I have been away from Bluefields for nearly two weeks. I went to the Corn Islands in the Caribbean waters off the coast. That was really an amazing experience and ready to go back. Just when I thought things could not get any slower, I found a place that's so chilled out, it's unbelievable! You can be stone-cold sober and the vibe infects you with a sort of laughy, silly, tingly, perma-grin that's makes you wonder.....was there something in those brownies :) The music is so sik, I can't get enough. You sit on the sun bleached pier, dangling your feet into warm, clear-turquoise waters and seemingly forget anything else in the world, as you watch the sunset. The only thing that was missing was someone of greater importance to share it with, ya know. I was with some good friends, but could help but wish mi amigos de Arkasas were there. The return ship, Captain D, decided to return a day early, so my trip got cut short and had to abruptly board a three-tier steamer bound for the main-land somewhere around midnight. That in itself was an interesting experience. I had my handy hamaca with me and found a spot off the center of the ship on the upper level. Once we got moviin, i realized my spot wasn't so safe and noticed the ship's sway would slightly swig me back and forth over the ship rail. By then there were no options to relocate and I worried about my fate for the next hour or so then finally dozed off until day-break. As soon as I reached the moyea, I purchased un boleta de panga a la Costa de Pacifico. I had just enough time to go home and re-pack my backpack and catch the 400hp river speed-boat bound for El Rama, where I hopped a glorified chicken-bus to take me to the Capital city of Managua. Average travel time for that stretch is 9 hours if you're lucky and lucky I was. I reached Managua in time to make a detour to Metro Centro, for Quiznos of course and then some chilled coffee concoction with a piece of tera masou to aide in digestions. If only I wasn't lugging around a 50lb backpack and had more than 3 hours of sleep the night before. Anyway, I taxied to the bus terminal and got a bus to my old stomping grounds in Carazo. I was trying to make it all the way to the opposite coast, but sometimes you have to drop out of the marathon. I got to kick it with the Ave Maria students and Gary for the night, then back on the road to the surfer's dream, they call San Juan del Sur. I was there for a biosand workshop for the whole week. I had been to SJDS before and was ready to leave after only a day. There are mucho gringos intent on exploiting the locals and spoil it.
