas, I found a great number of people attempting the waves. I plopped down and made a pact with myself that the price of a smoothie was not going to get me down and proceeded to buy myself one, read on my towel and watch the surfers.

I ventured into the water myself, and was ran ragged by the waves, ferocious in their strength. I ate vegetarian nachos and read, wandering around the beaches adjoining Maderas until our hosts showed up. They lead us on a hike over beaches in between (three beaches over, each separated by rock formations) to a deserted and gorgeous one right before Majagual, that was completely empty except for us. I wish we could have stayed there, but I will venture back again, as we proceeded to pile into their car to taxi up to their home. It took two heavily loaded carloads in their hefty four wheel drive to get up to their house, located in a sustainable living development in the jungle overlooking Majagual. Their house was phenomenal, the most idyllic place I could think of, tucked away in the middle of absolute nowhere. Complete with howler monkeys and an infinity pool! Luisa, the wife, was thrilled to be able to host her first party in Nicaragua, “hostess in the wild” as she called it in her Australian accent, while her husband, Henrick, a Swedish-Asian fellow, was cooking away on the barbeque for us and even the tagalongs who had materialized in the taxi rotation. The music and conversation and food got everyone laid back and enjoying life, taking photos of each other, the jungle and the monkeys laying in the trees. The howler monkeys in the brush, unseen, would wail hauntingly, transitioning into an aggressive grunting and growling, and then back again. Everyone ended up hopping in and out of the infinity pool, eating chicken veggie skewers and corn on the cob, salad and hamburgers galore.

This went on for hours, until everyone was either sitting around or in the pool as the sunset over the Pacific and the underwater lights came on. I have to admit, at this point I was quite tired, but had no way of getting home. Stuck in the jungle with aggressive howler monkeys and a lot of drunk people seemed very overwhelming to me. I was also getting bit endlessly by mosquitoes. I swam and listened to the music to calm myself down, until finally there was some movement toward transporting people back home. I see this as a lesson in patience, yes, but also a reminder to honor my escape route philosophy when it comes to situations that involve drinking. I cannot let myself get stuck, no matter how scenic the location, in situations that could become overwhelming, as this one did. Of course, this was a rather unique occasion, how many times can you say you were in the middle of the jungle in an infinity pool with howler monkeys, but the principle remains the same: I must honor my instincts and trust that my caution has its merits.

Getting back to San Juan del Sur was a bit more perilous, with ten of us piled into the car on the first load, one of whom was very intoxicated and determined to entertain everyone in the car by telling loud stories and singing songs. This during the entire ride along the perilous La Chocolat at night made the ordeal a bit longer and more uncomfortable, though he did get quiet as we squeezed by the police who are upping their enforcement of overloaded cars due to an accident that turned deadly over Semana Santa in the area. Tumbling (quite literally) out of the car at my apartment, I thanked but declined everyone’s invitation to go to the Iguana Bar for dancing, and was relieved to be home despite the fun filled and unique day. I spent the rest of the night on my balcony reading and listening to music, trying to fight off the extent of the caffeine from numerous Diet Cokes throughout the evening. Finally curled up and ready to slumber, I was attacked by what seemed to be a rabid bee, who stung me ferociously in the thigh, and then continued to live, flying around the room and then literally sneaking up on me again before I hit it with my book. It didn’t die right away, and I felt awful about killing it, especially with such bad karma as I did the deed with my yoga ethics book. I sprayed my entire room with bug spray, causing quite a mosquito massacre. The night before saw the first rain since last year, and all the crabs came out on the beach, in colorful persuasions, but also all the mosquitos and varied other insects with a penchant for biting. As much as I hate the effects of my malaria medication, the sudden onslaught of bugs made me realize that it may be quite useful in the long run, if only precautionary.

I ended up sleeping a long time, the first true sleep-in in Nicaragua, and had a lazy Sunday involving photography, beach walking, huevos rancheros, fresh juice, reading on the beach in lounging chairs, and watching a long, lovely sunset over the bay. I ate dinner with my family, and have been enjoying the first storm of the year roll in, bringing with it rain, thunder and lightning for an exciting evening display. I go back to school in the morning, and am excited to fall into the routine again. The lessons learned, the people met, the spiritual aspects of daily life unveiling…. It’s good to know that everything goes on no matter what, and it’s up to us to follow our guides with abiding grace.