Oops, I did it again



Well worth the walk over

 I went surfing again today. I’ve been spending the past day or so at the nearby Salinas surfing lodge Magnific Rock, having arrived mostly to experience its famous magnific views. The lodge sits perched on a cliff 20 meters above the sea and is easy to spot from Popoyo beach. The “happy hour” sunsets are supposed to be incredible.

Or course most everyone that is here has come here to surf and soon I find myself discussing swells, wave heights, and tide situations. Or rather, listening attentively. My new physically perfectly blond surfer friend/roommate Alynne from Vancouver Island is generous with her knowledge and before I know it, I am actually considering joining her in the water down below. In the morning, we review surfing do’s and don’ts and a few other surfers at the lodge chime in with more helpful advice.

A big part of me doesn’t want to do this, but I decide I should listen to the (very) small part of me that does. Anyway, the waves really don’t look too bad from the lodge.

When we reach the beach below, however, I change my mind. The waves seem exponentially bigger from this vantage point, the white wash ominously ponderous, and the undertow way stronger than me. Alynne has paddled out some 20 minutes ago to join the experienced surfers on the horizon and I stand, then sit, frozen on shore. But then a woman I recognize from Gabriela’s yoga class and her friend wave me over. They are beginners too. In their company I find the courage to go in.

And even though I know I will never ever be good at this, this is why I feel so exhilarated when I come out:

• Because there is nothing like looking heart palpatating fear in the face and realizing that’s all it is, just fear. 
• Because finding and exploring your edge may reveal the juiciest parts of life
• Because experiencing something new is a way to collect chapters for the book that is your life
• Because taking a long shower after having been pummeled by salty, powerful waves is one way to experience bliss
• Because what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger



Enjoying the views with Muhammed

Hard to talk about this stuff without collapsing into clichés. Interestingly, all the things I love about my attempts to surf so far are all the reasons I also love to travel. I love how it scares, tests, exhilarates and ultimately, hopefully makes me stronger, better, wiser. The way it enables me to access and honor parts of myself I rarely get to see when I am safe at home, in an altogether different mode of being. Not better or worse, just different.

Fer sure, surfing is not my calling in life - I am still trying to figure out what that is. But I do think the moments of fear, hilarity and saltiness that it affords will make great fodder for my book.  

Gone surfing (no, really)

I can now with a clear conscience leave Nicaragua: I’ve finally surfed.

Surfing, like volcanoes, is synonymous with Nicaragua among the well traveled. That I’ve been living near one of its most famous beaches these past few weeks and not yet touched a surfboard might be what some people (= surfers) call blasphemous.

The last time I surfed was in Sayulita, Mexico for my 35th birthday. I remember loving the thrill of paddling fast enough to “catch a wave” and lo and behold popping up to ride it in an upright position. This last part happened for me very rarely - ok, twice - despite having my own personal, world-class surfing coach with me there in the water giving me exact directions. I hardly call what I did surfing but I had a great time anyway.

Still, giving it another shot seemed like the right thing to do or at least simulating the experience of having tried. So when Natalie and her friend Sorab decided to go surfing today I decided I would tag along. They are experienced, hard core surfers and Sorab knew of a pointbreak in the nearby fishing village of Astillero he thought she might like. I myself was primarily happy for the chance to see another part of the Tola coastline and the possibly of fresh fish for lunch.

The biggest catch was the ½ hour walk from the beach to the pointbreak and Sorab was right to warn me I would have to carry my board. This, in fact, might be my biggest accomplishment of the day. The thing about surfing is the more inexperienced you are, the bigger the board. Basically, the surfboard transmogrifies into a raft. Which makes good decent sense. Still, when we went to retrieve the surfboards from the back of Sorab’s truck I innocently (conveniently?) forgot this fact and asked Natalie if the smallest one was mine. “No,” she said. Right.

The walk was really not so long and the board really not so heavy but I did straggle behind Natalie and Sorab most of the way feeling like I was in a comedy show of my own making, and kind of laughing out loud to myself about it as the sun beat down upon us. When we arrived, they went off surfing and caught about 500 waves and I mostly boogey boarded in knee deep whitewash off to the side, trying to avoid stingrays. Then I did some yoga on the beach. By the time, Natalie and Sorab came back about an hour later we were all sun-fried, salty and ready for a big lunch.



Natalie and Tona

Lunch was the biggest, freshest, deepest fried, garlic covered red snapper I have ever had. And two Tona’s, the Nicaraguan beer.

I love the ocean.

--------------------


P.S. Here are some pictures of my great day, complete with red snapper.

The yoga mural is underway!

After much planning and talk about it, we finally started the mural at La Biblioteca de los 3 Ernestos today. The wall in the small room adjacent to the library of donated books has been primed for days and the kids have been itching to begin.

I’ve been teaching them yoga + art classes twice a week since I arrived in Salinas through Gabriela and James’ grassroots community foundation, Fundacion Aprender. Aprender was the initiative they started when they moved to Salinas and noticed the lack of educational and recreational opportunities for the kids. Las Salinas is a tiny, remote village about a two hour rickety bus ride away to the nearest relative metropolis of Rivas (where it is possible to find an ATM or a pharmacy). Chickens, roosters, turkeys and pigs walk the dusty, dirt roads and most of the families are poor. Education is a nice-to-have and only if families can afford to buy the uniforms school kids are required to wear here in Nicaragua.

So Aprender got on that, offering family outreach, counseling and support to increase school registration and attendance. They helped get the kids uniforms. Then they built Salinas’ first library full of books and magazines in Spanish and English. It’s become a place where the kids can go to get help with their homework, use one of the five donated computers, or take really interesting classes - like mine! (Or Natalie’s - who teaches hula hooping to the older kids on Tuesday afternoons.)

It amazes me every day that I am here what Gabriela and James have done and continue to do, between building their permaculture farm and running Aprender. Thanks to a new grant they just received, Salinas will soon have a sports field. Thanks to a group of surfers passing through who wanted to help with money for supplies, the library will soon have a latrine. But - with the exception of the two full-time librarians Aprender can afford - Gabriela and James handle most of the fundraising, outreach and logistical coordination of all the projects themselves. Being around them is an inspiration, not to mention amazing lesson in getting shit done.

And so soon, too, the yoga mural will be done. The kids spent today rendering their yoga poses of choice on the white wall in pencil then painting them in with bright tempura colors. The poses line up pretty nicely on a windy road that leads from La Bibioteca all the way to Salinas’ hot springs, just like it does in real life. Some of the poses are levitating among the clouds and the butterflies, some are miniscule and some towering. After all my preparation and planning the mural nothing like what I'd imagined. It's beautiful.

--

You can click here to see pictures of the kids and our yoga mural in progress!

To learn more about Aprender or find out what you can do to help please visit the site - or just let me know :)

Volcan Maderas, Isla de Ometepe

Unsurprisingly, we hear them before we see them, their large swooping grunting bellows reverberating through the trees as the sun just begins to set.  Howler monkies. Isla de Ometepe is known for them - along with its green parrots and its beautiful blue-tailed urracas, already well familiar to me from Salinas.  But monkies and exotic birds nothwithstanding, Isla de Ometepe - which loosely translated from the indigenous Nahuatl language means ΅the place of two hills" - is really most famous for its two volcanos and tomorrow we will climb one, Volcan Maderas, allegedly the lesser daunting of the two.  Meanwhile the howler monkies howl, sounding more like ancient volcano mountain dinosaurs then the cheeky monkies I met in India or Nepal.

Their ominous roars greet me as well at dawn break the next morning.

**

Torres del Paine had the wind.  The Annapurnha Circuit had snow and ice.  Volcan Maderas is officially going down in my personal book of hiking records for its mud.  Like so:  Volcan Maderas = MUD. Oodles and oodles of it, glistening on the rocks we have to climb at a veritable vertical incline of 1394 meters all the way up to reach the crater lake and cloud forest views above.

It is brutal.   We'd heard stories, though mostly about how Maderas was nowhere near as "arduous as the steep climb up and down Volcan Conception." Oh good, what a relief.  But when you haven't actually climbed Volcan Conception and your concept of "steep up and down" consists mostly of staircases nothing can really prepare you for what it means to climb a volcano on a tropical island. 



Deceptive little sign

Fortunately for us it is still the dry season, or the tail end of it.  Otherwise, our trusty guide Levis assures us, we would be paddling in mud. Still, my hiking boots are caked in it, the entire length of my calves are covered in it, and my ass at one point manages to land in it.  The discrete hand painted sign at the trail head when we start informs us it is only a 5 km walk to the laguna but that it will take us 4 hours to get there.  Ha! I think.  Clearly that sign is meant for lazy, inexperienced hikers.  About 4 hours later the panting lot of us finally reach the top - my friend Tim; lanky Frenchman Stephan; sweet, muscle building 21 year old Canadian Boris; Levis; and I.
The lagune itself is underwhelming so much so that that despite my exhausted mud and sweat covered body I opt not to swim in it.  Tim and Boris do though and they walk in until they are knee deep in silky silty mud before flopping unto their bellies to swim out in foot-deep water to the middle of the lake.  I take pictures.  Then we sit on the grassy banks to soak up some sun, eat our moist chicken sandwiches and gather our collective breath.

At 1 pm Levis asks us "listos?"  I mentally answer no but I am ready to just get this over with.  What comes up must come down.

**

Back at Finca Magdelena seven hours later, I sip my ice cold Coke from a glass with lots of ice in it and gaze with mute admiration at Volcan Conception off in the distance.  It will take me about 20 minutes to get the mud off my legs with toilet paper and fingernails after I shower.  Dinner that night will consist of the best rice and beans I have ever tasted.  I will sleep very soundly for 9 hours straight.  And I will never climb another volcano ever again.  

Heading to Ometepe (quick dispatch)

Taking another side trip today, this time to Isla de Ometepe. My Granada friend Tim is leaving Salinas so I have spontaneously decided to join him for a bit and return Tuesday to help the kids paint the yoga mural. Tempting to spend a quiet weekend but it will be nice to see Ometepe for the first time with a friend. Ometepe is famous for its beautiful beaches, cloud forests and two volcanos, one of which (Maderas) we plan to climb. I am excited for a challenging hike - but not excited to wear my hiking boots in 90 degree weather. Ah well. Stay tuned!

Prana Shakti, Popoyo Beach

I taught my first yoga class at Prana Shakti today. Gabriela and James had to go to Rivas so she asked if I would do it. Simple as that. She’s never seen me teach but we both studied at Integral Yoga and she’s seen me practice so it’s nice that translates into implicit trust. Prana Shakti is her little yoga studio on Popoyo Beach. Sometimes Gabriela teaches at the hotels or with private clients nearby but Prana Shakti has a set schedule that she advertises on Facebook and on paper flyers taped up around the town. The studio is but a wooden shack on stilts. There is a little brick room below with a small kitchen and bathroom but when she lived here she lived in the room above. That’s where the deck is and the wide window that opens up to views of ocean blue and breeze. It is like doing yoga on the beach but without the sand.

To get to the studio Natalie and I decide to take the kayake down river to the beach then walk. We could bike but the kayake would get us there much faster. It’s not the first time we’ve kayaked together and while the two of us in one kayake is a tight fit we manage to make it work. I squeeze in first (engaging my moolah bandah to ease down without capsizing - by now an inside joke), then Natalie squeezes down in front of me. She paddles, manuevering the kayake expertly down the optimal path miraculously emblazoned on her brain. When the tide is lower finding the best path becomes tricky and I pitch in paddling against the river bed with my hands. Still, using the kayake is as nice a commute as any with fish jumping all around, beautiful birds flying and hunting, and lots of laughs.

The class itself is small - as classes on a surfer beach in a small rural Nicaraguan town are wont to be. It is just me, Natalie and Kai, our surfer friend who lives down the road four months out of the year when he’s not running his business in San Diego. This is only his second class but he seems committed. It is another hot hot morning in Popoyo and by the second sun salutation we are all dripping sweat on our mats. Natalie notes it is like doing Bikram. Every once in a while a breeze swoops in to cool us off, but not enough. I do an especially long sivasana at the end and skip kapalabati.

On our way back after class Natalie and I jump into the ocean. The waves and undertow are always a little daunting but the water is always perfect - just the right combination of sun-drenched warm and Pacific refreshing. We dry off as we walk down the beach back to the kayake, picking up interesting shells as we go. It is about 11 am on a Friday morning, another good day in Popoyo.

Savasana in a giant crater lake

I am lying on my back on a raft in Laguna Appoyo. The waves that seemed so innocent from shore are much rockier now that I´m here, dashing my silly delusions of meditating in their midst.

So I am trying savasana instead, pressing my entire back body against the raft while opening my heart center to the sky. This is easier. Imaging a wave (how aproppriate!) of warm energy rolling up my body. Starting with my toes... the soles of my feet... the tops of my feet... making its way up my legs and my torso and all the way to the crown of my head. My skin is still wet from the swim out and the raft damp beneathe me but the water is velvet warm and the sun hot up above.

I repeat the words I use to teach savasana silently in my head and feel grateful I can do this almost on autopilot. My first savasana in a giant crater lake. My very best one yet.

Gazing at the savasana raft

In Granada or Hanging with Harry

My green fishbowl has been replaced with a roomful of bodies. There are 10 of us in the dorm room I´m sharing at Hotel Oasis, a pretty, well run, rather oasis-like hostel in Granada where I´ve come to spend just a few days. I am well aquainted with hostels by now, the explosion of overstuffed backpacks by bedsides; the hilarity of so many bodies sprawled in various states of conked out slumber; the waking up to the sounds of zippers being zipped and unzipped in frantic search of morning toiletries. I know it but am always amused when I wake up in it, especially in a top bunk (seriously).

As accustomed (addicted?) as I´ve grown to my little fishbowl and the quiet farm at Equilibrio it is good to get out a bit to actually see the country. Historic Granada is Nicaragua´s oldest colonial town situated on beautiful Lago de Nicaragua, a mere 20 minute walk down touristy Calle La Calzada, full of colorful carved colonial facades and restaurants and pubs. After 2 weeks in rural sleepy Salinas and kids bicycling past who know my name, it is shocking to be a town with so many options - including of course the requiste O´Hanlon´s.

My first stop after settling into the hostel is plaza Parque Cathedral because I am starving and excited to try Granada´s famous vigoron (which I will admit includes a fair amount of fried pork rind in addition to steamed yucca and cabbage salad). It is lucky too because this is where I meet Harry who comes to my table to sweet talk me into buying a map or a carefully origamied palm leaf. I want neither but decide this is a good chance to practice my Spanish and there´s something about Harry I immediately like. Maybe it´s his thorough knowledge of the map of his city, maybe it´s the sheepish way he tells me his name is short for Harrison, as in Harrison Ford, ¨the actor.¨ It´s obvious he has no idea who that is.

Harry is the one to point out Calle La Calzada just across the Plaza. I´d been so focused on lunch I hadn´t even noted it. He encourages me to visit the Cathedral then take La Calzada all the way to the lake (¨es muy bonita!¨) and I ask him if wants to come along. We are a fine pair this 12 year old boy and I walking down the street. We buy gelatos (holy shit - I am so excited for ice cream!!!) then stop at Iglesia La Granada before continuing on. When I take out my camera, he shyly smiles for a picture then tells me to be careful and put my camera away ¨porque es peligroso.¨



Walking with Harry

I find I feel safer with Harry at my side and happy for his cheerful company. When we reach the lake, Harry suggests a boat ride to see Las Isletas, the compilation of 350 little islands formed once upon a time by an eruption of nearby Volcan Mombacho. Harry grew up in Granada but has only ever been there himself once - a long long time ago, he tells me. So he tags along and it is just us in the small boat island-hopping and egret-watching with our two boatmen.
The sun is beginning to set by the time we return.  We part a bit later, back at the Plaza after a quick dinner - chicken tacos for him, mango papaya orange smoothie for me. ¨Mucho gusto¨ we say shaking hands good-bye.  I tell him I´m really glad I met him and he made my first day in Granada really fun.  He smiles at me, says thank you and heads off to join the other boys already gathered there in the gathering darkness, selling maps and origamied palm leaves. 

Equilibrio nights

It is dark now so I am in for the night, eating saltines and sipping the perfectly cold water I had the foresight to stick in the freezer earlier today.

The sun sets at 6 pm so that is when my Equilibrio days typically come to an end. Usually Natalie and I are in the kitchen right about now defrosting leftovers or making a smoothie for dinner but neither one of us were hungry. I’d taken Gabriela’s beautiful yoga class at her tiny studio on the beach in the morning; eaten a memorable meal in Popoyo (my first off the farm - if you don’t count the chicken tacos at Yolanda’s); then had my much anticipated massage with Natalie so it’s been a pretty action packed day by Equilibrio standards. After the massage Natalie and I agree to call it a night and I borrow her flashlight to find my way back to my casita.

I don’t usually spend Friday nights showered and in bed by 6:30. I have various books to choose from depending on whether I want to work on my Spanish or do some yoga reading or review my Lonely Planet: Central America on a Shoestring. Unfortunately the ~5 books I put on my Kindle before I left don’t count since it died en route from Miami. There are plenty of actual books lying around the farm though and Tyler left me his copy of the Upanishads - which hopefully won’t end up being this trip’s version of War and Peace which I took but didn’t quite tackle in Nepal.

Somehow the night feels action packed and I will most likely be happily asleep by 9 or so anyway. The imaginative city girl in me keeps flashing to worst case scenarios for those sounds in the dark on the other side of the mesh screens but I do truly feel altogether safe here - barring any chance encounters with anteaters or possums. I love the brilliant stars in the night sky above on my walk back to the casita and falling sleep to the smell and sounds of the fresh night air. I also love the anticipation of waking up a whopping 9 or 10 hours later to soft dawn light pouring into my room and slowly gathering in intensity before it gets hot again.

I know these early evenings with their beautiful mornings to come will be a big part of what I miss about Equilibrio when it’s time to leave.

Wading through mangroves

Slowly getting into the groove of this temporary life at Equilibio. In New York this pace would slowly drive me crazy, this idle passing of time and things happening happenstance or not at all. That’s no way to live if you live in New York. I sit on the shady patio by the river when I write and count the geckos as they scurry past, eager like me for some escape from the heat. Every once in a while an oreka will land in a nearby tree so I will stop what I’m doing to admire her until she flies off.

Yesterday afternoon Natalie and I decided to break up the time with a walk to the beach - yes again.  Only this time we decide to take the mangrove route. The tide here is crazy - more extreme this month than usual because of the moon - so this route is not just a long walk past the salt flats, through the mangroves and finally the lagoon but also a matter of careful timing. Our flip flops keep getting stuck in the hot mud so we finally just remove them. In the mangroves, Natalie proves a trusty guide full of confidence and knowledge about the best way to maneuver past the river and through the lagoon to the other side. I follow her sure surfer girl stride gratefully.

Once there we quickly go in search of the surf shop Natalie wants to visit for their boards then practice our hand stands on the sand. The tide has started coming in and by the time we begin our return the sandbar in the lagoon has completely disappeared. So we tie our clothes with our money to our heads and start to swim instead. It is an effort to swim against the current to reach the mangroves on the other side but fortunately the water is not too deep. Natalie comes to the rescue again with a helping hand that saves me from getting whisked up river.

This time around we are wading our way through the mangroves. For some inexplicable reason - that Natalie does not entirely believe - there are no crocodiles here. Other than that, the mangroves remind me entirely of the Everglades. The bridge of fallen branches that enabled us to pass on our way out is now entirely submerged by the tide but we make our way across it anyway, feeling for the branches step-by-slow-step with our feet.

At precisely this moment I consider where else I could - maybe should? - be on a late Wednesday afternoon. Probably back with my friends and family in New York, planning or doing something important - or that is at least making me money. Instead I am wading through mangroves, walking barefoot in hot mud, counting geckos, watching orekas, and having an unexpected, fine time waiting for another day to quietly pass in Las Salinas.

The day after

It is even quieter now that everyone has left. Though in the silence, the sounds and smells of the farm seem more lustily robust, as if with the group’s departure they can finally let ‘er rip. “This is OUR farm!” they say, “Time for the rest of y'all to go home.”

It is interesting to think that even the vaguest sense of anticipation created by a retreat schedule can be a distraction, how quickly nature turns up the volume when all the agendas are gone. No more lolling about awaiting an activity or considering a next move. Certainly no more sitting about engaged in chit chat or play. More time to listen.

So the sounds have fully taken over, and now there is no one hanging in the hangatorium but me. The zip line to the river that James and Joe built a few days back has been tucked safely away, though at least the drum set and multitude of hammocks still provide familiar comfort.

It was sad to see everyone go but now a new week has begun. Fortunately Natalie is staying too and we are instant partners in crime on the vast farm in this small town. She is considering a longer term position at Equilibrio to apply and continue developing her knowledge of permaculture, which she studied and loves. Another yoga retreat is coming this summer and her tremendous success as the chef this past week had endeared her to Gabriela: noone will ever forget her banana, avocado, cocao and ice smoothie shake, or her cornmeal crusted eggplant parmesan with roasted tomatoes.

So on our first post-retreat afternoon, Natalie and I venture out of Equilibrio’s gates together, beach bound on foot because we cannot take the boat or kayake down the river this time. It is an unexpectedly long long walk, over the bridge and down many kilometers of dusty roads in the hot sun. When we finally arrive, the sun is beginning to set in postcard perfect backdrop to crashing waves. The ocean is more menacing than enticing but we haven’t come to swim anyway - really just air ourselves out in its midst and feel its sands on our toes. We share a Fanta at one of the small family owned restaurants on the beach and begin our walk back.

I am in my room and ready for bed by 9. Country style. Natalie and I had prepared some of her leftover retreat lentil soup stew for dinner complete with one of her signature smoothies for dessert (yes she makes very good company :). Back in my room the sounds are on full volume again beyond the black darkness of my mesh screens. With Natalie a good ways down the road and the now empty casas nearby, I am hyperaware of my solitude on the farm but feel neither lonely or afraid.

Equilibrio, Las Salinas, Nicaragua

I woke up this morning - my first - in a giant green fishbowl. My bed square center in a room that is more enormous tikihut with its high thatched cone-shaped roof, poured rust colored concrete floors and 360 degree window tightly screened against mosquitos, geckos and (ehem) scorpions all around but otherwise open - to the huge breeze, the views of hanging jungle, the rise and fall sounds of leaves moving, cicadas vibrating, birds calling. I am in casa 2 on the vast grounds of Equilibrio here in the tiny, rural Pacific coastal town of Las Salinas, 3 hours south of Managua.

Equilibrio is the labor of love creation of Gabriela and James, who bought the property in 2004 after spotting the "farm for sale" sign on a road trip through the countryside. It's come a very long way since then through an incredible amount of sheer will and manpower and 1 ½ years spent camping on the property without electricity; while simultaneously working with their new neighbors to build a library and community center for the local kids through their non-profit organization, Aprender.

Today Equilibrio is a 15 acre organic farm, complete with five bungalow guest houses, one well, a yoga room, art and music studios, and a "hangatorium" space well equipped with enough lights, speaker systems, hanging contraptions, hula hoops, and musical equipment to enable impromptu disco parties, jam sessions and circus performances alike. Basically, if you love yoga and/or have a creative spirit, you can be quite happy here.

Now that Equilibrio is officially open for business I have come to experience it so I can help James and Gabriela figure out how to spread the word. My arrival coincides with the national Semana Santa holiday as well as with Equilibrio’s first yoga retreat so I feel especially blessed to be able to come as their guest. The days are structured around 2 yoga classes and 3 organic meals a day, with pockets of time for various activities like hammock swinging or well jumping in between. The group is lovely, headed by Amber Campion, a Brooklyn transplant now based in nearby San Juan del Sur and the people she’s corralled, including her assistant Kristin; Joe and Tyler who have been traveling for a while on their own; and Joe and Stella here from NYC to attend Amber’s retreat. Our amazing young chef extraordinaire Natalie joins us whenever her work schedule permits, making us a happy 8 in total.

Things will be very different when the group leaves Sunday but for now I am enjoying this thoroughly unexpected mini-vacation. Equilibrio is beautiful, and Gabriela and James are gracious hosts, making sure their guests are well cared for - despite the million little things there are to do to ensure sure all the work on the property gets done. After Sunday, I will be mostly on my own, and free to intersperse my days with volunteer work, my own yoga practice, reading, writing and taking little trips nearby. I will also be trying to plan the rest of my visit to Central America, and deciding where to head to next. For now though, I am happy to lose myself in the rhythms of this new pace of life and my first taste of Nicaragua so far.

Packed

I've gotten better at properly packing a pack but it's still exhausting. My sister was my first guide the first time I packed for South America, showing me how to adjust all those dang dangling straps.  Beth taught me the valuable lesson of rolling everything to create more space when I packed for Nepal. And Staci Jon so generously lent me her backpack TWICE when I discovered each time that 50 liters was too small to take everything I needed (though John I know would disagree).  

So this time I am prepared with a backpack all my own that packs up to 70 liters (hurray!).  I have mentally packed my pack multiple times, making and revising and further streamlining the list of bare essentials needed to possibly teach art, do yoga, swim, hike, surf, sleep and maybe also dance while I am away.  My mother comes over for moral support; actually she pretty much packs everything for me.  I roll, she packs.  We have beers.  It is practically a party.   We finish way ahead of schedule with plenty of time left to sleep before my car comes to take me to JFK at 4 friggin o'clock in the morning. Although now that I am writing this post, maybe not so much.  

Good night! 

"She's gone traveling, traveling..." (yes, again)

It's April's Fools 2012 so by now it's safe to say I've developed a knack... or a hankering...or perhaps a crazy addiction?

Call it what you will but this Spring is 3 years in a row that I am away or just returning from some extended travel experience roundabout this time of year. Three years in a row that I am missing Passover at home... or April Fools. In fact, on this very day exactly one year ago, I was 4 days into the Annapurna Circuit trek through the Himalayas and scheming a proper April Fool's joke to play on our guides with my fellow trekkers (it ended up being pretty good and pretty effective: something about a change of heart and wanting to be airlifted back. We properly completed the trek all on foot 13 days later).

The April before that I was bussing to Patagonia from Buenos Aires to spend a month volunteering as a memoir-writing, ABBA dancing personal assistant in the 1000-person town of Cavaihue with a woman named Ginny, who touched and changed my life forever (she's a big part of the reason I decided to get my yoga teaching certificate the summer I returned).

And now this.  On Tuesday I leave for Nicaragua, with a one way ticket and an open mind. I'll be spending the first few weeks volunteering with the foundation Aprender and providing marketing services in exchange for room and board at the brand new yoga/artist retreat, Equilibrio (more on all this later!). I envision continuing on after that to see as much of Central America as I can, "yoga retreat hopping" if you will within the confines of what my solo female budget travel sensibility will allow.

In honor then of the increasing chapters of my ongoing travels I've renamed my blog. While initially created to help document my six months in South America and thusly named "KareninSouthAmerica," this blog has evolved to help document me simply being in the world. Travel seems to have become a big component of that for all the ways it educates and inspires and fortifies me. But traveling has also taught me, it's possible to experience all this just by knowing where to look. To test and redefine your own boundaries on whatever terms you choose.

My friend Gabrielle actually wrote a beautiful song about it. The song isn't about traveling per se but that powerful urge to go off in search of something bigger then what you know, in order to come back home. Inside. When I told her I loved it and that it was perfect for me, she replied "it's (perfect) for all of us who wake up and see there must be something more than all of this... it never changes...never gets easier. Only the leaping does."

Amen to that. I start this next chapter then and leave you for now with these lyrics to Inside.

Inside


She's gone traveling traveling
trying to catch the sun as it sets
left to right wandering wondering
will the moon rise
inside

She rise up she fall down
she pick herself to run right way
left alone happily saddening
will I ever be
satisfied

She smiles inside wide
She's not searching no
for some hidden meaning
the world gone and open up open up
telling her
it's inside

No she just got to learn to trust it and
she got to learn to see it
for what the world holds
for what it creates
outside
She smiles inside wide

Look at her how she glows
feeling it from head down to toes
making the world happen as she goes
her world turning
turning

She smiles inside wide

Always,
Karen